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coollemonsaresour · 3 years

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The Love That Don't Stop

Pairing: Steve Rogers x daughter reader, Steve Roger x Natasha Romanoff. Warnings: Child abandonment, angst, fluff

Summary: It is Y/n's birthday, and she gets an unexpected present.

Word count: 2632

Request: @maximeevansblog ; The reader (me ) is the daughter of Steve rogenrs and its the readers birtday, and he takes her to the nail en hair salon , and they come back, and in the tower, they have a suprise party for her, and natasha comes with adoption papers and, he wants to her mom and a lotts of fluff thanks, and if its ready you tag me right ( natasha and Steve are dating) thanks. And if its ready you tag me right thanks

Request: Anonymous; can you do a Natasha x black!child!reader? I really liked your other fic. You don't have to if you don't want to.

A/n: I made lots of changes, cause when I went to go post it two weeks ago, my fics were two similar to the other two. The highlighted words are in realtion to the person that requested. Because I wanted to incorporate them into the fic 🙃

Beep, Beep, Beep, Beep, BeEeee- you were starting to get agitated, and brought your fist down on your alarm clock, smashing it to pieces. But hey, it’s not your fault, you got your father’s enhancements through genetics, just the perks of being a Rogers.

Still in bed, you let out a yawn, and you began to stretch; mid-stretch that is when it had clicked.

It’s My Birthday.

And that’s when you smelled it. The sweet smell of a birthday tradition you and your dad have had for the past nine years of your life.

One day you showed your dad Steven Universe, and it happened to be the together breakfast episode. So ever since then, every morning of your birthday, you and your dad sit down together and have Together Breakfast.

As soon as you got out of the shower, you threw on some clothes and dash to the Kitchen. As soon as you enter you were met by a horrible sight. Your dad and a redhead kissing.

Nat and your dad have been friends since he had come out of the ice, a became even closer when you were born. Nat was like a mom to you, but you never would say that out loud, cause you didn’t want to make it wired or have her feel uncomfortable.

Your mom was never in the picture, she left you and your dad five days after you were born. Steve had no idea of how to raise a kid, he was completely lost, but then Nat had offered to help him out. The pair worked as such a great team people often thought that they were actually a couple. After years of a long, long sturdy friendship, your dad finally asked the assassin out. So basically they have been dating for about two and a half years now.

“Ew, gross,” you said, dramatically shielding your face from the sight. “ Good Morning Y/n, happy birthday,” they both said. “Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable,” you said as you sat down at the island stools. “You mean this public display of affection?” he said with a smirk and then pulled Nat in for another kiss. You then shield your face away and then began gagging and reaching.

“So it is….10:30,” you said looking around “Where’s Together Breakfast?” you said whining. “It’s right here you big baby,” Nat said teasing.

“ Cheers to fifteen years of chaotic life,” you said holding up a fork “Cheers!” they said, you each then taking a bite.

“So, Y/n, anything special on thing on the agenda today,” Nat said wriggling her eyebrows. “Not really, I was hoping that we could just go to the spa, then the salon, and just have a chill day.” You said taking another bite. “Oooh, sorry, y/n I can’t, join you today, I have busine- “ you cut Nat off with a loud groan. “ But its’ my birthdayyyyy,” you said with an adorable pout. “I know, and I’m sorry,” she said squashing your cheeks together “and I will make it up to you, but for right now-” she paused reaching over the counter to grab her bag “ I have to go,” she said giving you small hug and then turning to give steve a quick peck on the lips, and heading for the door. “ Bye,” Steve said, “bye Nat,” You say still mopping. “Bye babes,” she says giving the two an air kiss before disappearing out the door.

“So, I guess it is just me and you, Y/n,” Steve said as he started cleaning up breakfast. “Ya, I guess so, though I really wanted Nat to come today. Alright, imma got get ready so that we could go,” you said heading back to your room, leaving Steve smiling at your comment about Nat; not that you even realized.

---

“Alright, where here,” Steve said as the uber pulled up to the salon. You both walked in and were greeted by an overlay excited worker. “Hi, my name is Jess, I will be helping you out today” you then gave her a small, that she returned, then started eyeing Steve like he was her last meal. She looked like she was in her early-twenties, pale skin, about 5’3, blonde hair, and brown eyes. Probably working this job to pay off student loans. She turned to Steve, with scrunched eyebrows.

“Are you Captain America?” she asked with a smirk of curiosity, but it looked like she was trying to amuse him before he could answer “yes, he is, and he’s taken, Maybe next time sweetheart, ” you said pulling you dad away from Jess, and toward the receptionist desk.

“ Hi, Appointment for Y/n Rogers,” You say, leaning against the desk. “Right this way.”

---

You were currently sitting in a chair in front of a medium-size mirror, your hands resetting on the armrest, careful not themes up the freshly done nails. Then two Beautistions approached us, then one of them turned to Steve and asked, “are you getting your, hair done too,”

“No”

“Yes”

you and Steve say at the same time.

“Please dad, you can you a new due,” you say, Steve just rapidly shakes his head rapidly no.

“What wrong with the style I have now?” he asked. “You look like an upgraded BackStreet boy,” you reply in full honesty. He then puts his hand over his chest and pretends to be hurt. “You should die it!” one of the Beautistion said, “Great Idea…” you hesitated, search for her name tag.

“Max” she finished for you, seeing what you were trying to do. “If you don’t want to, die your whole head, you can start with highlights,” she said with a smile of excitement. Steve was about to say no until he saw your adorable pleading face. “Fine,” he said putting his hands up in defeat and moving into the salon chair next to yours.

---

After you left the Spa you and your dad headed to central park for a walk, something you two did a lot when you were younger.

You then pulled out your phone and tried to Facetime “Natty Bare 😘” but there was no answer. Which was strange, because Nat always answers your calls, no matter who, what, when, where, and why. Steve saw what you did and smiled, a smug smile. "What are you doing?" Your dad asked

"I wanted to show Nat your blue hair streaks" you said with a pout.

Halfway through the walk your legs were getting tired so you jumped on your dad’s back, you wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his hip.

“You’re like a pretzel,” he says linking his arms under your knees for better support. “And, you’re like a Dorito,” you tiredly mumble into the crook of his neck, Steve chuckled at the comment.

After walking a little longer you fall asleep. Steve then tightened his grip a little, as if he was giving a backward hug. He just could believe how fast his baby girl was growing up.

---

When they reached the tower’s elevator, Steve placed Y/n down on her feet to wake you.

“Y/n, baby, I need you to wake up for a minute.” “But why,” you mumbled as you leaned against him for support since you were still tired. “Cause if you don’t then this could be a very embarrassing photo.” “what pho-” before you could finish, the elevator doors opened, and then...

“SURPRISE!”

A tired smile then played its role on your face. You looked around and saw everyone there, except Nat.

Mabey she will show up later you thought to yourself.

---

An hour later she still has yet shone up. You asked around and Tony told you that she had a last-minute mission, but that she should be back at any time now. That failed to relieve your nerves.

But those nerves became worse when it was time to cut the cake. You know she was busy but would she really miss your birthday.

Apparently, yes, yes she would. Because the party was over, over an hour ago, and now it was currently 9:30.

Your dad knew that you were really bummed out that Nat missed your party, so he suggested a movie night. Movie nights were special to you and your dad because it became something you two did together, to destress. Just the two of you, Daddy and Daughter.

“Got room for one more.” came a voice that you recognized immediately. “Sorry, this is a two-person couch,” you shot back, anger leaking from your voice, your eyes never leaving the tv screen, ignoring the Russian, as she came into your view.

Steve then paused the movie, causing you to turn your head toward him, annoyed.

“How was the mission,” he asked her.

“I don’t know” She replied accompanied by a tight-lipped smile and shrug. You were about to say something but “Because it is not over yet,” she said looking nervous.

She then pulled out a manila folder and approached you and sat down in between Steve. The Folder was labeled “Confidential” with a red ribbon and bow tied around. The folder She then handed you the folder causing you to look up at them in question.

“Open it,” Steve said pulled Nat toward him sat her in between his legs, and then wrapped his arms around her shoulders, trying to help calm the nerves surging through her.

You carefully untied the ribbon, and open the folder. “On this day Y/n M/n Ro-” You mumbled quietly and then stopped, your face going blank. Your vision then started to get blurry with tears threatening to spill.

“Wow, y-you’re really, um getting good at that face,” Nat said, a million thoughts going through her mind.

“Y/n,” Nat said, voice flooded with worry. When you didn’t look at her, she used her fingers to lift your chin, so that you were looking at her. And when you locked with her that’s when the dames broke, as the tears sprang free from your eyes.

“Oh, no, baby, baby please, don’t cry,” she said trying to wipe away the tears rapidly falling down your face. “ I understand if you don’t want to go through with it,” she said wiping the tear that fell from her face.

“We don-”

She was cut off with the air being knocked out of her, as you crashed into her wrapping your arms around her torso, burying your face in her stomach, sobbing. She then wrapped her arms around you and held you close, one hand rubbing up and down your back trying to calm you, the other gently twirling some of your coils with her fingers.

Nat always felt like you were her child, even some people in public would mistake her for your mom, But she didn’t know how you felt.

Nat was so nervous that her soul was shaking. She knew how the topic of a Mother, is one that stings for you.

---

*Flashback*

Nat POV

I pulled up to Y/n’s school, today was her first day of Kindergarten, and in the morning she was so excited. That morning I bruised her hair into two puffs, curled her sideburns, and she then wore a Captain America shirt, with joggers and light-up sneakers. I swear she was the cutest four-year-old in the world.

I then saw Y/n exit the school, but my smile flattened when I saw the sad expression on her face. I then hopped out of the car and head toward her, as I get closer it looks as if she was crying. When I get to her I pick her up and place her on my hip, and instead of her giving me a hug like she usually does she just tucks her head into my neck.

“Hey, baby,” I saw trying to cheer her up “You okay,” I ask she just nodded and let out a little sigh. Then I hear laughing voices and I turn my head to see a group of second graders.

“See I told you to see was adopted, her parents probably didn’t love her,” one of them said.

“ There is no way Captain America is her dad If that lady is her mom, they’re both white, and she’s not”

“She just a baby and a lier,”

“ She probably doesn’t even have a mom,” another said laughing, causing Y/n to sniffle.

I then cleared my throat, successfully grabbing the attention of the bullies, sending them a death glare, and then headed to the car, and then buckled Y/n into her car seat. I then sat in the driver’s seat and adjusted the rearview mirror so that we could look at each other.

“Don’t listen to those, mouth breathers Y/n you hear me.” Y/n still didn’t look at me her eyes trained on her fingers fiddling in her lap.

“Um, Nat, umm, where is my mom, and w-why, um, why does she, not love m-me?” Y/n said with a sniffle. Her question made me want to go up to those kids and beat the shit out of them.

“ well y/n your mom had to do something important and should be back soon,” I had to lie to her because I didn’t know how to explain to a four-year-old, that her mother abandoned her and her dad because she thinks giving life to the sweetest little girl was a mistake.

Like what did Маленький шар совершенства, ever do to her.

“But Y/n, let me tell you this, Your dad loves you, so much and would let anything bad happen to you, you know that right detka,” she then nodded her head, sniffled, and wiped her tears.

“And I love you too, milashka, and I will never stop loving you.” I love you, Nat” “Now how about we get some Ice cream annnnnd, not tell Steve, because he is going to be mad because you haven’t eaten any dinner yet,” I said starting the car and putting a smile on Y/n’s face.

How could a mother ever leave a child like this, so sweet, innocent, and pure?

*Flashback over*

---

No one’s POV

“So is that a yes, baby?” Nat asked nervously that you might say no because you were crying.

You just nodded your head yes, as Nat hugged you tighter.

“Oh, dad I forgot to tell you, while we were out...I, um, need a new alarm clock,” you said with a nervous chuckle.

“Again,” they both said, not surprised at all.

“Mabey you should use your phone, you’re always pretty careful with that,” Nat said bopping your nose and squishing your cheeks together. You then reach into your pocket and pull out your phone. You went to the contacts and changed “Natty 😘” to “Mama🔥”.

“What’s my contact name Y/n?” Your dad asked.

“❤️Captain🤍Crunch💙,” you said sliding your phone back into your pocket and laying back down on Nat’s stomach.

“ I love you, mama,” you said nuzzling further into her

“I love to baby, always has and don’t plan on stopping”

*Bonus*

(Nat and Steve in the kitchen after putting Y/n to bed, because she fell asleep during the rest of the movie because you were tired after crying)

“So...what’s up with the hair, “ Nat said sipping on her tea, taking a step closer to Steve. He then shrugged his shoulders, and shook his head, with a goofy smile. “Uhh, Y/n thought I needed a new look,” He responds shaking the colorful hair from side to side. “Well, I like it,” she says as she runs her hands through his hair, “ Oh, do you,” Steve said placing his hands on her hips. “Yea…I do,” she says standing on her tippy-toe, kissing his lips. Steve then leaned more into the kiss. They went from kiss to make out sess, really quick.

“How about we don’t do this in the kitchen,”

“Mmhm”

---

@the-bau-quinjet

#steve rogers x daughter!reader #mom nat #dad steve #romanogers #steven universe #steve rogers #natasha x child!reader #avengers x teen!reader #avengers x teen reader #avengers x black!reader #avengers poc reader #steve rogers x natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x daughter!reader #avengers x reader #Romanogers x reader #Romanogers x daughter reader #steve rogers x teen!reader #Steve Rogers x daughter reader #Natash Romanoff

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

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Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x reader (part 7)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6)

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself. except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: um just implied smut and fluff and a reference to bdsm I guess?? but it's pretty chill overall

Liked by starkcosmetics and others

y/n.y/l/n okay first of all, it takes an act of god to get a picture of this guy smiling, but it’s always worth it. he really changed everything for me and I can’t thank him enough for that. so happy ❤️

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caroldanvers 😍😍😍

flowercrowny/n oh my god this is so sweet i’m gonna cry

1 HOUR AGO

He smiled as he stared down at the post you’d made, remembering how much effort you’d put into finding the perfect picture (in your opinion; he thought he looked kinda dopey in it) as well as writing and re-writing your caption.

The speed at which your post gained likes and comments was inconceivable to him; even more impressive was the speed at which gossip rags were picking up the story. Sure enough, his phone’s alerts to new headlines about you were not only going off like crazy, but had started to include news about himself as well.

Y/N Y/L/N Shocks With Romantic Instagram Post, Confirms Dating Rumors

You’ll Never Guess Which Hollywood Starlet Is Dating Her Driver

Who is James Barnes? Everything We Know About Y/N Y/L/N’s New Beau

Skimming one of the articles, he was impressed at how much information they’d managed to get without actually getting anything from you or him. Born in Brooklyn, disabled Army veteran, worked a list of odd jobs before becoming your driver and bodyguard. ‘No social media presence, prefers to keep a low profile’ one of them said; you can say that again, Bucky chuckled to himself when he read it.

He found another from People and didn’t particularly appreciate that it spent half the time going through all your past exes and rumored partners (turned out ‘rumored’ is a fancy word for ‘a bunch of fans deluded themselves so hard that it somehow turned into news without any proof necessary’). But he still smiled when he got to the part that was actually about you and him.

‘The relationship is pretty new but they’re so happy together,’ a source close to the couple reported.

Close indeed; that statement came from your publicist, who he’d never even meet.

‘He’s a very private guy and she’s got this huge following, so they’re sort of an odd couple in that way, but she knows her fans are respectful and will let them have their own life outside of the spotlight.’

Bucky wasn’t sure that the respectfulness of fans was such a given here, but he hoped you were right. To be fair, they’d been very sweet on your original post insofar.

However, when he scrolled to the bottom of the celebrity magazine articles and realized they had their own comments section, he discovered that they were a little less forgiving than the ones on your Instagram.

Is this the best she thinks she can do? So sad tbh :(

a military guy…. yikes, she could get any guy she wants and she goes for a murderer.

He looks like a hobo that found a coupon for a free haircut lol

I don’t buy it, I know she’ll always love Pietro!

Pietro being your former co-star that so many of your fans were convinced was actually your soulmate. From what he’d heard from you, those speculations had made things so uncomfortable between the two of you that it killed your friendship. Those were nothing, though, compared to the comments about someone you actually had dated.

she’s obviously not over sam… they were so good together

He’d better watch out for her ex, he still likes tweets about her and they have so much chemistry

Wait, she’s not still with Sam Wilson?? I could’ve sworn they’d been dating for, like, five years.

You were scrolling through your phone with a smile as you walked past where he was sitting on the couch, and he just couldn’t help himself from asking even though he knew it wasn’t the best idea. “Do I need to worry about this Sam thing?” he blurted out, trying to play it cool and not sound too anxious. “People are really obsessed with you two…”

“Sam and I…” you sighed, staring off into space for a second. He made himself anxious imagining what you were thinking about in that moment. “I haven’t talked to him in… years? I think it’s just because our relationship was so public that people are still talking about it. And it had a lot of gossip material— we did a movie together, people thought it was sweet that we got together during production, it was great promotion for the picture… and from the outside, we made a lot of sense for each other. But he has his own problems. I loved him, but… he wasn’t ever going to be a one-girl kinda guy.”

“But you’re not just any one girl. You’re… you know, you,” he emphasized.

“You’ve been reading too many headlines,” you shook your head as you sat down beside him. “Please don’t turn into one of those guys who thinks of me as a celebrity first. Before that—” you pointed to your own name where it was bolded on his screen in the trending topics page of Twitter— “was popping up on movie posters and in gossip magazines, it was just my name. And I’m not perfect. Not even close.”

Bucky sighed and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into him and holding you tightly. “And before I knew you were famous, or rich, or incredibly talented, I was totally obsessed with you just for who you are.”

“You’re too fucking amazing,” you sighed as you held his face and gave him a gentle kiss— the kind of kiss that instantly melted his heart and banished his worries. When you pulled back and looked up at him with a smile, it was like everything else just… faded away. “Don’t read the comments, okay? None of them matter.”

He smiled and brushed his thumb over your cheek, overwhelmed by not only the softness of your skin but of your spirit as well. In all his life he’d never been handled so… gently, with so much care. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he mumbled, not even really realizing he’d said it aloud until you gave him a beaming smile.

“I can’t believe you’re my boyfriend,” you giggled pridefully.

“Seriously? I can… very easily believe it,” he scoffed.

“I just mean… you’re so…” you searched for the words. “You’re actually good to me, that’s the thing. I’m not used to that.”

“You deserve the world,” he assured. “I’m just gonna keep trying to give you as much of it as I can find.”

He watched his hand trail over your face, down your neck and to your chest where he played with the hem of your t-shirt.

"It's odd to know there are millions of people who are jealous of me,” he admitted quietly, remembering some aggressive comments from some very angry dudes who had apparently also watched your nude scene a few too many times.

"Do you like it? Do you like how it feels to know you're making them angry every time you touch me?"

"Couldn't care less," he refuted. "Nobody else matters when I'm touchin' you."

“Do you maybe wanna… touch me a little more about it?” you smirked, opening your legs slightly in invitation.

“Always.”

Bucky had, thankfully, not let the newfound fame get to his head. In fact, he had demanded that the two of you hunker down in the house, since he feared that going out would lead to being recognized. What he apparently hadn’t anticipated was that that might not be enough.

“Will you get that?” you requested when the gate buzzed, too wrapped up in the book you were reading to answer the intercom.

He hopped up and held down the button to communicate with the gate speaker. “Who is it?” he asked.

“I’ve got a delivery from Anjappar Chettinad on 23rd?”

Bucky didn’t even reply before hitting the green button and granting access to the driveway. BEEP BEEP BEEP! you heard the gate signal its opening, and the car pulling around up to the door. Bucky didn’t open it until there was a knock, greeting the delivery guy with a smile and the necessary cash.

“I’ve got a lamb korma, hyderabadi mutton dum biryani and an order of— woah,” the man suddenly stopped, staring at Bucky’s face. “Are you—?’

“Hungry? Yes,” he frowned.

“You’re the guy dating— holy shit, congrats man,” he beamed, smacking Bucky on the shoulder pridefully before leaning in with a mischievous smirk. “Say, is she a freak or what?”

“She is,” you piped up from the couch, making both men turn their heads; but one was chuckling while the other looked mortified. “You better not have forgotten my paneer pakora or I’m gonna chain you up and whip you.”

“Uh, I— no, I got it right here,” he promised weakly, handing the bag over to Bucky and starting to dash away before Bucky grabbed his arm, making the smaller man whimper fearfully.

“You forgot the money,” Bucky reminded him gruffly, stuffing the bills into the driver’s front pocket.

Finally, he let go, and the delivery man instantly pulled away, rubbing his arm and looking a bit like a kicked puppy as he went back to his car and drove away.

“You didn’t need to scare him that bad,” Bucky chuckled.

“I could say the same to you! Grabbing somebody with the metal arm like that will put the fear of God into them pretty fast.”

“I didn’t mean to grab him that hard,” he admitted, examining the prosthetic hand as he came back to the couch with the bag of food, handing it to you while he focused on watching his motorized fingers curl and uncurl. “I think I need to get this thing recalibrated… it’s been bugging out lately.”

“I dunno, it was working just fine last night,” you smiled, remembering how delightfully cool those fingers felt inside you.

Bucky seemed to miss it entirely, though, as he stared off into space. “I can’t believe I got… recognized.”

“You’re a star,” you winked. “And not just with random delivery drivers. I’ve had a lot of press requests, everybody wants to be the first one to get nice pictures of us together— we’ve had a dozen event invites as a couple.”

“Seriously?!” he scoffed, snapping back to reality slightly enough

“Yeah, and look what came in same-day mail this morning!” You leaned over to shuffle through the mail on the side table before finding and handing him a letter in a gold-embossed envelope, watching him read what you knew was inside.

The Hollywood Foreign Press Association extends an invitation to Y/N Y/L/N and James Barnes to the annual Grant Banquet in support of the Young Artists Fund.

“It seems like a good first event for us,” you explained. “Relatively small and low stakes, it’s for a good cause…”

“Are you sure I’m ready to be, you know… seen? By people?”

You scoffed, hardly believing how insecure he could be sometimes. “You look great, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Will I have to talk to anybody other than you?” he asked, grimacing as if that were a form of brutal torture.

“Probably,” you admitted.

His frown deepened. “What if I say the wrong thing?”

“I’m not that worried about you,” you smirked. “You’re a lot better at this stuff than you think you are.”

“I don’t have anything to wear…”

You smirked, a little too proud of yourself, when you remembered the email your publicist had forwarded to you just this morning. “Hugo Boss will pay you $1500 to wear one of their suits on the carpet.”

“They’ll pay me to wear free clothes?” he repeated with wide eyes.

“Yeah, that’s one of the cooler things about fame,” you laughed. “I make a grand every time I wear this watch outside!”

“I guess I should send them my measurements then…” he trailed off. “Any chance I can get in on that watch deal?”

“No, but you can make $50 by getting papped at Jamba Juice.”

He paused for a moment, scratching the back of his neck as he thought. “Is the smoothie comped?”

“I don’t know. Do you want me to ask?”

“...kinda…” he admitted with a shy smile.

“Well, I will, and I’ll RSVP to this invite saying we’ll be there next week,” you decided as you started to open up the food, but Bucky stopped you by reaching for your hands.

“Are we really doing this?” he asked.

“If you want to,” you mitigated.

“Of course I do. I guess I have to accept that you’re actually willing to be seen with me,” he chuckled. “It’s just sort of hard to believe.”

You leaned in and kissed him; it was meant to be a casual, reassuring peck but he held you closer and you melted into him, moaning softly at his touch as you started to climb into his lap.

“The food’s gonna get cold,” he reminded you with a mumble against your lips.

Unfortunately, your literal hunger was a bit too strong to ignore, even with the growing intensity of a metaphorical hunger for Bucky. “Alright,” you relented, getting off of him and returning your attention to the meal on the table. “Just know that I really, really want to be seen together, in public, just in case anybody missed the news about us already. I’m not embarrassed by you or afraid you’re going to do something dumb. I…”

One of those words that can’t be unsaid started to bubble up in your throat and you coughed, banishing the thought.

“I really like you. I think we have something special.”

He smiled gently, giving you one more kiss on the cheek. “I think so, too.”

Since this was slightly less of a big deal than a premiere or press tour, you had managed to convince your styling team to let you dress yourself, which was why he was laying on the bed and talking to you through the bathroom door while you put on your gown.

“Do you want me to hire a new driver?” you prompted him, voice muffled slightly as he imagined your head covered in the fabric, trying to navigate through the dress. “I don’t want you to feel… I don’t know, like a servant?”

“A servant? You’re still paying me,” he reminded you. “You are still paying me, right?”

“Yes,” you laughed, “but still, I would hate it if you felt like staff. You’re my boyfriend!”

(His heart still fluttered every time you said it.)

“No new driver,” he decided. “I can drive just fine, and considering how things went between us… let’s not open the door for anybody else,” he smirked, making you laugh in that way you did when he made a stupid joke but you still liked it somehow.

“Okay, sure, but what about being my bodyguard? Is that too weird?” you continued.

“God no,” he scoffed, “if anything I’m gonna be better at my job than ever. As your boyfriend, keeping you safe is my job, but since keeping you safe was already my job… it’s, like, doubled-up now.”

He lost his train of thought when you opened the door.

“How do I look?” you asked as you stepped in and gave him a spin in your new dress. Your whole body was draped in red silk, with the exception of your back which was almost entirely exposed, as if it were begging him to run his fingers down your spine.

“Like everything I ever wanted,” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

And it was so odd that you questioned his desire to drive you, because those moments where he could steer with one hand and rest the other on your thigh, when he could catch a glimpse of you looking out the window at the city rolling by, when he got to listen to you ramble about something to kill the time during a drive; those were his favorite moments, and he wouldn’t trade them for anything.

After a relatively brief trip, you arrived at the venue, and all of a sudden he was doing what he’d fantasized about more than he’d like to admit: escorting you down a red carpet. It was almost overwhelming— yelling, chattering, reporters speaking into camera, flashes going off in every direction—

“Hey,” you whispered, bringing your hand up to his cheek and instantly taking all his attention.

“Hey,” he returned.

“Just follow my lead,” you instructed.

“That was the plan.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

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wickedpact · 4 years

Note

dear tumblr user crim wickedpact pls write the essay/dissertation about nicky being shakespeare's fair youth (if you have time, ofc!!)

Not To Imply Nicky Was Shakespeare’s Fair Youth But Ive Read The Fair Youth Sonnets & Nicky Was Definitely Shakespeare’s Fair Youth, an essay by me, tumblr user crim wickedpact

background knowledge: our man shakespeare wrote some 120 sonnets about a young man referred to as the Fair Youth during the mid 1590s; there has been some debate among shakespeare enthusiasts whether shakespeare’s interest in the Fair Youth was platonic or romantic (but like. they were definitely romantic). no one knows for sure who the Fair Youth was, but it was definitely nicky and my first and most important piece of evidence regarding this hypothesis is the ‘lmao babe do you remember that guy who had a crush on me?’/ ‘i try not to remember the guy who had a crush on you’ look joe and nicky exchange when Merrick brings up shakespeare during the movie. especially since gina confirmed in a tweet that joe and nicky canonly did know shakespeare

my second piece of evidence is that it just Works (except for a couple small facts like.. the Fair Youth was prolly closer to his 20s than his 30s. and the fact that shakespeare implies that the Fair Youth slept with his mistress at one point. but he doesnt know what hes talking about shhh we IGNORE)

long post under cut

A. The Description Matches

when describing the Fair Youth (who I’ll call the FY from now on), shakespeare says he has a ‘gold complexion’ and ‘beautiful eyes’ and compares him to a ‘summer’s day’. He says the FY has “A woman’s gentle heart" and “An eye more bright than [women’s are], (...) Gilding the object whereupon [they] gazeth”

As much as shakespeare’s perceptions of sexuality and gender are very........ late 1500′s (whoo boy sonnet #20 is a wild ride) ...... the description does match, and also:

B. The Fair Youth Refused to Get Married

it’s never really said why one way or another (shakespeare assumes it’s because the FY is selfish) but the FY didn’t/wouldn’t take on a wife and have a kid, and this was something that was a real sticker for our man Willy S. because, as he says in his sonnets a million times: beauty doesn’t last forever, but having a child not only passes down the FY’s beauty, but also blesses the woman the FY would have a child with (im not saying shakespeare wanted to bear the FY’s children, but he definitely did)

Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest, Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother. For where is she so fair whose uneared womb Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry?

(ie. If you don’t renew yourself/ have children, you deprive the world and deprive a woman from having your child, since what woman out there is so beautiful that she wouldn’t want to bear your child?)

Like.

1.) if nicky is the FY then so many of these poems center around the idea of nicky growing old sometime soon and that must have been pretty funny to Nicky and

2.) the fact that shakespeare would have been So Desperate for nicky to find a wife must have been the opposite of funny to joe. considering the ease of his and nicky’s relationship and the fact that being gay in late 1500s england was probably not a walk in the park, it is very likely shakespeare wouldn’t have known they were in a committed relationship-- or at least not known how close they actually were. Thus:

C. The Rival (aka. Joe)

shakespeare mentions having a poetic rival in regards to the FY in several sonnets. In sonnet #21 he talks about how he’s not like Those Other Writers who use grand metaphors to talk about their muses

So is it not with me as with that Muse, Stirred by a painted beauty to his verse, Who heaven itself for ornament doth use And every fair with his fair doth rehearse, Making a couplement of proud compare With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rich gems, With April's first-born flowers, and all things rare,

(ie. I’m not like other poets who, when inspired by a ‘painted beauty’ use heaven and every other beautiful thing on the planet to make a grand comparison to their muse: he specifically lists the sun and moon as examples as well as other beautiful things)

He then goes on to say

And then believe me, my love is as fair As any mother's child, though not so bright As those gold candles fixed in heaven's air:

(ie. my love [the FY] is as beautiful as any other beautiful person, though I wouldn’t compare them to the stars/heavens (which is what he means by the 'gold candles’. those are stars.))

So shakespeare insults poets who compare their subjects to the sun, moon, and stars (amongst other things) and in the comics, Joe does literally exactly that

That man is the stars in my sky, and the sun that lights my days. That man is the moon when I'm lost in darkness, and warmth when I shiver in cold.

shakespeare also goes on to say in the same sonnet “Let them say more that like of hearsay well / I will not praise that purpose not to sell” which is to say ‘let people who like that kind of language use it, I wont because I don’t want anyone else to have the subject of my affections (the FY)’.

(which is a bit of a contradiction regarding his feelings abt the FY getting married, but these sonnets are full of contradictions. shakespeare was a confused dude; man spent the first 100 or so sonnets convinced the FY loved him back only for him to start wondering if the FY ever loved him near the end)

(not to mention Marriage For Love wasnt really.. much of a thing in Ye Olden Times but thats a different conversation. so shakespeare prolly didnt associate marriage with love/competition? anyways)

Shakesy-boo goes on to complain about this rival several times. In #79, he says

Yet what of thee thy poet doth invent He robs thee of, and pays it thee again. He lends thee virtue, and he stole that word From thy behaviour; beauty doth he give, And found it in thy cheek: he can afford No praise to thee, but what in thee doth live.

(ie. everything ‘your poet’ (as the FY apparently favored this unnamed rival) says about you, he takes it from you in the first place. he talks about your virtue, but learned the word from watching your behavior. he calls you beautiful but only discovered beauty by looking at your face. every compliment he gives you he took from you in the first place)

[and, as a smaller example, he also bemoans the fact that people want to paint the FY in #67, saying, “Why should false painting imitate his cheek, / And steal dead seeming of his living hue?”. and yknow. Joe’s an artist.]

And then another example in #86

Was it the proud full sail of [the rival’s] great verse, Bound for the prize of all too precious you, That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse, Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew?

Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead?

(ie. he’s talking about how he’s having difficulty writing abt the FY and is rhetorically asking if ‘the proud sail’ of the rival’s verses was the reason his ‘ripe thoughts’ were killed in their ‘womb’. He then asks (again rhetorically) if it was the rival’s ‘spirit’ (or creativity, maybe) ‘’’‘by spirits taught to write’’’’ that killed his own drive to write. none of the analyses I’ve read really explain what shakespeare means by ‘spirits taught to write’, other than maybe being a joke or reference to something we dont know, but... ‘taught by dead people to write in a way mortal people can’t’ very much sounds like a description of an immortal poet, eh?)

Which brings me to,

D. Willy Boy Thinks There Are 500 Year Old Writings About the Fair Youth

shakespeare talks about people having written about the FY ‘500 years ago’ from the late 1500s in #59 which......................... would have been around 1100 AD. :thinking face:

Oh that record could with a backward look, Even of five hundred courses of the sun, Show me your image in some antique book, Since mind at first in character was done, That I might see what the old world could say To this composed wonder of your frame;

(ie. Oh if I could look back 500 years and see how you were described in some old books so I could see/reference what people used to write about you)

Which again brings me to,

E. I’m Not Saying shakespeare Stole From Joe, But:

1.) In #22, shakespeare says this,

For all that beauty that doth cover thee, Is but the seemly raiment of my heart, Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me:

(ie, your beauty is due to the ‘clothes’ my heart gives you-- probably means something like ‘you’re beautiful because i love you’. goes on to say his heart lives in the FY’s chest, and the FY’s heart lives in shakespeare’s chest)

so: shakespeare tells the FY he has shakespeare’s heart. in comparison, Joe calls nicky ‘my heart’ in the comics...... :thinking face x2:

2.) In #109, shakespeare tells the FY ‘thou art my all’,

For nothing this wide universe I call, Save thou, my rose, in it thou art my all.

which rings similar to Joe’s ‘he’s all and he’s more’ as well as (from the comics) ‘he is my everything’

and just saying. joe looks pretty #done the mention of shakespeare.

F. The last One

Despite shakespeare writing 30+ poems about the FY eventually growing old, the very last poem he writes about/for the FY says,

O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle hour; Who hast by waning grown, and therein showest Thy lovers withering, as thy sweet self growest.

(ie. you [the FY] have power over the ‘mirror’ (fickle glass) of time as well as time’s ‘harvesting’ ability (sickle hour) and as you grow older, you remain beautiful while your lovers [shakespeare] wither and grow old)

The transition from ‘get married and have a baby before you get old!!!!’ in #1-20 to talking about the FY’s presence in 500 y/o books in #59 to admitting the FY isn’t growing old in #126 kinda seems to imply shakespeare learning of/about nicky’s immortality at some point, and this last poem is him accepting it.

TLDR: not only does it make perfect sense if nicky was the Fair Youth from the FY sonnets, but it also makes perfect sense if joe was the Rival from the FY sonnets. its canon nothing will convince me otherwise

#IS THIS GETTING TAGGED? YES #nicolo di genova #joe x nicky #my_essays #the fair youth saga

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shoutogepi · 3 years

Text

A Million Times Over, part 1

┌────── ⋆⋅✧⋅⋆ ──────┐

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Todoroki Shouto x American!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 11.3k holy shit this is so long guys. fuck.

[ ☀︎, ☁︎, ✘ (nsfw!) ] (series warnings)

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : some NSFW themes but no actual smut. a lot of pining and angst. some cute moments too tho!

𝐛𝐢𝐨 : You lose all memories from the past five years of your life due to an accident-induced coma, including any recollection of your beloved boyfriend and fellow pro-hero, Shouto. He’s devastated that you don’t remember him, but the both of you are determined to get your memories back, no matter how long it takes. In the meantime, you attempt to rebuild your relationship with him… while also nurturing the spark that’s still very much lit between you two.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : Originally I intended for this to just be a long fic… but even for my standards, this would be wayyy too long to be just in one post. I decided to split the fic into three instead, so this will be the first part of my very first multi-chap series, A Million Times Over, for my beloved Sho <3

𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : big thank you to my sweet friend @todoscript for beta-reading this for me and hyping me up!! love you, can’t wait to read what you have in the works soon <3

└────── ⋆⋅✧⋅⋆ ──────┘

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

“.../n”

…

“.. y/n…”

…

🅃he buzzing noise in your ears sharpened. White light snuck between your eyelids and you groaned, fingers reaching toward your temple. Confusion burst forth as you recognized foreign, plastic tubing connected to your skin, your eyes opening wider as you began to register your surroundings.

You were in a hospital room. To be more exact, you were in the bed in the middle of the hospital room— meaning, you were the patient. The realization shocked you, and you jolted upright abruptly, suddenly all too aware of the tubes stuck up your nose. At your sudden movement, large, warm hands landed on your arms and rubbed at your skin gently, making your attention turn to the person sitting at your bedside.

“Y/n? Hey, you’re okay, love, it's alright. You’re safe, I’ve got you.” His voice was smooth and deep, an anchor for you to grab onto in the midst of your confusion.

You were gawking, staring straight at him— you couldn't help it. Your jaw was probably hanging open, gaping like a fish at the man before you. What were you in the hospital for exactly— had you gone insane and dreamed this situation up?

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“Sh-Shouto Todoroki,” you mumbled, gaze connected with his tired but bright, heterochromatic orbs. His brow furrowed and his head tilted slightly at your courteous acknowledgement, but he brushed it aside and smiled at you instead.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you took in his form beside you. He was tall— you could tell even though he was seated— and he was more handsome than you’d ever imagined, somewhere in his mid-to-late twenties judging by the sharp, masculine features of his face.

“Y/n…,” he breathed out, a large, calloused hand coming up to cup your jaw. Then he pulled you into a hug, his strong, muscular arms wrapping around your torso and cradling the back of your head to press you into his chest. He smelled of clean laundry and winter, a crisp, fresh scent that made an unknown comfort blossom in your chest.

Slowly you placed an arm around his neck, your other hand laying limp on the sheets as it was still connected to the IV. You rubbed his back slightly, still dazed by your apparent situation. Looking outside the open window in the corner of the room, you realized it was daytime; yellow sunlight beaming into the room and pouring onto the tiled floor. There were vases of flowers all around the room, as well as stuffed animals, cards, and balloons that all wished for your health and speedy recovery.

“I’m so glad you’re awake,” Shouto whispered into your shoulder, still holding you tight in his embrace. His voice was still low, but this time it shook with profound emotion. “I missed you… so much.”

Your body felt relaxed in his arms, even though your brain was whirring a thousand miles a minute. You had no clue how you’d ended up in the hospital, who sent you all these gifts, where you even were geographically, and most importantly, why Shouto Todoroki was holding onto you like you meant the world to him. You patted his back stiffly and he let go of you just enough to move his face in front of yours. His eyes held such love and relief, the emotions as clear as day that butterflies ruptured from your stomach. As if his expression wasn’t enough to get your heart racing, he leaned forward and captured your lips, pressing his mouth to yours in a firm but sweet kiss.

It only lasted for a minute, but it was enough to have your heart rate monitor start beeping rapidly, noisily chiming at the other side of your bed. His face was so perfect and smooth up close— you couldn’t close your eyes as you took in his astonishing beauty. Sure, you’d imagined he would be perfect… but in person, here before you, he was indescribable. The man of your dreams. And a good kisser, too.

A nurse rushed into the room, seemingly out of breath. When she caught sight of the two of you, your lips locked, and Shouto holding you so tenderly, she let out an awkward cough and pawed at her scrubs, averting her eyes as she approached your bedside. Shouto pulled away, only to plant a soft kiss on the very tip of your nose before leaning back into his seat. He had a wide smile on his lips, content-crinkled eyes settled on you as his hand enveloped yours.

“So you’re awake!” the nurse stated excitedly, busying around with the beeping machine, managing to shut the blasted thing off. “How are you feeling? Any pain, discomfort?”

You glanced at Shouto, who smiled at you warmly and squeezed your hand. If that heart rate machine was still on, surely it would be going haywire again. “Uhh, I think I’m okay… just kinda groggy,” you replied truthfully, your voice coming out hoarse. You cleared your throat and she handed you a small cup of water, which you took gratefully. You continued on after taking a few sips, the liquid cooling your irritated throat. “No pain, but I’m a little… confused, to be honest.”

“I’m sure you are, hon,” the nurse said, giving you a smile full of understanding. It made you feel a little less on edge, and you gave her a half-hearted smile back. “You were in a bad accident almost a month ago. You suffered some head trauma, and you’ve been in a coma ever since. You also had two bruised ribs, and some minor surface wounds. The cuts are all gone now, and your ribs should be almost all healed by now as well, but if you have any discomfort on your left side here,” she gestured to your ribs and continued, “just let me know. I’ll page your doctor and we’ll do a quick check-up on you in just a minute!”

You nodded slowly, the gears turning in your head. You were in an accident, and then a coma for a whole month? It all seemed so crazy to you— you can’t remember a single thing leading up to your supposed accident. Head trauma… you weren’t usually the type to get hurt, and you’d never been in a coma before. “Umm… what kind of accident was it?” you asked, looking between Shouto and the nurse, not really directing the question to either of them specifically.

“You were flung into a cement pillar during a fight, love. The blow was mostly on your side, hence your bruised ribs… but your head smacked into the pillar secondarily,” Shouto replied, his smile disappearing as an unfamiliar bitterness washed over his handsome face. “We were battling together and you were knocked unconscious instantly… you’ve been asleep ever since.”

“A fight..?” you frowned, tilting your head in confusion. “We were fighting, and you threw me against a… cement pillar?”

Shouto looked horrified at your misunderstanding, adamantly shaking his head and making his soft, two-toned hair shine in the sunlight. “No, I would never hurt you— the villain did, baby. I incapacitated them right after,” he paused, eyes casting downwards and his free hand forming into a fist at the memory, “but the damage had already been done...”

That sounded right… your job was herowork, you could at least recall that. But you didn’t think you’d ever fought beside a hero as great and renowned as Japan’s famed dual-tempered Shouto. Sure, you’d been doing your best to climb the American hero leaderboard, but you weren’t by any means at the top yet. “Umm… can you tell me.. why we were fighting a villain together, exactly?”

Shouto looked directly at you, his brow furrowing before he looked to the nurse on the other side of your bed. They shared a look, and you shuffled uncomfortably in the cotton sheets pulled up to your waist, unease sitting like a rock in your stomach.

“Y/N, can you tell me what you remember before the accident?” Shouto asked slowly, his grip on your hand tightening just a fraction. There was a sliver of something else in his voice now, a hint of urgency in his request.

You looked between him and the nurse hesitantly, racking your brain for anything you could think of. “Uhh… I don’t… I don’t remember, I— I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright hon, don’t worry. It’s common to have some confusion after just waking up from a coma. We can try an easier question. Let’s see… do you know your birthday?”

You responded instantly, and there was the tiniest amount of relief on Shouto’s face at your correct response.

“Your mother’s maiden name?”

You got that one right too, Shouto’s thumb rubbing over your knuckles soothingly in silent praise.

“How about your phone number?”

You took a second to think of it, but you answered that one too. The nurse looked over at Shouto to see his reaction, and so did you. But Shouto was frowning at you, making dread drip into your veins. “That’s your US number, love… what’s your Japanese number?”

You looked at him incredulously. “My Japanese number? Why would I need a Japanese number?” you inquired, thinking this must have been some kind of trick question.

The nurse and Shouto shared a more serious look, and Shouto swallowed as he looked away from you, turning toward the window instead. You squeezed at his hand but he didn’t respond, so you turned to the nurse instead, confused now more than ever.

“I don’t understand…,” you mumbled, hoping for some clarification from her. She smiled at you, but this time it did not reach her eyes.

“You’re in Japan, hon. You’re speaking Japanese right now… and you’re also one of the top heroes in Japan, just like your boyfriend here.”

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The next few days passed by in a blur. The hospital staff was all very kind and hospitable, but it still felt like you had woken up in the middle of someone else’s life. Even though your body was yours, and you looked just the same, you couldn’t help the unease that lingered from your imposter syndrome.

You had gone through so many tests and check-ups that they all blended together at this point. You had been poked, prodded, and quizzed the entire time since you’d woken up from your coma. There were so many different tests regarding your memory that your brain felt like melted jelly by now, and your frustration was at an all-time high.

Shouto had gotten up and left the room shortly after the nurse informed you of your situation. Your heart felt heavy for him— he seemed so excited, so relieved that you were finally awake— and this was the devastating reality that he was left to face. After patiently waiting at your bedside for weeks, this was the bitter pill he had to swallow when you had finally come-to… you imagined that he was not eager to confront such a terrible twist of fate. Yet he had come back into your room half an hour later, eyes suspiciously puffy and pink, and his nose a little stuffy, but nonetheless, he grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles, squeezing even tighter than before. Even though you barely knew him, his presence made you feel safe, and you were glad to have him by your side.

Between your numerous mental tests and check-ins, the conversation between the two of you was surprisingly easy. He was patient with you, and kind. Apparently, you’d first met him in America at a hero convention about five years ago, and you started dating after a year and a half of being friends. Your memory had been completely wiped of the past five years, leaving your Japanese friends, coworkers, and dedicated boyfriend all in the dark. According to Shouto, you had befriended many of the top heroes in Japan, seeing as they were also your colleagues. It turned out that the numerous flower arrangements scattered about your room were from these heroes, as well as fans… though a good amount were from the heterochromatic man himself.

Shouto took care of you during your days at the hospital. He talked to the doctor after your check-ins, pulling them aside and conversing in hushed voices in the hallway just outside your door. He called your family for you and flew them out, only adding to the chaos in your hospital room. He told all of your Japanese friends and acquaintances to stay away for now, knowing that meeting them would probably just overwhelm and guilt you. And each day he would bring you a treat that you would inevitably love, proving to you that he really did know you, and that he knew your preferences and even your favorite boba order. He probably would have stayed by your bedside even through each night, but you insisted he go home and sleep in a proper bed. You already felt bad enough that he was taking a hiatus from hero work until you recovered… you didn’t need to add his future back issues to your already guilty conscience.

You found yourself enjoying your time with him. You knew who he was— you had certainly heard of him during your previous hero work that you actually remembered. You kept it to yourself that you had harbored an embarrassingly large crush on him, though. You figured he probably knew that, seeing as he was your boyfriend of three and a half years… no need to bring it up! But now that your memory had reverted back to your mental state five years ago… you inevitably had feelings for the pro hero, and you weren’t sure if he either couldn’t tell how he affected you, or if he was just being polite. Whatever the case, there was still a spark between the two of you. Even though all the progress of your relationship had been erased on your side, each day your feelings only grew for the selfless, charming, and witty half-and-half man. So much so, that you would now reach out for his hand when he would enter your room each morning, and he would smile at you and slip his fingers between yours, no matter how much it hurt to restrain himself from showing you more affection.

After about a week, you were cleared to go home. Your nurse, who you had come to know as Akari, told you that the doctor had originally wanted to keep you for longer… but that Shouto was such a doting beau that they had given you the express go-ahead, knowing you would be in the highest of care.

Your memory was still not restored, though you had started to remember odd things here and there. Like how to use your phone— it was the newest model and far from the technology you were familiar with five years ago, but you opened the device and navigated it expertly on your first go. The doctor said that that was a good sign, though it could just be muscle memory... but Shouto still gave you a small smile of encouragement. Next was when you had asked Shouto to bring you your favorite moisturizer, a Japanese brand, and you just mentioned it so casually in conversation that you would have blown right over it had Shouto not pointed it out to you. You were recalling little, mundane things here and there, but never anything big— no people, no places. No distinct memories.

Akari assured you many times that as long as you kept working at it, your memories would return. She always said it when you were frustrated— she could tell your moods and she could see how hard you were trying. But she also said it when you were doing fine, and that was when you knew she was saying it more to Shouto than anything. You were glad to have her there, because even though Shouto was there for you physically, he kept most of his emotions sealed off from you… and it was hard for you to read him. Akari was an excellent nurse, and you felt blessed to have been taken care of by her. But a tiny, minuscule part of you was jealous that she could tell how he was feeling, while you were left in the dark.

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You sighed as the car door clicked shut, feeling apprehensive. The vehicle that Shouto had driven to the hospital today is sleek, shiny, and foreign. You had no clue what model it was, but you knew it must have been expensive— the interior was framed with a polished wood that complimented the peanut-butter color of the leather seats and steering wheel. Shouto slipped into the drivers’ side next to you, offering you a small smile as he clicked his seatbelt into place.

“Are you nervous?” he asked, pausing before he turned the ignition. The car purred to life, a welcome screen popping up in the middle of the console.

You thought it over for a moment before answering, watching as he slid the parking ticket out from under the overhead visor. “A little… I think excited is a better word for it, though.”

Shouto’s smile broadened just a tad, his hand reaching over the center console and squeezing yours briefly. “Me too,” he murmured, eyes locked with yours for just a moment too long before his arm propped back against the corner of your seat, and he reversed out of the parking spot. You couldn’t help but admire his chiseled jawline as he did so, eyes flitting away quickly when he caught your lingering gaze.

The drive from the hospital to your home wasn’t long, and you were thankful that was the case— you’d have definitely felt even guiltier if he’d been driving for a long time all these days to come and see you. The city distracted you along the way, bustling and bright as ever, and your eyes were wide with wonder as you took in the colorful displays littering the streets and storefronts. Everything— everyone just seemed so alive; it was impossible to keep the smile from your face.

At one red light in particular, you saw a cat cafe, zoning in on a particularly pudgy cat snoozing at the top of the cat tree in the window. You giggled and pointed it out to Shouto, glancing over at him to see if he was looking, and the softest smile was on his lips as his eyes gazed deeply into yours. You held his stare for a moment and then looked away again, flustered and your cheeks feeling warm as you cleared your throat.

It was then that you noticed his hand lying atop the center of the console, tempting you to reach out and lace your fingers with his, like you had done so many times at the hospital. But it felt different without the safety of the white walls and medical equipment you had grown to know, somehow scarier— like he might reject you for whatever reason. You chose to keep your hands to yourself for now.

“It seems like you’re curious about the city,” he said as silence settled between the pair of you, the only noise in the cabin of the vehicle being the low melody from the radio.

You shrugged and hummed in agreement, eyes now glued to the other side of the window as countless people and businesses whizz by. “I like to know the city I’m protecting,” you answered, leaning back against the headrest. “It makes me feel more connected to the people that live here… the people we’re helping when we do our jobs. Y’know?”

Shouto nodded, humming his own agreement. “Yeah… I know what you mean,” he replied. After a short pause, he turned to you, waiting for another red light to turn green. “Maybe we can come out in disguise sometime… if that would interest you. I can show you around, we can have a little adventure.”

You visibly perked up at his suggestion, your grin making his heart flutter suddenly in his chest. “Yes! I would love that!” you beamed at him and he smiled back at you, the faintest hint of a blush dusting his cheeks.

You bit your lip as he turned back toward the road, the car shifting forward as he pressed the gas at the green signal. He was trying… so you had to, too.

“But only if we go together, okay?” You reached over and took his hand before you could chicken out. His fingers fit perfectly in between yours, and your cheeks felt hot again as you gazed intently at your intertwined hands.

Shouto let out a little breath of surprise at your action, but his fingers curled tightly around yours in under a second. “Of course… love.”

⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆

Shouto had sent your family home, despite their protests. The doctor’s orders were for you to resume life as you normally would— apparently, that would be the quickest way for you to regain your memories. The verdict was much to your parents’ dismay, but they understood that it was the fastest means for you to return to, well, you. So they left Shouto to take care of you, and he insisted that once your memories came back, he would fly them back out to see you again, or the two of you would come to them.

Though technically he was a stranger to you, he was the closest thing to home in the strange storm of your memory loss. He had been there for you every step of the way, every day. He tended to your every need, and he even anticipated your needs before you were aware of them. That didn’t change once you arrived at your shared apartment.

If you could even call it that.

“Holy shit,” you mumbled when Shouto unlocked the door for you, gesturing for you to enter first. Your jaw was on the herringbone-patterned, hardwood floor as your eyes wandered around the entryway, taking in every design detail you came across. You barely managed to take off your shoes before you were peeking your head into the bathroom next to the entry hallway, inspecting the clean and gorgeously-furnished half-bath.

Shouto chuckled and closed the door behind him, making sure to turn the lock as he set his keys into a porcelain bowl beside the door. “Go explore, I think you’ll like what you see,” he said amusedly, a half-smirk on his pink lips as he eyed you. Your starstruck expression only grew as you padded into the open space of the living room.

A long, cushy sofa and chaise stood before the huge flat-screen that was nestled into an elegant built-in, shelves filled with books you knew and loved and ones you didn’t recognize, too. Game consoles lined the shelf below the plasma screen, and your toes curled into the fuzzy rug underfoot as you gaped at the room. Everything— even the curtains and the coasters on the coffee table— was exactly in your taste. You felt like you were in wonderland. Had you fallen down a rabbit hole and this was the magical, heavenly place you had landed in? Clearly this had to be a dream, right? You woke up as Todoroki Shouto’s long-time girlfriend, and apparently you lived here, with him?

Goddamn.

The kitchen, laundry room, main bath, office, bedroom, and master bath all fit your taste exactly the same. Only the second office and spare bedroom seemed a little out of place— they were more of a traditional Japanese design, but even though it was different, you did not mind. Even the runner on the staircase— who had a staircase in their apartment, by the way?!— was in a pleasing color and pattern. There was even a decently sized home gym, with various equipment and machines and a mirror running the length of the entire wall. By the end of your expedition, you were simply at a loss for words. You found Shouto sitting on one of the stools at the marble island that separated the kitchen and the living room, busy combing through some manila files.

“Umm,” you started, catching his attention.

He looked up at you, propping his chin onto his hand as his elbow rested on the counter. One brow quirked up, he grinned slyly at your outright astonishment. “Well?” he prompted, sitting up and rolling his neck, then stretching his broad shoulders. “What do you think?”

You try not to linger on the way the muscles rippled underneath his tight, crisp shirt, playing off your silence as shock. “It’s uh… perfect? I live here? I actually live here, right? You’re not pulling my leg?”

Shouto chuckled and shook his head. “I would never, love. Well, I have before, but no— I’m not right now. You live here. We live here. It’s all ours.”

You laughed giddily, unable to contain your excitement. Shouto smiled fondly at you, your grin infectious as your eyes wandered around the kitchen once more.

“Snack pantry is behind that door,” he nodded his head to the side and your eyes grew even starrier. He couldn’t help the laugh that trickled out of him at your instant footsteps— you were still you, after all. He knew all the ways to your heart very well, and one of them was most definitely through food.

“Woah.” Your mouth hung open once again at the rows of snacks and foods that greeted your gaze when you opened the door, the light flicking on automatically. Your eyes danced over the labels, recognizing many of your favorite flavors throughout the variety. “We could survive a whole year off of this stuff, Shouto.”

You stiffened when an arm wrapped around your middle, his front pressing up against your back as his chin fell onto your shoulder. That same comforting scent encircled you, but this time it was mixed with a subtle, woodsy aroma that made your mouth water.

Shouto breathed softly into your hair, the tip of his nose brushing the side of your neck. “I stocked up for your return, love.” He took another leisurely deep breath before he pulled back, his arm falling from your body and leaving you surprisingly cold without his touch. “Wanted you to have everything you could possibly desire.”

Your eyes inspected the pattern on the hardwood floor as he stepped away from you, your arm crossing over your front to grab onto your bicep nervously. Letting out a small laugh, you replied, “Yeah, I think you covered all the bases…”

He only hummed as he returned to his seat, sliding on a pair of thin metal glasses you hadn’t seen him take off before. You couldn’t help but think he looked incredibly handsome like this— a rare, domestic sight for only your eyes to enjoy. “Sorry I can’t entertain you at the moment,” he said, that analytical gaze locking onto you once more. “My agency asked me to look over these cases and I just have to finish them up— I’m technically on leave, but I still want to help out when I can. I only need another half hour or so. Feel free to help yourself to anything you like. This is your home, after all.”

You smiled and nodded, rolling back and forth on the balls of your feet. “Alright, I’ll try not to bother you.” Shouto frowned at your wording, but you carried on anyway. “I think I’ll poke around our room and see if I can find something that triggers a memory.” Your acknowledgement of your shared bedroom seemed to put him at ease, and with that, you grabbed a strawberry-flavored snack from the pantry before making your way past him, roaming over to the bedroom.

“You can go through my things if you want, too!” He called from behind you, having already made your way to the stairs. Choosing not to reply to his invitation, you hopped up the steps and quietly closed the door to your bedroom, hands landing on your hips. Inspecting the room from left to right, you decided to go through the toiletries in the master bath before anything else.

Before you could move even a foot in the direction of the en-suite, a furry creature darted out from underneath the bed skirt and dashed toward you. You gasped in delight at the gorgeous visage of the long-haired cat— she had bright blue eyes and fine white fur, her coat streaked with gray here and there. The cat meowed cutely and curled around your ankle, rubbing her head against your leg affectionately.

You immediately crouched down and lowered yourself to her level, fingers eagerly diving into her soft fur and offering a good scratch behind the ears. “Hi gorgeous,” you cooed, the animal mewling back at you in response. Your fingers found her collar and you flipped over the tag, reading her name with a smile. “Nice to meet you, Yuki.”

Heart softened at the thought of Shouto owning such a pretty creature, you gave her a good long rub before you decided to move on to your quest at hand. The creature followed closely behind, twisting in between your legs as you entered the en-suite.

The bathroom was large and luxurious, just what you would expect from a pro-hero of Shouto’s standing. It occurred to you that you too, were a hero of such regard, which must explain why you could afford all the lavish things you came across while combing through the closets and cabinetry.

You went through countless skincare products, face masks, makeup items, and bathing goods on what you presumed was your side of the double sink before you peeked into Shouto’s drawers. You fingered through his hygienic products, mumbling to yourself in surprise when you came across skincare items whose existence most men would not even be aware of. You shrugged and figured that you just must be an excellent girlfriend and teacher, assuming he used them correctly.

Eventually you found his shaving items, eyes scanning the labels until you find his aftershave. Shrugging, you took the cap off, giving a tentative sniff before you realized that must be what you smelled on him earlier, when he’d pressed up against you from behind and nuzzled into your neck. You bit your lip as you recalled how his arm felt around your waist, his nose on your throat. It had felt so intimate, and oddly… natural.

It was the most contact you’d had with him so far. While you were at the hospital, he would hold your hand. Besides that first moment when you had just woken up— when he hugged and kissed you, and the fireworks that had gone off had been then overshadowed by the horrific realization that your memory had been wiped— the half-hug just twenty minutes ago was the only time he had initiated further physical contact with you.

You frowned. It wasn’t like you’d been super affectionate toward him, either. Sure, you had reached out for his hand at the hospital, and you took it again during the car ride home… but now that it was just the two of you, alone in your home… it felt different. Maybe that was why Shouto had asked if you felt nervous when you were in the car, following your discharge from the hospital only an hour ago. Had he seen it coming— this potential pitfall in the reconstruction of your relationship? You wondered how he felt about all of this, but you were too shy to ask him so directly. Not when you barely knew him.

“Missed me so much you’re sniffing my cologne?”

You froze and glanced up at the mirror, Shouto’s reflection smirking at you from his leaned position against the doorway. Your cheeks immediately went warm and fuzzy again as you capped the glass bottle, carefully placing it back into its drawer before looking over your shoulder to him. A glance at the clock on the wall revealed it had been forty minutes; you must have gotten swept up in examining your beauty products.

He didn't have his glasses on anymore, and he had changed into a solid-colored t-shirt, the crisp button-down he’d donned earlier nowhere to be seen. Damn it… you had missed your chance to ogle at him with his shirt off. At your silence, his smirk melted into a small smile, stepping forward and joining your sitting form on the heated-tile floor. “Don’t worry, I’ve done the same to your perfume before as well,” he murmured as he reached toward the drawer on your far side, his arm brushing against your back as he searched for the glass vial. “You can try it, too. It’s the most recent addition to your collection, and I personally am very partial to its scent.”

The contact made you swallow, your gaze flicking over to his. He was looking at the various perfume bottles in the drawer, though, giving you the chance to inspect his face as his hair fell forward, soft locks of red and white splaying across his forehead. He was so breathtaking up close like this… your gaze dropped to his lips. God, you wanted to kiss him. You wanted to feel those lips on yours again, to be in his arms and to be held as tenderly as you were that first day you awoke.

“Oh right,” he chuckled, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck awkwardly. “I brought it into the spare room the other day… Must’ve forgot to put it back.” He leaned back, ending the accidental physical contact with you.

You looked at him quizzically. “The spare room? Can I ask why?”

Shouto blushed and your heart thudded in your chest. Oh crap, he was so cute with his cheeks tinged pink. “Yeah… I’ve been sleeping in there since the accident. It just feels…,” he paused as he searched for the right word, eyes avoiding yours, “wrong… to be in our bed without you.”

Your own cheeks warmed at that, his confession pulling at your heartstrings. “So the perfume..?”

His cheeks darkened a few shades, the hand on his neck rubbing harder at his skin. “Ah, that’s… honestly kind of… embarrassing to explain.”

You reached out so your hand covered his, and Shouto sighed as he allowed your fingers to slide in between his. “Can I guess? Will you tell me if I’m right?” He nodded at that, deciding it was better if he didn't have to say it. “You spray my perfume onto a pillow at night and snuggle up with it?”

Shouto’s eyes widened at your immediate response, swallowing before he let out a stiff laugh and a nod. “Yeah, that’s exactly right… kind of lame, isn’t it?”

Shaking your head, you smiled gently at him. “No, I think it’s sweet. It’s just what I would do if you were away, too.”

There’s a shocked silence that filled the bathroom then, Shouto’s wide eyes fixed on you for a long, intense moment. Eventually you broke eye contact, looking to the floor with an awkward smile.

“And you don’t have to do that tonight…” you offered quietly. “If you want, I mean… you can sleep in here.”

“Is that where you’ll be sleeping?”

You looked back at him, surprised by his instant reply. “Y-Yeah, I think so…”

“Alright,” he conceded, his blank face melting into a warm smile. “Then that’s where I’ll sleep, too.”

You returned the gesture, pleased to have made him happy. “Will you be spraying me with perfume before we tuck in?” you joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“No,” Shouto answered seriously, the smile dropping from his face, “your natural scent is a thousand times better than any perfume, love. I’ve missed it lingering on our sheets.”

Cheeks warmed for what seemed like the thousandth time today, you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and smiled, unsure of what to say. “Aha okay… well, I think you smell pretty good, too.”

⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆

Shouto originally wanted to order in from your favorite restaurant for dinner, but you managed to sweet talk him into allowing you to cook instead. After about a week of feeling completely worthless, it was nice to have something you could finally, actually do.

The refrigerator was just as stocked as the pantry, so after analyzing the plethora of ingredients at your disposal, you decided on a meal and set off, gathering all the things you’d need in an excited hurry. Just as you were about to start washing vegetables, Shouto slipped an apron over your head, steady hands drawing the ties together at the bottom of your spine. The garment fit you perfectly, intricate design in your favorite color. You thanked him as you glanced over your shoulder, grinning up at him.

There was a somewhat somber look in his eyes, a halfhearted smile just barely curving his lips before he nodded and moved away, retreating back to the other side of the counter where he’s staked out to watch you work. He’d offered to help— numerous times, actually— but you told him to just sit back and relax. You wanted to do something for the tired man, even if it was as small as putting together a meal.

It didn't take long for you to get into a rhythm. Chopping the vegetables and preparing the other ingredients came naturally to you, and you found yourself enjoying the process. It was something familiar, which was very much welcome.

“Do we cook a lot?” you inquired, raising your voice a bit so Shouto could hear you over the sizzling pan in front of you.

He was leaning on the countertop again— he must’ve known he looked delicious like that or something— and he glanced over at you from the open book he was reading. “Mm, when we have time. It’s not that we don’t enjoy it, but usually we’re both very busy. It’s normal for us to leave early, and return home late.”

You nodded in understanding, grinding fresh peppercorns above the skillet and giving the contents a stir.

“I like everything you cook for me, though.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, stealing a look over at him. While your cooking had improved since your teenage years, it wasn’t like you were a chef by any means. “Everything? You’re just trying to be sweet on me.”

The corner of his mouth curled up. “Maybe… is it working?”

The sound of the food crackling from a drizzle of oil filled the kitchen for a beat, and you stared at the wilting greens before you, unable to bring yourself to look at him. “Yeah, I think it’s working…”

There was another pause in conversation, this one less stifling than before. This time, Shouto broke the ice. “Even though we’re busy people, we always have a date every Friday… It’s the highlight of my week.” His voice sounded gloomier than just a moment ago, but when you chanced a look over at him, he was smiling slightly, staring at a cabinet and seemingly off in his own memories.

You wondered which memory he was going over particularly, but didn’t want to intrude his recollection, so you focused on stirring the pan instead. Tapping your phone on the counter next to you just to make sure, your eyes flitted over today’s date.

Thursday.

“Tomorrow’s a Friday,” you mentioned, trying to be casual, despite your heartbeat ringing in your ears. It was stupid for you to get anxious that he’d reject you— he was your boyfriend after all. But to you, this was all uncharted territory; foreign waters.

“Tomorrow is a Friday, yeah,” he confirmed, looking down at his book again. “It’ll be a week since you woke up.”

The realization that you’d woken up exactly one week ago—the day that caused the man so much joy and then so much pain— that that day had been on a Friday, your sacred day that was devoted to being spent with each other… it made your heart throb uncomfortably in your chest. You nibbled on the inside of your cheek, shutting off the burner and transferring the food into a serving dish. Bringing it over to the counter and setting it in front of him, you untied the apron and folded it neatly, placing that on the counter too.

“Would you… want to go out with me tomorrow, then?” you proposed smally, opening the drawers before you in search of eating utensils. You frowned when all you were met with was measuring cups and spatulas. “For our Friday date ritual, I mean.”

Shouto stood and crossed the island, opening the drawer behind you and revealing all the silverware and chopsticks. You moved to grab two pairs of chopsticks and he took your wrist gently, large thumb stroking across your skin. His other hand came to brush against the small of your back, but he chose not to grab onto you. “I would love that.”

You shared a smile and a meaningful look.

“Then it’s a date.”

⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆⋅✧⋅⋆

After the dishes were all washed, you agreed to watch a movie. You had initially wanted to pour over your things again, to see if anything could help your memories come back. But Shouto had suggested the two of you relax on the couch instead, explaining that he was not surprised that you were overworking yourself, but that it was his job to make sure you took care of yourself. He further threatened that if you wouldn’t take care of yourself, then he would have to “take care of you himself”, and that left you flustered more than anything. So you dropped whatever excuse you had prepared to argue back at him and followed him to the living room.

Walking in, you blinked in awe at the spread that Shouto had set up. Numerous candies and snacks are laid out for your convenience across the coffee table. The lights were dimmed and curtains drawn, even a few candles flickering in the shadows and scenting the room with a cool, refreshing aroma. There was a pile of blankets stacked in the center of the sofa, all the decorative pillows pushed into the corners to leave one large space for the two of you to share. It was a little… dare you say it… romantic. You looked over your shoulder at him, shooting him a suspicious glance. He had led you to believe he was “taking care of you”, but it seemed he had ulterior motives, too. Not that you were complaining.

Seating yourself next to the blanket tower, you peeled one off the top before unfolding it, letting the soft fleece tickle your ankles and lay across your lap. Shouto crossed in front of the TV, grabbing two remotes from the basket and coming to sit next to you. There was a respectful amount of space between your legs, and you couldn’t help but frown at the gap. You thought that he would sit right next to you…

It took a little while for you to settle on a movie, all the films from the past five years unknown and novel to you… even if Shouto informed you you had already seen them. He went along with your selection without resistance, opting to grab one of the biscuit snacks on the table before you.

As the movie began, you leaned back against the soft cushions of the couch, not really focusing on the actors on the screen. Your eyes were trained on the television, but your mind was elsewhere, unable to distract yourself with the story. You also noticed that Shouto was sitting stiff as a board next to you, focused on nibbling at his snack. He didn’t attempt any moves at you throughout the first thirty minutes, even after he’d finished with his confection. Slowly you allowed yourself to relax, succumbing to the film and settling into the pillowy sofa.

Shouto detected your newfound relaxation, a gentle smile tugging at his lips as he watched your eyes fix on the main character and her love interest. “I’m going to make some tea. Would you like a cup, love?”

“I’m okay, thanks…” you replied softly, not really hearing him as the love interest was in the middle of their heartfelt confession.

He took a moment alone in the kitchen to calm himself. Even though you had been very receptive to him, he couldn’t help but feel hesitant whenever he touched you. He wanted you to want him; for you to want him to touch you. But he didn’t want to force anything with you, in fear that he’d scare you off or make a bad impression. He didn’t want to be pushy. Even before the accident, his heart still pounded whenever you would smile at him. When you would grab his hand, bring him something because it reminded you of him… when you would moan into his ear at ungodly hours in the night… Now it felt like his heart was in his throat every time you spoke to him, like if he said one word wrong, you’d fly away from him and never look back. It was terrifying.

Shouto shook his head. Sighing to himself, he filled his mug with water and held the ceramic in his hands, steam rising off the surface of the liquid almost instantly as he activated his quirk. He allowed the tea leaves to steep for a moment before he fished them out, steeling his nerves and returning to his spot on the couch. He couldn’t be sure, but it looked like you’d scooted over just the tiniest bit, shortening the distance between you two as he took his seat.

Your eyes flicked over to him and caught his gaze on you, inspecting the mug in his hands before giving a curious sniff. “Chamomile?”

He nodded and offered the cup to you, which you took in both hands. “Technically, it’s called Sleepytime Mix. But yes, it has chamomile. Have some, if you want.”

“Ah,” you gave a long inhale and smiled drowsily at the familiar scent. “I don’t wanna drink all your tea. And besides, it’s a little hot for me.”

“Oh,” Shouto said, taking the cup back into his hands. He focused for a second, and then the liquid no longer emitted steam, now a pleasant, warm temperature. “Try it now. Help yourself, please.” He handed the mug back to you, the light from the television flickering across his handsome face.

You blinked at him cutely, taking the mug in your hands again. Your fingers brushed against his in the transfer, and he cleared his throat slightly, skin warmed from your touch. “Wow!” you chimed after a sip, going back for another few gulps before you handed it back to him. “It’s really good. Perfect temp, Sho, thank you.”

Shouto felt his heart skip a beat in his chest, his eyes widening at the name he hadn’t heard in weeks. It sounded so good rolling off your tongue, so right. At his flustered expression, you laughed awkwardly, fingers delving into the blanket and looking away meekly.

“Sorry… I thought that that was probably what you’re used to me calling you, but I can use something else if you like.”

“No,” he said instantly, his hand automatically reaching for yours. He pried it out of the fleecy material, folding his fingers around yours. “I like it. Please call me that, I… I’ve missed hearing it.”

“Alright,” you mumbled, fingers squeezing his for a moment. You kept his gaze for a long pause, and then you duck down, scooching flush against his side and laying your head onto his broad shoulder. It caught him off guard, but after a moment of buffering, he moved, his arm tentatively wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you against his side. The action made your cheeks perhaps as hot as the tea in his mug, but you only settled deeper into his embrace, happy to be in his arms. You fixed the blanket so it covered his long legs, too, settling over the both of you snuggly.

You two stayed like that for the rest of the movie, another forty five minutes or so. Your hand gradually moved to rest on his stomach, his long fingers stroking your spine through your shirt. It was new to you, but it was comfortable— your body recognized his touch and welcomed it, even— years of unknowingly conditioning yourself to receive his affection allowing you to accept his embrace. By the end of the film, you were dozing off, warm and relaxed now more than ever, curled up into Shouto’s side.

Shouto, however, was wide awake, his pulse rushing in his ears at your proximity. It had been a very long month without you, and now here you were, cuddled up with him just like how you used to be every night. He knew you were somewhere in between consciousness and sleep, so he let the entire movie credits roll by before he decided to move you. Still holding his mug, which had been empty for the past half hour— but he didn’t want to risk moving and causing you to pull away— he set it on the side table, carefully maneuvering his wide frame so as to not disturb you.

You whined in protest but did not stir when he curled his arms around you, picking your form up and off the couch. After making sure all the candles were blown out and the lights were turned off, he quietly carried you to your shared room, not bothering to turn on the lights. It was then that he hesitated to make the next move— you were still in your clothes from the day, and he wasn’t sure if you would want him to see your bare body if he took the liberty to rid you of them.

His tongue wandered over the bottom of his teeth as he gazed at you, strewn across the soft blankets that covered your bed. The few beams of moonlight that slithered through the bottom of the blinds fell perfectly onto your face, your lashes casting long shadows onto the duvet and giving you an ethereal glow. He could imagine how your naked skin looked underneath that cute little sweater you donned, your bra strap poking out as if to tease him even more. His eyes slammed shut as he sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth, recognizing the color, and the image of you clad in the matching panties that completed the set suddenly sprung forth in his mind.

Acquainted was an understatement as to how well he knew your body, but the problem was not as simple as physicality— the problem was mental, and it could not be vanquished by anything except time, it seemed. The beautiful brain he loved so dearly was now wiped, void of all the memories the two of you had made and cherished together. Shouto clutched his stomach as he took a seat on the ottoman at the foot of the bed, feeling sick from the forceful whirlwind of emotion that came along with the thoughts that crept up on him in the night. The knowledge that you did not remember him, not even one measly memory of him, upset him more than anything.

He had not realized how much his world had shifted now that he had you. Of course, he loved you and he made great effort to ensure that you knew the extent of his devotion to you. But it wasn’t until you had woken up like this, confused and distraught, mind reverted to just months before he had even met you, that he had come to terms with just how much you meant to him. He knew that he loved you before. But now he knew the pain of being unable to hold you, and be with you— really, even talk to you like he had grown so accustomed to.

It was eating him alive, and tearing him apart.

When you had awoken after such an excruciating, lonely month, he had been overjoyed. Finally, he could be with you again— he could touch you and kiss you, hear your sweet voice, hold your body close to his as you fell asleep, and wake up with you still in his arms, groggy and adorable… except, he couldn’t. Because while you knew who he was… you didn’t, really. You didn’t know him at all. And what hurt the most was that he could see that you were trying… but at the end of the day, he was only a stranger to you. He was not your boyfriend, not anything more, other than a hero that you idolized and had a silly crush on.

At the very least, he found comfort in the knowledge that you found him attractive. Of course, you had revealed to him, albeit once you were deep into your relationship, that you had fantasized about him and fostered a schoolgirlish crush on him when you hadn’t yet been introduced. He remembered laughing at your embarrassed confession, pinching your cheeks and then kissing you through his smile… then, taking you from behind as you bent over the bathroom counter, pressing you against the mirror as he donned his hero suit, savoring your pleading moans for him to fuck you deeper, harder.

His cock twitched in his slacks, blood beginning to travel south as his interest grew for the first time in weeks. He groaned and he grit his teeth, frustrated at himself for even daring to feel desire while you laid asleep next to him, plagued by your wiped memory but sitting there looking like that. Gorgeous and untouchable.

As if his heated gaze had summoned you from your slumber, your eyes opened and you blinked at him, squinting at his silhouette in the dark of the room. Shouto recoiled even though he hadn’t been caught doing anything too suspicious; he was a good distance away from you, but still, you had caught him staring at you like a creep in the shadows.

“Sho?” you mumbled drowsily, a hand coming up to rub at your eyes. You propped your body up on your elbows, your shift stretching flush over your chest.

Shouto nearly moaned at the sight combined with the sound of your sleepy voice uttering his name. It didn't help the situation that was stirring in his pants one bit, only adding water to an oil fire. “Hey,” he replied, clearing his throat. “You fell asleep, so I brought you to bed.. Did you want to clean up before we go to sleep?”

You sighed, rolling over as you roused yourself from sleep. “Not really…,” you chuckled, and Shouto felt his chest tighten at the premise of having to get into bed with you with his problem at hand. “But I’ll be a responsible adult,” you finished, rolling out of bed and padding over to the bathroom.

He glanced over at you in the mirror as you brushed your teeth, the cat curling around his ankle and taking his attention away from you. Giving the animal a scratch underneath her chin, he tried to focus on calming himself, closing his eyes and controlling his breathing. Even though this wasn’t at all like how it had been before, it was still better than being alone. Your presence, the sound of you tidying yourself up in the nearby vicinity, took the month-long weight of loneliness off of his chest. It still stung, it still hurt— but at the very least, you were here. You were alive, and you were here with him.

It was you calling out for him that interrupted his train of thought, and when he looked toward your voice, he found you peeking around the doorframe, your hair pushed back and your face glistening with moisture from your nightly routine. “Aren’t you going to wash up, too? There’s two sinks in here, y’know,” you stated matter-of-factly, as if he didn’t know the layout of his own home.

But Shouto only smiled at you and nodded, leaving the cat and accepting your invitation for him to join you in your bedtime ritual. The situation in his pants had since relaxed, thankfully, so he didn’t have to worry as he took his place adjacent to you at the sink counter. Squeezing toothpaste onto the bristles of his toothbrush, and watching you put on your moisturizer in his peripheral, it felt almost as if nothing had changed. For the first time in a long time, he let himself forget about the horrible curveball that life had thrown at him, instead choosing to stare at you as you picked up the cat at your feet, and placed a sweet kiss on the top of its head as you cradled it in your arms.

You padded out of the bathroom first, opting to close the door behind you. After Shouto had finished his routine, he slinked out into the bedroom quietly, surprise flickering in his gaze at the pyjamas you were now dressed in— a pair of soft sleep shorts and an old t-shirt you had stolen from him years ago. He tried not to stare as you crawled into the sheets, the cat taking her perch at the foot of the bed.

The clearing of his throat caught your attention, and he licked his lip as your eyes settled on his. “Is it okay if I sleep without a shirt?” he asked, having to keep himself from smirking as your eyes widened and a flustered expression blossomed on your face. Cute.

“Y-Yeah,” you stuttered after a second of recalibrating, your eyes still trained on his. “The doctors said we should just live out our normal routine, so… whatever we normally do, we should do.” Sliding deeper underneath the comforter, you pretended to look busy as you fiddled with your phone.

Shouto bit his lip and wondered if telling you that your nightly routine of getting naked and passionate between the sheets would do you any good, but he decided against it, not willing to push his luck. Instead, he tore his shirt over his head and pulled down his pants, turning toward the wall so you wouldn’t have to look him in the eye. He could still feel your gaze on his flesh— he always could, for his skin prickled and the hairs on his body stood up as your eyes roved over every inch of him in appreciation. He didn’t need to see you to know that you were staring.

After he stepped into a long pair of sleep pants, he turned and pretended not to notice your obvious shuffling in a foiled attempt to not be caught looking at him. Carefully he slipped into the sheets on his side of the bed, ensuring not to wander too close to you in order to keep a respectful distance between your bodies… even though he wanted nothing more than to launch himself at you, and wrap his body around yours until neither of you could tell where one of you stopped, and the other started.

There was a long, stuffy silence as the two of you laid there, both of you unsure as to the level of affection you should be displaying at the moment. Shouto was doubtful that you’d want him to hold you like he so desperately desired, and you were hesitant to initiate anything with him laying frozen and a good distance away from you.

“Is this… how we normally sleep?” you wondered aloud, and though you were surprised that the words actually fell from your lips, you were grateful to have broken the rising tension.

Shouto left out a breath he had been holding at that, turning so that he was facing you on his side. “No,” he answered truthfully, his fingers sliding over the cool cotton that separated your bodies, wandering toward you at a snail's pace. “Usually… we like to,” he cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the lump that was situated there, “snuggle.”

In the quiet of the room, he could hear your lips part, a soft breath falling from between them as you processed his response. Your heart was beating faster now, body crying out for his touch, his embrace. “Can we?” you asked so softly that you hadn’t thought he’d heard you, but slowly, surely, he shuffled toward you.

You inhaled as he placed a gentle hand on your waist, pulling your body to slide across the sheets and meet him in the middle of the bed. Lifting your head so he could slip his arm beneath your neck, he brought your face into his neck, arms wrapping tight around your torso. His fingers dug into your side and the hair at the crown of your neck, curling around the tendrils as if he was scared that you would slip out of his grasp at any moment. Pressed up against his bare chest, you could hear the steady, fast thumping of his heart, and the shakiness in each breath he drew in and let out.

It sounded like he was trying not to cry.

Your hand wandered up and under his neck, your elbow angling around the back of his neck so that your fingers could trace the sinews that lined his shoulder blades. Your other arm slung around his back, and although it was just a bit of a reach, you managed to find his silky locks, combing through the ends with your fingers. Daring to push the fragile boundaries that kept you two separate, you threw your leg across his hips, trapping his legs between yours and pressing your body completely flush against his.

Shouto stopped breathing, tears threatening to spill over as he held you so delicately for the first time in what seemed like forever. Similar emotions were flowing through you as well, your body singing at the feeling of being with him, in his embrace. Your heart throbbed at the thought of leaving this man alone for an entire month, with no one to comfort him and calm his worries. No one to hold him and tell him that it was going to be okay, no one to plant kisses across his tear-streaked cheeks and help him forget his pain.

It wasn’t your fault you had been in this accident, that you had forgotten your memories from the past five years. But it wasn’t his, either. The two of you were forced to suffer in different ways, separated by your condition and worlds apart. You wished so desperately that you would just remember already— if not for your sake, then for his. Anything that would make him feel better, anything to ease the ache in his heart.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out quietly, overcome with emotion as you laid in the arms of the man you had once loved. The man you’d been learning to love again. “I’m so sorry I don’t remember you. I want to, I’m trying.” A tear dripped down your face and landed on his chest, sliding down to stain the sheets.

Shouto sucked in a shaky breath at your meager apology, rough fingers running over the back of your neck. “I know you are,” he murmured, and you could feel him swallow thickly as he tried to find the right words. “It’s not your fault, love… You can’t— you can’t blame yourself.” His voice broke at the last syllable, his arms squeezing tighter as he held onto you.

You pressed your face into the junction between his shoulder and his neck, uncaring of your tears that smeared across his skin. “Neither can you,” you sniffled, body clinging to him as best you could. “Please, Shouto, promise me you won’t.”

It was then that he let the tears he had been holding back fall, racing down his cheeks to plop onto the dampening pillow. You held him as he cried, unphased by the sudden outburst of emotion from the man who had shown you so little of himself in the past week.

“I’ll try,” he mumbled into your hair once he had calmed down a bit, lungs still rattling as he tried to suppress his emotions. “For you, I’ll try.”

You leaned back from his chest, his heart seizing up at the tear tracks on your cheeks that were illuminated by the soft moon’s glow. And then, you kissed him. It was simple and sweet, just your lips pressed to his as your thumb swiped across his cheek. But it felt like you were breathing life into him, like he had been starved of oxygen until this very moment.

Both of you gasped when you pulled away, the kiss having lasted as long as you could stand without breaking for breath. Your eyes wandered from his shining ones to his lips, shocked that you had planted such a passionate kiss there just seconds ago. It had worked, though— Shouto was breathing normally and his tears had stopped, dual-colored eyes now staring at you as if you had just given him a purpose to live. You licked your lips, not missing the way his gaze flicked down to watch the action with longing, but he did not act on it.

“We’ll get through this together,” you whispered, hand resting on his sharp jawline. There was not a hint of doubt in your voice, no hesitance nor fear. It was just a fact, simple as that. You let yourself look at his handsome face for a moment longer before you ducked and nuzzled into his chest again, taking your spot as if you had never left.

Shouto exhaled, his fingers trailing down your spine as he closed his eyes, syncing his breathing to yours. The feeling of your body wrapped around his made his bones glow with a missed sense of comfort, his heart fuller than it had been for quite some time. He welcomed sleep to take him, the exhaustion of many long and insomnia-plagued nights from the past month all piling on. Pressing his lips to your forehead as softly as he could, he closed his eyes and murmured one word, wishing with every fiber of his being for you to wake up the next morning and have just one memory of him.

“Together.”

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

...soooooooo idk how this is only part 1, shit’s 11k already 💀 ahh for those of you who made it through, thank you so much for reading and i hope you enjoyed!! there was no smut in this chapter which is so foreign to me, but i’m hoping to improve my story creation skills as part of my 2021 author resolutions... so, let me know what you think! hopefully part 2 will come to fruition soon, but it would probably come faster if i knew people were waiting for it ;)

➥ masterlist

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟏. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

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royallyprincesslilly · 3 years

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Title: Crown For Two {1}

Henry Cavill AU x OFC Xari Thornton AU

Warning: Plot, Mild Cursing, Cheesy Christmas Themes,

Words: 6.1k

Summary: Xari Thornton is a travel photographer with a blog and social media that garners some heavy-duty traffic. People tune in to see where she is and what she’s doing there, all in hopes of either living vicariously through her or to plan their next vacation.

Her slogan; “Traveling the path to the most off-beaten places, so you don’t have to.”

Her next stop on her four destination travel itinerary of “Places You May Never Have Heard Of” is Sandvell, a small European country. When her plane makes an impromptu stop due to bad weather, she has no idea where she is. It feels like she’s stepped inside of a snow globe and back in time in a modern way. It leaves her fascinated.

This bad weather forces her to stay at an Inn, The Beaux, for the night. Rather than letting the hours tick by in her room, she explores and meets the friendly locals. While taking photographs, one local in particular captures her lens with eyes as blue as the ocean and a jaw that was chiseled from stone. They strike up conversation during their time drinking at one of the local bars, Ickles. Once they separate, she gets herself into a harrowing situation.

As soon as she awakens, she realizes she’s not in some fever dream, but a palace and the owner of the palace is none other than the local she met before with the piercing blue eyes, His Royal Highness Henry Wellington Leopold Danglishton, First of his name, Crown Prince of Brexendor.

Note: All right, all right people, the ride begins. I really, really hope you enjoy this. As a note, it’s going to be fast-paced a bit, and I am gonna overload you with pictures because why the hell not, it’s a Christmas Fic. 😁 Feel free to come by and tell me what you guys think.

As always, thank you all for reading, I appreciate each and every one of you.

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!! ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

***Picture Heavy***

Chapter One

“You were supposed to be on your way home.”

You rolled your eyes as you scoffed. You’d mentioned nights ago that you thought you should just go home, but then you went to your next destination. It was a moment of weakness or it could have been loneliness. Your schedule took a lot out of you. No one saw it because it was all behind the scenes. All anyone ever saw were the incredible places you went to, the fun things you experienced, and the culture you soaked up. What they grasped was whatever you posted in your pictures.

“You know I can’t. I started this series, and it’s gotten the eye of a lot of sponsors, and one of them is even talking about some really big ideas at the end of it if it goes really well. that could be incredible for my brand,” you explained.

Anika sighed loudly. You knew she was annoyed with you right now, especially it being December.

“I know you’re disappointed. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Whatever.”

“Attention, ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. It looks like we’re headed right into a storm. We’ll be experiencing a little turbulence as we veer off course a little bit as we try to evade this thing. Please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts.”

You sighed while buckling your seatbelt, preparing for what was coming.

“What’s happening?”

“Going through some turbulence. It should be fine,” you assured your sister.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to hang up.”

You nodded to the flight attendant and promptly ended the call promising your sister that you’d call her back when you landed in Sandvell. As soon as you hung up, the turbulence began. It started out with slight bumps, that you could sip your drink through. Then graduated to bigger bumps that had you gripping the elbow rests. When the entire plane started to shake, your heart leaped into your throat. One minute passed, then two, and after five minutes or so, the speaker came back on.

“Ladies and gentleman, your captain again. We’re going to be landing shortly. This storm is not one to be messed with. I apologize for the inconvenience, folks, but on this airline, we choose safety above all else.”

You weren’t going to argue with him. You definitely didn’t want to risk your life over getting to your next destination. What was a one or two day delay? Once the pilot got to a lower altitude, the majority of the turbulence subsided. It was another ten minutes before the plane landed, but when it did, all you could see from the window was white overcast with darkness.

When you had your belongings gathered and began walking off the plane along with the other fifty or so passengers, you tried to find cell service, but you had zero bars.

“Excuse me, where are we?”

“Uh—I’m actually not sure, ma’am. Patricia, where are we?”

The two flight attendants looked puzzled. The second asked a third, and that third asked another. None of them seemed to know. That was not a good sign, you thought. Once you’d walked down the long corridor that served as the connection between the airport and the plane, you found yourself in one of the classiest airports you’d ever been in, and you’d been inside quite a few as a travel blogger. As far as the eye could see, it was class, with the exception of the floor.

You looked around you and marveled at the detail in the design that was around you. Where most airports were mainly logically designed without lavishness. This one looked like lavishness was the first priority. The floors looked to be made from the finest paonazzetto marble. You remembered the name because of the substantial time you’d spent in Italy trying to capture architecture through your camera lens. Reaching for your camera around your neck, you began snapping a few frames of the floor. Getting lost in picture taking, you found yourself at one of the many glass windows snapping pictures of the airplanes on the tarmac.

Hearing the commotion of raised voices behind you, you looked back and saw the passengers of the plane you’d just disembarked from gathered in a huddle. You walked back toward them in time to catch a question from a concerned passenger.

“How long are we delayed? When will we get back in the air? I have to get to Sandvell.”

A man wearing a mixture of royal blue and white colors cleared his throat then spoke. “I apologize, ladies and gentlemen, for the delay. There is a storm heading right for us on the path to Sandvell. Continuing through it would be lunacy. Our only viable option is to wait it out.”

No one seemed to like that answer. All the questions flew out at once. All their voices overlapped, and you could tell that the gentleman was overwhelmed by not only the volume of questions but also their voices.

“According to our team here, we’re expecting possibly a twenty-four to thirty-six-hour delay.”

Everyone groaned in unison, everyone but you. You’d traveled enough to always expect the unexpected. Things like this didn’t bother you so much now, three years into your career. The only thing that bothered you now was that you’d have to rearrange your hotel plans as well as finding somewhere to sleep tonight.

“You said here,” you began with all eyes trained to you. “Where exactly is here?”

The gentleman cleared his throat again. “Brexendor.”

The crowd murmured as they looked at each other. Clearly, no one had ever heard of Brexendor. Some even pulled out their travel map to scour it for the country.

“So what are we supposed to do now? Where do we stay?”

“We are in the process of arranging accommodations at one of the inns within the capital. If you all would work with us so we have your names to get your luggage to you in a timely fashion so you can be shuttled over to the Inn, that would be appreciated.”

Everyone filed into a line in front of one of the four airport staff, hoping to hurry matters along while you searched your phone for any information on where you were. When you typed in Brexendor into the search engine, the first thing that popped up was a map of the country. Apparently, it was next door to Sandvell. They were considered sister countries.

“Population three million, run as a monarchy, considered one of the wealthiest countries in the world. Average life expectancy one hundred and ten years. Well, damn.”

Someone clearing their throat brought your attention up in front of you. You were next in line.

“Sorry.”

The woman with brown eyes and blonde hair smiled warmly. “It’s all right, Ms--.”

“Uh, Thornton, Xari Thornton.” You handed her your passport and boarding pass and waited as she scrolled through her tablet.

“Ah yes, Ms. Thornton. Here is your paperwork. On it, you will find where you can retrieve your luggage and the shuttle number that will be taking you to the Inn. Once at the Inn, just provide your name, and you will find everything has been taken care of. On behalf of Brexendor Aviation, we humbly apologize for this snafu.”

Her customer service training was on point, you thought. Her smile was warm, as if she really meant the words she’d just said. Finding it refreshing, you took the paperwork and proceeded to where she was motioning. Everyone you passed as you walked the fancy halls had a warm smile plastered to their face and even warmer words of welcome. You felt as if you’d stepped through into some alternate universe. You made a voice note about everything you encountered. You wanted to make sure you captured your authentic feelings and reactions in real-time. It made writing about your experience on the blog page easier. You’d even found that readers and supporters liked the play by play with your added thoughts. They commented it added personality.

Once you’d made it to the baggage claim area, your jaw dropped at the change in décor. There were Christmas trees that sparsely decorated the space, and they were all lit with the same blue, silver, and white theme. It contrasted with the latte color of the leather seats and the cream offset tables. The design gave the space an elegant but also comfortable vibe. When you slipped into one of the chairs, you released an audible moan. It was like sitting on a cloud.

After gathering your luggage, you followed instructions through a hall lined with Christmas trees, stopping every so often to take a few pictures before you made it to the front of the airport. As you stepped outside, your eyebrows shot up seeing the fresh snow cascading from the sky. The bite in the air had you bundling your jacket tighter, but it did not stop you from snapping a few pictures. One turned to ten and ten to fifteen until another person clearing their throat brought you back to reality and to the waiting bus ahead of you.

You took a break from pictures and called the hotel in Sandvell, hoping to alter the dates of your stay. What you expected to be a hassle and a long drawn out process ending in them saying they were booked and nothing could be done, turned out to be quick, easy, and painless. The Luxembourg Hotel assured you that your room would still be available and there would be no charge for the altered dates. You made another note on your phone, a point you had to stress when you wrote your piece.

You continued snapping pictures from the window of the bus with an easy mind. Everything you passed seemed like it didn’t belong. It all looked so old fashioned but so modern all at the same time. The buildings looked to have been standing since the beginning of time in the materials they’d been built in, but the displays were from the twenty-first century. It was the most exciting contradiction. The only word you could think to describe it was—quaint.

When the bus drove over a bridge, you got a semi-bird’s eye view of the town across the water, and your jaw nearly dropped.

“Brexendor? What the hell?”

The entire drive had you widening your eyes like a child seeing an insane amount of presents on Christmas morning. Buildings were decked out in Christmas lights, and every door had a wreath with blue and silver Christmas ornaments. Almost every few feet, the sidewalks were decorated with poinsettia trees that were half the average human’s height, and the way the freshly fallen snow-dusted their tops only made it even more perfect.

By the time the bus stopped, you’d taken so many pictures, and part of you was dreading having to go through them to choose the ones that would make the cut. You knew it was going to be a next to impossible decision. As you stepped off the bus, you felt like you’d walked right into a snow globe.

“Holy shit!”

You spun, taking in a full three-sixty view of your surroundings. all the glistening lights and the falling snow only made it feel even more magical. You didn’t know where the hell Brexendor was or why the hell they rolled like this, but you were excited to see more. When you stopped spinning, you realized several other people were snapping pictures and looking just as marveled as you were. After gathering your luggage, you followed instructions and walked across the street to the building that a friendly looking man with slightly greying hair was standing before beckoning you inside.

For the second time that night, you felt as if you’d stepped into a Christmas movie set. The interior was set so cozy. It felt like a Christmas cottage, and you loved it. Instinct had you reaching for your camera and taking a few shots of the Christmas tree in the corner by the fireplace and the plaid decorations on the leather couch. Even the pictures on the walls got a snap.

“Miss?”

Looking back to the owner, you smiled and approached the desk.

“Hi, I’m so sorry. This place is so gorgeous.”

“Thank you. I wish I could take the credit, but it is all my wife.”

Just then, a beautiful brunette came out wearing a bright red sweater and one of those spoof reindeer antler headbands that bounced with every move.

“Hi, there darling. Welcome to The Beaux. I’m Anita, and this is my husband, Borik. I heard all about your ordeal. I’m so sorry.”

You shrugged but kept your smile plastered on your face.

“It’s all right. Can’t control the weather, right?”

Anita smiled and nodded. “Definitely not in Brexendor.”

“I have never heard of this place before, and I am lost how. Everything is gorgeous and so quaint. How have you stayed under the radar?”

Anita and Borik looked at each other with an all-knowing look that you wanted in on.

“Guess it’s just happened,” Anita cheerfully said.

You knew they knew something. Staying this under the radar, including from America, didn’t just happen. This took work. You wondered who in charge in their right mind would make a stupid decision like that.

“Okay, what’s your name, darling?”

“Uh, Xari Thornton.”

“Ah-ha, I told you, Borik. Once we were contacted with a list of names that would be checking in, and I saw your name, I told him I just know she’s gorgeous and look. You are a vision.”

You couldn’t help but smile widely while trying to keep your head under proper proportions.

“Thank you.”

“You must have quite the many suitors where you’re from,” Anita continued.

You snorted and shook your head. The reality was you were as single as the number one with no prospects.

“No suitors here.”

Both Borik and Anita looked shocked, as if you’d said the most appalling thing.

“That can’t be true. Borik. She’s single and at twenty-eight. Even our Kennedy was at least engaged by the time she turned twenty-seven. Here that is unheard of. A woman is usually married by twenty-four, especially if she’s a looker.”

You pinched your lips, trying to keep your laughter in. this was not the first time you’d been called an old maid. Hell, your mother said it often, especially since you flat out turned down Maurice’s proposal three months ago. She was livid.

Anita must have sensed the awkwardness of the moment because she cleared her throat and brought all her attention back to the reservation.

“Well, your room is prepared. I took the liberty of giving you one of our prettiest rooms. Would you like Borik to carry your bags up?”

“Uh—no, I’m sure I can manage,” you began.

Borik stood, shook his head, and came around to you.

“I won’t hear a thing about it. I’ll happily carry your luggage up. Follow me.”

“That’s my Borik, ever the gentleman,” Anita filled in with an enamored smile before Borik walked off, leaving her to check in a few of the other passengers from the plane.

You listened to Borik tell the story of the Inn and how it got its name. You kept one ear on his story while you took in every detail around you. The wood looked so rustic, and you guessed that was what gave the place such a warm and welcoming feeling. The higher you climbed, the more you saw, and the more you saw, the more you liked. You followed Borik down a hall, noticing that all the doors you passed had mini wreaths decked out in the same blue and silver ornaments like at the airport and throughout the streets.

“Ah-ha, here we are,” Borik said before he put the key into the lock and pushed the door open. Once he did, the scent of cinnamon and pine hit you in the face. It was like the hand of Christmas came out and smacked you.

“My wife loves the smell,” Borik explained as you stepped inside. You smiled and thanked him for his help.

“If you get hungry, you have a few options. There are plenty of places nearby you can eat some authentic Brexendorian food, but also my wife cooks every night, and dinner usually is at eight o’clock, but tonight Anette has agreed to keep some heated for anyone who would like some. It’s stew, rabbit.”

“Oh, thumper. Wonderful.”

Borik laughed loudly with that one. “I know that one, Bambi, the children’s cartoon. Good one Ms. Thornton.”

You smiled. “You can call me Xari, Borik.”

“Well, have a good night,” he said before he walked out.

Finally alone, the first thing you did was text your sister to let her know not to worry and give her an update on what was happening. After you let Anika know what was happening, it didn’t take long for your phone to ring. The next ten or so minutes were spent talking to Anika and telling her how amazing the things you’d seen so far were. You could not shut up about the decorations, the way the snow looked to have been groomed to lay on things perfectly. It was that damn picturesque. Since you couldn’t stop talking about it, Anika was the one to suggest you go out and enjoy it before you got back on the plane. It was a suggestion you fully intended on listening to.

Fifteen minutes later, you were back downstairs bundled with your camera and your purse, ready to explore. When you told Anita your intention, she gave you a map of the city and highlighted places to look at but cautioned you to hurry because stores would be closing soon, and nights during Brexendor winters could be brutal. You promised you’d be quick and careful, then stepped out, ready to explore like Dora.

Your first stop was a block down, a children’s toy store. It was decked out with all the latest toys along with some traditional things that Santa would have brought specially made from his workshop. While you were snapping pictures outside the window, a kid ran up to the window and pressed his nose to it. His eyes were wide, and his mouth matched their size. You asked the adult with him if you could take a picture. When they approved, you got one or two from a few different angles before they walked off.

As you walked through the city, enjoying the scenery, you took pictures of everything that caught your eye, ornaments, trees, people, stores, even pets. Christmas wasn’t your favorite holiday, but it was your second favorite, and being here really as inching it higher on the list.

When you felt a strong wind hit you, it stopped you in your tracks. It was strong enough to have you stagger backward a little, allowing a chill to sweep through you. You looked around and saw a few feet away was some sort of bar, and behind it was swirling snow that looked like a tornado. You hurried toward the building, being careful not to slip on any ice that may be hiding underneath the snow. Once to the door, you walked inside, and the sound of Christmas carols filled your ears.

“Jesus.”

If the scent of the Inn felt like Christmas slapped you in the face, the look and sound of this place was the one two-hitter that settled that you were in a whole nother world here. You looked around and found a coat rack along the left wall. After placing your jacket and scarf on the hook, you walked to the bar and slid onto a stool. As you waited for the bartender to come over, you looked around. Here it didn’t smell like cinnamon, but the pine was present, along with the smell of alcohol and licorice.

There were several small dark wooden tables around the bar with chairs and even booths that decorated the walls. The floors matched the tables, and those matched the walls. This place looked like somewhere you’d find in the middle of nowhere. The window to the back of the establishment showed the dark woods with tall snow-covered trees and that howling snow tornado.

When you turned back to the back, the huge elk head above the wall lined with alcohol bottles had you gasping.

“Jeez,” you said as you snapped two of three pictures of the creepy looking thing.

“That is Hogan’s prized possession.”

You looked beside you where the voice came from to see a very attractive man there. When you’d sat down, you didn’t notice anyone beside you, so to see his piercing blue eyes boring holes into you. Your eyes traveled lower to his awkwardly shaped nose. It looked like it had been broken once or twice and never quite went back to normal. You didn’t mind it, though. Who liked a perfect face, especially when looking at him, seemed like that was about the only thing that was not absolutely perfect. His jaw was carved to precision like he was specially crafted and not born. When your eyes fell to his lips, you purposely forced yourself to look away.

“Is—is that right?”

“Yes. I bet you cannot guess why,” the stranger said in a crisp European accent that was very close to British. You weren’t one hundred percent sure if it was or not, he just sounded proper as hell, and it was actually a bit of a turn on.

You shrugged while looking at the bottles that lined the back of the bar. “Enlighten me.”

Just then, a large man with blond hair in a man bun walked over. He had to have been over six feet tall, and if this were America, he’d definitely be a shopper at the store Big & Tall. The man looked to the one seated beside you, ready to speak but suddenly closed his mouth.

“Hogan, Ms--,” the stranger began waiting for you to fill in your name.

He thought he was so smooth; you thought as you smiled to yourself.

“Xari.”

His eyebrow shot up, and he smiled sweetly. “Wow, what a beautiful name.”

You smiled, and as you felt it widening, you bit onto your bottom lip to stop it. “Thanks.”

“Ms. Xari would like to know why Shandoe is your most prized possession.”

“Shandoe?”

Hogan looked behind him at the Elk’s head then smiled. “It’s been in my family for generations. It was the first thing my great-great-great-great-great grandfather ever killed for himself to feed his family. They ate everything but the head and decided to keep it as a reminder of where we came from.”

You were expecting some weird manly story but what you got was a wholesome and heartwarming tale. You smiled, raised your camera, and snapped Hogan, and as he stared at the Elk’s head with such a loving look on his face that was such a contradiction for his large frame.

“Are you a reporter?”

“No, no. Not at all. I’m a travel influencer and blogger. I go around and soak up what the world has to offer while taking pictures and writing about it on my blog for others to read about.”

The man beside you nodded, then raised his glass to his head.

“What can I get you?”

“Uh—what is he drinking?”

“The Mistletoe Bomb.”

You snorted, unable to contain yourself any longer. “What in the world is that?”

“You laugh now, but it is a blend he makes special for me. It is not for the faint of heart,” the man beside you informed.

“Oh no, well looks like I’ll be having one of those.”

Hogan looked to him, then back to you. “It is all right, Hogan. Give the lady what she wants. I am assuming fell strength is also what you require?”

“Yes, full strength. I want all the mistletoe and all the bomb.”

Hogan went to work, making the drink while you continued looking around.

“Em, I’m Henry.”

You looked to him to find his hand outstretched to you, waiting for you to place yours in it. When you did, you repeated your name as you noted how soft his hands were. It felt like he’d never done a day’s work with them. Henry rose your hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss on the back of your hand. It was one small action, but that action had butterflies flitting in your belly and your cheeks heating as if a heater was aimed directly at your face.

“I am delighted to make your acquaintance,” Henry uttered while looking into your eyes.

“Same,” you whispered.

Henry released your hand and turned back to his drink at the same time Hogan placed a mug before you.

“One Mistletoe Bomb for the lady.”

You looked at the large mug then to Hogan, who waited expectantly. When your eyes drifted to Henry beside you, he too was watching and waiting. No matter how much you felt like this was a setup, you persisted, not wanting to back down. When you took your first full mouthful of the drink, your eyes immediately bugged. Your tongue was on fire in seconds, and it seemed the longer you held the liquid in your mouth, the worse the burn was. You gulped it down and instantly knew the mistake. Not only was your mouth on fire, but now your throat and chest as it burned a fiery path to your belly.

“Holy fucking shit!”

The two men boisterously laughed, the sounds booming off the wooden walls before filling the entire room. You looked around, noticing for the first time it was completely empty.

“What the hell is that?”

“Something that will put hair on your chest,” Hogan teased.

“No, shit.”

Henry seemed to like that response; he laughed again then finished his mug.

“How can you drink this?”

He shrugged, then turned his body to you. You gave him a well-paced once over, taking in his furry winter boots, dark pants, and dark sweater to match the pants. Underneath the sweater, though, you saw peeks of a crisp white shirt. He dressed like he had money, you thought.

“I have done it for half my life. I do not even feel the burn anymore. Do you know why he calls it Mistletoe Bomb now?”

You giggled and nodded, pushing the mug away. If you drank that, you’d need to be carried out of here. As Hogan appeared to take the mug away, Henry reached for it, insisting he’d finish it while Hogan placed a beer bottle in front of you.

“Would you like a straw?”

You looked at Hogan as if he were crazy. Who drank beer with a straw? You shook your head and raised the bottle to your lips to take a swig. This was more your speed, not pure petrol.

“So you are new in town,” Henry began.”

“Kind of. My plane had to detour because of the storm, so here I am in a place I’ve never heard of and cannot figure out why.”

“Is it strange to never have heard of every place in the world?”

You thought about it for a moment as you took another mouthful of beer then nodded.

“Yes. I’m from America,” you began.

“Ah, American. Let me guess. Everything has to be discovered, and if it is not, then either it doe not exist, or it is being hidden.”

You snapped your mouth shut. He’d guessed American thinking in one try. “Well, that’s not fun,” you added. Henry laughed and took his mouthful of fire.

“I am sorry. I know America well,” Henry informed.

“Oh, so you’ve been?”

“No. I do not need to. I have spent my entire life learning it.”

You looked back at him, confused by what he meant.

“Every country gives lessons on other countries of the word, especially powerhouse countries,” he explained.

“Well, your studies have paid off.”

“Do you really believe that everything has to be discovered?”

“No. where is the fun in that? I believe that the world has to have some mystery.”

“Then welcome to Brexendor,” Henry said with a smile.

“Brexendor. What’s it’s deal?”

You leaned closer, resting your elbow on the wood of the bar as you watched him.

“Deal? I am afraid I do not understand.”

“What I mean is, the people are nice. Everyone I have encountered, including at the airport, is nice. You know airport staff can be so mean, but not here. The people who own the Inn I am staying at are so sweet. Even strangers I bump into don’t;’ seem to mind. Not to mention, this place has the whole snow globe effect down. It’s incredible. What is the deal? Is the president some fantastic guy who pays everyone well and gives them ample vacation time for them to be so happy?”

Henry smiled, dipped his head lower, then rubbed the back of his neck.

“Would that be unusual?”

“Yes. Compared to what America has going on—highly unusual.”

“Well, the first thing to know about Brexendor is, a president does not run it,” Henry clarified.

“Ah right, it is a monarchy. So does that mean there is a king, and queen, lords, dukes,” you began, then gasped, remembering more. “Princesses?”

Henry smirked, gulped his drink, then nodded. “Yes.” He continued to take another swig from his mug.

His words slowly resonated. “What!? You’re serious?”

He nodded, then placed the glass onto the bar.

“Wow. How interesting. So this King and Queen are they the good kind?”

Henry’s smile turned somber before it disappeared altogether.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no. Yes, the King and Queen are the best kind,” he filled in before he took the last mouthful of his drink. “They would like you.”

You laughed loudly and shook your head. “Me? I doubt that. While all the mothers of my boyfriends have loved me, I don’t think the King and Queen would care for me.”

“Boyfriend, so uh—you’re involved,” Henry said as he avoided your eyes.

His words sounded like a statement rather than a question, so you remained quiet. After a few moments, he looked at you expectantly. You pinched your lips before you finished your beer.

“Are you involved?”

Henry took a deep breath looked forward to the bottles at the bar as a pained and confused expression washed over his features.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you replied.

“I am not—involved,” he answered.

“You said it like you weren’t sure.”

“It is complicated.”

“Well, I am a stranger in a bar—an empty bar. You’ll most likely never see me again, and I’ve been told I’m a great listener.”

Henry smiled then turned back to you, resting his elbow on the bar mimicking your stance.

“You have not answered my inquiry.”

“Inquiry?”

Henry smiled again, then bit his bottom lip. That is where your eyes went to. He had nice lips, you thought.

“On if you are involved,” he clarified.

“I am not involved with anyone. If you ask my mother, she will tell you I’m an old maid with no prospects.”

“I do not believe that. You are funny, intelligent, fun to be around, and quite beautiful. There is no way you have no admirers.”

You smiled and began toying with your necklace.

“I’m sure you say that to all the girls you meet in deserted bars during a snow storm.”

He snorted, and you felt his breath across your cheek. It was then you realized how close the two of you were to each other.

“To be honest, I have never found myself alone with a woman in a bar. You are my first.”

You bit your bottom lip feeling more flirtatious than usual as you gazed into his hypnotizing eyes. He was gorgeous and becoming even more so with every passing minute. The two of you ordered more drinks, then drifted off to one of the booths on the wall that was more hidden and even more comfortable. You talked about nearly everything and nothing at the same time. He spoke a lot about philosophy and astronomy and the sciences that motivated a lot of the earlier theories. It was fascinating just listening to him speak. There was something about his mouth and the properness of the words he used. Never once did he use slang or even a contraction. You’d never met anyone who didn’t use contractions. The longer you sat there, the more you felt like never getting up.

“There is something about you that is so comfortable and easy,” Henry began.

“You too.”

“I feel like I can talk to you about anything. I even want to.”

You smiled, “You too.”

Your eyes lingered, and you saw him sway forward, but then he stopped only to do it again and again. With your faces were centimeters from one another, it was then you noticed the slight speck of brown in his left eye. You felt Henry’s hand gently cup your cheek; then, his thumb slowly stroked your skin. The heat from his palm seared your cheek, and every stroke of his thumb send heat tendrils down your jaw to your lips, making them tingle and yearn for his.

This had never happened to you in your entire life. You’d known this man a few hours and were ready to possibly bring him back to the Inn with you. Henry didn’t move. It was like he was giving you the last few centimeters to make a decision, but you didn’t make it. A phone went off, but you both ignored it until the sound went off. You raised your hand to rest on top of his. Once your skin touched his, Henry lightly sighed out. Before either of you could make another move, a phone rang again. This time Henry groaned before he looked away just as you did.

You cleared your throat and slid from his body as he checked his phone.

“I have to go,” he announced.

Frozen, you sat there trying to understand if you’d read this entire thing wrong.

“I am sorry, something—urgent has come up.”

You snapped out of it, then nodded. “It’s fine. I should probably get back to the Inn anyway. They say a storm is brewing.”

Both of you stood from the booth while straightening your clothes.

“I really enjoyed tonight,” Henry added.

You smiled and nodded. “Me too. It was—nice.”

Your eyes lingered again, and your bodies drifted closer. It was you who looked away first and stepped back. You reached for your purse, but Henry stopped you.

“It has been taken care of. Let us call it a tourist special, right Hogan.”

“Right your--,” Hogan began before Henry looked at him, cutting him off.

Henry ushered you to the coat rack on the wall by the door then helped you into your jacket.

“Can I drive you back to the Inn?”

“No, please. I am more than capable of getting back,” you assured.”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded then turned to walk out, but Henry pulled you to him. “I want to see you again.”

“I don’t see how. I leave tomorrow as soon as the storm passes.”

Henry looked to be thinking before he sighed. “I guess it was not meant to be,” you whispered, a tinge of sadness filling you as reality set in.

“In another life,” Henry softly said.

He came closer then placed a slow, chaste kiss on your cheek before he released you. The two of you stared at each other for a few moments, and in those moments, anything felt possible. When you faced that anything could have been possible but not for you, you sighed. A few seconds later, you turned and walked out of the bar.

Once outside, the rough wind caught you off guard. You took a few moments to bundle yourself, then continued walking back to the Inn. The swirling snow in the air made it a little challenging to see, but you tried the best you could. Several times, the wind picked up and shoved you where it wanted, forcing you to grab on to something to hold until it passed.

Suddenly a big gust of wind blew you to the right and knocking you off your feet to roll for several feet. When the wind slowed, you rolled over onto your back to spit out the mouthful of snow that you’d managed to ingest. It took you several tries to stand, but when you did, you tried to see where you were and what direction you needed to walk in. That was when the wind picked up again, making you scream. When you turned, you saw two headlights coming right at you, then all you felt was pain before you were out cold.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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marauders-venting · 3 years

Text

Our Last Summer (Part 1)

pairing: wolfstar (sirius x remus)

genre: fluff & angst

warnings: none

words: 2267

note: based on the song ‘Our Last Summer’ by ABBA

a/n: this isn’t the whole thing but I haven’t finished it yet and it’s getting really long anyway so I decided to just post it in parts (i know it says fluff & angst and there’s no angst here but be patient it will come)

I can still recall our last summer, I still see it all. Walks along the Seine laughing in the rain, our last summer, memories that remain… I can still recall our last summer, I still see it all. In the tourist jam round the Notre Dame our last summer walking hand in hand

Sirius woke up smiling. Remus’ arm was still draped over him. He turned around and kissed him on the nose.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Are you awake?”

“I am now,” Remus groans.

“Sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” Remus says, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “I like waking up next to you.” Sirius’ smile widened.

“I like waking up next to you too,” he said. He kisses Remus softly before turning to grab his wand off his bedside table and Summoning two cups of tea. He hands one to Remus and then opens the drawer of his bedside table and pulls out a large packet of dark chocolate.

“Happy anniversary,” Sirius says, giving Remus the chocolate.

“Best present ever,” Remus says, taking a bite; Sirius can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not.

“The day is just beginning,” he says, sipping his tea.

“Really? So what do you have planned?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” Sirius says mysteriously.

---------

“No way,” Remus said, shaking his head. “There is no fucking way I’m getting on that death trap.”

“Yes you are,” Sirius said, taking his hand and pulling him closer to the motorcycle. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

“No,” Remus said. “Why can’t we just Apparate? Or take a taxi?”

“What’s a taxi?” Sirius asked.

“I swear to god, I’ve already told you at least five times,” Remus says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Well, it doesn’t matter because we’re riding my motorcycle,” Sirius said.

“Nope,” Remus said. “Not fucking happening.”

“Please,” Sirius pouted. “It’s not illegal, I have a license. And I promise I won’t fly. I’ll stay on the ground the whole time.” Remus still looked hesitant. “I even customised your helmet myself.” He pulled out a black helmet with ‘Moony’ written on the side in flaming block letters. It brought a little smile to Remus’ face.

“Ugh fine,” Remus said, rolling his eyes. “But this is a one-time thing.”

“Yeah, yeah, if you say so,” Sirius said. “Now come.” They climbed on the motorcycle and Remus wrapped his hands around Sirius’ waist. “Normally I would say hold on tight,” Sirius said, “but if you hold any tighter you might just squeeze me to death.”

“And if I don’t hold this tight I might just fall to my death,” Remus replied. “Now shut up and drive; I want to get this over with.”

And suddenly, they’re on the road and holy fuck Remus is terrified. He’s resting his head on Sirius’ shoulder watching the cars around them. He squints his eyes, trying to make everything appear blurry (hoping it’ll make this a little less terrifying) and yes, he’s afraid but he has to admit that the blur of lights from all the cars is actually quite beautiful. That is, until they climb on the highway and Sirius picks up the speed. Now it’s just terrifying. Remus closes his eyes and buries his head in the crook of Sirius’ neck. The smell of Sirius and the feel of his beating pulse calms Remus down a little. He knows Sirius wouldn’t suggest this if it was that dangerous; Sirius would never let anything bad happen to him.

Remus doesn’t open his eyes until he feels them slowing to a stop. When he does finally look around, he finds himself in the parking lot of what looks like a small park.

“Hey,” Sirius says, reaching a hand back and stroking Remus’ thigh. “Are you ok?”

“I’m alive, if that’s what you mean,” Remus says, letting go of Sirius so he can climb off the motorcycle. Sirius helps Remus down and takes his helmet.

“Come on, it wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“Yes, it was that fucking bad,” Remus says. “I’m never riding that thing again.”

“Hey, ‘that thing’ has a name, you know,” Sirius said, arms crossed.

“Right, sorry,” Remus said, rolling his eyes. “I’m never riding Elvendork again.”

“Wow, I can’t believe you actually remembered their name,” Sirius said, laughing.

“I can’t believe you actually named your motorcycle,” Remus said. “Now tell me what we’re doing here.”

“Come with me,” Sirius said, pulling him by the hand into the park.

“Where are we?” Remus asks, looking around.

“You’ll see,” Sirius said. He led Remus to the far end of the park where several bushes and trees made a hedge that seemed to show the end of the park. Sirius got on his hands and knees and pushed the plants out of his way as he crawled into the hedge.

“Are you serious right now?” Remus asked. As soon as the word was out of his mouth he regretted it.

“I’m always Sirius,” came the reply. “Now come on.” Remus sighed and crawled through the hedge. When he came out on the other side he saw Sirius sitting on the grass.

“What is this place?” Remus asked, looking around. If he was being honest, it looked like a little heaven. Everything was so green. The grass, the trees, the hedge they came through. It looked like something out of a painting. The colourful flowers from the trees littered the floor; Remus picked one up, walked over to Sirius and put it in his hair.

“I used to come here when I was a kid,” Sirius said, effectively surprising Remus. “I know hardly any of my stories start like that but when I was… 9, I think, my cousin Andromeda was 15. And one summer she came over to our house and she asked my parents if she could take me somewhere. I don’t know what lie she told them but whatever it was they bought it. She brought me here. She told me that a friend of hers at school had shown her this place. His dad was a park ranger and he used to come here all the time as a kid. It was just close enough to my house that we could walk here and we’d spend all day playing here. She even learnt how to use muggle money so she could buy us food.”

“The last time we did it was the year before I started Hogwarts. She was seventeen then. She showed me magic. It was incredible. She did all kinds of spells to make plants grow and stuff. It was awesome. I’d never seen magic so… raw before. It was beautiful. But then she ran away with Ted Tonks and got burnt off the tapestry so there was no way my parents would let me see her. But she wrote to me a few times to tell me to meet her here. That was how I met Ted for the first time. Turns out he was actually the one who showed Andie this place. And I met Nymphadora here as well. I used to come here alone sometimes too. I tried to bring Regulus with me once but he was scared we’d get caught. The only good memories from my childhood… they’re all from this place. I just wanted to show it to you. I mean, you took me to your childhood home but… I mean you’ve seen the Potters’ house a million times. But I guess I wasn’t really a child by the time I moved there. So I guess… I don’t know, I just wanted to share this with you.”

“Thank you,” Remus said, taking Sirius’ hand and pressing his lips to the back of his hand, “for bringing me here, I mean. This place is beautiful. Are you the only one who knows about it?”

“Oh, I doubt it,” Sirius said. “I mean, it’s not very visible but there’s no way that nobody else has ever found this place. But it was always empty whenever I came here. Which wasn’t that often I suppose.” Sirius flopped back onto the grass, dragging Remus with him. They lay on their backs looking at the sky, hands still clasped together.

“It looks like it’s going to rain,” Remus said. Sirius shrugged. It was true; the clouds had been dark all day and the smell of approaching downpour lingered in the air. But Sirius had been keeping his fingers crossed that the rain would wait until later tonight so that he could carry out his plans without any disruption.

“You hungry? We could go get some food if you want. There are muggle shops nearby. But you’ll have to handle the money cause I still have no clue how to do that.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, if Andromeda could learn I’m sure you can too,” Remus said, as they left their little garden of Eden. “Come on, I’ll teach you.” They walked down the street looking for a coffee shop or a food vendor nearby. They found a bakery selling sandwiches so they bought two, Remus bought tea, Sirius bought coffee, and they returned to the hidden corner of the park.

“Do you get how to use the money now?” Remus asked as they walked back.

“You’ve taught me a million times, Moony, it never sticks,” Sirius said. “You just have to resign yourself to the fact that your boyfriend is a dumb bitch, no matter how hot he is.”

“Oh don’t worry, I accepted your lack of intelligence and general common sense a long time ago, Pads,” Remus said, putting an arm around Sirius as they sat back down on the grass, pulling the sandwiches out of the paper bag and laying everything out on the floor in front of them.

“No, no, you’ve got it wrong,” Sirius said, shaking his head. “I am intelligent but I’m still a dumb bitch too.”

“You’re saying you’re an oxymoron?”

“Wait, I never say I was a moron—”

“No, not a moron, an oxymoron.”

“What does that mean?” Sirius asked.

“It’s like something that juxtaposes itself,” Remus said.

“Juxta-what now?” Sirius said. Remus rolled his eyes.

“You need to read more. It’s something that contradicts itself. Phrases like awfully nice or saying that someone was found missing.”

“Oh,” Sirius said. “So yeah, that’s what I’m saying. You’re so smart, Moony. You know so many big words.”

“Literally just pick up a book,” Remus said, laughing and kissing him softly. “I promise, it’ll do you wonders.”

“Why do I doubt that?”

“Because you’re an idiot.”

“Oh we’ve circled back to that now, have we?”

---------

That was how they spent most of the day. Talking, laughing, joking, kissing, lying on the grass. It seemed like the day really was going to be perfect. Until it started raining. At first, the drops were light and they weren’t bothered by it, but soon the rain became heavy and loud and they were both getting soaked. Remus didn’t mind getting wet; he had bigger worries on his mind.

“We’re not riding a motorcycle in the rain, are we?” Remus asked, his concern leaking through his voice.

“We can wait for the rain to stop if you like,” Sirius said. “Hey, you know, it’s actually good that we came here on Elvendork because we can cut through the traffic on our way home.”

“What? No, no, no, no, no,” Remus said, shaking his head. “There’s no way that’s safe.”

“It’s perfectly safe, Moony, I’ve done it a million times,” Sirius insisted. “Just keep your eyes closed like you did before. It was cuter like that anyway.” Remus felt himself blush.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius said out of the blue. “I didn’t know it would rain.” He looked genuinely upset; Remus wasn’t sure why.

“Of course you didn’t know, Pads,” Remus laughed. “You can’t control the weather. Everything will be fine. We’ll just wait out the rain before riding home.”

“That’s not what I—” Sirius started, “never mind.”

“What is it?” Remus asked, covering Sirius’ hand with his own.

“I just… I wanted everything to be perfect today. I’m sorry I ruined our anniversary.”

“Ruin it? Sirius, what are you talking about? You didn’t ruin anything.”

“But… it’s raining,” Sirius said confused.

“Yes and? Rain is, like, the most romantic thing ever.”

“It is?”

“Once again,” Remus sighed, “I would like to reiterate how desperately you need to read a book.”

“Well, I’m sorry we can’t all be addicted to romance novels.”

“Oh shut up and kiss me.” Sirius laughs and lets his lips meet Remus’. They’re both drenched to the bone but neither one of them could care any less. Sirius’ hand brushes Remus’ cheek as he wraps his arms around Remus’ neck pulling him closer. Remus’ hands are on Sirius’ waist, and they slide down to his hips. Sirius’ shirt had ridden up a bit from lifting his hands to reach Remus’ neck and Remus’ fingertips brush Sirius’ bare skin — which is wet and slippery from the rain — making Sirius shiver and sigh. When they break apart, Sirius brings his lips to Remus’ ear.

“Besides,” he whispers, as Remus runs a hand through Sirius’ wet hair, “who needs romance novels when I’ve got the best romance story in the world.” Remus felt a flutter of pure happiness and smiled. He kissed Sirius’ jaw, right beneath his ear.

“Happy anniversary,” he whispered. Sirius sighed in response. They stand there in the rain, wrapped in each other’s arms, dancing slowly to the sound of the rain splashing and pattering on the leaves of the trees around them.

#remus lupin #remus lupin fluff #sirius black #sirius black fluff #moony #padfoot #wolfstar #wolfstar fluff #wolfstar fanfic #Wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar oneshot #remus x sirius #sirius x remus #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders oneshot

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yeojaa · 4 years

Text

they don’t love you like i love you.

read parts two and three! drabble inspired by this post that @hobi-gif tagged me in. give me idiots in love or give me death, tbh!

pairing. jjk x f!reader. rating. general. tags. a bit of fluff, a dash of angst, and a whole lot of unresolved issues. wc. 1k.

Each time is like the first all over again.

It starts perfectly innocent, with two friends catching up over late afternoon brunch. You meet at your favourite restaurant - the place you had your first date, your second anniversary, your last birthday - and you order the same things you always do: some kind of eggs benedict for him and something sweet for you.

You ask about his mother’s wrist and his father’s golf game; he tells you they’re both fine and that his brother’s dog might as well be their new grandchild. He wants to know if you’ve gotten that promotion you so deserve yet, or if your sister’s finally decided on names for her soon-to-be-born twins. No, you haven’t, and no, she hasn’t.

You offer little pieces of news like you do bits from your plate, trading a strawberry for one of his duck fat fried potatoes. The conversation flows as easily as the coffee drains.

It’s never uncomfortable or rushed or any of the million other things meetings with your exes tend to be.

Which is probably why it’s so easy to end up in the position you are now, in the apartment you’d moved out of six months ago, draped across his chest with a book in your hand.

You know your clothes are somewhere on the floor - crumpled in a heap like you used to leave them when you still lived there - and that in about fifteen minutes, the setting sun is going to blind you through the east-facing floor to ceiling windows. You know he’ll have to get up - because it’s not your job and never has been - to pull the curtains you’d chosen closed when that happens. You also know he’ll stop in the kitchen to refill his oversized water bottle since you’ve drained it.

You know a lot of things - you think, anyway - but apparently not how to stay away from Jeon Jungkook.

“How many times have you read that?” He means Crazy Rich Asians, one of your guilty pleasure books that you’d left behind the first time you ended up here again.

“Enough,” you hum, gaze never straying from the printed words on the page.

“Don’t you get tired of it?”

You’re not sure where the questions are coming from. He’s usually engulfed in whatever mindless action movie is running on the television or half-asleep, exhausted and satisfied from your midday romp. This is an uncharacteristically focused side of Jungkook that you’d nearly forgotten about.

“No?” You’ve dogeared the page and set the novel aside, studying him with careful curiosity.

His hair’s getting too long and falling in his eyes, curling over his silver-lined ears prettily. He pushes it back with the hand that’s not cradling your hip, inked digits carding through it with a nervous energy you hadn’t noticed until now.

“What’s up, Kook?”

Rather than reply, he does the thing he always does - chin tilting in a dead giveaway of uncertainty. You repeat yourself more firmly this time.

“Why do you keep coming back to it?”

You blink once, twice, peering owlishly at him in the afternoon light. He won’t quite meet your eyes, instead focused on the smattering of summer sun-induced freckles smattering your bare shoulder.

You have a sneaking suspicion you aren’t talking about the book anymore.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?”

You can tell he wants to brush it off - that he’s already regretting giving life to the words. His jaw flexes, tongue rounding the flesh of his cheek.

“If you won’t talk to me, I can’t help you.” It’s gentle as you can manage and paired with a lingering touch against his face, fingers sweeping over all the familiar contours. He’s as handsome as the day you met him five years ago, covered in coffee you’d accidentally lost all over his front.

He says nothing and you wish you were surprised. You’re only a little sad, exhaling a quiet sigh that teeters on the edge of frustrated.

The silence stretches on, caught between his teeth with nowhere to go.

“Why do you keep coming back to me?”

It comes long after it should have, filling the quiet of your - his apartment - in the same instant waning light does, sun pulling low over the horizon. For once, he doesn’t get up; he’s waiting for your answer.

“Kook.” You mean it like a sign at high tide - cautionary.

“You keep coming back. I just need to know why.” He glosses over the fact that he’s just as much to blame as you. You suppose he has the right to, given your history.

After all, you’d been the one that ended things. You’d been the one to break his heart in two and take one half with you, tucking it among your belongings when you’d left. You’d been the one to glibly state you’d never get married, completely unaware of the velvet box that sat heavy in his coat pocket and had for the last three weeks.

You’d torn down all of his hopes and dreams - and for what? To end up back here with him?

You know it doesn’t make sense and yet you can’t bring yourself to acknowledge that. “We’re just friends,” you murmur, lamely, your hip flush against his and legs locked together.

“We’re not just friends.” You can feel his dismay and how it shudders through his body, thrumming in his jaw and his hands and the coil of his spine. You can hear it in his voice when it kicks off his teeth and crashes into the spaces between you like a cardinal alighting in snow. You can see it in how he looks at you, as if you hung the stars then stole his sight.

You don’t want to have this conversation. Not now. You try again. “Kook—”

“No.” It’s hard. An immovable object to your unstoppable force. “We are not just friends - because friends don’t look at you the way I look at you.” How he’s looking at you now. “Friends don’t love you like I love you.”

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warmau · 3 years

Text

Dragon!AU Yunho

*this post was commissioned | commission info | other ateez aus tw: mentions of violence, blood, death

you gently lift up his neck, removing both arrows with a quick pull and then leaning down to press your lips to the open wound his skin is on fire, the contact stings and you can’t help but think: what the hell am i doing?

seonghwa gives you a wary look as you sling your bow over your shoulder

“are you sure that’s all you will need?”

you nod and check to make sure what time it is on the clock behind seonghwa’s desk. the large wooden hour hand ticks right onto a golden seven.

perfect, i should be home by noon tomorrow if everything goes well

“it is a dragon, you understand one arrow isn’t going to-”

“one poisoned arrow.”

you slip a tiny bottle from your thigh pouch and shake it in front of him, the bright green liquid sloshes back and forth and you try to remember whats in it

jongho, who had concocted it at your request, had mentioned something about mushrooms? or maybe parsley?

you had not been paying attention.

“as the prince requested, bring back its head only.”

“sure sure - by the way, prince hong is paying me half now right?”

“prince hongjoong”

seonghwa corrects

“has agreed to pay you twenty-five percent now, the rest comes when the dragon is confirmed to be dead.”

you extend your palm, motioning for your commission fee

you know seonghwa, the ever uptight and too-good-to-be-dealing-with-mercenaries-like-you type accountant is almost seething at the thought of you getting your hands on the royalties gold

but hey, no one else had agreed to take up this dragon slaying business

and you were in need of paying off some debts

turns out the blacksmith from three villages over was still waiting on getting paid for the work he’d done for you a year ago

and he was stopping at nothing to get that money

(several scuffles with some of the cronies he’d sent after you in back alleys had proven enough of a warning)

dragon slaying it was

seonghwa studies you again as you take the gold and tuck it safely inside your shirt.

eyes averting politely when you do the buttons back up

he coughs into his hand, “are you leaving now?”

you wink, “yep - and ill be back tomorrow with the princes’ dragon.”

the trek through the woods isn’t as bad as you had imagined - it’s the transitional period between summer and fall

not too hot, not too cold

perfect weather to go pushing through thick bushes and hunting for magical beasts

you recall what little information you have on this “dragon”

apparently, it lives deep - deep within the forest. at least twenty miles past the secluded cabin homes already nestled in the depth of the woods

but twenty miles, a problem for others, is a breeze for you

you can enjoy the silence of nature

and if you get too bored - you can pull your bow out and practice your shot

the only other thing you know about the “dragon” is that its the only one left of its kind

hongjoong had said something about his father, and his fathers father, the royal bloodline - had made it a mission to drive dragons to extinction

“all they do is wreck havoc, i cant have one so close to my people.”

you snort

nobility, righteousness, blah blah blah - you would never understand why people thought things like that made them better than others

you pat the gold in your chest pocket

money, being rich - that was what made people better - in your opinion

the night comes slowly creeping in, just in time for you to cross a threshold of wild berries and fallen branches

and you smell it in the air

fire, or at least ash - which meant something living was nearby

and it for sure wasn’t people, and as far as you knew little forest bunnies couldn't burn things with their breath

you look up at the sky - you can see the shadow of the moon peeking out from behind the slowly shrinking sun

you pull an arrow out and test your stance - before continuing slowly through the greenery

the smell of ash gets stronger, stronger and stronger - till you silently pull back through a huddle of leaves and see a large pile of blackened logs at the base of a tree

your eyes narrow - dragons don’t build ........... fires.

they spout them from their mouth. but that looks manmade.

you hear footsteps, no sign of claws or thundering stomps, regular footsteps

and you see the outline of a human

it has to be a human, it has a broad back - with two hands and two long legs

what? hongjoong said humans don’t come out this far!

you try to see the face of the man, but he doesn’t turn your way - all you see is the expanse of his back - various scars of various sizes - or maybe some kind of vibrantly red rash sprouting down his skin

you panic

if there’s a person around, has someone already slew your dragon?

and if there’s a dragon around, are you going to have to get this person out of harms way?

you’re about to retreat - hurry back to the village and report to the prince that he has to be wrong about the dragons location

all he did was lead you astray to some weird, hermits home in the middle of the woods

when the person straightens up, you hear their grip tighten on the wood

fuck. they’ve sensed that im here.

you try again not to make a sound as you reach slowly for the arrow once again

but then the person turns and you freeze

their eyes, though shaped like a humans

are a flickered yellow, with the pupil slit like a lizards

and there is a distance between you two

but that pupil is fixated on you

without thinking twice anymore about it, your instincts kick in and you tumble backwards and break into the fastest sprint of your life

youve just walked over twenty miles over the expanse of almost eight hours and you should be completely weak

but your body knows that whatever that person, or thing, is

if it catches you - you will be done for

you hear the rustle of leaves, but you dont hear any sound of following footsteps - until you look up in the sky

and there it is

the shadow of a large animal against he now darkening sky

the moon shines down and reflects off of one of its large wings

isn’t that the dragon?!?! where did it come from?!?!?!

and just before it swoops down in, you manage to get your bow up and pointed at it - shooting the poisoned arrow directly into it

you hear a monstrous sound

you hope its a wail of pain as you dodge in between trees

if you can get yourself some distance from the thing, you can find a dark hole to hide in for the night and make your way back to the village at the first sight of the sun

and thankfully, after another twenty minutes of running, you think you’ve got that thing off your trail

you hit the ground with a hard thud, your legs going into a frenzied spasm under you as you grip the forest floor

where did the dragon come from? is it protecting that man?

a million questions swivel around in your mind, but you are so exhausted that you can barely think straight anymore

you manage to make it through the night, not sleeping a wink

just laying in the leaves and dirt and jumping at the sound of absolutely anything

you’re a mercenary known to have a fear of nothing

but when dragons and beastmen start chasing you

you think you’re allowed to be afraid of them

you get back to the village - and first things first - you bust into the palace ballroom

guards are chasing after you, but you get past those meatheads until you spot prince hongjoong at the throne

“YOU LIED TO ME!”

you yell - finger pointed at the prince - who raises an eyebrow

you feel something cold touch your neck and realize one of the guards has pointed a spear at you, which you just scoff at

“how so?”

“there are people living in the supposed ‘dragons lair’ - people the dragon is protecting!”

hongjoong lets out a bellowing laugh that nearly shakes the room

“are you making up stories to get out of our deal?”

“what? no! i saw it with my own eyes - there was a man and then there was-”

“seonghwa, retrieve the gold we gave this cowardly fraud.”

hongjoong waves his arm and seonghwa begins his long, graceful strides over to you

you duck from the spear at your neck and step backwards

“no - im keeping this money and im getting you your stupid dragon, but what am i supposed to do about the people? do you want me to kill them too?”

hongjoong snaps his fingers and seonghwa comes to a halt, the guards all lay down their weapons and hongjoong rises from his seat

he paces back and forth for a minute

before shaking his head

“no, i dont want them killed. i want them captured and brought here. if what you say is true, they might now the location of other dragons.”

he strokes his cheek and falls into thought again

“you should take a horse with you this time, to transport them when they’re captured. also, go to jongho and get more poison.”

you can tell that as seonghwa turns his head, he’s signaling something to the prince

probably about how this ordeal proves how untrustworthy you are and that you should be thrown into the dungeon now before screwing the prince over for sure

but the thing is, you are not a liar, you are a mercenary but you do your job to the best of your ability

usually that means apprehending thieves or rogues or sometimes its the opposite, participating in break-ins or scams

but when you promised to slay a dragon - you meant it

you just didn’t think you’d now have to be taking hostages too

and although the fear you’d felt the whole night was still felt in the aftermath

you were also coming to see this as an opportunity

“if you want hostages, alive hostages, you need to up my price.”

“no!”

seonghwa rejects, but hongjoong doesn’t bat an eyelash.

he names the new price and your fear dissipates as the number floats around your head

“and i dont have a horse, can you provide one?”

you’re hovering over jongho, as you usually do when you come to him for his ‘medicines’

he’s making another vial of that poison, and tying up some bags of herbs to help put the ‘beastman’ you need to capture to sleep

you keep tinkering with his things and he keeps hitting your hand away

“whats with the noble stead?”

he asks, tilting his head toward his open window, where the horse you’re borrowing from the royal guard is standing tied to a post on the nearby street

you shrug, “turns out people are living out in the woods.”

he puts his tools down and gives you a skeptical look

“along with the dragon? you know thats impossible - dragons eat people. did you see a corpse?”

you cross your arms

“sorry, why does no one believe me?!? i saw a man, and then i saw a dragon.”

“he’s probably the dragons lun-”

you shake your head, pulling one of your arrows out to play with as you wait for jongho to finish his work

“no. i think the person i saw might be being protected by the dragon. but it doesnt matter.”

you throw the arrow up, watching it do a flip as it lands perfectly back in your palm, “prince hong wants them brought back alive and he’s paying me-”

jongho stops listening, he drops the bag of poison and herbs in your hand and shoos you out

although you hate to admit it, because you know what you saw, you spend the ride back through the forest wondering too

maybe all the walking got to me? maybe it wasnt a man - maybe it was a forest spirit?

you don’t realize the hours passed until suddenly the horse refuses to go on and you have to hop off and take the rest of the trek on foot

part of you uneasy

animals can sense danger, that’s probably why it didn’t want to go on

but all you can remember is the money

and its getting a little darker - not pitch black - but just the perfect amount that it’ll help camouflage you between the trees

you smell the familiar scent of burnt wood

and this time, you completely silence your movements - up until you’re back in your original position from yesterday

you scope out the clearing - the fire is going - but the man you saw yesterday is nowhere in sight

your eyes stop though on the large body that you spot right curled near the flame

it’s not human, it’s scaly - huge - and you can see the bone structure of a cascading spiked spine

the dragon!

you almost make a sound of surprise, but you catch yourself before you make a stupid mistake

instead you move again - in silence - to a better angle

if you can hit the dragon in the neck with a poisoned arrow - you can probably subdue it enough to hit it again and make sure the poison takes its effect for sure

then you can go and look for that man

you slow your breathing, and your heart rate

any false movement and you know that animal is going to wake up.

you count down slow, and then take aim, just as your finger lets go

the dragons eyes snap open

but its too late, the arrow lodges itself into the flesh part of its neck and the dragon roars up to life

you take the moment of disorientation to your advantage, as you jump up from the leaves and take aim again - this time hitting the dragon right into its throat

you see it begin to sway, making sounds that shake the ground beneath you

it tries to swing one large claw towards you but before it does

it begins to shrink

smaller and smaller and smaller till its tail disappears, its wings retract, and the scaling hot red skin turns back into something else

you’re so horrified and astonished all in the same moment

that you cant dare to move from your place

as the mighty dragon turns itself back into a human man

the wings fold painfully into the skin of his back

cracking and making sounds that suddenly have you feeling nauseous

the person takes a step but falls down to their knees and flat back onto the ground

you bring your hand up to your mouth

and for a good minute just stare and try to process what happened

the dragon wasn’t protecting a human, this human is the dragon!

you suddenly replay last nights events and it all clicks into place

the yellow pupil slit eyes, the scarred up back, the inhuman speed

you see the two arrows that should have been lodged in the neck of a dragon

sticking from the side of this person neck and you realize that if you dont take them out soon

he’s going to die

so what? he’s the dragon he should die!

you reason, but then you can picture bringing back this person and seonghwa and prince accusing you of cheating them

no - i said id bring back a dragons head, not a dead person!

you settle yourself and take a few shaky steps toward the body

the poison, in that kind of dose, will kill him

the only thing you can do is get the poison out

but how? i dont have an antidote! jongho never made one-

you rack your brain, squatting down to examine the arrows and then remembering

jongho said the poison’s only effective when it directly enters the bloodstream - if someone drinks it but then spits it out they should be ok right?

it’s a gamble and you don’t like to put yourself at risk in any odds, but you need that stupid money

and you know you’re not going to get it unless you come riding back into town with a dragon, not whoever this person is

you brace yourself, you push the body over onto its back and throw your leg over the mans waist

you realize a tad bit late that he’s absolutely naked - but you’re too focused on the task at hand to feel any inkling of embarrassment

you gently lift up his neck, removing both arrows with a quick pull and then leaning down to press your lips to the open wound

his skin is on fire, the contact stings and you can’t help but think

what the hell am i doing?

you’ve done this twice before, with snake venom, but this is different

if you’re remembering wrong - this could kill you too

but you have to take the chance

so you close your eyes and pray

the aftertaste is gross and your stomach lurches a little when you spit what remains out of your mouth

you wipe at the corners with your sleeve and place your hands on either of his shoulder blades

you shake a little, muttering for him to wake up already

“come on, don’t die on me dragon boy”

you shake him again - groaning in desperation when he doesn’t show any signs of life

his face is still serene and still - handsome and strong - he almost looks too nice to just be the beast you saw before

you’re about to get off of him and start counting your days till the princes’ people come for your head

when suddenly something wraps around your hip and keeps you from moving

you look down and see his hand on the fabric of your tunic - you turn your gaze and are met with those yellow slit eyes - and

“oh my god im so sorry!”

before you can really comprehend what is happening, you are getting lifted up and off of him

the boy, coming to his full height is huge

which to say for someone mixed with dragon blood should not shock you as much as it does

plus he’s - he’s timid

with the way he puts distance between you two and then apologizes, a second time, for mistakenly thinking he attacked you

“i don’t usually hurt humans i-”

the misunderstanding kind of rubs you the wrong way, you had initially reached for your bow, assuming you’d have to defend yourself right away

but now you were just

“hey, you didn’t hurt me. i hurt you - look at your neck.”

he stops blubbering, bringing his fingers up to the small wound

“wh-you-”

“i shot you, yes. anyway i also made sure you didn’t die and if you are going to get mad about either of that then -”

you lift the bow up again, “i will not hesitate to shoot you again.”

a stoic silence coats the conversation and then you make the mistake of looking down

“oh fuck you’re naked!”

you turn around, stupid move for a mercenary in close contact with a target, but the dragon boy doesn’t budge

“wh- why did you shoot me?”

“i.....well i um.....i saw you! i know what you are, i thought you would attack me-”

“why are you out so far in the woods?”

“wow you ask a lot of questions, have you put anything on?”

“put anything- i don’t-”

a noise disrupts his sentence, a noise he can hear, but that you don’t

so you make the decision to face him again, eyes wavering above waist level, when you realize he’s looking around panicked

“are your friends here too?”

“my fri- what, no im here alone-”

you take a step forward and then something catches you by the neck and tightens

before you can bring your hands up to the rope, your head is yanked back and a large burly hand curls around your waist

“caught ya, you little thief!” the voice is mean and rough, recognizable as one of the goonies that angry blacksmith keeps sending after you

“let go! did you follow me here?”

another voice, more high-pitched and giggly answers- “duh, our boss heard about all the gold that uptight prince gave you and well i mean-”

you’re so busy trying to pry yourself out of the stronghold that you don’t catch the dragon boy disappear

not unril a looming shadow blocks the sunlight and everyone's eyes turn upward

just like you had seen on your first attempt to capture him, it is the large and intimidating outline of a dragon

wings clutched into its sides, but the winding neck and large jaw swooping down and nearly clipping the head off of the man holding you

you stumble forward when with a scream, he lets you go and shouts

“A DRAGON!?”

you duck and roll to get far away from everything going on, being mindful of the rope still around your neck that you tug off and slip into the bag secured to the side of your hip

when you have a safe distance, you turn around and see the dragon now closer than soaring above you in the sky

sweep its way down and right toward the blacksmith’s bounty hunters - for a moment you think you see it all happen in slow motion

the powerful body of the dragon, an almost golden yellow and green - slit eyes moving back and forth like a lizard on the prowl - talons sharp and huge and cutting through with so much precision

you think you don’t even see any blood

all you hear is the defeated thud of a body to the floor and then another agonizing scream before you

i should run for it, dragon or human or whatever that thing just-

the cracking you heard earlier, the twist of shifting bones and breaking lines of a monsters body turning back into a normal form fill and echo in the trees

you look up, still crouched half on the floor, to see the dragon gone

the boy turns, the flash of something brutish in his eyes before they go back to a soft, muted brown

“i dont hurt humans.”

he whispers, so low you almost don’t hear it

then he drops back to his knees - falling face forward

and you jump because - fuck is he dead? did i not get all the poison out?

you rush over, stopping from lifting up his head when you see the blood this time

not from any of his wounds, just coating his nails which must have ripped through-

you shake your head, carefully hovering down and closing your eyes

to your relief, he’s still breathing, but he’s definitely knocked out cold

you do not know where the strength comes from inside you to get this giant body dragged out of the deep field you were in and back toward where your horse is still tied up

part of you think you turned into a goddamn monster of some sort lugging his body with no abandon

until the horse gets one whiff of him and refuses to let his passed out being anywhere near it

you groan

“how the hell am i going to get you back to the prince?”

you mutter and finally let go of his hand, eyes averting from his figure as you slide down with your back against a tree

i wouldnt call what happened back there anything like ‘protecting me’ but it is weird that he just.........killed someone like that........and didn’t kill me, right?

you tug your knees up to your chin

and he said it twice - that he doesn’t hurt humans - but that can’t be right. afterall, that short prince has a whole historical fit about how dragons hurt people.

you hear something and immediately tense up

gaze shifting to the still passed out body of your “loot” and then back up toward where the sound is coming from

you assume that it must be more of the blacksmiths goonies, absolute idiots following you on this mission

but then you hear a voice and groan

“ah - there they are. i told you they were slacking on the job.”

you stand up, bruised knees and scowl on your face, to see seonghwa - sitting high on a white stallion with what seems like an unnecessary amount of men from the cavalry

“first of all, im not slacking. look right there - i got your dragon.”

seonghwa looks to where your finger is pointing, down at the body in the leaves

and you

you do not like the smirk that spreads across his face

hours ago you had witnessed a human being turn into a dragon, now, you were sitting shackled on the palace floor

explaining again that you had seen it, that you had witnessed first hand

how the body of the human now laying before the princes’ feet had become the animal he had sent you to hunt

but every time you say it - the princes’ court laughs at you - the worst of all is seonghwa

who toes the body of the dragon boy and shakes his head

“i dont know where you dug up this poor boy, but bringing a dead body instead of the head of the dragon as promise-”

“i told you the first time i came back, that there was a person there instead of a dragon but it turns out they’re the sa-”

hongjoong finally gets up and you know better than to keep talking

the giggling court also shuts up and through the silence you hear him walk down from his throne and then lean over the body

he stares for what seems like a long while before he snaps his fingers

“throw both of them in the dungeon.”

“THE DUNGEON?!? WHY I DID MY JO-”

seonghwa tilts his head and two guardsmen lift you up and off the floor

“I DID MY JOB I BROUGHT YOU A DRAGON-”

hongjoong opens his mouth into a wide smile, but nothing in his eyes screams happiness

“ALL I SEE IS A CORPOSE, AND HEY LITTLE MERCENARY-”

he moves toward you so fast that you nearly miss him - the guards lowering you back onto your knees

hongjoong’s gloved hand coming down to hold your cheek

“and hey little mercenary, if you are right and he is a dragon - then you two can share a cell and you can be his first welcoming meal, if you know what i mean.”

this he whispers, low and harsh into your ear

you want to say something - god you want to bite and snarl at this stupid prince - but you can’t

you’re frozen, being pulled back up off your feet and watching over the prince’s shoulder as the body of the dragon boy is hoisted up and you two are brought down and down and down

into the darkest depths of the palace

you’re thrown so hard against the cold floor that you almost blackout from the hit you take on your head

you don’t only because the dragon boys body is thrown in next and you have to move fast enough out of the way that he doesn’t fall directly ontop of you

with your cheek pressed to the floor you curl up into a ball

for the first time, in a very long time, you feel helpless

your whole life has been built on your own back, running around through danger and defiance and now you were here

with no freedom - alone - with a monster

you shut your eyes, the echo of the loud metal gate shutting behind you before your body

worn out from everything shuts down

when you wake up - you dont know how much time has passed, but you aren’t on the floor anymore

instead you are laying flat across the bench that sticks out from the side of the dungeon wall and your hand is resting on something hot - so hot you pull it away immediately only to look down and see the dragon boy

perched against the side of your bed

he’s been given some old rags to put on and when he turns his head at your sudden startle

you see a gigantic bruise on the side of his face

“what happened-”

“they told me to hurt you. i told them - i don’t hurt humans.”

you’re still too tired to peace apart what he means by who and what in the world he’s talking about altogether

instead you lay back down and groan

“ok so dragon boy-”

“yunho”

you open your eyes

“you have a name?”

“all humans have a name.”

“well you’re not exactly....wait” you sit back up and look at yunho this time more clearly

“wait i need you to clarify something for me.”

his eyes almost look as if they’ve lost their pupil - becoming just an empty void of darkness - but he nods slowly when you ask;

“are you - do you have a family? are you a person or just a -”

“they’ve been killed, my family. humans don’t like my type of human, dragonborn humans.”

he is still looking at you - in that almost soulless bleak way - you don’t get it

well you do, you are the reason both of you are in the mess theoretically, but still

“ok, well. i just had an amazing idea. how about you turn back into a big dragon and go take revenge on the prince im pretty sure his family is the one that well - you know - did whatever to your family.”

you wave your hand around like its nothing, but yunho doesn’t budge

he turns slowly away from you and shakes his head

“i cant hurt more humans.”

“um im pretty sure you hear that big blubbering idiot back in the forest.”

“that’s because-” yunho stops and you edge forward “that’s because what?”

but he gets up and moves across the dungeon to the opposite side

narrowing your eyes you get up and put your hands on your hips

“well if you don’t turn into a dragon and break us out of here, then yunho you are going to die in here with me. i dont think prince hongjoong is going to be gracing us with warm meals or nice beds anytime soon.”

yunho doesn’t move, doesn’t react or seem aware of your presence

you don’t understand it - “why can’t you then just turn into a dragon and break us out of here without hurting anyway. we can just esca-”

“i cant.”

“what do you mean ‘you can’t’ ive seen you turn into a dragon twice a-”

“im too weak, unless i eat soon i wont have the power to sustain my monster form.”

you heave a huge sigh, half of annoyance and half of defeat

just as you predicted, no meals or visitors come for the rest of the day

the silence between you and yunho just grows deeper until two whole days have past and you’re so weak from starving and dehydration that you cant even stand up anymore

all you can think about is how you are going to die soon

how all these years of survival and honing your craft as an archer was for absolutely nothing

to die in the dungeon of the palace

suddenly a sound comes from somewhere, footsteps growing closer.

you half dont believe it - you think your mind is conjuring it up and that maybe they’re deaths footsteps

the reaper here to take you when you hear a familiar scoff

“you haven’t eaten them yet dragon boy? i should have known - you really are nothing but some poor beggar they found in the streets.”

seonghwa?

something metal clatters to the floor

“here - eat this while they’re asleep. if anything, youve done nothing wrong. it’s that scoundrel's idiocy that got you into this mess.”

you wait till the footsteps start up again and then dim into the silence

gathering whatever is left in your joints, you force yourself to sit up and see what seonghwa brought

on the tray are three slices of bread - you look once at yunho before lunging at them like a rat on a piece of meat

it must take you under a second to devour them and then just as you finish you turn and see yunho staring at you

“first come first serve”

you turn and tell yourself the weird feeling in your stomach isnt guilt

plus.........this dragon boy.......isn’t he..............isn’t he going to just crack and eat you-

“i dont eat people.”

you jump, which is weird considering your body can barely bare its own weight

“wh-at?”

“i dont eat people. dragons dont eat people, so im not going to eat you like that man says i will.”

“right.........well.” yeah ok, so the feeling is guilt “what do you eat?”

“what humans eat.”

“ah - well, seonghwa mentioned wanting to keep you alive so im sure he’ll be back with more-”

yunho stands up, again the daunting nature of his giant stature almost catches you off guard and he slowly makes his way over to the now empty tray

there is nothing on it and he takes the plate the bread was on and smashes it

“what the hell-”

“i heard a rat last night, im going to kill it and eat it.” he picks up one of the shards and you gag but yunho doesn’t even flinch

he returns to his corner and you return to your bench

you want to lay down and just close your eyes, start either thinking of a plan of escape or again of how you’re going to die in here alone

when you cant help but ask again;

“so why do people think dragons want to eat them?”

the shard in yunho’s hand clatters and you want to scold yourself for being noisy - seriously, can’t you just lay here and succumb to this torture in peace?

but yunho speaks again

“because they dont understand us. they just want us to disappear and to make something disappear you kill it yourself or you make it so scared it hides away.”

“sorry but how are you, a dragon, going to be scared of some humans making up stories abou-”

you stop yourself before you finish because something in your memory blooms like an unwanted weed in a fake pottery of flowers

a memory from your own childhood

the taunting of the other kids around you, pointing fingers and telling you to go away, to force yourself into a corner, to leave them alone because you were a little different and a lot more poor

you wrap your hands around yourself

you dont have to as him why dragons would be scared of humans

humans are more terrifying than most other living things

yunho seems to sense the shift of the mood in the atmosphere

he clears his throat and continues

“so we did hide away, to keep ourselves safe but - sometimes hiding doesnt mean the people who hated you forget. so slowly, one by one, our kind were killed. and now im left alone.....probably going to be killed as well.”

for a long time you don’t say anything, you are sure yunho thinks you’ve fallen back into your weak sleep

but you can’t even close your eyes if you try, tears that you havent wept in years make a small river down the canyon of your face

“you didnt deserve that.”

you finally say, but you don’t know if you’re talking to him or to yourself

you and yunho fall into a routine.

you fake falling into a deep sleep from weakness and whatever scraps seonghwa brings for yunho you two end up sharing now

somehow you are sure seonghwa has caught on, its been a week and you arent dead which cant be possible unless youre eating and drinking something

but one time he mumbles that you are probably the one catching and eating rats

but it isnt just the scraps you and yunho share

the nights in the dungeon are inexplicably cold

to the point where your fingers almost lose sense from the numbness and it gets to a point where it is so bad that you have to ask yunho to come over to you

his skin is still so much hotter than yours -from the dragons blood you assume - and touching him feels better than freezing

the first night you ask him, he sits rigid at your side as you wrap your hands around his thick wrists

but gradually he lets you slip closer, or maybe you let yourself slip closer

till you are almost wrapped into the crook of his chest for complete warmth

neither of you talks much - you have no questions to follow up the slaughter of the dragonborns and yunho can understand that there is a pain similar to his living inside of you

instead it becomes an unwritten bond - and you start to toil over how you are the reason you will both

one way or another

die in here

if you had only paid that fucking blacksmith his money back, you wouldn’t have stooped so low as to bring this poor boy to the feet of that cruel prince

but yunho doesn’t seem to hold any kind of grudge against you

in fact, you think you hallucinate it, but every night you two get closer you think something of a vibrancy comes back to him

one time he had even muffled against your hair a question about your archery

which you just answered with a vague “for self defense” which he didn’t seem to all believe

and you had pulled back to see him almost surpassing a laugh - wanting to tell him off it had gotten caught in your throat

somehow even through the darkness you could see the the outline of his strong features

thinking back to when you’d hit him with that poisioned arrow

and he had laid there in front of you, completely naked - literally - with long eyelashes on soft cheeks and a strong line on his jaw dipping into a sturdy and toned neck

you couldn’t think that way though, those were useless as thoughts of escape where now

so you’d pretended to ignore them and tucked your head back into his chest

and finally, when you think the time is slowly coming

creeping up with the way seonghwa has reduced the scraps he gives and you can hear him sneering about how you have to just give in someday

you say it into yunho’s chest

“im sorry”

“for what?”

“for being the reason the last dragonborn has to die.”

you’re right - because before you two can peel away from each other the next morning - the dungeon cell is thrown open

and two guards pull you up and to your feet

yunho’s body hitting the floor resounds through your ears - it sounds just the same as when he feel after killing that goon who’d tried to kidnap you back in the forest

and when his body was thrown to the floor in front of hongjoong

it pierces your ears and muddies out whatever the guards are saying

execution? lying to the crown? you don’t care

you just reach your hand out to yunho - going blurry in your weak vision

“just go and accept your death!”

a guard shouts and you agree, you should go and you should accept your death

“just dont kill him”

you mumble, half stringing the words together

“just please dont kill him”

the guards laugh they ask you to beg again - was this beggar you claimed to be a dragon actually your lover all along?

you see yunho slowly get to his feet and you don’t care about what they’re saying

you don’t care that you’ve been living this principal life of loneliness for years

a monster of your own traumas creation

you try to reach out for yunho again

“just dont kill him”

and then, just as one of the guards reaches for your neck - the other holding you slightly up and off the ground

you think you see a flash of gold - mistaking it for the light that must come at the end of the tunnel

when in fact, along with the strike, you feel the hands holding you up drop

and before you know it, you are in a pile of two bodies and the sound of a resounding roar breaks you out of your stupor

you look up - eyes wide - and you see a dragon

but no, it’s not a dragon, it’s yunho - with his huge tinted wings and silted eyes but the chest and legs of his human form

“yunho?”

you ask as if you don’t believe it to be him, until he picks you up and pulls you into him

it’s the same burning chest you’ve been pressing into these nights - it is yunho - but why is he only semi transformed?

as if reading your mind he answers,

“only so much rats and crumbs can do.”

you have half the mind to laugh before you hear a stampede coming down the dungeon stairs

the noise must have caused the other guards to be alerted and you want to tell yunho that, but he just picks you up and charges ahead

“wh-what are you doing they-”

you want to say ‘they’ll kill us’ but then you see yunho - with absolute elegance pounce himself up and through the barrage of men

his wings soar him up to the stairs before a single hand can be laid on you two and he grips you a little tighter

the last remnants of his human form start to shift and change and just as he rounds the corner with you in his arms

you hear seonghwa and prince hongjoong - one or the other ordering that the dragon be shot on sight

you want to say something, but yunho completes his transformation and before you know it

he is breaking through the glass of one of the palace windows and you are being projected up and toward a blue sky that you haven’t seen in what feels like years

“ho-how did you transform fully?”

“you bit me.”

“what?”

“you bit me, when you sucked the poison out of my blood so you bonded me to you.”

you are about to ask what the hell that means when you realize, you are talking to yunho through his thoughts - he’s in dragon form so he can’t possibly be speaking

so you just exclaim, “how long have you knew - about this bond?!??”

he holds you closer and suddenly the smooth glide upward turns into a spin, avoiding the princes’ arrows which are parading into the sky now

you tuck your head into him, the hot skin now scaly and almost cold

“when you touched me the first night - when you asked me to hold you because you were freezing, it rejuvenated something in me.”

you try to wrap your mind around what is going on - dizzy from the reality and the flying and the - oh you almost look down and scream

“then every night, as we grew closer i could feel it coming back. i could feel my dragon blood boiling and there is only one thing that can do that to my kind.”

he beats his wings and you two fly higher and higher

into the untouchable stratosphere - not even winged horses and zeus’ arrows could reach here

“two things actually, either good healthy meals or the power of a dragons bond to the one they love.”

you swallow - eyes opening slightly as you still avoid looking down

“a-and how does a dragon bond to someone they love?”

you feel his body rattle - his dragon body - so you assume that to be a laugh

“we drink each others blood.”

before you know it, you and yunho are landing softly back deep in the forest somewhere

it’s far and unfamiliar and when yunho transforms back into a human he nearly collapses

you fall with him, holding his large shoulders in your hands and asking him again

“because i drank your blood? but you didn’t drink mine?”

he looks up - the yellow in his eyes receding into a warm brown

“it doesn’t matter, a part of me is inside you and it is reacting to me. if im with you, ill always be able to turn and protect you.”

you can’t believe it but you are feeling flustered - for the first time in your life, the strong mercenary you - is so close to embarrassment you might die

you lean down, half to hide your face and half to make the first move out of pride, as you press your lips to him

you feel a large hand push you in closer and you almost bite yunho’s poor lip in surprise

“sorry, sorry - its just you’re naked right, turning back into a human and all?”

he blinks

“yes, is that a problem?”

you shift a little away, making space between the two of you, even after all thats happened

“no just - um - well, where should we go now?”

“south?”

“no that’s where the blacksmith whose still after me lives.”

yunho tilts his head, “who?”

you smile and shake your head

“no one, no one - but um we should get you some clothes first.”

somewhere back in the palace, prince hongjoon turns to seonghwa

whose eyes are wide and shoulders shaking

“he was a dragon, that little theif wasn’t lying.” seonghwa swallows “my prince, what do you want to do?”

hongjoong turns, the crown flinging off his head as his bow and arrow fall to the ground

“what do you think. if i can hire a mercenary to go kill me a dragon, i can hire another to kill me a mercenary and a dragon in one - can’t i?”

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coffeestainsandcashmere · 3 years

Text

Let No Man Steal Your Thyme - (older Dramione), Part Four

Well, here’s part four for you! It’s really just part three continued, but since I didn’t want the previous part to be 7k words or so long, I split it up. The total wordcount is 12.4k words now!!

Thank you very much to those of you who’ve commented and sent me lovely owls on here to let me know you’re enjoying it! (this is a sideblog for me, so I don’t respond to comments on posts, but I do answer asks as Cashmere).

I know a lot of folks (me included) don’t like starting to read WIPs that are unfinished, so thanks to those of you who have hopped on now. Consider yourselves honoured beta readers! It’ll go up on AO3 when it’s all posted on here and completed.

No real warnings for this one, just some discussion of their past relationships (for both Hermione and Draco) before the plot thickens and things warm up a bit in part five. Not sure when that’ll go up - it kind of depends on how much feedback I get on this one I guess! Comments and reblogs feed an author’s muse after all.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

___

At her wry smile and tiny shrug, Malfoy laughed, apparently reassured. “A little,” he repeated softly to himself under his breath.

After a heartbeat she shot him a sidelong look and added, “You’ve changed so much, Draco. I can hardly believe it, but it’s clear as day.”

He did a little double take at the sound of his name on her lips, and then he smiled. It was such a tiny, fragile melting of his expression that she nearly missed it.

“I mean it,” she said, tightening her fingers on his steel-cable forearm for a fraction of a second. “I don’t know if it was the war or your marriage, or becoming a father, or something else entirely, but… you’re not the same person you were back at Hogwarts. Not at all.”

“Thank fuck for that,” he hissed. “I had a hell of a lot of growing up to do. I think I did ninety percent of it in the space of sixth year. But Astoria helped steady me after… after Hogwarts and all the bollocks and bullshit of the aftermath of… of… you know.”

“‘Bollocks and bullshit’ is a mighty casual way to say ‘a short stay in Azkaban and three years of house arrest’, Malfoy. That’s got to change a person, for sure.”

He shrugged. “I’m just glad it’s all in the past now. For the most part, anyway.” The silence that followed spoke volumes of the baggage that they were all still hauling around with them, of one kind or another.

They wound their way across the park’s pathways with no particular direction in mind. As the glittering waters of the Serpentine drew into view in the deepening dusk, she murmured, “I’m glad you came tonight.”

“Me too,” he said, voice little more than a low rumble above the sussurating wind in the trees. “Theo seemed on fine form, and it was nice to see Pans again. It’s been a few months. Longbottom looks good too,” he added as an afterthought. “He grew into himself, didn’t he?”

“Mmm,” she nodded. “Never would have called his and Pansy’s relationship though. I thought she went for the bad boys like you and Blaise…”

Malfoy snorted. “I’m a ‘bad boy’ now, am I? That’s an interesting spin on my past.”

“Maybe not so much ‘bad boy’ now as ‘grumpy reclusive Mr. Rochester’. How about that?”

“He one of your Muggle heroes?” he asked without sting.

“Yeah. He’s Jane Eyre’s leading male. A bad-tempered rich man who has a big house in the middle of nowhere and a secret deranged wife in the attic.”

“Well, I hit three out of the four criteria…” he said and Hermione’s heart lurched as she remembered he wasn’t a bachelor but a widower.

“Shit, Draco, I’m sorry,” she said. “That was thoughtless of me.”

He shook his head, the silver hair of his forelock tossing about as he chuckled, an entirely unfamiliar sound which she decided she wanted to hear again almost immediately. “It’s fine, Granger. You haven’t got a malicious bone in your body. Besides, it was a long time ago.”

They came naturally to a halt in front of the man-made lake and stared out at the lapping water for a time before she uncoupled her grip from his arm and shucked her coat back on.

That done, she drew in a deep breath and paused, leaning her forearms on the back of a cast-iron bench overlooking a flock of huddled, plastic pedalo boats moored up offshore. Malfoy remained a pace behind her, back straight as an arrow, his hands tucked into his pockets now that she was no longer hanging onto him.

A fair few Muggles were out and about, some walking lazily as she and Draco had been, others pounding along the pavement on their evening run, and a good number were walking dogs. The sheer mundanity of it all struck her deeply for a moment and her breath caught in her throat.

“Granger?” he asked in a soft voice.

She straightened and turned to look back at him over her shoulder. “I was just thinking how close we came to losing all of this… Sometimes it seems like a million years ago, and others…”

“Like yesterday,” he finished a beat later. His eyes glittered in the half-light, pale lashes ghostly and ethereal, and in the dark, his pupils were wide and black and inviting.

“Let’s keep going, hmm?” she chirped.

In fact, he walked her all the way back to her rather modest apartment in Muggle London. “You didn’t want to live closer to work at the bookshop?” he asked as she fumbled for her very ordinary, Muggle keys with half-frozen fingers.

Giving up, she murmured a quick ‘alohomora’ and pressed her hand to the extra ward she had placed on it. “I’ve lived here since I moved out of the house with Ron. Never seen any point in looking for something bigger or whatever. It’s cosy, and it’s just me anyway. You want to come in? I’ll have to tweak the wards if you do.”

“I… I don’t want to be a bother,” he said, his expression pinching.

“No bother. It’s a three minute job, if that.”

He looked torn, teetering on the edge of a refusal, but as she swept her curls back out of her face and blinked up at him, he seemed to waver, and finally he nodded. “Alright. Yes please.”

“Stay put. I’ll be right back,” she said, and left the door open so that he wouldn’t feel like a stray dog shut out in the cold.

After setting her bag and coat down on a sofa in the main living room, she stood and centred herself, reaching for the wards with her magic. They thrummed reassuringly as she wove a slightly different pattern into them, allowing Draco Malfoy to come and go, and then she released the magic once again.

“Ok!” she called to him and he stepped tentatively inside, shutting the door with a polite click behind him and levering off his fancy dragonhide Oxfords at the doormat.

There was something so intimately sweet about seeing him pad across the fake-wooden lino of her living room floor in his dark socks that she couldn’t help grinning.

“Those are some powerful wards you’ve got up,” he commented as he blinked curiously around the room.

“Hangover from the Ministry days, I suppose. Plus this is technically a Muggle building, so I can’t have anyone noticing anything strange. There’s another witch here, up on the seventh floor, but we don’t see each other often. You want something to drink? I’ve got tea or coffee, and a small selection of wine, though nothing nearly as nice as what Theo has on tap…”

He smiled. “A tea would be lovely.”

She ducked out into the tiny galley kitchen and lost herself in the simple task of filling and boiling the Muggle kettle. She turned to find Malfoy leaning his shoulder against the door frame, hands cupped under opposite elbows, watching her with that owl-like intensity again.

“Muggle kitchen,” she grinned almost sheepishly. “Magic is great for a lot of things, but some routines just can’t be beaten.” Ron had always hated and mistrusted things like electric kettles and refrigerators, not quite fully understanding the way it grounded her in her Muggle upbringing.

“I’m not judging you,” he said, voice low and slightly hoarse. “I’m just interested. Do you mind?”

“No,” she said, fishing in the cupboard for her selection of teabags. She held the cardboard box open for him to select one and her eyebrows rose when he chose a delicate mint and chamomile one, but she offered no comment. “I can give you a masterclass in using Muggle kitchens if you like.”

His lips pulled back into a broad, dazzling smile and he laughed. “Go on then.”

“Fridge,” she said, opening it and showing him. “Keeps things cold; powered by electricity. Freezer, keeps things, well, frozen…” She continued her tour while the tea steeped, and by the time she was done, the tea was ready and they made their way back out into the humble living room, with a second-hand sofa and a battered old coffee table with more ringed coffee-stains on than visible surface.

Her stomach rumbled and he raised an eyebrow at her.

“I didn’t get a chance to eat anything yet, other than nibbles at Theo’s,” she cringed.

“Don’t let me stop you having something for supper then,” he said.

“I’m not going to scoff a freezer dinner on my own while you sit there and watch me,” she blurted, laughing. “Unless you want to join me? I’ve got a couple of pizzas in the freezer. Nothing fancy, but they’ll be ready in twenty minutes or so if I put the oven on now.”

Malfoy looked like he’d missed something somewhere but was too embarrassed to ask, so he just said, “Pizza? Sure. The last time I had pizza was when I took Scorpius to Rome.”

“Well,” she said, setting her mug down on the table and heading into the kitchen. Over her shoulder, she called, “I can guaranteed these won’t be nearly as good as those were, but they’re pretty tasty. I think they’re both chicken and pesto - is that alright?”

“Perfectly.”

Oven on, she returned and folded herself into the squashy armchair which sat at right angles to the sofa, tucking one leg up beneath her and drawing the other foot up beside her. Malfoy, of course, sat like he was about to take tea with the Queen, while she felt like a pretzel on a shelf. A comfy pretzel though, she thought as she reached for her mug.

“I’m glad we walked back,” she said after a moment. “I can’t believe I worked myself up into such a tizzy over Ron like that. It’s so childish…”

Malfoy sipped his tea and then cradled it between his long, pale fingers for a moment. “What happened between you two? I thought you three were —”

“— the ‘Golden Trio’?” she purred, voice laden with sarcasm.

He made a conciliatory gesture with his head but said nothing more.

She sighed. “We were. I mean, Harry and I are still super close - I’m James’ godmother after all. Ginny’s the sister I never had, but something went wrong with Ron somewhere along the line.” She knew exactly what the final blow had been, but there had been a myriad other issues on both sides before that. “I think… I think he felt like he never had a real niche, you know? He was always second fiddle to Harry in the heroics and quidditch departments, and, well, everyone knows I was the brains of the trio,” she said self-effacingly. “That’s not to say that he’s stupid — he’s not.”

Malfoy scoffed at that, and for a moment she saw the petulant, petty little thirteen year old he had once been. A deeply sceptical look filled his eyes, and he looked like he was physically biting his tongue to keep himself from disagreeing with her.

“No, really,” she scowled. “He just makes stupid, split-second decisions without thinking anything through. I’m not defending what he did or how he behaved at the end of our marriage, but…” she sighed heavily and drank a mouthful of too-hot tea that scalded her throat on its way down. “He’s in a pretty good place now with Lavender. We just… rub each other up the wrong way, even now I think.”

“Theo said he was being an arsehole earlier,” Malfoy pushed.

She shrugged. “A bit. I think he carries a lot of bitterness towards…” she gestured vaguely in Malfoy’s direction, “… Slytherins? I’m not really sure. Stupid house prejudices that a lot of witches and wizards clearly never get over. As if one moment in our history defines us for the rest of our lives, or as if we’re limited to the characteristics of the house we were sorted into at the age of eleven… It’s just so fucking dumb, Malfoy!”

He laughed softly at that.

“What? You don’t agree?”

“No, I absolutely agree with you. I was enjoying hearing you swear, that’s all. Forgive me.”

She flushed and looked away, anger leaving her as swiftly as it had come. “Ron has a lot of insecurities, and a few of them centre around me, but… I guess I just wasn’t enough for him in the end.”

“How could you possibly be ‘not enough’ for someone, Granger?” Draco asked in a hoarse whisper. “And you were the bloody Minister for Magic for Merlin’s sake…! What more did he want from his witch? Morgana herself reincarnated?”

She laughed long and loud at that, and Malfoy seemed to relax a little in the wake of his little outburst. “My reign was very short though,” she said as she stood and took the opportunity to put the pizzas in the oven. When she returned, she asked carefully, “What about you and Astoria?”

“What about us?” he asked, voice even and steady, though his eyes swirled softly like Trelawney’s crystal balls, hiding their secrets behind a shifting sheen of silver.

“Were you happy?”

Malfoy’s eyes slid away from her to stare unseeing at a point across the room, and he sat back against the sofa cushions, still nursing his cheap, Tesco mug between his hands.

“Yes,” he said eventually. “For the most part we were. It wasn’t… earth-shattering or anything, but it was pretty good, all things considered. It was arranged by our families, you know?”

She nodded.

“I knew Astoria’s older sister, Daphne, far better than I knew her, but Daph promised to an Austrian count already. He’s actually very nice. I’m glad for her.”

“I vaguely remember Daphne from school, but I didn’t have many classes with her as we got older.”

“I’d met Astoria a few times before it was all formally arranged, but even then, we only met a total of perhaps five or six times before the wedding proper. It wasn’t the huge event my mother had always dreamed of throwing for me, but with my father in Azkaban and me under house arrest, the mood wasn’t really there, you know?”

Hermione did some quick maths and realised he must have been only nineteen or so when he’d been married, and her eyes widened. She’d only been twenty-two when Ron and she had tied the knot, but still, that struck her as very young. Scorpius hadn’t been born straight away though, and there had been vicious gossip about blood-curse-related infertility until the little mandrake had arrived. Hermione been about to make the leap to Minister at the incredibly tender age of twenty five when the attack on the Manor had taken place, and Scorpius had been mere months old at the time.

“Toria and I grew to know each other better,” Draco went on, “And in time, I think we came to love each other, in our own way. She certainly adored Scorpius before the blood curse took her.”

“What was she like?” Hermione asked in a whisper.

Again, Malfoy sighed and closed his eyes with his head tipped back to rest against the sofa cushions. “Quiet, intelligent, articulate, easy-going most of the time, but when she got passionate about something, she could be pretty stubborn. Scorpius inherited a lot of that from her.”

“He looks like you though,” she said. “I mean… almost exactly like you did at that age. It gave me quite the turn when I saw the two of you on Platform 9 3/4 you know?”

He smirked and cracked an eye open. “Tell me about it,” he said. “Mother is always calling him ‘Draco’ instead of ‘Scorpius’. It drives him nuts.”

They shared a laugh at that. “Your mother lives with you at the Manor then?”

“Yes and no,” he said, shuffling a little and getting comfy again, relaxing his torso more casually against the arm of the sofa at last. “She moved out of the main manor when Toria and I married. Now she lives at what we affectionately call the Dower House. Officially it’s called Nightshade Cottage.”

“Ominous name,” she said and he smiled again.

“Apt though. There’s a rambling, stone-walled potion-garden round the back of it, full of all sorts of interesting plants, and a stunning rose garden at the front. It’s really beautiful in spring, and rather potent in summer.”

“You make it sound almost welcoming,” she said without thinking and he huffed a dry laugh.

“Parts of the estate really are lovely, Granger; its sordid past notwithstanding.”

When the beeper went on the timer, Malfoy jumped and looked confused, but she laughed and showed him. She did use her wand to cut up the pizzas though, and by the time they were seated back on the sofas with plates in their lap, they resumed their easy talk as if they’d never been interrupted. Watching Malfoy in his fancy clothes and eating pizza with his hands was almost too much for Hermione to bear, but if she focused on his voice too much instead, she found herself mesmerised on that front too. Who’d have thought that Hermione Granger would have found herself growing more and more attracted to Draco Malfoy all these years later.

Long after they’d finished eating, they spoke a little more of Scorpius, and how Malfoy guessed he was getting on after his first week at school. “Of course, he hasn’t written to me yet, but I’m hoping he might pen something this weekend…”

“You worry about him, don’t you?”

“Constantly,” he snorted. “One of the burdens of being a father, I suppose.”

“Of being a good one,” she amended, and she didn’t miss the way he swallowed thickly and blinked his glassy eyes rapidly a few times.

Then he sighed expansively and then levered himself to his feet. “It’s late, Granger, and I should probably be going. I’ve got a meeting to get to early tomorrow morning in Scotland, and I still have a bit of paperwork to do tonight.”

“But it’s the weekend, Malfoy,” she said as she rose too. “You can’t have to work, surely?”

He nodded and shrugged, but made his way to the door and slid his feet back into his shoes without further comment or explanation.

A little, fluttering, doxy-wing cloud of nerves shimmered to life in her chest as they stood face to face at the door. Malfoy swallowed again and hitched a tiny, lopsided smile. “Thanks for tonight, Granger. And…” he faltered and shook his head. “Yeah,” he said roughly. “Thank you.”

“I feel like I should be thanking you,” she said. “You got me out of my funk and walked me safely home.” She ran her fingers through her mass of curls and didn’t miss the way his eyes flickered to watch the movement before he blinked and turned away to open the door, clearing his throat.

With his fingers still on the handle, he paused and looked back over his shoulder. “My pleasure, Granger. Sincerely.”

Hermione barely managed to offer him a watery smile before he was striding off down the corridor.

She lingered in the doorway long after his footsteps had faded down the stairwell — apparently using the Muggle lift alone had proved too daunting for him. After she locked the door and recharged the wards behind her, she picked up his empty plate and mug to put them in the dishwasher.

As she passed the dresser that had once belonged to her mother, she caught sight of a moving photograph of Crookshanks. The half-kneazel was staring at the flat’s front door with his yellow, lamp-like eyes wide. “What do you think of him now, huh Crooks?” she asked the photo. “Bit different, eh?”

Photo-Crookshanks purred and circled in the bottom corner of the frame a few times, bottle-brush tail twitching, before returning to his fireplace and curling up with a look of contentment on his face. God, she missed that cat.

“Yeah. I think I like him too, Crooks,” she said. “Merlin help me, but I think I like him too.”

Part Five

___

I’ve only written all 12,410 words of this because people told me they liked it, otherwise it’d have stayed on whatever the first chapter was, so if you want more, let me know with a reblog! Feel free to send me an anonymous owl too if you’re more comfortable doing that.

Anyway, take care, and more soon, I hope. I’ve got a fair chunk plotted out, and it should take us up to Christmas in the storyline (it’s September now for them).

writing masterlist | Ao3

#dramione #dramione fic #older dramione #draco malfoy x hermione granger #hermione granger x draco malfoy #draco x hermione #draco x hermione fic

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staarshines · 3 years

Text

It’s Not All Roses Chapter 1: astra (HighSchool!AU) || P.D.

| It’s Not All Roses Masterlist |

Warnings: cursing

Word Count: 3.1k

Excerpt: “Meet Rey! She’s in our english class, remember?” You can’t believe it for a minute—Wait, was this Poe’s doing? No, he was walking up the stairs with you… You look around, seeing him walk into the row from the other side. What the hell were the odds?

[A/N]: i haven’t been on here for months but we don’t talk about that❤️ also, the pandemic doesn’t exist here. bonne lecture.

Your Sour Patch Kids and Sprite, Finn’s Milky Way and Gatorade… You look over the items in your hands once more, hurrying through the crowds of kids masked in orange and white, proudly showing off Amidala-Skywalker High School’s colors; a stark contrast to the crowd bathed in red and black on the other side of the podium.

You mentally curse yourself for even wanting to come to the Homecoming game between Amidala-Skywalker and Geonosis High—dragging Finn along with you on top of that.

If Homecoming was this overhyped, you were going to be pissed.

Lost in thought, you unavoidably manage to run into someone, wincing when you hear the crack of your Sprite can hit the ground and open.

“My bad.”

You look back up to see a cute guy looking back at you with apologetic eyes, grinning, while his wild chocolate-colored curls frame his face.

“No, you’re good. It was my fault for running into you.”

“Nah, that was me. Got a little too focused on the game.” Both of you erupt into awkward laughter, bending down to pick up the snacks now lying on the ground. “I’m Poe, by the way.”

You look up once more, breath hitching in your throat because of how close you are to him—had you moved five inches closer, your lips would be pressed flush up against his. Your cheeks heat up at the thought and you forget how to speak for a few moments, watching him hold back a smirk.

This fucker knew exactly—

“I’m Y/N,” you quickly blurt out, flashing him a quick smile and grabbing the candy and sports drink, noticing another Sprite can that Poe hadn’t picked up. “I think that’s yours.”

“No, that one’s yours.”

“Even if it is mine, I ran into you, so you should have it.”

“Honestly? I was hoping you’d say that. Rey would kill me if I didn’t come back with her Sprite.” You chuckle and nod, standing up and smiling when he motions for you to go up the steps first.

You’re thinking about where you’ve seen him on the way up to your row, realizing that he was the one who pranked a girl—you’re guessing Rey?—in your english class by removing her headphones from her laptop’s jack while she was in the bathroom. Mr. Kenobi nearly fell out of his seat when he heard “WAP” blaring at full volume.

Needless to say, she was not happy.

You slide into the row Finn is sitting in, throwing him his candy and the Gatorade bottle—the latter of which he nearly doesn’t catch, which would’ve resulted in it hitting the brunette next to him.

“Y/N! Meet Rey! She’s in our english class, remember?” You can’t believe it for a minute—Wait, was this Poe’s doing? No, he was walking up the stairs with you… You look around, seeing him walk into the row from the other side.

What the hell were the odds?

You then remember that Finn and Rey are watching you look around like a madman, snapping you back to the situation of introductions and small-talk at hand.

“Right! The girl who—”

“Whose music blared in a dead-silent classroom in the middle of our english class? Yeah, that’s me.” You chuckle slightly, nodding to her and sitting down. Poe’s gaze catches your eye and he quirks an eyebrow, tilting his head.

What are you doing here?

A quick tilt of your head in Finn’s direction, then the game’s direction. Watching the game, apparently.

Raised eyebrows and the hint of a smirk. You following me?

An eyeroll and a bit-back smile. Oh yeah, definitely.

He shrugs with a smile on his face and sits down next to Rey, and you stifle a chuckle when you see her snatch the Sprite and Airheads from him, cracking the can open.

“What, do you two know each other?” It takes you a second to realize Finn’s question is directed at you and Poe.

“I mean kinda, we just ran into each other a while ago. Oh, that’s Poe. Poe, Finn, Finn, Poe.” They exchange warm smiles but nothing more.

“Well, I promise I’m not aiding him in anything,” Rey reads your mind, winking and eliciting a giggle from you. You look over to find him scrolling through his phone, earning a slight frown from you as you resume your normal position and pop a Sour Patch Kid into your mouth, mindlessly watching the game go on. Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you lazily pull it out, checking the notification.

Instagram Poe Dam(n)eron (@damndameron) has requested to follow you.

You look over at him once again, finding him now watching the game. Hm, so we’re playing this game? All right. Opening the app, you accept his request and click on his profile, a bit surprised when you see that he’s private—he pegged you as the type of guy to have a public account. Nevertheless, you hit “Follow”, waiting a few moments before refreshing and seeing that he’s accepted, giving you full access to his profile.

You see about four posts and a few story highlights, but nothing out of the ordinary. You click on his most recent post, scrolling past the beach, a hot tub at a cabin, a picture of him and Rey at Pike’s Peak—was she his girlfriend?—and lastly, a picture of someone who you guessed was his mother and him as a baby. He’s standing on her feet in what looks like their living room and you can tell that they’re dancing, a grin frozen on his mom’s face while Poe flashes a toothy smile—his dad must’ve taken the picture. It was dated November 21, posted almost one year ago. Curious, you click on the comments and start reading through them.

kare_kun_ Thinking about all of you.

r.skywalker you'll always be her flyboy, poe.

snapwexley01 she’d be so proud of you, man.

j_pava Wish she was still here with us. Stay strong, Poe.

The last comment makes it all click into place, and you feel a pang in your heart. He’d lost his mom. How long ago? He was maybe four years old in that picture. You suddenly feel so empathetic that all you want to do is give him a hug—he was a momma’s boy; you could read it right off his face. You keep the date in mind: November 21st.

“Well, we won.” You look up in a daze to see that the clock was 6 seconds away from halftime, the score being 31-9 in Amidala-Skywalker’s favor.

“How do you kick someone’s ass that badly?” you ask with a sort of wince even though you were on the triumphant side, clicking your phone shut.

“Like that, apparently,” Poe remarks, just before the halftime buzzer rings. “You guys wanna get out of here and go to the baseball fields or something? It’s a lot less noisy but you can still hear the game’s commentary.” You’re a bit surprised at his proposal, seeing as you four just met, but you’re definitely not opposed.

“Why not?” Finn responds, shrugging his shoulders. You four get up and leave the row, nearly getting trampled in the number of kids leaving their seats to either go get food or leave the game entirely.

“C’mon, flyboy, you’re gonna get lost!” Rey yells from behind you. Flyboy. Wonder where he got that nickname.

“Oh my God, please— He did not!” you laugh, clapping a hand over your mouth while giving Poe a disbelieving look.

It’s pitch black outside now and you four are bathed in the floodlights of the baseball stadium, sitting on the grass just by home base.

“There’s fight, there’s flight, then there’s complete idiocy. Guess which one Poe has programmed into his DNA.” Poe narrows his eyes at Rey, throwing Finn’s empty Gatorade bottle at her which she catches with ease.

“It’s not my fault I wasn’t thinking—”

“Thank you for admitting that.”

“—I was panicked! There was a s’more in my hand and I just threw it in the other direction!”

“While not thinking that the bear would come after you for more,” you add, watching him huff, seeing a hint of a pout on his face. “Remind me never to go anywhere near the woods with you.”

“I like her already,” Rey remarks, to which you crack a smile.

“How long have you two been dating?” you try to crack the question as casually as possible, but let’s face it: the anticipation is eating away at you. To your surprise, they both burst out in laughter—so they’re not together?

“Oh my God, I wouldn’t date Poe in a million years. I couldn’t handle being that much impulse control for him—He’s already a liability as my best friend,” Rey laughs, shaking her head.

“I— Rude. But honestly, I wouldn’t date you either. You don’t know how to have fun,” he exaggerates the statement with his hands. You smile at their banter, a bit surprised at their relationship’s similarity to yours and Finn’s. “How long have you two been dating?”

“We’re most definitely not dating,” Finn chuckles, earning a slap to the shoulder from you.

“No need to act like you’d never date me! Remember the kiss on the playground in third grade?” you ask sarcastically, the memory bringing back a bout of nostalgia.

“That was third grade! And I was dared to do it!” You laugh, throwing an arm around him.

“I mean Finn, you seem pretty passionate about making sure she knows you don’t like her,” Poe winks, earning a fake gag from Finn.

“Oh, please. She’s like my sister.”

“Literally,” you add. “I’m pretty sure I saw you more than I saw my own parents during my childhood.”

“You, Ben, Han, and Leia, yeah,” he nods.

“Ben, Han, and Leia..?”

“Ben’s our best friend. The three of us practically grew up together with Han and Leia—his parents.”

“Han and Leia like—Dr. Solo and Dr. Organa? The ones who teach at the school?” You nod, answering Poe’s question. “I don’t think they’re married—are they divorced?”

“Never got married,” Finn explains. “Just two best friends who had a one-night stand and actually stayed civil with each other after learning about the pregnancy. They raised Ben together—and us, too, basically.”

“I miss him,” you murmur. “Why’d his stupid ass have to want to go to that college prep school way over in New York, anyway?”

“Probably just to make Han and Leia proud after all they’ve done. Mark my words, he’ll be back here in a year or two. You don’t get the high school experience at a prep school.”

“Are you talking about First Order Preparatory, the big one in New York?” Rey interjects. “That’s not a boarding school last I checked.”

“Nah, he’s living over there with his Uncle Luke. I mean, we FaceTime and all, but it’s just not the sa—”

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Poe, she’s coming over here.” Both Poe and Rey scramble to get up, leaving you and Finn to do the same while you steal a glance behind yourself, trying to see who Rey is talking about.

“Run,” Poe whispers in a panicked tone; Rey grabs his arm before he can take off.

“We’re not running, genius!” she hisses, looking behind you once more. You turn around, finally spotting a blonde wearing an orange shirt and white shorts, stripes of white paint just under her eyes. “We’re walking away. Quickly. Very quickly.” You turn around, finding them nodding to you and Finn; the four of you begin in the opposite direction from whoever the blondie was.

“Who are we r—walking very quickly away from?” you ask, keeping up at a brisk pace.

“Zorii Bliss. She’s been after Poe ever since fifth grade,” Rey explains, picking up her pace.

“Just tell her you’re not interested. Simple,” you mutter, arching an eyebrow.

“You think I haven’t tried? What was this summer, the seventh time I’ve turned her down?” Poe groans, and you suddenly feel terrible. They were actually running from this girl who’d been after them for five years. Couldn’t you get a restraining order or something? “She’s been with five guys—”

“Six,” Rey corrects.

“—six guys in the past four months. All she does is play them then blame them, all while still somehow looking like the victim. The Smoky Mountains trip we were just talking about—the bear and the s’mores? You don’t know how hard she tried to get in on that trip.”

“Sheesh,” Finn starts, “someone needs to—”

“Poe!” you hear someone, presumably Zorii, call out from behind you four.

“—get the hint,” Finn mutters, and the four of you turn around to find her just maybe fifty feet away. What the fuck, did she run to catch up or something?

“Hide me,” you hear Poe whisper, and before you can ask how, he’s already crouched behind you, arms around your waist.

“Long time no see,” she calls out, sauntering now. Aw c’mon, how about you run like you were doing before? Look all desperate for the cameras?

“What—She knows you’re here!”

“But I’m not.”

“Yes you are!”

“Nope.” You start to argue with him but then stop, realizing he really didn’t want to see her.

“Aw, that’s cute.” Christ, even her voice was insufferable. She looked like a bitch, too.

You really just wanted to punch her in the face.

“What do you want, exactly?”

“Who are you, his girlfriend? Funny, Poe hasn’t really ever dated anyone.” She shuffles a bit to the side and you copy her footwork to guard Poe, watching her raise her eyebrows and laugh in disbelief. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“And you didn’t answer mine,” you quip smoothly, hearing Finn quickly stifle a laugh from beside you. She gives Finn a dirty look, and you swear you’re about to drag her from her hair right now. “What do you want?”

“I just came over to say hi to Poe since we didn’t get to meet too much over the summer,” she shrugs. “Zorii Bliss.” You don’t respond, waiting for her to make her exit. “Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?”

“Couldn’t be more bothered to.” Rey sucks in a sharp breath and you’re worried that you’ve crossed some sort of line, but your stance doesn’t waver. She rolls her eyes and blows a kiss to Poe before turning on her heel and walking away—you’re sure she’s swaying her hips on purpose.

“Damn,” Poe murmurs, getting up from behind you. “You really said ‘no, bitch’ to her.” You laugh a little bit at his statement, shaking your head.

“She just really pissed me off. Hopefully that taught her a lesson and she’ll leave you alone now.”

“We can hope. I nearly fought her in the middle school parking lot once.” Finn raises his eyebrows at Rey but you just nod impressedly.

“Y’know, we should take a picture so we have something to post on Instagram,” Poe suggests. “I haven’t posted for a while.” He’s actually one of the boys who cares about his Instagram? Respect.

“Yeah, neither have I.” You shush Finn before he can start to whine about taking pictures, but Rey seems to have the same reaction as him. “Aw, c’mon you guys, it’s just one picture.”

“Fine,” Finn drawls. “Just one.”

“Maybe two,” you add with a giggle, watching him shake his head as you pull out your phone, opening the camera. “Okay, any ideas on where we should set it? Because the four of us sure as hell aren’t fitting in a square if I take a selfie.”

“If you have a popsocket, you can try to hook it inside the diamonds of the fence.”

“Good idea, flyboy,” you test the nickname out, watching his reaction closely to determine whether you’re crossing a line. He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling up, so you breathe a sigh of relief.

After having set your phone up on the fence—“You’re taking too long. Let me do it.” “Finn, you’re not going to have any more luck than I am.” (He, in fact, didn’t)—you press the shutter button and quickly run back to the four, throwing an arm around Finn and watching Rey neck Poe, earning a laugh from you. It’s a bit too late when you realize the picture’s already been taken, and it takes about three minutes for you both to coax Finn and Rey into taking another one. The second one turns out almost perfect, though, seeming like one of those cliché VSCO pictures that everyone posts around this time.

“Numbers,” you state simply, handing your phone to Rey. She starts adding her contact information, taking a quick selfie for her contact picture and then handing the phone off to Poe. “And give me your Instagram handles, too. I’ll tag you guys when I post.”

“You already have mine,” Poe remarks while not looking up from the phone, and you’re sure that you’re the only one who can hear the slight smugness in his voice. He hands your phone back to you and you see that he’s set the picture of his annoyed face after Rey necking him as his contact photo, which makes you giggle a bit.

After you’d sent them the pictures—Poe had named the groupchat “the avengers”, which sparked a conversation about Marvel (Finn and Poe were arguing over the best Avenger right now)—you edited the pictures slightly to make them better, uploading them to Instagram with the caption, “no friendship is an accident.”.

You four were now walking out of school boundaries towards your neighborhood—yet another thing you four discovered you had in common—but you were lost in the stars, hearing traces of the current conversation on hand (something about Asgard and the Tesseract).

“Hey. Snap out of it.” Poe snaps his fingers in front of your face and you blink, shaking your head and looking back at him.

“Huh? Sorry.”

“Staring at the stars?” he asks, looking up at the sky himself.

“Yeah. Found Ursa Major and Cassiopeia,” you point out, watching him genuinely look for the constellations, humming when he sees them too. “You like stargazing?”

“I do, actually. Have a telescope in my room and everything.”

“Oh?” You’re stepping in stride with him, completely forgetting about the other two who are also with you.

“Yeah. Y’know… you need a nickname.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“I dunno, I just think…” he looks up at the sky then back at you, grinning as if he’s figured something out. “Astra.”

“Astra?” you ask, recognizing the word to be Greek for “star”.

“Astra,” he confirms, nodding. You raise an eyebrow, but you can’t deny that you like it.

“Well, it’s not terrible.” You were understating. You kind of loved it.

“I’ll take that as a win.”

Masterlist

All taglists are open! Send me an ask or a message :)

Permanent: @becausewhyknotme, @criminal-cookies, @theladyoffangorn, @officialtonystarkprotectionsquad, @justmebeingtheweirdmeiam, @fantasticcopeaglepasta, @talk-geek-to-me, @letsmellowjello, @thescarletknight2014, @bbluespiritzuko, @brooklynsmorales, @marvel-dameron, @marvelinsanity, @softly-sad, @yourbucky084, @mcolbz14

Star Wars: @kittyofalltrades, @arkofblake, @m1rkw00dpr1ncess, @propertyofdindjarin, @coldbreadbouquetworld, @melvls, @waatermelon-sugaar, @thedevilwearsbeskar

Poe Dameron: @yougottakeeponkeepinon, @poe-damnnn-eron, @lapilark, @peterhollandkait, @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol, @twomoonstwosuns, @writefightandflightclub, @lady-sloan, @poes-stardust, @legamelo, @xremember-me-notx, @imtheoutgoingsidekick-baby, @yourbucky084, @agents-assemble, @asianravenpuff, @daydreamerinadazedworld

“It’s Not All Roses” Taglist: @marvelous-capsicle, @fishswimbetterunderwater, @r2fucku, @missmadwoman

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron fic #poe dameron imagine #star wars fic #star wars imagine #star wars au #high school au #my writing

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theutterlyboredwriter · 3 years

Text

Bounty and the Hunter

Summary: The Mandalorian's newest bounty is a seemingly harmless prostitue who offers up her services for him not bringing her in.

Rating: Explicit (I know you won't listen but if you're under 18 don't read)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: SMUT (if it's cringey I'm sorry,it's my first time writing smut), oral (M receving), mentions of prostitution, generally sexy themes, cursing, if there's anything else let me know

A/N: HI!!! This is my first post (!!!) and also the first smut I've ever written so if it sucks...sorry lmao. I also just finished rewatching the Mandalorian and it's SO GOOD!! I hope you like it!

The alarm that usually roused you from sleep had been playing for nearly half an hour before you realized that you were late. After getting dressed into the pink bra and underwear as well as the pink mesh tunic that had become your uniform these past six months, you walked out of your house. Running through the empty street you ducked into an alley and walked into the back entrance of the club, hoping that your boss wouldn't notice that you were fifteen minutes late. Thankfully, the early morning/late night rush was enough to distract him as you slipped in and set your stuff down at your station. The club was both a strip club and brothel, the latter only for those who were of a certain rank and distinction, and it was always busy between ten pm and five am. The clock on the wall read 3:58, you only had two minutes before your first customer was due to come and call on you, so you sat and touched up the makeup that had smudged as you ran from your place to the club.

"Hey! Booth number one wants you," Linberen called to you as she walked out on stage.

Your services ranged from lap dances to…well, there hadn't been anything you hadn't said yes to for the right price yet, but you had quickly become one of the most sought-after girls in the little club. The lights were a dim yellow, low from broken lights and dust that had covered the bulbs no one ever cared to change. The owner, Gribrad said it gave the place some character and ambiance, but it just accentuated the shitty stone walls and grimy wood floors that Gribrad was too cheap to replace. It was busy, the stage was covered by four girls, and there wasn't an open space around the jutted out stage, crowded by men throwing measly credits on the stage. To your right were the different booths, each covered with a purple velvet curtain to allow the customers some privacy. Towards the front of the building was booth one and you took a small breath before pushing the curtain back far enough to allow yourself entrance into the small space. Your eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the significantly darker room before you spotted something shiny that struck fear into your heart, beskar.

"Don't run, I can see in your eyes that you want to. It will be a waste." The voice was deep and gruff, altered by a modulator, but the voice struck a nerve in you and sent chills down your spine. You set your hands on your lap, allowing the armored man to see that you didn't plan on pulling a knife on him, while silently reprimanding yourself for not bringing a knife like Linberen had told you to do so many times before.

"I have to say, 60,000 credits for a prostitute is a hefty bounty. Usually, that kind of price is attached to someone who's committed treason." The words fell heavy into the air. The shitty dance music in the background did little to ease the looming silence that was so obvious between the two of you.

"What's a Mandalorian like you doing here? I thought you all were killed years ago?" You asked weakly, the lump in your throat making it hard to do anything else but breathe heavily.

"Apparently not."

You'd heard that all the Mandalorians were dead, wiped out in a massive genocide by the Empire, but yet here one sat across from you. That's when it struck you that Beskar was still being sold on the black market and this could just be a silly impostor.

"I beg to differ. For all I know you just bought the armor off of some black-market dealer to scare other bounty hunters. Mandalore was destroyed years ago by the Empire," you said with a smirk. Today wasn't the day that you would be played by some asshole in armor; you needed to make money, and this wasn't a real customer.

"With all due respect, I have things to do like work, and as much fun as sitting here in silence with you is, I need to get back to work. I'll tell Gribrad that it was just a meeting, so you won't get charged but if you exc-," you'd started to get up, but the man grabbed your arm and threw you back onto the leather seats.

"With all due respect," he began through gritted teeth, "I'm not leaving without you in handcuffs."

"Listen, if you want it like that just tell me and I can get that arranged," you chuckle, hoping that the joke will lessen the growing tension in the booth.

It didn't.

"The only way that I'm going to leave is with you, now I can kill you or have you come along cooperatively, your choice."

"Who are you taking me back to? Why is there a bounty out for me? How did you find me?" You try to cover the apparent fear with anger, hoping that something drastic will happen and allow you to escape.

He sits in silence; his regulated breathing is so overwhelming that you feel suffocated. By now your eyes have adjusted to the dark and you see that his blaster is pointed in your direction, sitting by his right thigh. A million scenarios race through your mind of how you could try to distract him and kill him with his own gun until you realize that your bounty would only grow and make it harder to hide. You don't realize how deep in thought you are until the man slaps his gloved hand on your knee to get your attention.

"Listen Mandalorian, I don't know why you are here but I'm innocent. I've done nothing to warrant a bounty and I haven't hurt anyone. Let me go, I'll give you whatever you want to just pretend you never saw me." The desperate slew of words spills out as he cocks his head off to the side to look at you. You feel the judgment and disgust burning a hole into you, and suddenly you wish you had been much later to work.

"I don't bargain with criminals."

The answer is plain and cuts you like a knife.

"There has to be something that you need! A maid, a mechanic, a-a um… a stress reliever?" You know throwing out sex for protection is a low spot in your life, but you have no interest in being turned over to be murdered or tortured.

For the first time all morning, you feel that he is contemplating what you've said. But truth be told, you have no idea what is going through his head. The rigidness of his body rids you of the advantage of reading body language, and his chrome helmet blocks and facial expressions you could possibly read, but something in your soul tells you that even if you could see his face right now it wouldn't help you.

An eternity passes before his modulated voice lets out an answer.

"Have you ever worked as a mechanic before?"

Not the answer you wanted.

"For a few years, yeah," you mutter, voice wracked with worry.

Again, the two of you are left in silence; so you resign to twiddling with the worn pink mesh that covers your body, running your fingers over the rips that have gathered these past few months.

The man sighs. Loudly. You take this as a sign of hope, you hope.

"I am willing to postpone the date in which I bring you back in return for you to work for me. You step out of place once and I put a bullet in your head and deliver you to the people who want you, got it?"

You gulp and slowly nod, not wanting to upset him in any way.

"I'll give you five minutes to grab your things and then meet me here. Don’t run."

You stand on wobbly legs, grabbing onto the wall to support you, and begin to walk to the back of the club so you can grab your things. The thought of running seems nice, but you know that he probably has someone at the back just waiting for you to run. The loud music is drowned out, secondary to the thumping of your blood through your heart. You don't have much to take with you, a couple hundred credits, a change of clothes, and a small bag of makeup.

"Didn't you just get here? Why are you packing your shit up?" Ajislen asks as she changes into a new outfit for the next stage show.

"I have to leave, I can't really explain it," you try to answer. You don't want to say too much, but you also don't want to leave your friends without a word. Then it hits you, your friends. You won't see these people for a while, possibly forever. Not that it would matter much to them, but you'd like to think that your absence will be noticed.

Suddenly the lights begin to flicker. Just for a second, but long enough to draw the attention of all the girls in the room.

"Ugh, this place is a dump. I don't blame you for leaving." With that, she leaves.

You walk through the front of the club and see the Mandalorian standing at the front of the club, guarding the front entrance. The man grabs your arm and guides you from the club, looking around at the empty streets. Being only 4:30, the streets are bare and it's dark out, but it somehow feels more dangerous with this heavily guarded man on your arm than it did as you ran to the club less than an hour ago, defenseless and utterly alone. The walk to his ship takes forever, maybe because you are now fearful to be on this planet; or maybe because you aren't sure if he is going to stay true to his word. He could be leading you back, only to turn around and put a bullet in your head. But either way, as your feet trudge through the sandy road, you find yourself in painful silence.

Talking was one of your most favorite things to do, there wasn't a person you'd met who you hadn't been able to strike up a conversation with. You loved the idea of getting to know people, to open up and share something with someone. You knew better than to try and talk to this man. You feared to ask his name or say anything around him.

The ship was parked in the middle of a sand dune, far enough to not be bothered by the local traffic. In all honesty, it looked a little shitty. Part of you hoped that he would allow you to work on it and try to make it look better. It could be your ticket to surviving, spoke a little voice in your head.

He pushed you into the ship, and your breath caught in your throat as you swore you felt his fingers trace down your spine. Nonsense, you told yourself and started walking forward. If the outside was shitty the inside was utterly depressing, you could tell that this ship was in desperate need of your touch, and though you didn't realize it at that moment, so did something else.

"I'll find some blankets and you can make a spot to sleep on the floor." He said as he began to close the door to the ship, "The fresher is behind that door and the cockpit is up this ladder."

That was all he said before ascending the ladder, leaving you alone and scared. You assumed that he was getting ready to take off, so you found a spot on the floor to sit and try to grapple with what had happened in the past hour. So much had gone unprocessed and you were just coming to terms with the brevity of the situation. There was a 60,000-credit bounty out for you, who hadn't committed a crime, who was just trying to make enough to live. You knew why the bounty was out, but you decided in that booth that he obviously didn't know, so you'd feign ignorance too. It probably wouldn't do much, but you didn't know and trying to stay alive and uncaptured seemed like a good idea.

"Damn it!" You heard from above, and without thinking, you went to explore.

It was only as you entered the cockpit that you realized that you were probably overstepping your boundaries. It was too late to go back though, so you walked towards the pilot seat hoping that you'd be able to be of some assistance.

"Can I help?" You asked meekly.

The shiny helmet jerked to look at you, probably out of shock but quickly turned its attention back to the dashboard.

"Not unless you can fix this to let me input the coordinates."

You looked over his shoulder at the switches and knobs illuminated in a variety of colors, trying to find the thing that was causing trouble. You saw it finally, a small button that was lodged in a funky position that was preventing the circuit from running and allowed the coordinates to be input.

Without a word you reached past him to fix the issue, your mesh-covered chest brushing past his metal shoulder piece. You gasped to yourself, the cold beskar evoking a far more sexual feeling than it should. With a small breath to yourself, you pushed the feeling down and went to work on fixing the button so you two could be on your way.

"Thank you," he said curtly.

You just nodded and sat in the passenger seat, trying to remove your mind from the fact that just touching his armor had turned you on more than you had been in years. Silently you wondered if he'd heard your gasp, silently you hoped that he liked it. The feeling stayed, and further reflection only deepened the growing warmth in your stomach. First, his hand trailing down your back and then that? That's when you remembered that you had offered yourself not only as a mechanic and maid but as someone to help alleviate his stress.

So maybe it was this memory, the growing wetness between your thighs, or some entirely different force that compelled you to slide off the chair and onto your hands and knees. You waited until he had successfully entered hyperspace before you crawled under the dashboard and settled yourself between his thighs. He looked down at you, giving you the perfect chance to see yourself reflected in his helmet. Slowly you ran your hands up his thighs, shuddering as you ran your fingertips gently over the beskar. Your left hand stroked his thigh while your right hands began to palm his crotch through the thick fabric. To your very welcome surprise you found that he was hard, he seemed to be just as turned on as you were. The fabric was thick, but you could feel him getting harder as your fingers ran over and gave a little squeeze, and it was then that you almost ascended into the next level of consciousness. His hand, his strong gloved hand, wrapped around yours and gave a squeeze.

The moan that you let out was unholy, and from above you heard a little sigh of approval slip from the helmet. Drunk on the confidence you'd just been given; you reached for his zipper and began to work at releasing him. He lifted his hips so you could push his pants and lower armor down to his ankles.

Now you'd never been a religious woman, not by any stretch of the imagination, but as you saw what this mysterious man was hiding underneath all the armor you felt compelled to thank whatever was out there. Again, you let out a moan. You reached out to grab the base of his cock and slowly began to pump him, trying to commit every ridge and vein to memory. But it was too dry, and no doubt uncomfortable for him, so you reached between your legs and pushed aside the thong that was painfully damp to gather some lubrication. Quickly you returned your now wet hand to his cock and started to pump, your thumb swirling the tip and gathering all the precum he had to offer. This time it was his turn to let out a moan, and god were you thankful for it. Even with the modulator, you could hear how gritty it was from having a dry throat. And that's when you decided to say fuck it and go in for the gold. Leaning back on your haunches and grabbing onto his thighs with a still sopping wet hand, you took all of him into your mouth.

His whole body shook, overwhelmed with the sensation. You took your time, tracing your tongue up and down his cock, occasionally swirling your tongue around the tip.

"F-fuck," he muttered more to himself than to you.

One of his hands reached behind your head and grabbed hold on your ponytail in a death grip. Feeling his hand tighten around your hair drove you to just swallow him, your tight mouth struggling to fit all of him in your mouth. He wasn't unusually large, but Maker was he thick. As you sat there, viciously bobbing your head up and down, it occurred to you that tomorrow you wouldn't be able to comfortably eat food, and that thought spurred you on more. Your hand moved from his place on his thigh to cradle his balls, trying desperately to please him.

He could barely stand the sight of your big eyes looking up at him so innocently as you devoured his cock in the vilest way. He felt his stomach begin to tighten, hurtling towards a release that you both wanted. You could feel him starting to become rigid, and to compensate you sucked harder, hollowing out your cheeks, and moaned into him.

That was all it took. He tried to pull himself off of you, to cum somewhere else but you pushed yourself down, gagging as ropes of cum painted this inside of your throat. The man who was so silent, so restrained, had turned into a moaning mess in your mouth. You waited, rubbing his thighs with your delicate fingers until he had finished before looking up at him and swallowing.

You pulled yourself off of him and he let go of his hold on your hair.

Crawling around him you got up and decided to go to the fresher and try to take care of yourself. Though he hadn't done a single thing for you, you were wetter than you had ever been before. That's when it hit you, this was the first time in your entire life that you had given a blowjob out of pure desire, no money or bribery to entice you. A small chuckle left your mouth as you started to descend the ladder when a voice called out for you.

"I'm not done with you yet."

#theutterlyboredwriter #the mandalorian #mandalorian smut #mandalorian x reader #smut #the mandalorian x you #reader insert #fanfic #din djarin #din djarin smut

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xiaomomowrites · 3 years

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act IV

Genshin Impact | TartaLi/ZhongChi

Summary: It was the way Zhongli’s warm amber eyes suddenly were not as warm anymore. The way he looked at him with a piercing look, void of remorse, as he handed his gnosis over willingly to go on a whole tangent about how his “duties were done”. It was the way he turned and treated the precious traveler with the same amount of kindness and gentleness the Childe had received the previous night, with such ease; it was a look he thought was reserved only for him. It was the way he was able to turn back around, stare at Childe with an unreadable gaze, and walk away without so much of a goodbye.

Or, Zhongli and Childe finally have the conversation that was long overdue.

A/N: I’ve been playing genshin for roughly four or five months now, I can’t remember exactly when I started, but boy do I love it. No you don’t understand, I’m obsessed. But these two have been taking up room in my big brain, so I wanted to write for them. It’s been awhile since I wrote for pleasure so hopefully this is satisfactory :,) and tomorrow, I’m back to school, so I thought I’d enjoy my last day of freedom and post this today. Fun fact, I’m minoring in professional writing, so I’m hoping that it’ll improve my writing skills when I write for luxury, too. Anyway, this was a really fun piece for me to write and I hope you share the sentiment.

Also thank you guys for being so patient with our inactivity and just being such a chill audience to write for. Other social media platforms have become so...demanding haha. I appreciate y’all! Feel free to message us or talk to us about whatever :) -u.n.

Find this on AO3!

Spoiler alert: this fic does contain spoilers for the A New Star Approaches arc, so read at your own risk.

—

In Childe’s line of work, he is no stranger to betrayal.

Working as a Fatui Harbinger meant an unhealthy amount of fighting, betraying one person, deceiving another, and then on occasion, getting betrayed himself. It was all in a days’ work. Childe knew he would just have to roll out his neck and move on. He’s done it before, he can do it again. He would think that, after nineteen years of this grueling rinse and repeat, that he’d be able to tolerate a lot in the field. In fact, working with that wretched colleague of his, Scaramouche, and serving the Tsaritsa with a loyalty unmatched explicitly calls for the patience and tolerance of a saint.

Alas, Childe is the furthest thing from a saint. And still, Zhongli’s betrayal stung the most out of anyone else’s, the reason still unbeknownst to him. He tells himself that it’s because he had actually befriended the other man. That, unlike his other missions, he developed more of a friendship with Zhongli than he has with anyone else in the past. Not to mention how he really thought he’d find the gnosis, in all its golden glory, seated deep within the Exuvia, and not within his friend.

Which is why after he watches Zhongli hand over his precious gnosis to Signora of all people, Childe makes haste to return to the inn he had been staying at to furiously pack his things and leave first thing in the morning. Seeing Signora in Liyue so close to Zhongli had triggered a deep seated feeling of possessiveness over him and the city. Liyue was his territory, as far as he was concerned. It was assigned to him by the Tsaritsa and no one else. And yet, despite his unspoken possession over Liyue, its people turned against him and viewed him as the enemy. As if Childe didn’t already know that. As if he hadn’t already grown up with a layered villain complex, subconsciously looking for a fool with a hero complex to match him. Then entered Zhongli, making himself at home in Childe’s life, and he was immediately enamouring the Harbinger.

Screw Liyue.

Screw all their traditions, the stupid glaze lilies, the delicious cuisine, the obvious livelihood that fills the streets in stark contrast to his own icy hometown, screw all those goddamn unnecessary mountains, that fish market with that abhorrent smell he gradually got used to, and screw Rex Lapis. Screw Zhongli, that handsome bastard, for stringing him along like his plaything the entire time.

Childe knows, he gets it, that Zhongli simply did what he had to do because it was best for his people. And what other way for the oldest of the seven to go, if not for a grand finale? And yes, Childe admits, luring out Osial was a stupid move, but it certainly served its purpose for testing the strength of Liyue and its defenders.

Zhongli and Signora knew he would do something stupid and reckless as soon as he caught wind of the Exuvia serving as a decoy. They knew, and they played the game so well, that Childe really thought he was the mastermind puppeteering the whole show.

What a fool he was made out to be.

Childe aggressively shoves blazer after blazer into his travel duffel, angry, pathetic tears pooling at the corners of his eyes without his consent. He sniffs angrily and swipes at his cheek as soon as the first tear falls.

Fuck this, he’s not crying over a god, he still has some dignity.

But still. Pride aside, it hurt. And it wasn’t even necessarily the deceit that hurt the most. He’s dealt with that previously. It was… more personal. More of an internal struggle than an external issue. Childe truly hates those the most. At least he can shove his fist through any external problem, but he can’t exactly do the same with his feelings, or whatever they’re called.

It was the way Zhongli’s warm amber eyes suddenly were not as warm anymore. The way he looked at him with a piercing look, void of remorse, as he handed his gnosis over willingly to go on a whole spiel about how his “duties were done”. It was the way he turned and treated the precious traveler with the same amount of kindness and gentleness the Childe had received the previous night, with such ease; it was a look he thought was reserved only for him. It was the way he was able to turn back around, stare at Childe with an unreadable gaze, and walk away without so much of a goodbye.

The same eyes that gazed at him with such affection and kindness were suddenly replaced with the eyes of a soldier. And it was only then that Childe fully realized the force he was reckoning with. Zhongli was a withered god who lived too long for his own good. A powerful deity that held the ability to shake the ground with a look; he who had been humbled by time and his sharp edges eroded by the millions of faces that passed him. Simply put, Childe was just another one of those faces. And again, he understood. If he lived for six thousand years, he wouldn’t want to be alive after the first hundred.

It was the duality that dug the blade deeper into his already bleeding chest. He felt used.

“I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve spent together, Childe,” Zhongli had said to him on a warm Liyuen night, “a friend of mine, a long time ago, told me that I was… bad at connecting with people. Emotionally stunted, is what she called me. And she is correct, as I have definitely struggled with making connections in the past. But with you… it’s different. It’s easy.

Childe is thankful for the discretion that night provides him; Zhongli would have easily spotted the blush spreading across his pale cheeks had it been daytime.

“So you had trouble making a couple friends, so what?” The ginger shrugs, “I wasn’t the best at making friends, either. My mom always said I was too aggressive. Apparently that’s not such an appealing trait, after all.”

Zhongli chuckles, a beautiful sound. “It was a bit deeper than that, I’m afraid. Understanding the complexity of another’s emotions was always difficult for me, whereas she… she was loved by everyone. Adored by the youngest of fawns to the oldest of horses. It came so naturally to her. I was the opposite. Not that everyone hated me, no, people just had a harder time getting close to me. Which is why, upon meeting you, I was shocked to find that we clicked so well. Befriending you was as easy as breathing air.”

Oh, Archons, help him.

“And,” Zhongli continues, as if he hadn’t already wrecked the man six ways to hell and back, “I must sincerely thank you for indulging me once again.” The deity glances down at the bag full of antique trinkets in his lap. Childe’s lips turn upward into one of his more genuine, rare smiles.

“What’s with you tonight?” Childe responds, and Zhongli looks at him questioningly , “I mean, you never had a problem with me spoiling you rotten before. You’ve never even acknowledged it. Why start now?”

Zhongli tears his gaze away from the Harbinger.

“And,” the ginger continues, “it almost sounds like you’re saying goodbye.”

Zhongli smiles at him then. He wore a kind look on his face, eyes so impossibly warm that it reminded him of his grandmother’s pirozhki. Hot and steaming from the center, melting on his tongue, dissolving deliciously in his mouth and defrosting his entire body. His smile felt like it wrapped itself around his chest and squeezed the best way possible, fitting him back together in places Childe didn’t even realize he had broken.

“What makes you say that?”

Oh, Childe is pissed.

Fuck tomorrow morning, Childe is leaving tonight.

The memories of last night crash over him not unlike a tidal wave and suddenly, he’s drowning. Filled out the brim with a familiar rage burning through his chest and searing his finger tips, his legs, his fucking toes.

He stands abruptly when he realizes he’s been sitting and resumes his packing. It doesn’t take very long after that. A couple toiletries get shoved into the side pockets, his vision is hooked back onto his hip, and his mask is slid into its’ usual spot on his head. He looks at himself in the mirror on the way out and scowls at the way his hair looks more disheveled than usual. Red rims his dulled blue eyes, forcing him to accept that maybe he cried more than he’d like to admit. Whatever.

He swings the door open and-

“Childe,” lo and behold, Zhongli stands in his fucking doorway, “I’d like to talk to you, if that’s alright.” The man looks slightly disheveled. He’s a little out of breath, Childe notices, like he ran up those ridiculous flights of stairs to get to his room- which, by the way, he never disclosed that information with him.

The man in question huffs a laugh. “It’s not.”

He makes a move to brush past him, but is stopped by an unreasonably strong grip around his bicep.

“Tartaglia,” he pleads, “please.”

Childe snatches his arm back and spits, “don’t call me that.”

He retreats back into his room anyway, hearing Zhongli close the door behind him. He dumps the bag back onto his bed and curses himself for not leaving a millisecond earlier.

“You’re angry with me.” Zhongli starts, face as unreadable as ever.

“The sky is blue. Snezhnaya is cold. Are we still stating the obvious here?” He’s too angry to carefully choose his words. Too hurt to slip on his pleasant facade.

“Tartaglia,” he presses, and Childe really hates how his name sounds on his tongue, “I truly am sorry for the way things had to go. It was not in my intentions to… hurt you to the degree in which you feel. I simply was upholding the end of my contract and doing what was best for my people. I implore you to believe that making you feel used was not my main objective.“

Oh god, his apology sounds so robotic.

“So you’re aware that what you did was a little fucked up.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re aware that almost the entirety of Liyue places the blame on me.”

“Yes.”

Well, shit. “Good talk, Zhongli-xiansheng. If you’ll excuse me, I must begin my trip home.”

He stomps toward the door only to be stopped once again. Archons, if Childe had any motivation left, he most certainly would challenge him to a spar. The ginger huffs, and looks to the heavens in a silent plea for patience.

“Tartaglia, please, I’m not finished-“

“Yeah, well I am.” Their eyes lock. Blue meets gold in a hostile hold, refusing to break. “The second you handed your gnosis over, my business here was done. Whatever… relationship we had is done. You were my consultant and was a Harbinger here for business. A Harbinger that you obviously used for your disposal. So now that that’s over and done with, I really need to report to Tsaritsa, lest she have my head on a silver platter-“

“I spoke with Tsaritsa already.” Zhongli cuts in, his grip tightening around Childe’s wrist. “I asked her for more time with you.”

“You what.”

“Surely you are curious about the deal I struck with Tsaritsa. The contract to end all contracts, yes?” Childe’s wild look on his face eggs him to continue, “I struck a deal that granted you more time here in Liyue. With me.”

Childe is silent for a moment. The ex-Archon opens his mouth to continue.

“And I’d like to say I’ve known you long enough to know that you seek freedom. From what that may be, I do not know. But Tsaritsa has agreed to give you a choice, at the very least, a temporary one. An extended vacation or complete retirement is a choice to be made by you.” Zhongli finishes, looking to Tartaglia with hope.

“THAT is worth your fucking gnosis?!” Zhongli’s gnosis. The entire essence of his being. The very thing that makes him divine (thought it certainly isn’t the only thing that makes the man ethereal), was traded for him.

“Yes,” Zhongli replies with such ease it makes Childe’s head spin. “Among other things, of course.” An aggressive why is lodged in the back of Childe’s throat. Why me? A million questions swirl around his head, knocking him off balance. He would have swayed on his feet had Zhongli not been there to hold him upright.

“That’s insane. You’re insane. You…” Childe lets out a tired sigh, “I don’t understand you.” And he doesn’t. Because one minute he’s a cold hearted businessman, and the next he’s at his door, reduced to a mortal, begging him to stay. Granting him freedom. Really, what kind of fucked up game is this? Why didn’t anyone tell him he was a part of it?

Zhongli smiles. He smiles. “You remember our conversation from the night before, yes?”

Childe rolls his ever-blue eyes to the back of his head. “Remind me, Zhongli-sensei,”

“I said,” the deity starts, drawing both of Childe’s calloused hands between his own, “that I struggled to connect with others. Guizhong, the Goddess of Dust, was the one to bring to my attention my emotional constipation. And like I said, she was correct.”

Childe’s anger withers.

“Unfortunately I understand naught of the depth of your feelings of betrayal,” he continues, “but I do wish to understand how deeply humans feel. And in our time together, I’ve begun to understand through you. Despite your… complexities. And I wish to continue to learn. With you.” I wish to feel human is left unsaid, and laced between his words instead.

“What are you saying,” the Harbinger asks weakly.

“Take me with you.”

“What.”

“Take me with you. Wherever you go, I will follow, if you will allow it.”

Well duh, he’d allow it. Zhongli just had to work for it a little more. He can’t just waltz in here after breaking his heart and ruining his trust, demanding his friendship and companionship or whatever, after everything he was put through-

“Okay.”

Very nice ass to mouth filter, Ajax.

Zhongli’s eyes glow impossibly brighter, “Okay?”

Childe tugs his hands back to his side. “Yes, yes, fine. Whatever. But you can’t just. You can’t just use me again in the name of experimentation.”

“Tartaglia, I would never,” he assures him vehemently, “Of the seven, I was always the one most oblivious to emotions. You may ask Barbatos if you want. But I know that what I feel for you is real and I would not trade it for the world.”

Childe’s mind reels. Barbatos? Feelings?

“‘What you feel for me?’”

Zhongli cocks his head in confusion, as if his feelings were the most obvious thing in the world. “Well, yes. And you feel the same, no? It need not be said aloud.”

“It really doesn’t,” Childe affirms, “you can save me the embarrassment.”

“Wonderful,” Zhongli’s face brightens, and it’s only then that Childe is hit with the full realization that Zhongli is free. No longer is he tied to the city and burdened with the weight of the people. No longer does he have to associate himself with the likes of the Tsaritsa. Finally, after centuries and centuries, he is allowed the pleasure to smile so brightly despite feeling pained for finally leaving his people. He is Zhongli, and no longer Rex Lapis. Morax is long gone, too. The man before him is a man reborn, and Childe’s heart aches with happiness for him.

“Okay, well,” he clears his throat when he notices he’s been quiet for too long, “it’s been a long day and I’m tired. I think I’m just gonna take a shower and turn into bed and think about the rest tomorrow. Save it for future Childe, you know?”

He pads over to his hastily packed back and zips it back open, pulling out the toiletries he aggressively shoved in less than an hour ago. He digs his fingers into his neck and sighs at the release of tension. Summoning an angry ocean god took a lot more out of him than he anticipated.

“I agree,” Zhongli says, and begins to strip. “Personally I prefer the left side of the bed.”

Childe gawks at him.

“You-!” Truly an emotionally constipated god, indeed. He sighs and his shoulders droop, the fight leaving his body. “Fine. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be out in a bit.”

“I eagerly await your return,” Zhongli comments passively as he slips under the covers, a book he didn’t even know he was carrying tucked under his arm. Childe sighs for the nth time that night and turns to close the bathroom door behind him.

Future Childe certainly has a lot to deal with in the morning.

#genshin impact #genshin impact fan fiction #Tartaglia #Childe #zhongli #tartali #zhongchi #i love them so much it hurts #childe x zhongli #angst #character introspection #when this chapter ended i was incredibly emotional #i just want them to be happy

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patricia-von-arundel · 4 years

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The Happiest Place in Fódlan

@lysissisyl and I decided to try writing something together - kind of. We decided to take the same prompt, and see what each of us would do with it. Almost immediately after, @frozenartscapes wrote about her AU where Silver Snow!Edelgard unexpectedly appears in modern Fódlan (where Byleth is still alive), and I realized it would work perfectly for the prompt (which was randomly generated):

Edelgard and Byleth go to a fair/amusement park and Edelgard wants to go on the roller coaster and Byleth agrees. Later, Byleth regrets their decision and ends up clinging onto Edelgard for dear life. (Or reversed. Either would be funny!)

So… here’s my take on it! (I reversed it, for the record.) Let’s just assume that Walt Disney lived in Fódlan…

Rating: G (this is fluff on top of fluff)

A befuddling world. They called it “Fódlan,” but it might as well have been a different planet. She felt horribly unmoored, all control lost - and there were few things Edelgard despised more than losing control. Months had passed, and still the feeling lingered. More than lingered: at times, it seemed to throb like an infected tooth.

But worse still - not a throb, but a deep, constant ache - was that she had no understanding now, it seemed, of Byleth. Byleth was the same person, but also somehow, radically, painfully not. She had become another alien, part of this alien world. For her, enough time had passed that the wounds of battle - both physical and emotional - had been able to heal, and even the scars they left had faded. But for Edelgard… Physically, she had healed. But no healer could repair the turmoil within her skull.

Though Byleth claimed there were people now who could. “Therapists,” she said they were called - “like healers, but for your brain.” She had even offered to take Edelgard to one. But Edelgard had balked at the idea, quickly insisting there was no need.

Need, however, was ultimately irrelevant. The shameful truth - one which she tried to keep carefully hidden - was that in this new Fódlan, she found herself more and more terrified of leaving the confines of Byleth’s small apartment in Enbarr. Even it was filled with strange, frightening things, but at least there was a feeling there of a semblance of control. No cars barreling unexpectedly around a corner - and better still, no vans or trucks. No crash of boxes of cans being unloaded at a grocery store. No card-only payments signs, or men’s restroom versus women’s restroom, or a thousand different variants of coffee with strange, confusing names like latte and espresso.

But even the apartment could be strange and confusing. Beds and chairs seemed too soft, but tables - covered in lacquer, apparently - and other wooden things seemed much too hard, their surfaces unnaturally slick. The lights, at night, were far too bright and uniform: no dancing shadows cast by candle or fireplace. There was no fireplace at all!

The worse times, especially at the start, were when Byleth was not there. Edelgard said nothing of her fears, but she certainly had them. Then, she was left alone with a microwave, which could safely cook in some things, but not others. (As Edelgard had found out the first time she worked up the courage to try to use it, and was caught by Byleth just before putting one of those infernal cans inside - why wasn’t the point of them to also have a ready-to-use dish? It was the most obviously-practical thing about them!) She was left with a million strange buttons on a remote control that could turn on a television (which had fascinated her in concept, but not, in the end, in practice). She was left with a thermostat, which controlled the air conditioner. (Byleth insisted it was not magic, though it certainly still seemed like magic. Much appreciated magic; Enbarr had seemed hot to her as a child, but somehow was even more so now. Byleth had words for that, too: climate change.)

Edelgard had known great sorrows - most of her life had been filled with them. What she felt now, though, after all of the initial confusion, was sad. Sad in the obvious ways she would always have expected to be, after so many years of war and loss, but also, perhaps even more so, in a confusing, complicated, overwhelming kind of way. Everything about this world, and about herself in it… it all just felt wrong. She was the true alien, here. An alien in a land she had once ruled…

There was no empire now, and thus no emperor. There was only Edelgard.

A person she no longer remembered how to be.

Living with someone she no longer knew.

She who so prided herself on her ability to control her mind and body, so careful of all that she said, had caught herself frequently almost letting slip the words “my teacher” when speaking to Byleth. But Byleth was not - she never would be again. And it was ridiculous to wish it could be otherwise, ridiculous and selfish, and yet, knowing also she would likely never be as happy again a she had been at that time… it was hard.

Because she had been happy, as curious as it was to consider it. The strain of all she was forced to balance, the burden of secrets and lies: yes, all those things had been a part of her life then. But for the first time in a very long time, she had felt as if she was wresting back control of her own life - taking it from those who had destroyed so many, and so much, and claimed it had all been for her benefit. Her life would be hers again - and all of Fódlan a more peaceful, egalitarian land.

Then Byleth came.

There had been times, then, when she had not only been happy - she had been absolutely, utterly euphoric. Something about Byleth simply called to her heart, in some deep, beautiful, timeless way: whatever connected them had always been there, she had simply not yet been able to feel it. She could almost allow herself to believe Byleth, too, could feel it -

- Until it snapped.

She still had not asked Byleth about her decision, that day in the Holy Tomb. She knew it could not be avoided forever - and Byleth had already hinted at discussing it - but Edelgard was not yet ready for some truths. Again, she had to remind herself this was not unexpected: it had not been 850 years for her, as it had been for Byleth. It had not even been six months.

All of this turmoil and uncertainty and sadness swirled constantly within her, like some endless storm, but she kept it to herself, locked once more behind a mask - an invisible one, perhaps, but a mask of a sort nonetheless.

Except she had never been good at keeping her mask in place around Byleth.

“You’re sad, El.” She said it abruptly, over a shared breakfast of toasted scones and jam. Byleth was not as blunt as she had once been - nor as outwardly difficult to read - but traces of her old self still appeared. “Why?”

Normally, such moments were almost reassuring - echoes of a world Edelgard would never see again, proof that that world had existed, that she had not always been just an unmoored alien - but this one left her heart beating more quickly and her appetite abruptly vanished. Still, she spoke steadily: “I’m afraid I don’t know of what you speak. I feel no unusual sadness, my - Byleth.” Not an outright lie: this sadness was no longer unusual. It had hung over her for a very long time.

She wasn’t the only one aware of that, either: “I know. Because you’re sad all the time.”

Edelgard looked down, at her half-finished plate. “You’ve not lost the talent for looking right through people, have you?”

“Maybe not. But it’s important. Especially with you.”

“Especially with - ?” She couldn’t stop the surprise in her voice, nor the sudden, almost painful leap in her chest - even as she immediately fought it. It was because of her strange situation, not because Byleth shared the feelings Edelgard had fought for so long. The feelings she was fighting again now, when five years ago - centuries ago - she had believed she had finally bested them…

“I really want you to see a therapist when we get back, El. I’ll ask Flayn who she’d recommend. Please, El. Things are different now. They can help you.”

“Did you say… Flayn?”

“She’s a pediatric psychologist specializing in childhood trauma and PTSD. Uh - that’s post-traumatic stress disorder. Which you also almost certainly have…”

More new words, though these Edelgard rather doubted she would remember. “That is… not something that I had considered. Perhaps because I had also not considered that Flayn is now an adult…”

“She’s not so different, for all the time that’s passed. Still very kind. Still has to stop Seteth hovering. Still loves fish - I wish you’d been here to see her when the first sushi restaurant opened in Enbarr!”

“…Sushi?”

“I’ll take you for it sometime - it’s a little hard to describe.”

Edelgard nodded - most of the food of this new age was quite good. She liked pizza in particular, with the little round meats whose name she could never recall, and also veggie wraps and tacos. Her opinion on chicken nuggets was still indeterminate, but most of what Byleth had offered had been quite palatable.

Moving away from food - and Flayn - she said, “My tea- Byleth - you said… when we get back?”

Byleth grinned - still such a strange thing to see her do! “El,” she said, “we’re going on a little trip.”

“A… trip?”

“A trip. To the happiest place in Fódlan.”

The “happiest place in Fódlan” was also, happiest or not, somehow even more confusing than all the very confusing things Edelgard had had to face for the last few equally-confusing months.

She blinked. And blinked again - trying to process all that was before her now that they had finally gotten past the mob at the gates. (And past Byleth gently correcting her when she called the people in uniform “gatekeepers.” They were called ticket takers, except here, where they were cast members. Why had the name changed, Edelgard wondered, when they performed exactly the same function?)

“That’s a castle,” she finally said.

Byleth laughed. “Yes. It is a castle.”

“But I thought you said castle are no longer built? There certainly was not a castle like that here… before. I would remember a castle as curious as that one.”

“This is an exception. It’s not a real castle. Well - it is and it isn’t. It’s called Cinderella Castle. We’re having lunch there later, but we can go see it now, if you like.”

“What's a Cinderella?”

For a moment, Byleth looked pained. “Okay, that’s on me. I really should have thought to watch a whole lot of movies before booking this trip…”

Movies was a word Edelgard knew. She liked some of them, too. “Cinderella is a movie?”

“Several movies. It’s based on a fairytale - that’s, uh, a story that pops up again and again all over the world. Kind of like all the different versions of what happened with Nemesis and Seiros, only not about anything that actually happened. Does that make sense?”

Edelgard considered this, then nodded. “Is the Cinderella movie anything like Star Wars?” She had enjoyed Star Wars enough to watch it several times, though she understood very little of it. Ships simply could not fly in space, even if Byleeth said they actually could, albeit not in that manner. They also did not look anything like ships. And Byleth said lightsabers didn’t truly exist either, which was a disappointment. Still, though, Edelgard did like those movies. She disliked comedies. Comedies confused her.

“Uh… not very much, no,” Byleth said. “There’s a ton of Star Wars stuff here, though. We’ll see it later this week. If you want space, though…” Suddenly - unexpectedly - her face lit up. “You’ve never been on a rollercoaster!”

“A roller… what?”

“Hurry, before the line gets long! We’ll see the castle later. Come on!”

To Edelgard’s surprise - and embarrassment - and heart-pounding shock - Byleth grabbed her hand, hauling her off down what seemed to be a street of shops (you could shop here?), towards the castle from a movie, not the ancient past. Such casual intimacy was very common now, as Edelgard had noticed very quickly, surprised at first by handshakes, hugs, people only kissing one another, but that didn’t mean it was any less of a shock to have it from Byleth. From a woman that, in her mind, had been preparing to execute her only months before. From a woman whose hand she once had longed more than any other to hold…

They turned before the castle - and the whole world once more transformed. There was no time to process it, but no matter - she was still struggling with trying to process Byleth’s hand, the warm softness of her skin. To process any of this.

“Only a 20 minute line - I’m glad we got here early!”

“20 minute line…?”

“For Space Mountain!”

“Space…. Mountain? I don’t - “

“Of course you don’t. You will soon! Hurry!”

What could she do but as told? She wouldn’t survive an hour in this curious place without Byleth. She could barely handle the street outside Byleth’s apartment in Enbarr without Byleth… And she wanted Byleth to keep holding her hand.

Life generally was now overwhelming. “I confess,” she said - voice raised and shaky from the gait of their jog - “I feel rather foolishly like a child right now, like this.”

“That’s the point, El. And look - we’re here!”

It did not resemble a mountain. It did not resemble… anything Edelgard had ever seen. Though this was approximately the hundredth time she might have claimed the same simply in the last hour. Something about it almost reminded her of the technology - the weapons - employed by the evil beings Byleth said history now called Agarthans, rather than the more-cumbersome name by which she had known them. But Byleth would surely never take her somewhere like that? Still, it was the first thing that came to mind, looking up at this strangely-shaped, spiky, silvery… something.

The sign certainly said “Space Mountain.” Maybe the definition of “mountain” had changed? Some words had, like kid and - as she had thought earlier - ship, like the spaceships. She would ask later, when she could properly concentrate on the answer.

Byleth, meanwhile, had a very strange smile on her face. “Your first time going into space,” she said. “Just like in Star Wars.”

“Going into space?” Edelgard looked at the strange-something again, then back at Byleth. “I’m confused again, I’m afraid, my teach- Byleth.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Though the smug look on your face leads me to believe you are continuing to be deliberately obtuse. Is this going to exasperate me the entire week that we are here?”

That earned her a shrug, but no less of that very self-satisfied smirk. “You’re not allowed to be exasperated at Disney World, El. It’s against the rules.”

“Then perhaps don’t go out of your way to be exasperating?”

“We’ll see. Are you ready to go in?”

Edelgard took a third glance at the strange-something. “This might be an absurd question, but… does it truly somehow go into space?”

Her breath caught - briefly, thankfully - when Byleth’s hand squeezed around hers. But while that she could hope Byleth didn’t notice, there was no possibility the flush in her cheeks would be missed. She looked down, to concentrate on Byleths’s words rather than whatever expression might be on her face. There were things she was still not ready to see.

“Not really into space. It just uses speed and lights - or rather, lack thereof - to make it feel as if you’re in space. It’s a simulation.”

“…Simulation?”

“Using senses to make you feel like you’re seeing or feeling something you’re not.”

Another strange new word. That was the true mountain, whatever the current definition might be: the mountain of words and meanings and lost words she truly felt she might spend the rest of her life attempting to scale. She couldn’t escape it even here, in the “happiest place in Fódlan.”

“Like television?” She felt even more absurd at this question, even knowing perfectly well Byleth was - and had assured Edelgard repeatedly she always would be - happy to answer questions as long as it took for Edelgard to understand. She might deliberately exasperate at times, but was still, truly, as patient with Edelgard’s questions as she had been when they were teacher and student at the Officers Academy. And that was appreciated - no matter how ridiculous Edeglard felt, at times.

“A… little like television,” Byleth said now. “But… like you’re actually in the scene with the actors. When there are actors. There aren’t any here. Just movement and lights and sound. And usually screaming. Lots of screaming.”

“You sound curiously cheerful about the prospect.”

The strange smile was back when Edelgard forced her eyes up once more. Byleth’s hand tugged hers. “I don’t want to spoil it too much. But I think you’ll like it. Ready to go?”

“As… ready as as I’ll likely ever be. I suppose.”

They were going inside the strange-something. The mountain-that-wasn’t-a-mountain. It was cooler inside - air conditioner again - and there was a line of people that moved in fits and starts, seeming to go gradually upward. They were climbing the mountain - in a sense? But it didn’t feel like being in space. Not that Edelgard had been in space. But it was not how she imagined it would be like to be in space. Maybe it was a simulation of climbing into space? But there was no speed, none of the lights and sounds Byleth had made sound like they were unusual in some way. Unusual by the standards of a world with lightbulbs and radios. If this was a radio. Sometimes, Edelgard still was confused by how far to extend a new concept - she had confused movie and television for weeks, after learning of them for the first time together.

After some time had passed - Byleth had said the line would take 20 minutes, but Edelgard had yet to master measuring time in such a manner - there were peculiar sounds, but they did not seem like those that would come from a radio, or a spaceship. Odd, mechanical sounds, like movement - and, very faintly, those screams she had half-wondered if Byleth might be joking about. She leaned a little, in case she could catch a glimpse of anything, but all she saw was an impenetrable wall of people in t-shirts and sunglasses and the curiious hats Byleth had told her about, the ones with balls on them intended to make people look like enormous mice. (Byleth had briefly attempted to explain why. It still made no sense to Edelgard.)

The screaming got louder - but there was an echo-y, muffled quality to it. As if it were coming from inside a cave, or the other side of a closed door. And mixed with it was what sounded like cheering, and… laughter?

Byleth’s hand once more squeezed.

(Why was Byleth still holding her hand?)

“You look concerned, El.”

She managed a smile, if only a tight one. “Perhaps a bit. It’s more that I am… now very, very curious. On a day when everything I see seems more curious than the last.”

Byleth laughed. “Even by modern standards, El, no one would ever call Disney World ‘normal’.”

The smile felt a little more natural, now. “I’m relieved to hear that. Though… I do think I’ll leave rather fond of this place.”

Another hand squeeze.

(Another caught breath.)

“Let’s see how you feel after this, okay?”

The end of the line - and more of the not-gatekeepers. But there were no tickets here, so what were they called? She would have to ask Byleth.

But later - one more hand squeeze (a… slightly longer one? It felt so…), then they had to part. The not-gatekeepers were moving everyone to separate, smaller lines. She leaned again at the strange mechanical sound she had heard earlier, now much closer and clearer. Everyone ahead was still taller than she was - Byleth said she wasn’t just imagining it, people really were taller now - but she could still see: rows of cars. Or were they called cars? This morning they had ridden -

She leaned closer to Byleth. “Is that a car or a monorail?”

“Neither. It’s a cart.”

Edelgard looked again, not bothering to hide in her expression the disdain she now felt. That thing was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a “cart” of any kind. It didn’t even have wheels!

Regardless, she was about to get in one. She glanced at Byleth, who met her gaze and grinned. She looked excited.

The screams suddenly felt much more urgent.

Then she was being ushered into her seat on the “cart,” a mysterious metal bar coming down over her lap. She knew seatbelts - was this just some variant, or did it serve a different purpose?

She supposed she was about to find out.

There truly was an alarming amount of screaming, somewhere ahead of them…

“Hang on!” Byleth said.

There was a startling little jerk as the cart began to move, but it smoothed out quickly. They were going slowly - into darkness. Complete darkness.

They stopped.

Lights - a sign? But while Edelgard could tell there were letters on it, she still struggled with the strange way things were written now, and the cart was moving again before she could make out what it said.

More lights - bright ones. Almost painfully bright. And peculiar, discordant sounds. Radio? It didn’t sound like radio. Or like any other sound she had ever heard, in this world or in her own. They were going up. surrounded by the too-bright lights and strange sounds, and Edelgard felt a curious, indeterminate dread building within her gut.

She leaned forward, to be heard over the sound. “My teacher, what - “

“Hang on, El.”

“Hang…?”

“The bar, El! Grab the bar!”

There was no more warning than that. There was no time for it.

The cart went hurtling into darkness.

Edelgard shrieked and grabbed before she was thrown off. The closest thing.

Not the bar.

Byleth.

Byleth’s arms wrapped around her own, holding her there. Was she laughing…?

There was no chance to wonder. They were still being thrown around in that pitch-black darkness, up and down and around. Edelgard might have continued to scream - as so many others were doing - but the first drop had knocked the breath out of her, and she had yet to manage to get it back.

It lasted for a small infinity - and almost no time at all. Then, they were abruptly back into a world of sunlight, of voices instead of screams, and of Edelgard quickly pulling back from her hold on Byleth.

Much as some part of her desperately fought as she did so…

Byleth had wrapped her arms around Edelgard’s. Byleth had held her hand - and for far longer than was necessary.

But this was not the time to dwell on it. She stood on shaky legs when the bar raised to allow it - and found a hand, reaching to offer help stepping out of the cart.

And again, Byleth did not let go. Instead, as they walked, she swung their hands casually, and smiled, and said, “What did you think?”

Edelgard considered this, trying hard to focus, despite the curious hand-swinging. “I… do rather wish you had warned me.”

Byleth laughed. “I told you three times to hold onto something.”

She felt the flush rise in her cheeks. “That is not what I meant, as you well know. But I…” She looked to Byleth, and allowed herself a rare open smile. “I quite liked it! Could we… perhaps go again?”

Byleth smiled back - filling Edelgard with a rush of warmth both strange and very pleasant. “Sure we can. We can go right now, if you like. You can even hold onto me again, if you want to.”

Edelgard looked quickly away. “Yes. Well. The… offer is appreciated.”

Another laugh - and another squeeze of her hand. “Do you want to go now?”

“If you’re sure that you don’t mind… then yes. I would quite like to go again. But my tea- Byleth, I’m… rather confused?”

“About what?”

“Why are we… How did we get inside a shop?”

#fire emblem three houses #edelgard #edelgard von hresvelg #byleth #byleth eisner #edeleth #modern au #tales of the tiny emperor #stories with lys #fire emblem three houses fanfiction

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