~Forget me not~
SERIES MASTERLIST // BLOG MASTERLIST
She's a ghost of a love long lost-his wife, his home, and now a stranger. Between distant horizons and dangerous hunts, Ging Freecs returns to her side, again and again, chasing a memory that may never come back.
an Ging Freecs x reader fanfiction
~02~ Wedding bells
The morning sun, a reluctant guest, bled through the gaps in the makeshift blinds, painting stripes across the rough-hewn floor. Dust motes danced in its hesitant embrace, a silent, swirling ballet. Y/N stretched, a soft groan escaping her lips, the stiffness of the cot protesting her movements. The air in the small, remote cabin was thick with the scent of pine and something distinctly Ging – a faint, earthy aroma of adventure and unwashed clothes. Today. Today was the day. A tremor, not of cold, but of something far more potent, ran through her.
A rustle from the other side of the room, followed by the distinctive *clink* of metal against metal, announced Ging’s presence. He was already up, probably tinkering with some ancient artifact or polishing a newly acquired treasure. She heard the soft *thump* of a book closing, then his footsteps, light and quick, approaching her side of the room.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, surprisingly gentle. She felt the dip in the cot as he sat beside her, the warmth of his body radiating through the thin blanket.
She opened her eyes, blinking against the dawn’s intrusion. His face, still smudged with sleep, was closer than she expected, his golden eyes, usually so sharp and distant, now soft, crinkling at the corners. A faint, almost imperceptible scar traced the line of his jaw, a memento from some forgotten expedition.
“Morning,” she mumbled, her voice husky with sleep. She reached out, her fingers tracing the rough stubble on his cheek. “You’re up early.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” he admitted, a wry smile playing on his lips. “Too much… anticipation.” His thumb brushed over her knuckles, a feather-light touch that sent a shiver down her arm. “You ready for this?”
A knot tightened in her stomach. “As I’ll ever be. Are *you*?”
He chuckled, a low, throaty sound that resonated deep within her chest. “Me? I was born ready. For anything. Even this.” He leaned in, his breath warm on her ear. “Especially this.”
The words, simple as they were, settled a part of the restless energy within her. She knew Ging. He rarely spoke of feelings, preferring to communicate through action, through shared adventures, through the silent understanding that passed between them during a perilous hunt. This was his way of saying it mattered.
A sudden, insistent *thump-thump-thump* against the cabin door startled them both.
“Wdwun,” Ging sighed, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “Punctual as a well-aimed punch to the gut.”
He stood, stretching, his muscles rippling beneath his worn clothes. He was already dressed in his usual attire, practical and unadorned, a stark contrast to the formality of the day. He strode to the door, pulling it open with a creak.
Wdwun stood on the porch, a large, imposing figure, his face a mask of stoic expectation. He clutched a small, crudely wrapped package in one massive hand. The morning light caught the glint of the metal on his belt, an assortment of tools and weapons that seemed permanently affixed to his person.
“Morning, Ging. Y/N,” Wdwun rumbled, his voice like stones grinding together. He offered a slight, almost imperceptible nod. “You ready?”
“Just about,” Ging replied, leaning against the doorframe. “You bring the… uh… the rings?”
Wdwun grunted, pushing the package forward. “Had to make them. Couldn’t find any out here that weren’t gaudy or too flimsy. Used a bit of meteorite iron. Strong stuff.”
Y/N, now sitting up fully, watched the exchange, a small smile playing on her lips. Wdwun, the silent, gruff giant, had actually crafted their wedding rings. The thought was both amusing and incredibly touching.
“Meteorite iron, huh?” Ging whistled, taking the package. “Fancy. Thought you’d just tie some rope around our fingers.”
“Rope unravels,” Wdwun stated flatly. “Iron endures.”
A beat of silence hung in the air, broken only by the chirping of unseen birds. The weight of Wdwun’s words, unintentionally profound, settled over them. Iron endures.
“Right,” Ging cleared his throat, a hint of uncharacteristic awkwardness in his voice. “Well, come on in. The priest should be here soon.”
Wdwun stepped inside, filling the small space with his formidable presence. He moved to a corner, settling down on a rough-hewn stool, his gaze sweeping over the cabin’s sparse interior as if cataloging every nail and splinter. He was their witness, their sole confidante in this private, peculiar affair.
Y/N finally rose, pulling on a simple white dress she’d managed to find in a forgotten trading post, a stark contrast to the rugged surroundings. It wasn’t a grand gown, but it was clean, and it felt right. She moved to a small, cracked mirror, adjusting a few wild strands of hair.
“You look… good,” Ging said, his voice softer than before. He stood behind her, his reflection appearing over her shoulder. His hands settled lightly on her waist.
She met his gaze in the mirror. “You don’t look so bad yourself, for a man about to be tied down.”
He chuckled, a low, warm sound. “Tied down? More like anchored. In the eye of the storm.” He squeezed her waist gently. “Ready for the anchor to drop?”
A nervous flutter erupted in her stomach. “As I’ll ever be, Ging. As I’ll ever be.”
Just then, a light knock, almost timid, echoed through the cabin. Ging released her, turning to the door. This time, it was a small, stooped man in a simple clerical robe, his face etched with wrinkles, his eyes kind but weary. The priest. He carried a small, worn Bible under one arm.
“Greetings,” the priest said, his voice thin but clear. “I am Father Elias. I believe you requested my services?”
“Father Elias, yes,” Ging said, stepping aside. “Come in. Thank you for making the journey.”
The priest nodded, his gaze taking in the humble surroundings, lingering for a moment on Wdwun, who remained impassive in his corner. He then turned his gentle gaze to Y/N, offering a small, reassuring smile.
“A simple ceremony, as requested,” Father Elias began, his voice taking on a more formal cadence. “Love finds its home in many places, and the sacred bond of matrimony transcends grand cathedrals.” He set his Bible on a small, rickety table, the only one in the room, and opened it.
The air in the cabin, usually filled with the scent of adventure and dust, now carried a subtle aroma of sanctity and anticipation. Ging stood beside Y/N, his hand finding hers, his grip firm and reassuring. Wdwun shifted slightly in his seat, his eyes, usually so watchful, now seemed to soften, reflecting the flickering candlelight.
“We are gathered here today,” Father Elias began, his voice resonating with quiet authority, “to witness the union of two souls, Ging Freecss and Y/N, who stand before us, ready to pledge their lives to one another.” He looked at them, his eyes piercing, yet full of warmth. “Do you, Ging Freecss, take Y/N to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?”
Ging’s gaze, usually so quick to dart away, was fixed on Y/N’s face. A flicker of something profound, something rarely seen, crossed his features. His thumb brushed over the back of her hand, a silent promise.
“I do,” he said, his voice clear, unwavering, imbued with a depth she hadn’t heard before. The two simple words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, sealing a pact forged in the crucible of shared dangers and unspoken understanding.
Father Elias then turned to Y/N. “And do you, Y/N, take Ging Freecss to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?”
Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the quiet solemnity of the moment. All the fears, all the uncertainties that came with binding her life to a man as wild and free as Ging, coalesced into a single, overwhelming wave. But then, she met his gaze, those golden eyes that held the promise of endless horizons, and the wave receded, replaced by a calm certainty.
“I do,” she breathed, her voice a little shaky, but resolute.
“The rings, please,” Father Elias prompted, extending a hand.
Ging fumbled with the crude package Wdwun had given him, finally extracting two simple, dark rings, their surface subtly textured, glinting with the faint, metallic sheen of meteorite iron. He handed one to Father Elias, who blessed it with a quiet prayer, then returned it to Ging.
“Ging, place the ring on Y/N’s finger and repeat after me: With this ring, I thee wed, and pledge my love and faithfulness.”
Ging took her left hand, his fingers surprisingly gentle as he slid the cool, heavy band onto her ring finger. It fit perfectly, a testament to Wdwun’s unexpected craftsmanship.
“With this ring, I thee wed,” Ging repeated, his voice low, his eyes never leaving hers, “and pledge my love and faithfulness.”
A warmth spread through her, radiating from the spot where the ring now rested. It wasn’t just the metal; it was the weight of his promise, the silent acknowledgment of a bond that transcended words.
Then, it was her turn. She took the second ring, its weight comforting in her palm. Ging offered his hand, his fingers calloused, strong. She slid the ring onto his finger, the rough texture of the meteorite iron a familiar comfort against her skin.
“With this ring, I thee wed,” she echoed, her voice steady now, “and pledge my love and faithfulness.”
Father Elias smiled, a genuine warmth radiating from him. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Ging’s eyes, usually so full of mischief, were now serious, intense. He leaned in slowly, his gaze still locked with hers. Her breath hitched in her throat. His lips, soft and warm, met hers, a gentle press that deepened into something more profound, a silent declaration of everything they had, everything they would be. It was a kiss that tasted of adventure and commitment, of shared secrets and unspoken promises.
When he pulled back, a faint flush colored his cheeks, a rare sight. He grinned, a wide, genuine smile that crinkled his eyes.
“Husband,” she whispered, testing the word on her tongue. It felt right.
“Wife,” he echoed, his voice a low hum of contentment.
A sudden, booming laugh erupted from Wdwun in the corner, startling them both. “Hah! Knew it! Took you long enough, Ging!”
Ging rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, pipe down, Wdwun. You’re just jealous.”
“Jealous?” Wdwun scoffed, pushing himself up from the stool. “Of a life of domestic bliss? Never. More like relieved. Now maybe you’ll stop dragging her into every hair-brained scheme.”
“No promises there,” Y/N quipped, a playful glint in her eye. “He’s still Ging, after all.”
Father Elias chuckled, closing his Bible. “A lively beginning. May your journey together be filled with joy and understanding.” He gave them a final, benevolent nod. “I will take my leave now. May peace be upon this house.”
Ging walked him to the door, a few quiet words exchanged, then returned, closing the door behind him. The cabin, once filled with the hushed reverence of the ceremony, now felt lighter, infused with a new energy.
“Well,” Ging said, turning to Y/N, his grin widening. “That’s done. We’re officially… official.”
“Official,” she repeated, the word settling comfortably into her mind. She held up her hand, admiring the simple ring. “Meteorite iron, huh? It’s perfect, Wdwun. Thank you.”
Wdwun merely grunted, a small, almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgment. He pulled a small, leather-bound flask from his belt. “Celebratory drink?” he offered, holding it out.
Ging took it, uncorking it with a practiced flick of his thumb. The pungent aroma of strong, homemade spirits filled the air. He took a long swig, his eyes watering slightly, then passed it to Y/N.
She took a cautious sip. The liquid burned a fiery trail down her throat, leaving a warm, pleasant glow in its wake. “Whoa,” she coughed, laughing. “What is that, rocket fuel?”
“Local brew,” Wdwun said, a rare hint of pride in his voice. “Good for warding off the cold. And the blues.”
Ging clamped Wdwun on the shoulder, a rare display of affection. “To us, then,” he declared, raising the flask. “To adventures, new and old. To not getting killed by rogue Nen users. And to Y/N, who somehow agreed to marry me.”
“Hear, hear!” Wdwun rumbled, taking another swig from his own, identical flask, which he had subtly produced from a hidden pocket.
Y/N laughed, a pure, unadulterated sound of joy. “To you, Ging,” she said, her eyes shining, “who somehow convinced me that a life with you wouldn’t be utter chaos. Though I suspect it still will be.”
He winked. “A little chaos keeps things interesting, wouldn’t you say, wife?”
A comfortable silence settled over them, broken only by the occasional clink of the flasks and the distant chirping of birds. The morning sun, now higher in the sky, cast long, golden beams through the window, illuminating the dust motes still dancing in the air. This small, humble cabin, nestled deep in the wilderness, had witnessed a profound moment, a quiet revolution in their lives.
Ging, ever restless, finally broke the spell. “So,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Now that we’re married… what’s next?”
Y/N smiled, a knowing smile that mirrored his own. She knew Ging. He was a man of constant motion, of endless curiosity. Marriage wouldn’t change that. It would simply mean she was along for the ride, now with a ring on her finger and a shared name.
“Well,” she said, stepping closer to him, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, “I was thinking… since we’re officially husband and wife…” Her voice dropped to a low, suggestive hum. “Maybe we could start our first official adventure… right here.”
Ging’s eyes widened slightly, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his face. He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. “Hmm? What kind of adventure did you have in mind, wife?” His voice was a low growl, filled with playful promise.
“The kind,” she whispered, her breath warm against his skin, “where we don’t have to worry about rogue Nen users, or ancient ruins, or finding the next big treasure.” She trailed a finger down his chest, feeling the solid warmth of his skin beneath his shirt. “Just… us. And maybe a very long, very quiet afternoon.”
He chuckled, a deep, satisfied sound that vibrated through her. “Sounds like the best kind of adventure,” he murmured, his hands finding her waist, pulling her closer until no space remained between them. His lips found hers again, this time with a deeper urgency, a hunger that had been simmering beneath the surface of the morning’s solemnity.
The kiss deepened, becoming more insistent, more passionate. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. The faint scent of pine and Ging filled her senses, intoxicating and familiar. The world outside the cabin, with its endless challenges and boundless horizons, faded away. For this moment, there was only them, two hunters, two souls, now irrevocably bound, finding their own wild, beautiful peace in the quiet sanctuary of their new beginning.
Wdwun, ever the discreet observer, cleared his throat loudly from his corner. “I’ll… uh… I’ll be outside. Keeping watch. For… anything.” He shuffled towards the door, his large frame filling the doorway for a moment before he stepped out, pulling the door shut with a soft click.
A small, knowing smile played on Y/N’s lips as she pulled away slightly from Ging, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “He’s a good friend.”
Ging grinned, his eyes gleaming. “The best. Now,” he murmured, his lips tracing the line of her jaw, sending shivers down her spine, “where were we?”
“Our first adventure,” she breathed, her voice a little husky.
He swept her into his arms, a playful grunt escaping his lips. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms circling his neck. He carried her towards the cot, the old springs groaning in protest under their combined weight. He lowered her gently onto the rough blankets, his body following hers, pressing her into the mattress.
The sunlight, now streaming fully into the cabin, illuminated the dust motes dancing in the air, a silent, swirling ballet around them. The scent of pine and Ging, now mingled with the faint, sweet scent of her own skin, filled the small space. Outside, the sounds of the wilderness hummed, a soft, distant melody. Inside, a new kind of hum began, a quiet, fervent symphony of two souls, finally, irrevocably, entwined. The adventure had truly begun.
