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echo-bleu · 1 year

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While I’m staying away from all the speculation, all those posts and memes about Jaskier either being the only one who can see Geralt is different or the only one who can’t and keeps insisting that yes of course, that’s Geralt, are giving me ideas.

Namely: faceblind Jaskier. Bear with me. He can’t recognize any face, including his own in the mirror (when he finds a mirror, it’s not that often). That’s why he flirts with everyone, flirting is just his default mode in case it’s someone he’s met before, because at its core it’s kind of roleplaying. While people may not respond to it well, they mostly don’t bat an eye at cheesy joke-y pickup lines where Jaskier ‘pretends’ to meet them for the first time (”Do you come here often?”). Meanwhile it buys Jaskier time to figure out if he has in fact met them before.

(Demi or ace Jaskier? Who flirts for the reasons above and mostly has sex with people because he figures it’s expected of him?)

It’s also the reason he makes so many enemies. Sure, there are actual cuckooed husbands who hate him, but really it’s mostly former lovers who are horribly offended when Jaskier ‘snubs’ them at a reception because he just didn’t recognize them. Or former lovers horribly offended that he tried to flirt with them again pretending not to know them after they threw him out. There are also plenty of people who were never his lovers at all but are just offended because nobles are Like That.

(There have been some really embarrassing situations. Like the time he tried to flirt with Valdo Marx, his eternal rival, who still laughs about it every time they see each other.)

He latches onto Geralt because Geralt is recognizable. There just aren’t two white-haired wolf-eyed muscular men around. Jaskier never has to worry about seeing him and being unsure if it’s actually his friend and not some random stranger with the same haircut. Geralt also never changes his haircut or his appearance in any way, which is refreshing.

Yennefer is mostly the same, with her violet eyes, although Jaskier does have to get close enough to be sure. They have a few weird encounters where Jaskier starts to flirt with her, gets within a few feet, and immediately backtracks the hell out with a disgusted face. That’s how she figures it out, but it takes her a while. After that she takes great pleasure in teasing him about it, but only in ways that no one else will clock (hence the crows’ feet comment. Jaskier doesn’t even know himself in the mirror. He can’t tell if she’s right. He does obsess over it the whole way up the mountain, but he has other things to think about on the descent).

The witchers of Kaer Morhen, when Jaskier meets them, are so refreshing. They’re all different! Eskel is unmistakeable with his scars, and while they’re within the confines of Kaer Morhen it’s very easy to distinguish Lambert’s red hair from Coen’s shaved head and darker skin from Vesemir’s white beard. Ciri is of course the only kid, so that’s not a problem. For the first time in his life, Jaskier doesn’t feel like he’s playing catch up to a game whose rules he doesn’t know. It’s relaxing.

The witchers, on the other hand, are quite surprised about Jaskier. They’ve been told (many times, over the years) that Jaskier flirts with everyone under the sun. Now Geralt isn’t always the most reliable source, of course, and Eskel never expects anyone to be attracted to him because of his scars (which is a subject for another day), but Jaskier doesn’t even try to flirt, even just friendlily, with either Lambert or Coen. He’s not afraid of them, they would be able to smell that, he seems perfectly comfortable with them, but he doesn’t flirt. At first, they figure that it’s because his newly mended relationship with Geralt is still fragile.

One night they’re all a bit drunk and the witchers are talking about how Jaskier’s songs have helped them on the Path, how many humans are much nicer to them, and in general how hard interacting with humans is. And Jaskier is just nodding along, “Yeah, yeah, interacting with humans is so hard.”

“But you’re always going out of your way to talk to people and flirt!”

“Well yes, I like making friends, but they have so many expectations, and they get angry so easily.”

“That’s only when you flirt with the wrong people,” Geralt growls.

“But how am I supposed to know it’s the wrong people when I can’t recognize them?”

“What do you mean?” Eskel asks.

“Faces are hard! I don’t know how people do it, I mean, obviously your scars are distinctive, and I’d recognize Geralt’s hair anywhere, but most humans all look the same!”

Geralt blinks very slowly as it all slots into place in his head. Jaskier’s very strange flirting methods. The way he keeps making enemies without meaning to. Hell, he’s seen Jaskier say hello again to someone they’d seen just minutes before, or completely ignore one of his bard friends at a festival until she came right up to him. “You don’t recognize people?”

Jaskier, who didn’t survive forty-three(ish) years without figuring out that this wasn’t normal, freezes and suddenly looks like a deer in the headlights. “Uh... no?”

“So if, say, Vesemir was to shave his beard, you might confuse him with Geralt?” Lambert asks.

“I’d... probably be able to tell from up close? Geralt’s taller.”

“Wow.” Lambert seems ready to tease him about it, but Eskel stops him.

“How did you never notice?” he asks Geralt.

Geralt just grunts. Jaskier answers for him. “I’m very good at making people feel like we’ve always known each other, I guess. Mostly I just buy time until I can figure out if I’ve met them before.”

The witchers have a million questions, but they never make Jaskier feel like he’s deficient somehow. Jaskier has always been ashamed of it, but to them, it’s just another quirk, like not being able to eat raw meat.

The next time they’re on the road, or at a festival together, Geralt is brooding just as much as usual, eyes darting this way and that, but before Jaskier can go and greet people (with his usual fake-it-till-you-make-it technique), Geralt stops him.

“Your friend Essi’s wearing a yellow dress with red accents,” he mutters under his breath. “Marx has a green doublet, that shade you hate. Avoid the man in the bright purple doublet and the brown pants, you slept with him last time and he threw you out. That woman at the right of the stage with the braid, she has a husband, you tried before.”

Jaskier gets so emotional that he can’t speak for a solid minute, and he ends up hugging Geralt instead. “Didn’t know you paid attention,” he says eventually.

“Just look at me if you’re not sure who someone is, I’ll tell you who to avoid,” Geralt says gruffly.

It’s not a perfect system, but Jaskier doesn’t offend a single person all day.

#the witcher #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier #the witcher fanfiction #faceblindness #i'd like to have a spotter too please #i used to work at a library and when people came in after lunch #i had no idea if they'd been in that morning #i'd say hello and they'd be like uh i was here earlier #echo's fanfiction

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lurkinglurkerwholurks · 5 months

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Choose - Lose

First posted: April 2, 2019

Focuses on: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, and Bruce Wayne

Favorite bookmark: "cried again. i will cry another time"

Second favorite bookmark: "fuck yeah"

Tier: Pretty middle of the road.

This is my “behind the scenes” series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Thoughts below the cut.

This one. was. wild. At 699 words, I think it's my shortest (just checked, it is) and one of my more uhhh experimental pieces.

At some point in 2018-19, I read Raisin Delight by @lemonadegarden, who is an evil genius. I read it and it broke my entire brain and also my heart. It it one of the few fics I remember my name instead of a Friends-esque description. I don't know when exactly I read it because I don't know how long the emotions it inspired had to rattle around in me before they splorted out this fic in response. I wrote it all in one sitting, if I remember correctly. I don't remember getting stuck or having to backtrack. It being so short helped as well. It was—as you can tell by comparing the works—less about what happened in the fic and responding to that the way one might via a sequel or even going "I like that but what if you..." and more about be feeling many, many things around the concept presented and just needing to barf emotions into a brown paper bag.

They stood side by side, shoulders angled outward, faces on the horizon. The wind rose, lashing stinging grains of sands against their skin before dying down again.

No philosophical intro on this one. It's too short and the tone is all wrong for that kind of introduction. There was no question about sidestepping my usual chattiness and dropping in midscene. Like I said, wrote it all in one sitting, bang, done.

I did try to make each word and image count, though I'm no Ann Leckie and probably could/should have done an even finer job of it, but I do feel like the first two sentences packed in a decent amount of information.

Tim looked to the empty space where the time traveler had stood, a forgettable man with a forgettable face in a forgettable shabby brown suit, and had made his unforgettable offer.

I blame Agatha Christie for this imagery, if I blame anyone.

Bruce, face bare, t-shirt wrinkling in the wind, had sucked in a sharp breath.

This was important, them, as civilians, as people, as a father and his sons, not in costume, not with their gear and tools and weapons. This isn't Batman being forced to choose between his Robins.

In the air, a chopper whined. In the distance, a truck rumbled. A small, caped figure hurried across the dunes.

Fun fact: Even though this fic is so short I have slightly more insight than usual because I was able to pull up my chat history with @audreycritter from right after I wrote it and then surprised her with it, which is the only way I know that I was at work when I started thinking about debt and histories and timelines and realized that Jason's death was the only reason Tim joined Fam, that everyone else would have made their way in eventually but he needed Jason to die to make it and how guilty that might make him feel if he realized it, and then I remembered "Raisin Delight" (still at work) and just about lost it.

Literally at 5:03 PM on 4/1/19 I'm listing different takes I'd love to read and tell Audrey "Or some twisted scenario where a time traveler takes them back and gives them the choice. I couldn't do that one. but I would read it. Maybe. Through my fingers."

... Annnnnd by 7:43 PM on the same day I'm casually texting Audrey "hey off the top of your head by chance do you remember how Jason and Sheila got to the warehouse?" Which is how the above sentence comes into being.

(By 8:31 PM, the fic was already done.)

The traveler disappeared.

This was very much a no-answers fic. Who was that guy? Why was he doing this? How did he find them? Were they all together or did he gather them from separate places? How are they going to get back when they're done?

Answer: Don't wooooorrryyyyyyy 'bout it

Tim’s place with Bruce was bought with blood. Paid for by the death of another boy. Without the sucking, gaping void of Jason’s absence, there was no role for Tim. There would be no grief for Bruce. No reckless rage to tamp down. No despair to fight back. No place for a lonely boy from down the hill. No reason to make the walk to the Manor’s front door.

My thesis statement (paragraph.)

Beside him, Bruce swayed. Forward, as if to step, as if pulled beyond his control. Then backward, rocked by the horror, repelled by the choice.

This is the horror of the fic. Bruce cannot choose. He cannot choose one child over another. Like unbreakable-law-of-the-universe cannot, divisible by zero cannot. But not choosing is choosing, so he can't choose and he can't not choose, and if one of his sons didn't choose for him, he was going to spontaneously combust into antimatter, I think.

Beyond, Jason stood still as granite. Frozen. Hard. Petrified by the glare of Medusa.

Contrast with Jason, who doesn't dare move a muscle.

The numbness hadn’t yet made it to Tim’s heart. It gave a twinge of surprise that they hadn't moved. Was it up to him again, then? To push Bruce into action? To do what must be done?

Contrast with Tim (the Robin who does what must be done, who exists to help Bruce and keep him on the right path), who assumed Jason must be the one saved, because as he goes on to explain, Jason dies. He gets beaten, tortured, blown apart, killed, buried, and resurrected in his own grave. Tim... well, Tim will lose his heart and happiness and the only true family he's ever known, but he won't know that.

Or, to quote myself:

He would wake, alive and whole, in his own bed. He wouldn’t even notice the hole where his heart had been. He would live, but he would lose.

Some version of those two words were always the options for the fic, because it's about choosing and losing (not or. and.) But the options listed in the chat were:

Choose. Lose.

Choose / Lose

Choose - Lose

and then lots of grumping about how, grammatically, Choose, Lose and Choose; Lose are both more accurate but I loathed them.

Bruce had gone white. Jason had gone green.

A clever commenter thought this was a reference to the Pit. It wasn't, just nausea (watching yourself walk to a horrible end) and maybe a small nod to Megan Whalen Turner. I like the thought, though.

Tim took a step forward. Then another. A hand encircled his wrist, held him fast. The trigger callus scraped against his skin.

Like I said. Bruce could never choose or not choose. He needed his sons to make the choice for themselves. There was never another universe where he stopped Tim or let him go. It had to be Tim's choice to go and lose his future just as it had to be Jason's choice to stop him and accept what he had.

And lastly, a commenter left essentially a dictation of the dialogue she had with her mother (who doesn't read fic or know anything about DC) telling her what happened in this fic, and it made my entire life.

#fanfic bts brain dump #fanfic #bruce wayne #jason todd #tim drake

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sebbybooks · 10 months

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My Sister’s Neighbor

Part Two

Tagged💌

@bambamwolf87

Sebastian Stan Fanfiction

The shock that rolled through my body was powerful enough to give me a heart attack. It was as though I was in the presence of a ghost, except the figure that stood opposite of me was real. I knew he was coming. I sensed it all afternoon, that was probably why I couldn’t sleep yet another night. There also was the fact that he told me he would be here. Waiting for me.

I should have ran hours ago. Gotten out of town so far away that he wouldn’t even know where to begin to look. He wouldn’t dare ask my sister about my whereabouts that would only unveil his true guise.

You would think the night sky would be painted in a sheet of total darkness at this hour. There was a hint of grey light that still hid behind the storm clouds that hovered above. My breath was starting to fog up the damp windows as the two of us made perfect eye contact.

He was a few feet away and I had been wondering how long he stood standing across the street watching. Waiting to make himself known to me. He was drenched from the downpour of rain that happened not too long ago, clearly unfazed by it. His gaze never faltering with mine. He wore a indecipherable look on his face, and that is when all the oxygen left from my lungs.

We stood like that for I don’t know how long really. Afraid to take a quick glance down at my phone, within an instant he could be elsewhere. My arms and legs were adorned with goosebumps, the cold air from the window kissing my bare skin. If I didn’t know I had someone watching me I sure as hell gave him a show with my sleepwear. I quickly shake away the crazy thought that maybe for a split second I did it on purpose.

THREE DAYS EARLIER

I sat on the edge of the already made bed with my back straight as I stared into nothing. Still massaging a very sore finger. The only bright side was that it didn’t turn purple or swell up. I replayed those sixty seconds in my head, studying every little detail from our short interaction. I couldn’t tell Dakota what happened. The conversation was almost predictable so I avoided it completely.

Dakota would think that my progress was backtracking and that things were not getting better for me. That it was all in my head like last time. Taking a deep breath. I know this isn’t like before, because I know what I heard. He said my name as clear as day.

Walking downstairs I follow the scent of burning cinnamon rolls leading me into the kitchen. Around the wall I see Dakota moving in all sorts of directions trying to tame whatever chaos she unleashed in there. For a second I watch quietly blending in with the wall.

When we were younger Dakota was always the one creating the best meals. She was the chef in the family and even at a young age she came alive when she stood before different ingredients. Dakota made masterpieces. Looking around her kitchen now it was scattered with opened cardboard boxes, dirty dishes, and opened food containers, she was making nothing but a mess.

“I tried to make them from scratch, but I think I had the oven up too high. Now my eggs are sticking to the pan and the bacon is turning black after only one minute.” She rushes out finally noticing my presence.

I step over to her turning everything off on the oven. “Don’t tell me you lost your Midas touch?” I tease, seeing several discarded pieces of charred bacon in the trash can.

Huffing, as she pops a coffee pod in her keurig. “Work has stolen my sparkle.” She sucks in her bottom lip. With my sister I can’t tell if she was being just melodramatic or actually serious.

Trying to think of something quick to say, yet also comforting. My eyes dart across the room scanning the area for Angus. That cat likes to roam, but he hates new places. “Kota,” I call out her childhood nickname.

She pins me with a halfhearted stare waiting for me to continue on. “You know one thing your job did give you?”

“What’s that?” Her brown eyes widening as she listens to me.

I furrow my brows. “Credit cards to buy more groceries to replace the ones you fucked up.” I hold both hands up to my mouth as if that would pinch my lips from forming into a wide grin. I am pretty sure I saw her eye twitch.

She busies herself with her coffee, shaking her head. “You’re such a little sister.”

“You’re welcome.” I reply back, knowing that was the opposite of a compliment. It was quick but I did see her smile.

“Since I messed up the food lets just go out for breakfast.” Dakota suggest eyeing me over her mug of coffee. I can smell how sweet I bet it taste. A scowl forms on my face cringing at the thought of how sugary it must be.

“Or how about I clean this mess up and you can go to the store and we can make something together? Like old times.” I suggest earnestly.

Even though I meant what I said, I wanted an excuse to linger behind at the house by myself. I have every intention on confronting that guy. Bad idea be dammed I was getting to the bottom of it. I had zero to no patience to beat around the bush.

Using the bottom of her shirt to clean her eye glasses before putting them on. “If memory serves me correctly Demi, you always watched me cook.”

I shrug. “I cracked an egg or two.”

She snorts. “Ok.”

“Have you seen Angus?” The question rolls off my tongue. By now he would have found me mad or not. He was like Garfield, the boy liked to eat.

“No.” She drawls out her word almost suspicious as I was. “I tried bonding with Satan’s cutie last night and I thought he would bite my chin off!” Dakota recalls on the memory with horror washing over her face.

“He has his moments.” I just say.

Grabbing her keys off the counter top I take it as the beginning of her exit. “Wait!” I exclaim a little too much, taking her by surprise.

“Umm,” I pause collecting my thoughts. “That guy across the street have you spoken to him. . . ever?”

She looks at me for a moment like she is trying to read my thoughts before I could spit them out. At first she looks at me confusingly, then her face goes blank, before a shocked expression covers her face.

A gasp leaves her mouth. “You totally had a sex dream about him!”

I couldn't choke out the word no fast enough. “He came in your dreams last night!” Dakota’s mouth forming an O shape.

“I did not dream about him.” I say confidently. That is only because I don’t think I dreamt at all. I barely got any sleep, and I woke up ever so often feeling like I was about to have a panic attack.

“Well he came in mine, or rather it was me that came to him.” Dakota pauses to think.

I blink at her, not needing to know those personal details. “So not even in passing you’ve never talked? Maybe just for like a few seconds?”

She rolls her eyes before looking back at me. “No I have unfortunately never talked to Sebastian.”

Sebastian. Almost instantly my brain locks in his name in and file it way. While also scanning to see if I heard anyone mention that name to me. “Then how do you know his name?” I question.

“I heard Josh and Keila from next door out one morning going on and on about how great of a guy Sebastian was. Apparently he’s fixed something in their car that would have costed them an arm and a leg. Sebastian from the sound of it did it for free and he helped that guy a few houses down from me as well.” She explains.

“He is truly a sexy angel.” Dakota adds, hiking her purse higher up her arm.

Ignoring that last part I continued on. “Do you think your neighbors may have mentioned anything about you to him?” I say trying to keep my voice calm.

A hint of worry shadows her face once more. She quickly plays it off by not giving in to it. At least that is what I assume. “I barely talk to them either except a simple hello and goodbye. What’s with all the questions anyway?”

I knew I couldn’t brush it off by saying it was from a mere sense of curiosity. I had to give her a convincing answer. “I don’t know call me a sucker for romance, but I think you should talk to him.” I lie, with a smile plastered on my face.

“Really?” She grins back. Seeing the look on her face I couldn’t keep pretending, so I just quickly nodded my head.

“Ok wing woman we need to think of something when I come back from the store!” She says excitably as she downs the last bit of her coffee.

I raise my arm and hold up a thumbs up.

“Clean my kitchen!” Dakota calls out from over her shoulder.

That was all I could do. I cleaned it from top to bottom and even put away some of her stuff she kept away in boxes. I didn’t stop there, deep in thought over Sebastian I began to clean downstairs. Even the way his name sounded in my head made me tremble. I constantly kept finding excuses to go outside to see if he was home yet.

The store Dakota went too must have been in Norway. She had been gone for about an hour and I was starving. I was on the verge of making myself a peanut butter jelly sandwich when I caught sight of his car pulling in his driveway.

I heard the sounds of his garage door loudly opening up. I nearly tripped over my feet racing to the front door. Power walking across the lawn, into the street, then finally behind his car.

An just like that quickly slipping away I could actually feel my bravery shrink. His garage door rolled all the way up, but he didn’t drive forward. It took him a moment to get out of the car. I know he saw me standing behind his car, because he turned the engine off. Sucking in some air I took a deep breath just waiting.

Finally opening up his door, stepping out in one fluid motion I instinctively took a few paces back. My stomach twist in a tight knot, and I just about nearly shitted a brick. For a split second I wondered if my therapist would be mortified or proud at my bold attempt at confronting my doubts.

“Can I help you with something?” Sebastian looks back at me cautiously.

I narrow my eyes at him almost to say cut the bullshit. I open my mouth to say something as confident as that, but words fail me. My voice fades suddenly unsure with what to say.

Looking at me like I was fragile and confused about my whereabouts he looks down at me like I would blow away in the wind. “Hey how’s your hand?” I study him for a brief second looking in utter fascination at how he easily fakes a look of genuine concern. His blue eyes were like sirens. An that is when I snapped out of my haze.

“How do you know my name?” I blurt out hurriedly. His brow tugs together looking at me like I have lost my sanity.

“You said my name yesterday.” I remind him, knowing he can’t deny that.”

Letting out a dry laugh. His mouth curving upward as if he was cringing. “No I didn’t.” He states calmly.

“You called me Demi. My name is Demi.” Holding a hand to my chest as if to prove it.“Yet I have never seen you or talked to you a day in my life.”

Licking his lips, his chest rises and falls. Closing his car door without turning around to do it. Sebastian just looks at me with a disappointed stare. “This is not awkward at all.” He mutters.

I just stand there feeling the hot concrete burn the sole of my feet, finally realizing I am not wearing any shoes. Reading my thoughts apparently, he glances down at my bare feet as well.

“The shade polish is Butler Please.” I spit out, drawing his attention away from my damn toes. A beat of silence passes us.

“I’m sorry but I have no clue what is going on here.” A dumbfounded expression creases his face.

I deadpan. “Clearly you know my sister Sebastian.” I don’t realize my blunder till it slips out of my mouth.

He tilts his head then crosses his arms across his chest. Probably flexing every muscle in them. I tell myself to focus on his face, despite that it is also making me feel some type of way.

“Should I be worried since apparently you know my name?” He sarcastically questions. “And am I suppose to know who your sister is?”

“She lives right in front of you.” I say refusing to let this thing die.

He looks me up and down,“I am still trying to figure out why does that need to matter to me?" Sebastian answers back like he is bored with this conversation.

Right when I was convinced I just made a complete ass out of myself and was actually coming to terms with the fact that perhaps I made it up in my head. Scared I was about to make a repeat of last time and ruin my fresh start I begin to hear constant meowing.

The sounds of a cat were drawing near. Creeping out of Sebastian's garage walks Angus. He slowly struts his long body over to Sebastian, rubbing himself against his jeans while unleashing the loudest purrs. I look down in astonishment, because I have only seen that cat do that to people he was familiar with.

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writtengalaxies · 2 years

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Together

Characters: Head Engineer, GN!Reader

Word Count: 860

Spicy Rating: Just some pre-relationship jitters and passing mentions of canonical death.

In the months since the wormhole incident, it's taken quite a bit of time to settle in. After all, you were still considered the de-facto leader to many people, and your days were busy enough that you rarely had time to yourself. But it seemed, finally, that things were quieting down. After all, this was the first time you got to be alone with your head engineer in all those months. You hadn't been able to talk with him, much less try to broach the mess you both lived through and work through it like you wanted to.

Instead, you took this quiet instance for what it was. You're stargazing together, lying side by side on a blanket in the dark. You're a short walk away from the settlement, far enough that the little light pollution there was didn't obscure the view, and you had to admit it was breathtaking. You wish you could focus more on the way you could see the edges of the galaxy your new home was in, the glittering dust likely having a better name that the man by your side knew the right words for. Speaking of...

Your thoughts were too complicated to really word how you wanted the relationship with him to continue. He was your partner, equal in the way only someone who lived through the same mayhem could be. He was your best friend, the man who reached for you, calling for you even at his lowest moments, just as you always reached out to him without hesitation, trying to keep him desperately safe. Part of you remembers that first loop, where you couldn't grab him in time...and that last one where you refused to let go even once, as the flashbacks of losing him to the cold expanse of soundless darkness played behind your eyes.

Two people who made it through infinite lifetimes, infinite possibilities, and came out the other side together. Shaken, beaten to hell and back, but just as hopeful and kind as you were before...if not more so.

You loved him, so much it was terrifying how it seemed to consume you.

And yet, here and now...you both seem to be faltering on the threshold of the future, as if you were uncertain that damned blue glow was going to rip you from the peace you had fought for once again.

You took a breath, forcing yourself to think in the moment. After all the work and fear to get here, getting to enjoy this quiet, peaceful, star-filled sky was worth it all.

"This is...perfect." You're not sure why you wanted to speak those words into the air, and you're not sure if you mean the view, or the quiet, calm comfort of being beside your head engineer.

"I know, Captain." After all this time, he still called you by your title, but it felt more and more like a nickname as the days slipped by. "I'd spend the rest of my life like this if I could."

"Your whole life? Just like this?"

He made a small noise of confirmation, likely nodding though you couldn't see him. "Spending the rest of my life by your side? It'd make me the happiest man in the multiverse."

You pause, words drying up in your throat as your face begins to heat from the force of your blush. No words are spoken into the quiet night for a moment. Then, he shoots upright, almost launching himself face first into his knees, frantically trying to sort out his words as he speaks.

"I mean, that's-- that is, uh--"

You can't help but laugh as you reach up, tugging on his shirt to encourage him to lay back down. "I know, you're fine." It's easier to say it to the darkness, letting tiny bits of your heart flake away in the unexpected pain of hearing him try to backtrack. "I...I know you mean it like friends, and not like...not romantically."

The silence blooms again, and you feel him fidget beside you. You've known him long enough that you've learned how he fidgets, and what each kind means. The fact that he's rubbing and pulling on his fingers means he's trying very hard not to say something. You roll onto your side, propping your jaw up with a hand to look at him. He's resolutely staring at the sky, worrying his own lip between his teeth. He's nervous, too, thten.

"...Or...?" You venture tentatively, almost scared to hear how he responds. Your heart is beating so loudly, he has to be able to hear it.

"Not...not like friends. I. Maybe. More? I'd be happy no matter what you said, as long as I'm by your side! It doesn't have to be as-as-as....spouses, Captain, really, it can be like--"

Another laugh from you interrupts him, and before you can overthink it like you've been overthinking everything, you're kissing him gently, and he's looking at you with reverence and awe, his wide eyes reflecting the starlight above you.

"Proposing before the first date? Bold," you tease, enjoying watching him struggle for words as he tries to reign in his surprise. "Let's get dinner sometime first, before you try again. But...I can't imagine anyone I want to have by my side more."

#my writing #space sweetheart #captaineer #iswm captain #the captain #gn!reader #iswm head engineer #iswm #in space with markiplier #head engineer mark #engineer mark #head engineer x captain #head engineer x gn!reader #I was feeling awful and I went fuck it its self indulgence hours

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zeldacd · 1 year

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Ok so I decided to talk a bit more about my baby boi Gan today, and I have a couple of concept art doodles to accompany my insane ramblings~

It may come as a surprise, but in my AU Ganondorf was raised Hylian. He is a noble in the Hyrulean court and incidentally was also engaged to Princess Zelda herself.

Here is Gan and Zelda in their royal regalia hehe aren’t they precious

Now while the two did grow up together and Gan did like Zelda quite a bit, its not that simple. They were basically paired together by both their fathers, mostly from lobbying on Gan’s dad’s part. Zelda doesn’t have romantic feelings for Gan and she likes someone else. So on the day of their wedding she ran, leaving her poor friend at the altar. Despite wanting to do what her father bids, at the last minute she just couldn’t bear to actually go through with it. Event summarized succinctly in the meme below LOL

Backtracking a bit to talk about Gan’s past. So he was “found” and “rescued” as an infant by his adoptive father Dadon (pictured below). Gan feels like an outsider to the Hyrulean Royal court, which is only exacerbated by his obviously Gerudo appearance. Because of that his fellow Hylian noblemen look at him with a bit of scorn. After his ambitious father had successfully campaigned for Zelda’s hand to his son, the ire against Gan just grew.

Dadon named Gan after a Gerudo King from the past, but as you can imagine, Gan isn’t a very big fan of this considering the tyrannical ruler his namesake was. And its because of that Gan goes by a shortened form of his full name in an attempt to distance himself from the association. His father isn’t much of a positive figure in his life either. While Gan is already aware he’s adopted, a fact that’s a bit impossible to hide due to his physical features, his father constantly treats him like he should feel grateful to him for “rescuing” him. Still, he doesn’t treat him like a real son, he treats him more like an aide. Dadon is also a sorcerer and taught Gan how to do magic. Which arguably could be said was the only nice thing he’s ever done for him.

#loz au #my au #loz #tloz #zelda #ganondorf #zelda oc #loz oc #au lore #dadon #i read over this like 100 times lets just hope i didnt make some embarrassing mistake

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chaosworthy · 8 months

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08.30.3233 Location ¦ Green Hill

--------

Night had long since fallen over the forest, a blanket of tranquil silence that was at times peaceful. Other times? Too quiet. It sat somewhere in the middle that night for the blue hedgehog as he stood on his back porch, leaning on the railing and looking out past the garden and into the forest. He was looking for nothing in particular, merely lost in thought as the distant sound of waves served as a backtrack to his aimless pondering. He likely would have spent the entirety of the night like that, until the break of dawn.

Had something not caught his eye.

He knew he hadn’t imagined it, and he blinked back to reality when the shadow figure seemed to stop, then move deeper into the forest. It blended in near perfectly, but where some might have felt fear at a strange thing watching them, the hero actually smiled. In one fell leap his feet were on the grass, and in a flash he had taken off after the odd object. It didn’t take more than a few seconds for him to catch up with them, and upon coming to a stop at the cliff overlooking the ocean, not far from his home, Sonic actually let out a soft laugh.

"You could stop by during the day, y'know. We'd love t' have you for dinner."

His offer was honest, and even Shadow knew that as he turned from the scenic viewpoint to look at the blue hedgehog. His expression was carefully neutral, as it always was, but there was something in his tone as he replied. Something touched, maybe, but persistent.

"I don't want to intrude," the darker hedgehog said, crimson eyes glancing back toward the cabin before back at the hero. "You and your family deserve some peace."

Somehow that only served to make Sonic’s smile brighter as he made an off gesture with one hand. "And yet you come by t’ check on us pretty regularly. Of course I've noticed, I just figured you'd tell us why by now."

That middle part was added because of the look that came over Shadow’s face, a surprise that was hard to miss. There was no ire or anything like it in Sonic’s voice but the black hedgehog still looked like he had gotten scolded in a way. Had he been that obvious? Or was the blue hedgehog just that observant? After a moment of thought, of reminding himself just who Sonic was, Shadow thought he had his answer.

The two hedgehogs had never hated each other, contrary to what their first meeting may have looked like to some. Shadow had merely been operating under Rouge’s direction because he hadn’t known better. His bout with amnesia had changed a lot, and he had done things he wasn’t proud of, but he was on the mend and Shadow knew he had the blue hedgehog (and certain detectives) to thank for that. Still, Shadow only gave a shake of his head.

"There's…no reason."

"You really are a strange one, huh?" Sonic didn't buy it, but he knew well enough that trying to force anything from the other was a losing battle. In truth, he hadn't been bothered in the least by the other's visits, because he knew there was nothing malicious about them. If there was, they wouldn’t be standing there right now with civil conversation. So he only gave a light laugh, weight shifting as he placed a hand on his hip. "It sort of works out, I never did get t' thank you for pointing us in the right direction a few years ago. Without that, who knows how well things would have gone."

It was a fact he would admit to just about anyone, and Sonic was very aware of the fact that they never would have found out what Robotnik was up to without Shadow's help. If the dark hedgehog hadn't pointed them in the right direction there was no telling how things would have ended up. It wasn’t something the hero liked to dwell on and he was thankful, something that may have gotten a little lost in the smirk that graced his features next, emerald hues unwavering as they looked at the other.

"That, an’ I heard you helped fight back in the places that would have been overtaken otherwise. So…thank you."

Again, there was a silent shock on Shadow’s part. Not because he was surprised to hear the hero knew about it, but that genuine gratitude in the hero’s voice. That was aimed at him. Nonetheless, those crimson hues narrowed, though not unkindly. "You really do have eyes and ears everywhere, don't you hedgehog?"

"You say it like it's a bad thing," Sonic quipped, though his smile fell a notch as he thought for a moment longer. "Sides…there's not much use for it anymore. Not with things as peaceful as they are. Must make wandering easy though, yeah?"

They both had their reasons to be happy that a certain scientist was gone, and they wouldn’t deny that. No one in their right mind would. Without Robotnik there was peace. That was undeniable.

"Admittedly, yes." Shadow soon fell silent, expression level as he looked out towards the ocean and without really realizing it Sonic had followed suit. For a moment there was only the sound of the ocean, of crashing waves, and some far-off call until the darker hedgehog shifted. "Without the doctor around things are…peaceful. I…like it here."

"Do you ever think of going back?" The question was out before the hero could really think it over, but he was curious. Shadow, after all, wasn’t from Mobius but rather Earth. The same one Kintobor was from, though how closely they had been in the same time none of them really knew. Or, rather, weren’t willing to talk about.

"Back to what? There's nothing left there." Shadow snorted, knowing the blue hedgehog couldn’t argue with that. They both knew that on Earth, whichever one it was, the Ark had crashed into the planet. Neither of them had to be scientists to know what the likely outcome of that was. "Even if I never anticipated it…this is my home now."

"'S not such a bad one t' have." And the hero knew he wasn’t the only one who thought so either. Why else would so many people have come together to defend it otherwise? It was their home too, and the hedgehog knew he spoke for a handful of people when he said they were glad to have Shadow as part of it. More reason for him to shoot a playful, yet semi-serious, look at the other. "I mean it though, one day we'll have t' meet proper and do dinner. Or at least lunch."

It was, naturally, met with a glare. "You're insufferable."

"Wouldn't have made it this far if I wasn't."

#give a little time to me | queue #everything has changed | updates #shadow | guest stars

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sleepyowlwrites · 2 years

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Hey hi! Just saw the ask game and since I loved Power Rangers to bits when I was little (and probably still do), and am very curious about your writing Lost Galaxy and Ninja Storm!

Hope you're having a lovely day! <3

Lost Galaxy: have you ever gotten decently far into a story and realized that your title made no sense? how much does your initial premise mean to the development of your story?

Yes. This happened most recently with Summon Story, which only had a temporary title anyway, but after I changed the plot, it really made no sense. Blood Bonds worked when everything was blood connected, but now it's not. It's connected via the villain be Ardyn from final fantasy xv if he was also Jan van eck from six of crows. But also the dumb people from beyond two souls who wanted to open up the spirit world or whatever. Anyway.

Uh, I'm only about 11K into the story, so I guess not that far? I've done a lot more worldbuilding for this one than my other wips so it feels like I'm farther along. I still have so much to do tho, help.

Ninja Storm: how fond are you of plots that fall on the reader? do you prefer stories that just start or ones that take a little to warm up?

I love starting my plots right away. I like to jump in, then backtrack just enough that the reader isn't floundering, keep them desiring to hang out in swimming pool and then bother to explain how they fell in here for begin with. This is definitely influenced by the fact that I adore the pacing of the first 5 chapters of city of bones. Never mind all the other discourse that could be had about those books - the first 5 chapters, I think, are such a great example of how to get a reader invested in a story. We’re right there with Clary in the "what the hell is going on" camp, so by the time we get to chapter 5, we're ready for the exposition dump.

I like to do something of the same thing. Drop readers into a situation and make them aware of the context after they're ready to hear more about it, because they're invested in a character, a plot thread, whatever. According to my benevolent readers, this is effective.

Thanks for asking!

#sleepy answers #writing asks

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night-garden-fic · 5 months

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Chapter Seven: Botanical Solutions

(Read on AO3)

"I guess it really was that easy."

Chapter Seven: Botanical Solutions

Russell woke the next morning from a shallow, restless, all-too-short sleep; feeling listless, headachy, and still faintly unsatisfied.

With what?

(The very fact that I'm not sure?)

His bed felt cold, bleak, and lonely after the previous evening of companionship and blood-hot wine. But still, he rolled out of it somewhat reluctantly; feeling profoundly disinterested in whatever might lie beyond.

Breakfast. Paperwork. That endless book, still open on my desk.

Russell sighed heavily. Somewhat dramatically, in fact, though nobody was around to hear and potentially commiserate. The gust of it rattled the hollow of his chest and got him started coughing; which in turn sprung a small leak somewhere in his nose, releasing a thin rivulet of blood that trickled down his throat and filled his mouth with salt and rust.

...This is going to be a long day, isn't it?

(You're being pessimistic again. Stop that.)

He decided to just assume, as was reasonable, that he'd feel better after some breakfast.

But, after breakfast had come and gone, Russell only found himself slouched at his desk with two slices of toast sitting uselessly inside him, their sharp corners scraping at the sensitive lining of his stomach.

He couldn't help but remember that, more often than not, the universe was quite unreasonable indeed.

Feeling at once lethargic and agitated, Russell returned to the book in front of him, and began re-reading a particularly dense paragraph for what must have been the fifth time.

This is just getting embarrassing.

(Some librarian you are.)

As that poison thought crossed Russell's mind, it brought with it a strange urge to study a certain, ancient image for any sign as to what the hell went wrong.

(You still have to ask?)

Mercifully, he managed to stop himself before he backtracked and lost yet another half hour. Instead, he laid his head down on the open pages and let out something between a deep sigh and a pained groan.

Gods, what's with all these awful noises today?

Tori—who had been busily reshelving the magic books—took notice of her employer's plight.

"...Sir? W-why don't you take a break?"

Russell propped his head in his hands, burying his face and rubbing at his tired eyes.

"Because I just want to hurry up and finish this."

His assistant regarded him skeptically.

"It... It doesn't look like you're h-hurrying much."

She had a point, but Russell was feeling stubborn. He returned his gaze to the book, then felt it penetrate straight through the pages and into the nothingness beyond.

You just need to power through.

What the hell do you think I'm doing?

The problem was that the task, like the dry toast in his belly, felt made of nothing but sharp catching edges. He could power through all he wanted, but it inevitably caught his mind in a thicket of thorns; stalling and trapping it, scraping it painfully raw.

Of course, a solution had occurred to him, but it was the last thing he wanted to be considering.

If sharp edges are the problem...

No. Not yet. It's not that bad.

(Says who?)

Russell tried, as he had tried a thousand times before, to concentrate on the page before him; finding the argument in his head much too loud.

You've used it during the day before.

Seven years ago, when that was the least of my problems.

It was Ed's idea, remember?

(You trusted him. You trust him now.)

He was at a loss. He never knew what to do with me.

Well, do you know what to do with you?

I obviously don't.

(...Now look what you did. You're not allowed to admit that. Ever.)

Feeling weary and detached from himself, Russell replaced the scraps of worn scratch paper and closed the heavy book.

"...Tori?"

At some point, while he was grappling with the book and himself, she'd moved all the way down to the children's section.

"...Y-yes sir?"

You can stop this here, you know.

(I think it's a little late to stop anything.)

"I think I'm going to have that break after all. Watch the front desk for me, will you?"

The young woman nodded smartly, sliding a thin picture book onto the shelf. Russell tried not to look too deeply into the faithful, watery blue of her eyes.

"Of course."

~*~

Russell sat on the edge of his bed, suddenly apprehensive.

Do we really want to go there?

"Want" has nothing to do with it.

In the calm sanctuary of his room, he had already begun to feel better. The whole thing was starting to seem like a bad idea. Or, at very least, a bit hasty.

You can't stay up here forever, you know. What happens when you have to go back to work?

Well, what happens when I start down this path?

Nothing you haven't dealt with before.

(Why are we tempting fate?)

Finding his hands suddenly shaky, Russell leaned forward and felt around under the mattress until he found the small wooden box hidden beneath.

It'll just be this once. At most, until you can finish the book.

You also said it would just be a few good nights' sleep. And what has it been now? Almost a fortnight?

(And you don't trust yourself to sleep without it, so why even count?.)

The red blossoms had wilted inside the box; not yet brittle, but limp and somewhat tacky, their brilliant scarlet color slightly faded.

The powder within their yellowing stems, however, was still glowing brilliantly. It was with wonder that Russell imagined how these blooms sat up here all through the day; buried in their closed box, quietly shining to themselves in the daytime dark.

If you're really going to do this, quarter the dose.

Before he got started, Russell took out his handkerchief and blew his nose, clearing away last night's clotted blood. A strange, eye-watering sensation; not exactly painful, but something close. He noted with some morbid interest that the resulting stain was shot through with fading granules of shine, like specks of mica drifting along a dark riverbed.

Sniffing back the few reflexive tears that blurred his vision, he finally selected a flower from the box, tapping a bit of powder onto the back of his hand. All of a sudden, he didn't think it quite looked like enough.

But, for daytime, it would have to do.

This might hurt.

...It always hurts.

(I'm getting used to it.)

He hesitated for a moment, then inhaled briskly, feeling his eyes welling again with the incandescent burn. The sun that flared inside him was dimmer than usual, but it still managed to light up his skull; a blaze of arterial red that soon gave way to the cool grey light of the room.

As his eyes adjusted and the burning eased, Russell wondered if he'd taken enough to do anything at all.

Maybe I should just...

No. That's all.

(Just yet.)

Russell remained perched on the edge of the bed for some minutes, smelling dirty copper mixed with nectar and salt, thinking of nothing in particular.

He couldn't say when he began to feel different, or even exactly what was different. It wasn't the heavy drowsiness that he'd grown accustomed to with his nighttime dose, but something more like sitting slightly to the left of himself, with a layer of thick, tempered glass forming around his brain.

In this state, the boy in the picture wouldn't call to him.

We no longer belong to each other.

Not even Russell's own hands, folded neatly in his lap, seemed quite like they belonged to him. His head floated somewhere above his body, finding it an awfully silly thing to have to carry around. The sensation was slightly disturbing, and he began to think that he'd just made a grave mistake.

It's okay. This is just how you need to be right now.

("Right now" can be a very long time.)

He shook his head, then patted his cheeks briskly, gently shocking himself into a modest alertness.

Back to work.

Before heading downstairs, Russell stopped by the bathroom mirror, just to make sure everything was in order.

Shit... I'm still bleeding.

Lucky for him, it was a weak trickle, and easy enough to discreetly staunch with a bit of balled-up toilet roll.

You're okay.

(Liar.)

With the leak stemmed, Russell turned on the tap and splashed his face with water, then regarded himself again. His eyes looked a little glassy, but no more than they did during his long periods of sleeplessness and melancholy.

The only one who ever noticed that was Sabrina.

(And Edward.)

...Maybe. He's so vague and clinical about everything.

Well, either way, I don't think either of them are coming in. You look fine.

(Liar.)

Russell figured he might look a little better if he managed to smile, so he practiced a few times in the mirror, making sure to get it right. And, when he was finally satisfied, he headed downstairs.

Back to the Library.

Back to the world that he had, so painstakingly, built to hold himself.

When he returned, Tori was seated at his desk; sweet shy face buried in a romance novel, fingers absent-mindedly playing with the end of one braid. She seemed contentedly transfixed.

She's so gentle. So thoughtful.

(She works so hard.)

Russell's blank face broke into a fond, unpracticed smile.

"Okay, kiddo... I can take it from here."

~*~

I guess it really was that easy.

Though he was still reading through a thick haze, Russell supposed that this one—medicinal, self-induced—was a degree less noxious, at least for the time being. He did notice he wasn't retaining as much as he'd normally like, but the pages kept turning.

And that, he figured, was good enough.

Where have I heard that before?

Russell knew he had a tendency to sacrifice all kinds of things on the altar of "Good-Enough." Good-enough sleep, good-enough eating, good-enough parenting, good-enough days.

And now—somewhat blasphemously—good-enough reading.

On one hand, when he was stuck in the past, or not sleeping, or drifting in a medicated haze, or simply in a protracted low mood, accepting good-enough was one of the few mercies he could offer himself.

On the other, he'd all but forgotten how to ask if things could be better.

All he knew was that they could, of course, be worse. So he sat complacently at his desk, making good-enough progress through the dense book, and wanting for nothing else. Until, eventually, the small dose wore off; the sharp, snarled, distracted feeling returning with a vengeance.

Ignoring a chorus of troubling impulses, Russell sat the thick volume aside and took up his paperwork.

Now you know it works. There's always tomorrow.

And the next day?

(And the next, and the next, and the next...)

...I'll handle it when the time comes.

He shuffled through the papers on his desk, placing them in the familiar, baroque order of priority that made sense only to him. Most of it was correspondence relating to the acquisition of new and rare books, which still filled him with a giddy excitement. Russell took out his pen and letterhead, and set to work.

Russell worked steadily for an hour and a half. Midway through, Tori left to head back to the farm, whispering her shy goodbyes and leaving him alone with the still silence of the Library, broken only by the hush of paper on paper.

Until, just as he was about to wrap up for the day, an unseen visitor's sudden voice sent him leaping out of his chair, every nerve buzzing and crackling as his body readied itself to fight for his life.

"...Hey, Russell!"

Russell whipped around so fast that it felt as though his brain didn't quite rotate along with his skull, and was met with a rather confused-looking Raguna.

"Oh... Hello, Raguna."

All at once, his shoulders sagged. He stood there panting for a moment, then swallowed hard, as though trying to gulp down his own pounding heart. Raguna shuffled his feet awkwardly.

"Um... Hi."

Poor kid's probably just as startled as I am.

Though the way he'd just reacted certainly didn't show it, Russell genuinely liked Raguna. The young farmer was a likable man to begin with, and the fact that he was Tori's beloved husband, Cecilia's dashing hero, and something of a regular in the Library's magic section didn't hurt.

But he was a strange combination of stealthy and boisterous, and didn't have much of a sense of his own volume. So, needless to say, this wasn't the first time he had sent Russell flying. He'd gotten a bit better about it since learning the broad strokes of Russell's past, but one can only do so much about one's natural mannerisms.

Russell exhaled slowly, then pasted on a well-practiced smile.

"Yeah... Hi. So! What brings you in?"

Raguna lowered his voice considerably, and Russell was a bit touched at the effort.

"Sorry I spooked you there... Anyway! Ceci and Nicky are hanging out at the farm, and I don't know how exactly we got on the subject... But now they're wanting to stay over so they can help me out with the Monsters in the morning. I just came from Sabrina's, and she's okay with it, so..."

(...No. I want her here.)

"I don't have any problem with it. Just bring her back in one piece, okay!"

Russell smiled, stuffing down his strange initial objection. He didn't know where it had come from, only that it was accompanied by a vague, yet oddly sickening dread.

Raguna grinned in return.

"I always do!"

A private, morbid joke.

"And I really appreciate that... Thanks for telling me."

Try, "she owes you her life, you know."

"No problem. See you around, Russell."

Try, "which means, I might actually owe you mine."

"Yeah... See you... We should be getting some new magic books in next week."

Raguna beamed at the good news.

"I'll be there!"

With that, he was out the door and down the street, spreading his noise and cheer elsewhere.

Then the empty Library was silent once more; so silent that it made Russell's ears ring.

He sat down and listened to the ringing for a few minutes, felt as his heart shook off the last of the racing terror. His body was calming down, but his mind still felt dull and stunned. He hated it, how a particularly acute startle could sometimes take him out of commission for hours.

Years ago, Edward had told Russell that this would improve with time, but he was still waiting.

You could...

...We're not doing that.

If you just get right in bed, it won't mean anything.

It's barely evening. That would mean something in and of itself.

You didn't even want to get out of bed in the first place, remember?

Russell rubbed his aching temples, then took his pen and signed the last letter of the day, hoping the recipient would forgive the great black gash of ink sprawling over the paper, marking the moment when Raguna made him jump. With a sigh, he picked up the pen one more time

P.S. Noisy client, sorry.

A quick arrow pointing up at the mess, and he figured he'd done what he could. The letter went in an envelope, and Russell dragged himself from behind his desk. Finally, he could lock the door for the night. The heavy metallic chunk of the bolt sounded like closure, and a job well done.

I'm not going to bed, but I guess we could compromise.

Still feeling somewhat dazed, Russell left the silent, dust-scented world of the Library and retired to his small kitchen. He paused for a moment, wondering if he might be playing with fire.

It's all out of your system. You'll be fine.

Indeed, he could feel for himself that the calm sedation of the Lamp Grass was gone without a trace.

It was time for something else.

Russell reached into one of the higher cabinets and took down a bottle of cheap red wine, then rummaged through a messy drawer until he found the corkscrew. He almost reached for a water glass to drink from, but thought better of it. Even though he wasn't quite sure if he'd kill the bottle, he wasn't sharing with anyone, so it felt pointless to dirty a cup.

The cork was almost deafening in the thick evening quiet of the house, but Russell was prepared for the sound, and remained impassive. With the bottle open, he considered his options for a few moments, then slid down to sit on the floor. Sitting at the table, too, seemed a little pointless when he would be the only one drinking.

Kind of sad, when you think of it that way.

Well, I don't. I'm just being pragmatic.

He took a long drink from the bottle, then sat it down on the floor beside him. The wine was plain and flat, devoid of any fortifying heat or spice. But its dark red taste still made him think of the previous night.

Of Edward, and the moon, and what he might not even know he didn't know.

As he took another sip, Russell felt an echo of that odd dissatisfied feeling.

Don't bother thinking about it. You don't even know where this all comes from.

(That's why I can't stop thinking about it.)

Even so, the small reminder of his night with Edward certainly wasn't a bad thing.

I wish he was here now.

(No, you don't. He'd have some choice words for you today.)

Drinking alone, he realized, was much like drinking with Edward.

Because, at the end of the night, it always brought the same nagging feeling that he'd squandered some opportunity. For adventure, for closure, for the formation of a memory so beautiful that it drowned out the painful ones forever. Invariably, something that would sound ridiculous out loud.

And, of course, he was never sure exactly what was supposed to have happened.

So yes, drinking alone was much like drinking with Edward.

But, it was also different.

Specifically, it was usually worse.

Because, of course, he was alone.

And, alone, Russell sometimes didn't know when to stop.

~*~

He wasn't really sure how he ended up on the edge of town.

Originally, he had left the house thinking he might go see Edward.

The way the taste of wine made Russell long for their night together had become almost unbearable, and he felt like he would have done anything for some company. He was actually standing on the Clinic's doorstep when he finally realized that Edward probably wouldn't appreciate him showing up unannounced; likely just after dinner, and with a full bottle of wine under his belt besides.

But, once he was out, he couldn't bear the thought of going back in; back to the world of dust and paper and silence. He briefly thought of going to the Pub, but he wasn't sure he wanted to dig himself in any deeper, so he thought better of it. Eventually, Russell decided to just go for a clumsy, meandering walk through the snow and see where it took him.

He hadn't intended to go this far.

Or, perhaps he had.

Didn't want to admit to yourself where you were actually going?

No, he truly didn't. Didn't want to admit that, to some terrible end unknown even to himself, he was basically going out of his way to further damage his own mind.

You know how this might make you feel.

I don't even know where I'm going.

(Yes, you do.)

I'll just stumble across it.

It's not the kind of thing you can "just stumble across."

(Do you not realize this whole argument is a paradox?)

Paradoxical, accidental, intentional, sickly self-damaging... Whatever it was, he'd done it.

Russell found himself walking the road that led out of Kardia.

Where the dead tanks still sat, too heavy and overgrown to move.

He'd known, of course, that they'd been here for some time. Their very presence was one of the things that hovered over him on those long, sleepless nights. Many times, he'd dared himself to come out here, just to see, just to...

(Finish what I started?)

...He wasn't really sure, now that he'd finally taken himself up on it.

Like drinking with Edward, or drinking alone, there was a sense of deferred closure. The tanks were slightly smaller than he'd been remembering, and were so inert that they might as well have been any overgrown boulder on this shady, wooded path.

Why are you surprised? It's always smaller than you remember.

(Can people help how they remember things?)

Tentatively, Russell extended a shaky hand. Then, brushing a few dead vines aside, he placed it on the frigid metal body of the tank.

He waited for a while, but he didn't feel anything but cold.

And half-drunk. And stupid. And a little pathetic.

After a while, his knuckles began to ache, and the skin of his palm began to tingle, so he pulled his hand away and stuck it in his pocket, which didn't seem all that much warmer.

Still feeling muzzy and off-balance from the wine, and slightly exhausted from the long walk, Russell sat down in the snow, resting his weary back against the tank's heavy treads.

Tonight, he would watch the sunset alone.

#rune factory #rune factory 1 #rf1 russell

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tommyspeakycap · 3 years

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hi could you do an imagine/ one shot where it’s a snow day and ur w his family and it’s just all cute w whoever u want :)

snow days and haribo rings

jack grealish x reader

Jack was thankful for having a big car when he woke up this morning. It became apparent most people would have their close to Christmas family get together deterred or even completely cancelled by the amount of snow that had fallen over the course of the evening and continued when you woke in the morning.

The best part was seeing you light up like a child, eyes wide and bright as you all but jumped up and down. Jack had laughed, his smile stretched wide as you stood out the back catching snowflakes on your hands and throwing toys for the puppy who kept launching himself into the thick snow. Jack admired you from the kitchen window, conjoined dining room sliding glass door still wide open so he can hear your giggles bouncing through the house as he constructed one of the only meals he could. His toast and cheese was immaculate though, bloody amazing.

“The little ‘uns are dying to see you.” Jack announces in the car as he pulls down his parents street. His little cousins do just adore you and he can’t blame them one bit. Seeing you play with them, giggling when they pile on top of you for hugs and kisses always awakens something in him he hadn’t noticed before. It made him very broody, especially at this time of year. “Really?” you beam, eyes lighting up once again as you turn to look at him for the first time since getting into the car. He was well aware of your eyes stuck on the little snow shapes that flutter into the front window and the snowmen that line the streets. Pointing out bigger ones and getting excited when you see kids out. “Look!” You squeal, pointing your finger against the window. “Snow angels!”

“You’re my snow angel.” He retorted, flirting shamelessly with a huge cheesey beam. You let out a loud laugh as you screw up your face. “You’re awful,” you snort, shaking your head. Jack laughs with you, pulling the car into park in the drive so he can lean over and press his lips onto your cheek, warmed by the heaters of the large range rover.

Jack helps you jump out of the car so you don’t slip, because despite the fact his dad has claimed to have shovelled the drive, it was covered again in a thick layer of powdery snow. Your boyfriend wraps you up in him immediately, tucking you into his side so close you practically become one person. Touch has always been Jack’s love language. He almost always has to be touching you and it’s usually a subconscious act. An arm that’ll find its way around your waist or his hand that slips into yours. He’s very tactile and he just loves to have you there in his arms.

Karen is at the door ushering you into the warm house before either or you have the chance to raise a cold hand to knock it and before you have the chance to enjoy the heat, Jack’s little cousins - who call him uncle Jack just for easiness sake - have threw themselves at you both. Jack catches them a lot easier than you do with bellowing laughter so happy you can imagine the sound in a few years time when he gets home from training or game trips and it’s yours and his kids that get to barrel through the house and greet him like this. It makes your heart sing in a mixture of excitement and joy.

“Come on come on come on!” They chant, tugging your arm quickly through the house as you call your greetings along the way. Jack is left standing in by the coat rack with a stupid grin watching his little cousins drag you through the house until you reach the back door.

Jack can’t seem to keep his focus on the conversation with his mum as they sit at the dining room table next to the window that looks out to into the garden. He keeps looking out to you, exaggeratedly falling over when you get hit by snowballs thrown by the small kids, yelling out as they bound over to leap on top of you with hysterically laughing, wrapped up in warm winter coats, hats and scarfs. You’ve only got a jacket on though and Jack worries as he always does that you’re not warm enough.

“She needs an extra layer,” Jack mumbles, making his mother beam as she looks at him with a warm mug of hot chocolate between her hands. She’s so proud of the man that her boy has become. The kind who worried about his girlfriend being too cold even in the summer. Jack stands at the back door uneasily waiting for you to reach him. “You’re going to end up sick.” He states with a frown as he hurriedly moves to wrap a thick scarf around you neck. “That’s a myth, can’t get the cold from being cold.” You shiver, allowing him to offer you a sip of hot chocolate from his mug to warm you up and you accept it happily.

“Can get hypothermia though, Mrs Degree.” He retorts teasingly, his eyes created with a smile. “Not a medical degree, J. And that’s Miss degree thank you very much.” You snip as you trudge back off the snow with him following you, setting the mug down before he stepped out the door. Jack immediately notices the excitement on his little cousins faces when you both appear for the the snowball fight where you split into separate teams. The snowball fight where you end up pinned down on the snow by Jack, his face inches from yours as his lips just about brush yours. Even chapped and slightly cracked from the cold, Jack would kiss those lips happily forever. He can’t fight the smile that plays on his lips at the sight of your nose and cheeks tinted red from the cold.

“I could change that, you know.” He hums softly, eyes getting lost in yours. You simply gaze up at him puzzled with slightly furrowed brows. “The miss thing i mean,” he backtracks, his words something like a nervous stutter, “Cause you’re my missus, could make you a missus- mine. My missus. Like, with my name an’ all that.”

You giggle at his broken up stammering sentences, your lips stretching wide into a grin.

“Are you asking me to marry you, Jack?” You lull, a teasing tone hiding clearly behind your words as he shakes his head, moderately embarrassed by his poor attempt. Jack clears his throat, rolling off you to lay beside you on the thick snow cushioning your back before he squished you. “Suppose so,” he whips his head to face you, “Depends on what your answer would be?” he adds quickly with a smile yet worried eyes.

“Charming.” You jest sarcastically, shooting him an playfully incredulous look. “But i’d say yeah.” You add, staring up at the darkening sky with snow flakes still falling into your faces, getting stuck in Jack’s beard and landing in his hair.

“Mhm, that’s good.” He smiles softly, “Mrs Grealish. (y/n) Grealish.” Jack turns back to you, a soft smile on his lips and love shining in his eyes. “Sounds pretty good to me.”

You giggle in agreement, letting him tug you in closer to him to kiss a snowflake off the tip of your nose before pressing his lips onto yours next. “Yeah, it does.” You agree with one of those wistfully love struck grins as you look at the man you love with all your heart. “I’ll get you a ring, i promise.” He says sweetly, brushing his warm hands over your cold knuckles after he tugs you up to your feet out of the snow.

“I have a ring, Uncle Jack!” You hear from behind you, the two little kids standing there with a mini party bsd or haribos each. They beam up at you, the eldest holding out the red and yellow candy ring that Jack takes with a thank you and a tenacity as if it were a real, very expensive ring that you wouldn’t eat within the next ten minutes. Yet, the brown haired brummie still takes a knee in the snow, holding your hand and looking up at you. “I promise i’ll get you a proper ring, nice one too. All the best for you. Get you a nice big ring a s a nice big family an’ i’ll spoil you, spoil you all. I’ll spoil you forever. Promise. Will you marry me?”

Tears appear in your eyes involuntarily, a giggle breaking past your lips as you nod your head virtually. “Yeah, yeah of course i’ll marry you. Now up her and kiss me before you get a chill.”

Jack stands up eagerly, pressing his lips against yours as he pushes that ring onto your ring finger for you to hold out in front of you to admire. As Jack kisses you once again before he starts leading you inside holding onto your hand, you can only think about how happy you are with him. You’d be happy to marry him in a tracksuit or pyjamas, you didn’t care. You just wanted to spend the rest of your life with him and he felt the same way. Fancy rings wasn’t a big deal for you, but you knew he’d get you one anyway because he’s Jack. He has the money and he would be dammed if he didn’t spoil his girl.

“You didn’t,” Karen gawps, shaking her head with a teasing roll of her eyes. “You better get that girl a real one.” She tells Jack as he sits there on the couch later with you tucked under his arm, “you make sure he does.” She says to you before she went off to the kitchen. You turn to Jack, the fingers of your right hand laced into his as you raise the left one still with that ring on it.

“Sweet tooth?” You chime with a smile, Jack chuckles. “Always.” He responds easily. You lift your hand up to his mouth and just barely feel his teeth against your finger as he takes a bite off of that ring. You pop the rest of it in your mouth with a giggle.

“We are my ring.” You say through giggles, feeling his press his lips against the side of your head. “I’m sorry baby.” Jack responds, pulling you even closer to him under the warm fluffy blanket as you curl into his chest.

“Don’t be,” you mutter softly, “i’m happy to marry you with nothing but candy rings we’ll eat before the days out.”

“Good,” Jack says firmly, tightening his arms around you, “Because i’ll get you all the haribo rings you like, forever and always baby.”

The ghost of a smile dances over your lips as fatigue catches up with you, echoing his words adoringly. “Yeah….forever and always.”

#jack grealish #jack grealish imagines #jack grealish imagine #jack grealish x reader #footie fics #football fics #footballer fics #football imagines

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courseoflove · 3 years

Text

Questions

You have lots of questions for Harry and he tries his best to answer each of them.

a/n: hiiiii, think it’s been almost a year since I last posted my writing and I’m finally back! thanks to @oh-honey-styles‘s new fic slam prompts, I was able to curate something I liked enough to share. usually it’d take me lotssss of drafts to be satisfied and happy with something but this one only took 2! I hope you enjoy it and pleaaaaseee be kind ⭐️😸 I’d love to hear your thoughts!

warning: this is just pureee filth. not really smut, but filthy regardless.

Word Count: 1,775

Harry’s forest eyes ogle straight at you, lips pressed in a tight line and twitching on one side to form a smirk that he tried his very best not to show.

That was definitely the last thing he expected to come out of your mouth. He thought you just needed help with something minuscule, like putting together new furniture, fixing the wifi, or help pick out an outfit; things you’ve urgently called him about before. He never, ever thought you’d call him one day and ask for this, a lesson on blowjobs out of all things.

Luckily, sex has never been a taboo topic between the two of you, considering he’s the first person you yell to when you’re letting out your frustrations about your lack of experiences, or vice versa when he just had an intercourse dilemma that continues to leave an everlasting impact on him. But when you’re asking him about giving good oral pleasure, his brain is suddenly void of any thoughts that should help the situation at hand.

“Quit smirking at me, I’m serious!” Harry flinches when you throw a pillow at him from across the other side of the sofa, instantly wiping the smirk off of his face and instead letting out a soft chuckle when he successfully catches it. You throw him an intense yet jest glare, “just. Today at work. I dunno. I just need to know. I want to know.”

“How d’you suppose I do that?” he asks cautiously, leaning forward to settle his elbows on his knees and prop his chin up with the palm of his hand, “teach you, I mean.”

You’re usually never embarrassed around Harry, despite the many weird and unusual conversations you’ve both had during sobriety and drunkenness. You don’t remember ever feeling even the slightest bit awkward or sheepish when you told him about how IUDs work, or giving him a very vivid description of how exactly you feel during your menstruation cycle. He takes it all in and listens with amusement, sometimes with a bowl of extra-buttered popcorn on his lap.

But right now, in this exact moment, you feel slightly skittish and jittery, as if blowjobs were something you’re just now learning about. He can sense it, especially with the way you’re averting your gaze from his eyes to the silent flatscreen tv nailed on your wall — thanks to him. You’re also doing that thing he constantly scolds you for whenever you’re anxious and nervous, chewing ferociously on your bottom lip and squeezing your fingers into a fist to the point your nails will sink on your palm and pop your veins.

“Stop that, you’ll bleed,” he cuts the silence off, “and answer my question.”

You unclench your fist and turn towards him again, barely making eye contact and instead looking at the lovely framed painting hung on the wall behind him, “maybe just describe it?”

“It’s really not that complicated,” was all Harry said. He leans back against your soft couch, taking both of your feet with his hands and settling them on his lap to crack each of your toes. You flinch a little on his first try, turning your focus and watching his fingers work against your skin, “think of a lollipop. Or popsicles, something of the sorts. You put it in your mouth and just… suck. Lick. Move your mouth, without the teeth.”

Suck. Lick. Move your mouth; the words that tumbles out of his lips causes you to flush, your whole body heating up and turning beet red, the color dancing across your nose and emphasizing your imperfections flawlessly.

What Harry said was pretty accurate. It’s not as detailed as you want but you don’t really know how to ask for that without feeling mortified and even more flustered. He said it exactly how it is; you just put your mouth around it, suction your cheeks, use your tongue and bob your head. But you feel like there was something missing, as if there should be more to that. Well, because there is. You want to know more.

His fingers have started to dance their way to your calf, squeezing the deep tissues there in a tender and leisure massage to try and get rid of your tensed muscles. You’re wincing in between syllables when you finally speak after a couple of seconds, “question. It might be weird. Just… just tell me if you don’t wanna answer.”

His eyes lock with yours when he hums for you to continue, a strand of curl falling over his forehead and tickling his brow while his bottom lip gets caught in between his teeth in concentration. He presses his warm hands on your leg forcefully and harder and it helps calm your nerves and neurons, your habit of overthinking in situations like this disappearing little by little the more he moves. The lack of poise you had minutes ago is lessening and your question is on the tip of your tongue, ready to burst at the seams and be voiced aloud.

With your face turning a lot redder and goosebumps developing on your skin from head to toe out of the blue, you ask with your voice a little lower than it was a while ago, “will you tell me what you like? When.. you know.”

Harry’s movements quickly halt. Another unexpected turn. Another question he never, ever thought would come out of your mouth to ask him.

He lets go of his lip and keeps his mouth agape, irises instantaneously dilating and darkening under your lemon-yellow light and turning them into an even darker shade, like a week old leaf. His brain performs a short circuit for a few moments that passes by in silence before he finally swallows and says, “you want to know what I like when I’m getting head?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, feeling even more ridiculous the more you look into his eyes and open your mouth, “I mean, you have the most experience out of the two of us. That’s why I asked in the first place, but I feel — I feel like your first answer doesn’t really — it’s just not satisfying me. There has to be more to it than just.. sucking, I dunno.”

Sure, you talk to one another about sex casually; what one undergos and encounters and what the other simply has no preconceived notions of. Harry would tell his stories in the least disgusting way possible, knowing you’ll groan out loud and tease him about it if he gives away any sort of detail, but there was almost always zero utterance on your end. No lingering and continuous curiosity. You asking about what he likes when he’s getting head is very much unforeseen and maybe even a bit… amiss, especially for you.

However, he can detect a genuine inquisitiveness in your expression. You’re probably one of the hardest people to read on the surface, but he senses that there was more to that interest than just simply wanting to know. At least, he’s hoping there is.

You cross your arms over your chest, feeling a bit weird now the more he gawks at you and doesn’t make a single move to respond. You open your mouth to backtrack when his hesitancy becomes clear, but before you can even take your question back, he’s already mouthing a three-syllable word out loud, “mouth-fucking.”

A low gasp leaves your mouth and the sound doesn’t miss Harry’s eardrums. He should want to take it back, shove the words back in his throat and never say it again despite not being able to. Still and all, he realizes that he likes what you asked and the fact he gave you an answer, a brief one but an honest and precise answer nonetheless. The way your skin warms against the palm of his hands makes him start to sweat, your bare face becoming even more flushed if possible. You don’t really know what kind of answer your mind presumed, but it obviously wasn’t that.

You’re aware of Harry’s self-confidence and boldness when it comes to sex. He has lots of it and it doesn’t come as a surprise. So when he opens his mouth again to explain exactly what he meant, you were able to hold your second gasp back and instead listen in. You can just imagine how filthy he is in bed, considering the description he gives you seems to be even more graphic and explicit, “like normal sex, but I’m doing it to their mouth. I like the sound, the sloppiness of it all, it fuels me. I like being in control, I guess, and no one wants a dry blowjob. I like it really wet.”

You startle both yourself and him when you utter, “what else?”

Harry clears his throat and looks away from your eyes, not because of discomfort because there was absolutely none, but for the reason that the more he stares the more he pictures you inside his head doing exactly what he was evoking. He blinks a couple of times in an attempt to get rid of the colorful conception, yet it just becomes even more lucid and clear-cut. He tries to distract himself by continuing to answer your questions. It definitely doesn’t help. It just drags the mental image on.

“I like it when they let me come down their throat, then swallow it. Or when — when the aftermath of pure bliss just overtakes my entire body. Like, they just pull away for a second then suck me right back in,” the skin on your legs feel sticky under his hold. You swallow at his dazed appearance and tiny smirk, as if he’s picturing it all in his head. And he is, “yeah. I like that a lot.”

Somehow it’s gotten a lot warmer inside the tiny space of your living room, every corner closing in on the two of you in your peripheral vision and you can’t exactly make out the tingling sensation on the tip of your fingers and in between your thighs. Well, you do. You know you’re undoubtedly turned on but acting clueless and ignoring it would be the best way to handle it.

You ask him one more question, the last one you’ll emit for the rest of the evening, “and how was it for them?”

Harry turns his head, connecting his darkened eyes with yours. There’s an indecipherable message written all over his handsome face. His voice is heavy, raspier and deeper with his accent when he answers for the last time, a specific implication behind his tone, “one of these days, you’ll see.”

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fific7 · 2 years

Text

Russo the Red-Nosed Reindeer

Billy Russo x Reader

Summary: Billy Russo - who hates the whole Festive Season thing - gets drawn into it by his new neighbour. Billy POV throughout.

A/N: A little belated Xmas present for any Billy Russo fans out there. Set in my S1 Punisher AU which does not follow canon. It’s mainly fluff with a tiny twist of lemon zest 🍋

Warnings: Some drinking & swearing.

(My photo edit)

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy heard another ‘thump’ outside his apartment door, and eye-rolled dramatically. Since he’d moved into his penthouse bachelor pad a year ago he’d been the only one occupying the top floor, but now the other apartment had obviously been rented out.

When all the banging and crashing around had started earlier in the day, he’d sneaked a quick look through his cracked-open door and seen some guys dressed in removal company overalls bringing furniture out of the lift and carrying it into the apartment opposite him. He’d sighed. How he hoped it wouldn’t be a complete asshole moving in there as it would be difficult to avoid him, being such close neighbours.

Now it was several hours later and they were still bringing stuff in. There was an extra loud bang but actually against his door this time and he leapt up, racing over and flinging the door open, yelling “Watch what the fuck you’re doin’!” as he did so. Three faces immediately swung round towards him, eyes wide and mouths agape in surprise. One of them - oh - was a woman, he noticed, and she was not dressed in overalls.

In fact - Billy’s eyes did a swift recon - she was dressed in a classy dark blue top, navy fitted trousers and ankle boots. He found himself thinking that if she had been dressed in overalls, she’d’ve looked a helluva lot better in them than the two schmucks who were also still staring at him, a bookcase suspended in the air between them.

Embarrassed, he decided he’d better rein in the language a bit. “I mean… can ya be a bit more careful?” he backtracked, then looked down at the scrape in his door which had lifted off the top layer of paint. “I’m gonna have to get that repainted,” he grumbled. The woman stepped forward, holding out her hand and saying her name, so he shook it and muttered his own name back to her. She was extremely easy on the eye he was thinking, but perversely was still annoyed at the damage caused to his door.

She replied, “Nice to meet you, Mr Russo. I’m your new neighbour and I’m really very sorry about your door! I’ll arrange for that to be repainted and pay for it to be done, of course.” Somewhat mollified, Billy said that he’d be able to do it himself but it was kind of her to offer. He nodded and backed into his apartment, closing the door.

A woman?! He’d been sure it would’ve been a guy moving in. Not sure why but… he supposed he’d always thought of these apartments as being kinda… well, masculine, with their clean lines, open space, exposed brick walls and picture windows. Didn’t women like more… soft and frilly types of places? With cosy small rooms? He mentally shrugged, maybe not all women then.

The noise continued for about another hour or so but thankfully there were no more attacks on his door. He’d taken refuge in his bedroom while it was still going on but after about ten minutes of silence, he sighed with relief and settled back down on his sofa, picked up his half-full beer bottle and went back to the movie he’d been watching earlier. It had been pretty crap anyway if he was honest, so he hadn’t really missed out.

His mind started zoning out after about half an hour. He’d never had a woman as a neighbour before. Oh god! Was she going to have lots of parties? He wasn’t averse to partying or anything, but he considered his apartment to be his sanctuary - he never held parties there. He’d either meet up with his friends in a bar or club or someone else in the group would host a house party.

Billy’s thoughts began to make him feel a little unsettled. While he didn’t want to turn into one of those ‘banging on the walls’ kind of neighbours, he definitely wasn’t going to stand for loud partying in his vicinity. He was determined that his peace would not be disturbed - here was the only place he got a chance to properly relax, after all.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

He managed to avoid his new neighbour for the next three days. He’d repaired his door one morning after he heard her leaving for work (he assumed). That had meant he’d got to Anvil later than he’d planned which put him in a bad mood for the rest of the day. Frank had insisted they work out before they left as he’d noticed Billy’s grumpy demeanour, and as they showered after a gruelling round of the gym equipment in Anvil’s basement, he questioned him as to why he was in such a bad mood.

“New neighbour,” muttered Billy, towelling himself dry, “it’s a woman.” He’d felt better after their workout but this conversation was now bringing back his irritated feelings. Frank laughed, “I’da thought you’d love that, Russo?! Or is she not up to your high standards?” Billy scowled, “She’s attractive, to be fair - but she might start having loud parties.” “What makes ya think that?” Billy shrugged, “Don’t women always have parties and girly sleepovers and things?” Frank laughed again, for even longer, “Some do, some don’t! When she move in?” “Two days ago.” “Aw give her a chance, Bill! ‘Fore you write her off as the noisy neighbour from hell.”

Billy had merely grunted and started getting dressed before grumbling, “Yeah, whatever.” Frank shook his head, “Bet ya won’t have any trouble with her!” Billy buttoned his shirt and tucked it into his trousers before zipping up, “She dented my door.” Frank’s head appeared as he pulled his sweatshirt on and he was laughing again, “What? Was she that desperate to get to ya, Bill?” “Ha ha Frankie, no - her removal men scraped my door with a piece of her furniture. Had to repaint it this morning so that’s why I was late in.” Frank nodded, “That explains your shitty mood today then,” and ducked as Billy threw his wet towel at him. The two of them laughed and made their way back up to the main floor, before they went their separate ways.

“Try and put a smile on ya face tomorrow, Russo!” yelled Frank, as he climbed into his SUV. Billy flipped him the finger, grinning at his friend as he got into his own vehicle. It was an SUV too, as he’d left the Wraith in the underground car park at his apartment that morning - the weather had been pretty awful and he didn’t want his precious baby getting splashed with dirty New York rainwater.

When he got home and pulled into his other car parking space next to the Wraith, he was horrified to see a large scrape on its rear bumper. He couldn’t get his seat belt off quickly enough and jumped out, walking swiftly to the back of the Wraith and squatting down to view the scrape up close. A stream of swears left his lips and he stood back up, brain working overtime. He’d get the CCTV footage from the condo management, he’d find out who fucking hit his fucking beautiful car, he’d make them pay for the panelbeating and the respray, no fuck that, he’d just fucking kill them instead. He beeped the remote key fob at the SUV and it beeped back at him and as he turned away to head to the lift, he spotted a note under the Wraith’s windscreen wiper.

He walked back and grabbed it. Neat writing stated….

“Dear Mr Russo, I’m really sorry but I dinged your car’s bumper! - someone nearly crashed into me and I had to swerve. I will pay for the repairs. Please call and let me know the cost. Apologies once again about this accident.”

….and there was his new neighbour’s name and phone number.

Her!!! Holy hell, thought Billy, what is it with this woman and her apparent need to damage my property?! Is she maybe trying to get my attention? He whipped out his phone then and there and dialled the number on the paper. It rang but went to voicemail.

He heard her message start to play. “Hi, if I haven’t picked up I’m probably flying. Call you when I land if you leave your name and number. Bye!”

Flying? thought Billy. She a fucking angel or something?!

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

After making himself be as polite as possible on the message he left, he said that he certainly would let her know the cost of the repairs to his car.

Then he headed to the security desk, explained what had happened and asked the guy there if he could view the CCTV footage from earlier that day. He had a good relationship with the security people here, mainly because he was in the same business - well, more or less - so was shown the relevant footage without any argument. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe her… well okay, no, he didn’t believe her. He would bet anything that she was just shit at parking and had reversed carelessly into his car.

But much to his surprise, his slightly misogynistic take on things was completely wrong. The security guy searched through the digital video files until he found the images Billy wanted to see. She had made it partly out of her parking space (right behind his) when another resident had pulled out of his space next to hers seemingly without checking his mirrors, and had nearly smacked right into her car. She’d whipped her steering wheel round and avoided the idiot heading for her but had - yes, just as she’d said - dinged his bumper in the process.

Billy suddenly felt very guilty. He’d assumed she’d lied to cover up the fact that she was totally to blame.

Then his jaw dropped as he saw her get out of her car to check the damage on his.

She was dressed as a pilot. Even had the hat.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

He heard the muted ‘ting’ of the elevator later on that evening. Taking several long strides to his door, he opened it to see his neighbour across the hall, about to open her own door. She was still in her uniform.

“Er, hi,” he said, and even he could hear a sheepish tone in his voice, “I left you a voicemail.” She turned and looked at him, “Oh, hi. Yeah, I did get your message. Sorry again about that. As I said, just let me know how much and I’ll pay it.” Billy shook his head, “No. it wasn’t your fault.” She smiled, “Look, it was my car which hit yours, so let’s not argue.” “I’m gonna speak to the guy who nearly crashed into you - he can pay.” “Good luck with that,” she scoffed, “he just drove off this morning, not a word or anything.” “He knows me,” said Billy, somewhat menacingly, “he won’t argue with me. He’ll pay up.” She looked amused, and he felt compelled to add, “I usedta be a Marine sniper y’see, and he knows it.”

She nodded, smiling, “Ahh, did you now? Well, I guess he will probably pay up, then! Well, thanks for being so understanding, Mr Russo.” “Billy.” “Okay… Billy. Well if anything changes, just let me know.” Turning back to her door and putting her key in the lock, he said quickly, “So… a pilot, huh? I wasn’t expectin’ that, I can tell ya.” She looked over her shoulder at him, “Ah I see… did you think I was a bank clerk? Or a secretary or something?” He heard her chuckle. “No… no,” he replied, “I…err… just didn’t think of you bein’ a pilot, that’s all.” “Well I suppose there aren’t that many of us women flyers out there, so I’ll let you off.” “Who do you fly for?” he asked, “Commercial?”

She turned back to him, “Business. I fly private jets.” “Ooh, nice,” smirked Billy, “any chance of you taking me for a spin?” “If you’ve got the money,” she laughed, “they don’t come cheap.” Moving into flirtatious mode, he drawled, “Yeah, I got the money.” She reached into her blazer inside pocket and took out a business card, handing it to him, “Here you go. If you want to book a flight, call the office and they’ll sort it out for you.” “And I can book a flight with you as the pilot, can I?” Now she smirked, “Well, it depends on my schedule. You might have to make do with one of my male counterparts.”

“Nah, wouldn’t be the same,” said Billy, giving her a flirtatious look, “it’d need to be you.” She laughed, turning back to her door and opening it, “Well, we’d just need to see at the time. G’night, Billy.” She smiled at him as she closed the door in his face.

Well, thought Billy, I always did like a challenge.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

A couple of days later, Billy had called her again. He’d managed to speak to the jerk who’d nearly crashed into her and had intimidated him into paying for the car repair. The guy hadn’t argued at all when he’d been caught in the obsidian glare of Billy’s dark eyes.

He wanted to call and tell her that he’d sorted it out and had decided to use this as an excuse to ask her out for a drink. His new neighbour had been on his mind more and more, and had decided he really wanted to get to know her better. And if she had a boyfriend hanging around in the wings.

If there was no other guy on the scene and she accepted his invitation, he’d take her to his favourite local bar. It was now mid-December but they thankfully didn’t indulge in too much of all that Xmas crap - no tinsel, no same damn stupid songs playing all the time.

Billy was really not the least bit invested in the so-called Festive Season. Probably because of his childhood. Not quite the same, Xmas in a children’s home. So he dreaded this time of the year, if he had to be honest. Brought back too many melancholy memories for him, and he covered this with a veneer of complete boredom and disinterest.

Hearing her voicemail message again, he smiled. A pilot. He could hardly believe it. Found it exciting, in fact - and if he ever got that flight booked with her, he’d ask her to hand over to her co-pilot and see if she’d like to join the Mile High Club with him. Not that he knew if private jets actually flew that high but she’d know what he meant, he was sure. His smile got wider as he began thinking about the luxurious leather seats they had on board those jets and how good they’d feel against his naked butt. He almost forgot to start speaking when the beep sounded.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

She’d called him back later the same day, leaving a message on his voicemail and laughing as she answered the first question he’d asked in his message to her. No, she wasn’t seeing anyone at the moment but had too many flights scheduled to go out with him right then, but said that in three days’ time she was planning to take some vacation time and they could meet up then.

However he was surprised to get a call from her the following day, and she sounded super-excited. “Billy! You can get that flight tomorrow if you like - free of charge!” He’d sat up straight at his office desk, “Really? That’s fantastic! How d’you manage to swing that for me?” There was a small silence at the other end of the phone. “Ummm… there is just one tiny string attached.” “Uh oh,” said Billy, with a quiet laugh, “what is it they say? No such thing as a free lunch?” He realised that Frank, over in the corner of the office, was now staring at him and swivelled his chair to the side so that he couldn’t see the enquiring look being sent in his direction.

“We’re taking Xmas presents to under-privileged kids up and down the Eastern seaboard! I’m so excited - it’s been in the works for a while but it’s finally all set for tomorrow. We’ll be taking them to children’s homes and hospitals.” Billy felt his stomach lurch. Children’s homes? Oh lordy. But then he shook off the thought - he’d have loved it back then if he’d had a present delivered by private jet. And he was sure these kids would too. She’d still been speaking, but he’d zoned out for a few seconds and only heard the tail end of what she’d been saying. “So what size will I get for you?”

“Huh? Sorry?” he asked. “Your Santa suit! What size do you need?… not unless you want to dress up as an elf?” she said, laughing. Realisation dawned on him, “We’ve gotta dress up?!” “Yes! Weren’t you listening, Billy?” “I, uh, guess I missed that bit.” He heard himself saying “Okay, then,” and gave her his chest and waist measurements. She said she’d drop off the suit to him that night and rang off.

Billy swivelled back round and met Frank’s stare. “I’m… uhh, I’m gonna be playing Santa tomorrow, Frankie… can you handle that meeting on your own?”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy leaned back in that luxurious leather seat he’d been thinking about a couple of days ago; he wasn’t naked liked he’d imagined but he did take his Santa hat off and ruffled his fingers through his hair. He looked out of the window next to him; the plane was at cruising altitude, flying smoothly back to New York.

It had been such a long day, really early start and now it was well after midnight. He was shattered, but the look on those kids’ faces…. it was all worth it.

They’d been brought to whichever was the nearest airport to their location, and given special permission to go airside while the private jet landed and taxied to where they were lined up, waiting to see who was on board and wondering why they’d been brought to meet them. When they saw the crew and volunteers (including Billy) coming down the plane steps dressed as Santa and his elves, they’d been so excited - jumping up and down, yelling and screaming at the top of their voices. They would quickly distribute the presents amongst the kids and then it was back on board, off to the next destination.

If they were visiting a children’s hospital, the crew would remain with the plane and the volunteers were driven to the hospital, more excited kids, presents given out and big smiles all round. Then once again, they’d jump into the cars and head back to the airport for the next take off.

Now they were done, having visited several locations up and down the coast and Billy admitted to himself that he’d been feeling very emotional all day. He kept thinking he caught fleeting glimpses of his younger self in the sea of excited faces in front of him. Yeah, it had definitely been emotional. He put thoughts of the time he’d spent in children’s homes out of his mind. That was then, this is now… and he’d just spent a whole day bringing happiness to kids who were just like he’d once been. Those were the thoughts he had to hang onto to.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

He was aware of something soft hitting him in the face. He jumped, realising that he’d dozed off. Oh - it was his Santa hat. He removed it from his face and saw her leaning down towards him, “Sleepyhead!” she laughed. He stretched, “Hey, I’ve had a busy day, y’know!” “Yeah, yeah - I’ve just been flying the plane of course!” She sat down opposite him, smiling at him, “Well, some of the time anyway! Split the flying time between me snd my co-pilots of course, as we cant exceed our flying hours.” He smiled back, “So have we landed?” “Yes, and very smoothly too if I do say so myself!”

“So I’ve missed the opportunity to join the Mile High Club, then?” he asked, grinning devilishly at her. She burst out laughing, “It’s overrated, Billy, believe me!”

He was aware he was staring at her, but he couldn’t stop himself. She did look like some kind of angel to him at that moment. I think I really like her, he thought. Not just find her attractive… like, really like her. “What?” she asked, as he’d just kept on staring. “You’re beautiful,” he said before he could stop himself. “Why thank you,” she replied, and he could see that she was blushing slightly. She stood up, “Come on, sleepyhead, let’s get ourselves home.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Standing outside their respective apartments, opening their doors, they both suddenly turned to each other at the same time, with Billy managing to say, ”D’you wanna…?” just as she started saying, “Do you want to…?” They both started laughing.

“I’d love to offer you a drink,” said Billy, “why don’t you come over to mine and you can change into something more comfortable?”

She looked puzzled. “Don’t you mean I should change and then come over to yours?”

Billy took a couple of steps towards her, sliding his hand onto her neck and moving even closer to her. He leant down and tentatively kissed her, running his long fingers up to the nape of her neck, gently stroking her skin. When she didn’t resist, his kisses became more urgent. His other hand began slowly undoing her uniform blazer, button by button.

His lips next to her ear, he whispered, “Ma’am… I love a woman in uniform.” Another, slower kiss.

He drew back and gazed into her eyes, a mischievous smile playing over his lips.

“But I love her even better out of it.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@blackbirddaredevil23 @omgrachwrites @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @ourloveisforthelovely @swthxrry @odetostep @supernaturalcat7 @obscurilicious @strawb3rrydr3ss @bruxa0007 @aleksanderwh0r3 @theshadowkingsqueen @bat-luna-cat @carlywhomever @paracosmenthusiast

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#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfic #ben barnes

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genshin-impacted · 3 years

Text

lost & found // Diluc x Reader (2/3)

Word Count: ~5.0k

Notes: GN!Reader, Seelie!Reader, Diluc/Reader, includes more Mondstadt people interaction such as Klee, Albedo, and Kaeya, see why I had to split it into 3 parts now

Summary: Despite being a seelie, you and Diluc are inseparable. You aren't sure what you are or why you are here, but you know for certain you want to be wherever Diluc is through every adventure and misadventure. (And throughout it all, you get closer and closer to him.)

Alternatively: The two of you lose and find each other over and over again.

[Part 1] [Part 3]

You are satisfied with your life as a seelie, being Diluc’s partner in vigilante justice as the Darknight Hero (though when he goes out as the Darknight Hero, you’re usually hiding underneath his coat, all cozied up) and being able to spend your days by his side. Most days you are content without the answers to the questions of your origins or why you are different because Diluc accepts you for what you are regardless, as his radar for trouble and as his trusted companion.

It is only on the days where Diluc does not speak to you, burdened by the emotions of his past, withdrawing into himself at the familiarity of solitude, that you wish you are not what you are. There is very little you can offer in terms of comfort when compared to the warm arms and reassuring kisses of another person, but you make do with what you have.

You nuzzle into the crook of his neck in a semblance of a hug, and, though it takes a few tries to have Diluc understand what you were doing, your light touches to his forehead are the kisses you bestow upon him whenever his spirits are low.

“...Thank you,” he says to you when you lightly brush onto his temple, smiling when you twirl in the air, happy to have him receive your affections with full translation. He chuckles. “Would you like me to do the same for you?”

The squeaks of surprised embarrassment that follows make him laugh, and you imagine if you could speak, you wouldn’t be able to say anything of coherence with how equally flustered and pleased you feel. You don’t want to conflate any of his gestures, but you think that Diluc’s ability to tease you is a testament to how close you have gotten, even though his remarks make you feel giddy.

(If anyone else were in the vicinity they would think to themselves how rare that they see Master Diluc laughing so easily, though this is a thought that would not have crossed your mind considering this is a Diluc you have always seen. He is more youthful, less burdened, when he is near you. Is it because you are a seelie or is it because he is not bound by expectations when you have only known him for who he is?)

His ability to understand you and his unwavering trust in you despite your inability to do many things is something that you cherish. As such, you find ways to help Diluc wherever you can: temporarily swallowing small items to bring to him, being a literal light in the dark, and caring for his well-being wherever you can. The next time Kaeya drops by the tavern, stating something about treasure hoarders, a big expedition, and something about Dragonspine, he drops off a young girl about eight years old who introduces herself as Klee, and you find yourself in a new position as a babysitter.

And you are happy to glow, squeak, and fly in different shapes to make Klee laugh. You would be lying to yourself if her laughter didn’t make you happy, but it’s in addition to the fact that Diluc can finally rely on you. The grateful glances he keeps giving you over the shoulder when he caters to the tavern guests is invigorating. And if the tavern weren’t so well-lit, Klee would be able to see how you glow brighter in response to your emotions.

As perfect as Diluc may be (no, you are not biased), you find that you are surprisingly better at handling Klee. It’s not as though Diluc is completely helpless-- he responds to Klee’s questions just fine, speaking to her more as though she were an adult than a kid. You think Klee likes it for how she eagerly nods despite not understanding what Diluc is saying. It's just, for once, you may have an advantage because you are a seelie, and Klee absolutely adores you simply for existing. It’s a lot easier to entertain and play with her as a glowing ball of light than as a tavern-keeper, but you consider this a win anyways because you can finally help Diluc in a way that matters, considering the look of relief he shoots you when you’re able to distract her.

Your role as a babysitter goes well… until it doesn’t.

"It was nice playing with you, little seelie!" Klee chimes cheerfully. You coo at her, right up till the point she says, "Let's play another time, okay?"

Where are you going? You squeak, flying in front of Klee as she packs up her things. You nervously look at Diluc, hoping he can see you with how you flash your light like a siren, but his back is turned.

Klee only giggles. "Do you want to come with me too? Let's go!" She says, bounding out the door with terrifying timing when everyone's too distracted to stop her. You watch with growing horror as she runs with arms outstretched into the streets of Mondstadt, and you only have a split second to decide to follow after her before losing her completely. (In retrospect, perhaps it would have been better to tell Diluc, considering how little you could do as a seelie, but you forget that at times, especially in moments like these.)

You follow Klee, glancing around nervously for any roaming hilichurl or abyss mage. Miraculously, the two of you don't run into any enemies, though you did urge her to go around the path when you spot a few of them walking toward you. This is out of my pay grade, you think warily, and if you had a heart still, it would be beating rapidly with the self-contained panic every time you narrowly miss a confrontation with an unsavory crowd.

When Klee leads you into Dragonspine, which you now know to be a snowy terrain whose chill is cold enough to make you shiver, you want to cry. Where are you going? You want to ask, Why are we here? You watch as Klee picks a random direction to go in, and you can only follow her, twirling around sources of heat at every opportunity so that she knows where she can stay warm.

Having Diluc here would be nice, you think, as you float next to the orange seelie that radiates warmth much like a campfire. The fires Diluc would light easily if he were here, the warmth he would exude for how hot pyro users run... You think warily that you're going to make him worry again, having disappeared with Klee, but for some reason, you feel reassured that he'll find you again eventually.

It is many minutes traveling in Dragonspine when Klee puts a finger to her lip and asks you, "Do you think you can find my big brother?"

Here you are, following Klee this entire time, only to find out you are both lost. Next time, you think to yourself, as Klee describes her big brother Albedo and you quietly listen, no matter how Diluc looks at you, you don't think you can ever accept being a babysitter ever again.

(When you're attacked by hilichurls, you think of distracting them as Klee runs to safety, but then she throws literal explosives at them to defeat them soundly and you think that at least there is one less thing to worry about.)

You let your instinct take the lead this time, as something within you pulls in a certain direction. Asides from the basic investigative skills (footsteps here, disturbed bush there), it is a miracle that you lead Klee to the encampment that Albedo had set up for his experiments in Dragonspine. It's not as though the path was particularly hard to traverse, but it did take some backtracking and maneuvering around Fatui camps (will Diluc end up fighting them looking for you, you wonder). You breathe a sigh of relief when you see Klee leap up to hug the blond, doe-eyed alchemist whose eyes widen at her arrival.

“Kl-Klee? How did you get here?” Albedo stammers, looking over her before landing on you. You simply twirl in the air in greeting, and the alchemist can only blink. (You never realize this, but this is one of the very rare moments Albedo is ever flustered-- courtesy of Klee.)

Klee goes on a long monologue about you as well as the adventure to get here, Albedo nodding in understanding ever so often, when you hear the crunch of snow behind you. Your mood lifts along with your body as you recognize the familiar tuft of red hair against the whitest of snow.

“There you are,” Diluc says, setting down his broadsword. He sounds out-of-breath, most likely weary from the fact the two of you disappeared and from the climb to get to Dragonspine. You glow immediately from his evident relief, and you race to him, nuzzling into his neck in an affectionate hug to which he immediately responds by brushing the back of his gloved hand onto you.

How did you find me again? You ask, easily sitting on the hand Diluc offers you.

“Kaeya told me that Albedo was in Dragonspine,” he explains. “Knowing Klee, this was the first place I thought to go to, and I know you wouldn’t let yourself split off from her.”

You nod sagely, though that line of thought would have made sense to anyone who generally knew Mondstadt geography. You look up at Diluc in confusion when he pets you.

“I would have found you anyway,” he says softly, “even if you weren’t together.” You feel yourself grow warm. “I’ll always find a way to find you.”

(Even in this snow? You wonder, even in this frigid wonderland? Through the driest of deserts and coldest of oceans? And you can imagine that if you had asked him this, he would have said ‘yes,’ though that was just what you hoped.)

You coo softly, flying up to gently press your face to his cheek in a gentle kiss, and the smile that Diluc gives you, you think, should be warm enough to melt even the snow on Dragonspine.

When the wind grows harsh in the changing of times, you find flowers of blue and white hidden amongst the fields of grass. And when Stormterror abandons his domain, you lead Diluc to a red, crystalline teardrop that neither of you can touch without protection. You thank the stars Diluc is not a man to shy away from danger, especially when it pertains to the safety of Mondstadt, because he follows you wherever you lead him-- finding teardrop after teardrop scattered across lands festered with monsters.

(“It’s a well-kept secret, despite the way he acts,” Diluc says, leaning on his propped-up arm by the fireplace. He huffs in laughter when you trill-- my lips are sealed!-- and the two of you would watch the embers slowly die out. )

It has become more and more evident as time goes on that you are more than you appear. Your small size and dedication to following Diluc are already indicative of your unique nature as a seelie. What makes you particularly distinct is your penchant to find things or people that many would consider strange. Even before you found these objects, being able to find the elusive Venti would be indicative enough. You don't know what was so strange of him besides his eternally youthful appearance and talent of disappearing into the wind (you thought that was just what people could do, okay?) until Diluc tells you of his godly origins one late night in the winery.

Your proclivity for the unique is something that does not go unnoticed by Albedo.

“I would greatly appreciate being able to tag along on your next journey. I’m very interested in seeing what you, as a seelie, can do,” Albedo tells you. When you meekly titter in Diluc’s direction, Albedo raises his hands reassuringly. “Ah. Don’t be nervous. It’s quite alright if you don’t lead us to anything. It’s all part of the process. Klee has told me much of what you can do, and I’m simply interested in learning more about you, as special as you are.”

Diluc looks to you, waiting for your response as you float in the air, pondering. You cock your head to the side, and he only shrugs, answering the nonverbal question you shoot at him.

“You’re the guide. It’s up to you,” he says, and that is all you need to look back at Albedo (who has been observing everything thus far with keen eyes) and bob yourself up and down in agreement.

“We can meet at Windrise in one week’s time,” Diluc says to Albedo.

Albedo nods, taking one last look at you before pushing himself off the tavern stool, ending the conversation until next week-- that is if Kaeya were not there.

“You aren’t planning to go on an adventure without me, are you?” He says, and Diluc can only sigh.

The week passes quickly and the four of you (Diluc reluctantly allowing Kaeya to accompany the three of you) meet up at the Statue of the Seven near Windrise. You prove yourself once again when you lead Diluc, Kaeya, and Albedo on an off-trail route to Daudapa Gorge. They all follow you, climbing up the cliffside, until you lead them to an unusual hilichurl of blue hair and a talisman on its mask. To keep with the consistency of your battle-filled wanderlust, the unusual hilichurl starts throwing items-- some of which you can recognize from your previous(?) life and some of which you’ve never even seen before. The barrage of things is incessant until fire, ice, and bursting flowers make him escape into his suitcase, leaving behind strange four-pointed stars that glimmer for a moment before disappearing, much to Albedo’s disappointment.

The silence that follows after the oddest encounter you have ever led Diluc to is deafening. You can’t even bear to turn your body to face Diluc who you know is looking at you with a (fondly) exasperated expression. “Trying to outdo yourself every week, aren’t you?” He asks, and if you could, you know that you would be blushing.

Kaeya makes it a point to make your embarrassment worse, as he often likes doing. (You know Kaeya shows his affection through teasing remarks, but oh, what you wouldn’t do to be able to retort back to him once without Diluc having to come to your rescue.) “Your mini seelie finds a lot of strange things, don’t they?” He says, giving you a cat-nipped smile when you bristle and squeak. “Maybe the seelie thinks you’re strange Diluc. Maybe that’s why it follows you around--”

“Shut up, Kaeya.”

“That’ll cost you, you know.”

You watch the two bicker back and forth in a manner that is now very familiar to you, not noticing the alchemist observing you in the background.

“I’d like to test something if that’s alright with you.” Albedo suddenly says to you. “Nothing painful,” he reassures you, even though you hadn’t said a word. “I’ll simply be asking you to do your best to find Master Diluc to test a theory of mine.”

Why Diluc? You wonder.

“Why me?” Diluc repeats your thoughts. “I didn’t realize we would still be under observation after this one journey.” You think Diluc sounds testy-- in a manner that is unlike whenever Kaeya drops by his tavern and more like when fire abyss mages show up on your path. You are alarmed, unsure why you feel the tension rise despite Albedo’s unbothered demeanor.

And while Diluc would never thank Kaeya for his quick wit and way with words, you definitely would, especially when he jumps into the conversation with an easy lilt to his voice to de-escalate the situation (for once). “A-ha, worried that your time with your precious companion is being encroached upon, Master Diluc?” He teases, “Or perhaps you’re afraid you’ll be separated from your precious seelie?”

“Kaeya--”

“Your relationship with your seelie is unique, just as your seelie and its abilities are unique,” Albedo interjects before Diluc could pull out his greatsword. “I’d like to qualitatively and quantitatively define them, if possible.” He pauses, addressing you directly. “I thought this would prove fruitful for you as well if you were ever wondering what your... purpose is, as one might say.”

How rare it is to have an opportunity like this just fall into your metaphorical hands, you think. You are interested in knowing more about yourself. It wouldn’t change much about how you want to stay with Diluc, but there is a sense of peace knowing what you can and cannot do. In Albedo, you see a man of science through-and-through (even though he evidently defies the laws of transmutation you learned from a certain anime). He sees things for what they are, always addressing you when he wants to talk to you, and recognizing that you can speak for yourself. In some ways, he is no different from Diluc, who has never demanded you to be more than what you are as his companion.

If you decide to do something, Diluc respects your decision-- which is why he only watches you quietly as you croon in agreement. You glance over at Diluc to wait for his consent as well, and he can only sigh. (You don’t know it, but he cannot say ‘no’ to you.)

“I have one condition.” When Albedo nods, Diluc continues, “We do nothing to put them in danger. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” Albedo says immediately, and you almost miss what he says next, as distracted as you are by how Diluc comes closer to you almost protectively. “I’ll converse with you to let you know what you’ll be doing, but there should be no harm done to anyone during this experiment. How does the day after tomorrow sound?”

Diluc heads to Dragonspine without you, for what feels to be the first time in forever. Now that you think about it, has Diluc ever been separated from you the same way you have been separated from him? Even though you’re the seelie, he’s always the one finding you-- have you ever needed to find him?

You want to be able to find Diluc as flawlessly as Diluc can do for you. You want to know, and you especially want Diluc to know that you will always be able to return to him no matter what. Succeeding in this self-given trial of yours will provide definitive proof whether or not you can. With that thought in mind as you float up the slopes of Dragonspine, you think there’s a lot more at stake after all.

You titter nervously when you find Albedo in his camp, and when he spots you, he waves you over as he prepares for the journey with you. “I told your companion to get a headstart,” he says to you. “I won’t know where he’s gone either, so it’s a double-blind experiment. Feel free to use any way you see fit to find him and I’ll follow you.”

You nod dutifully, and when he does nothing else but follow your movement with his eyes, you realize that those were the only instructions you were given. Find Diluc, you think to yourself. Should you start to conjure an image of him in your mind to guide you? That was easy enough to do: half-lidded red eyes that soften when he sees you, red hair you’ve dazed off in more than once, black coat he’s used to shield you from the weather despite your immunity to it, and black boots that are worn to the heel when he follows you.

You are only a few steps away from the camp when you feel a growing panic, for no matter how much you think of Diluc, you don’t feel anything telling you where to go.

When you guide Diluc, even if it’s an impromptu journey, you feel a pull to go somewhere. You’ve once thought it to be your whims but after finding so many other things on purpose and having that same familiar pull, you know that it isn’t just your curiosity guiding you. You conjure up his image, you think of how much you want to find him, and still-- nothing.

How are you going to find him now?

You follow those footsteps, with not much else to go on, and you hope with all your might that perhaps these are the only signs you need to find him. When you reach a snowstorm, your heart falls, only to see that the heat source midst of the snowstorm has been activated. In a place with newly fallen snow and no fireplace, you see a tree with the snow shaken off from its lower branches, and that's when you realize that these are clues that Diluc has left for you.

You look frantically around, following the most likely path he would have taken out, and are met with crossroads. You're tempted to choose a random road and stick with it, but your random choices and the instincts you have been using this entire time are not the same. If you could, you would grunt in frustration, but it comes out as a high-pitched squeal instead (that Albedo takes note of just in case). How were you supposed to-- and then you see footsteps clear as day around the bend of rocks and realize it's Diluc’s.

Does he know, you wonder, that you do not know how to find him? Or did he leave these signs regardless just to make sure you do?

Diluc wants you to find him-- and you find it hard to explain why that means so much to you.

You follow the footsteps, the snow, the branches, and the flames with growing anticipation to see that bright tuft of hair amidst the whitest snow you've ever seen. You're led into an icy opening where heat sources have been activated, and it's hard to contain your excitement when you notice that all of them are activated. You're so close to him; you can feel it.

You rush to the center, hoping to see Diluc-- only to see a gaping chasm where the ice broke, and your heart freezes over.

"Ruin guards," Albedo murmurs, taking note the same time you do that there are various irreparable ruin guards within the hole. If Albedo says anything, if anyone else shows up afterward, you do not notice. The only thing in your mind was the worst-case scenario: Diluc might be hurt, and you didn't know how to find him.

You jet off into the chasm, flying from corner to corner to find him. Every time you see a gleam of red, you desperately hope it is him, but it's just shards of scarlet quartz Diluc must have broken to keep himself warm. Follow it, you think, follow the trail-- quickly!

The path leads to a waterfall where enemies are littered on the ground, including an ice lawachurl right in the river's path. Diluc, you think, following the line of arrows up the snowy hill. You fly up and up and up and as the footsteps fade and you grow colder, you think chillingly that if you were cold, then--

What would you do if he got hurt? What would you do if you could never find him ever again?

No! You think, no, no! Your barely contained composure breaks again with the rising panic. You zip forward, searching for the nearest heat source and praying (to Barbatos, perhaps, or any other god out there that Diluc has yet to tell you-- that he promised to tell you about) that Diluc is there. In the face of your great love for Diluc and the helplessness that comes with it, you have never felt so lost.

Overlooking a tree, you spot an orange seelie-- a heat seelie!-- and speed to it where it slowly looks in your direction. Can you please, you begin desperately, help me find someone? He must have come here before. Red hair, black clothes, big sword? You spot another looking your way and you ask it the same thing. You attract another and you repeat yourself again.

Please, you tell them, I need to find him.

Slowly but steadily, they all look in one direction, and you are off at once. (You forget to say thank-you; you're normally better than that, but you hope the seelies can forgive you just this once.) You fly as fast as you can, begging whoever is listening that the seelies did not mistake someone else for Diluc. And when you see Diluc at the campsite, you finally can breathe again.

Unharmed, his head in a towel to dry off his wet hair, Diluc is fine. You can barely believe what you’re seeing as you numbly float to him, checking him from head to toe for any injuries you can perceive. You don't feel as though you're doing that well of a job though, considering the only thing running through your head that he was safe and what would you have done if he wasn't--

Before you reach him Diluc turns his head to you like clockwork, as if he always knows when you are here. (There are those red eyes again, you think, and wonder if his affection for you will ever run out.)

“Ah, there you are,” he says, almost as frantically as you felt finding him. “I was about to go look for you since you weren't with Albedo." He gives you a smile when you slowly approach him. "I was worried," he says, "I--" He freezes in the middle of his sentence, eyes widening before slowly softening with every passing moment watching you. “Hey,” he says tenderly, raising his hands to cup you close to him. “It’s okay. I’m fine; I’m here.”

If Diluc ever doubted how much you cared for him, he does not have to look any further than the tears that drop down your translucent body, disappearing before they fall off of you. You don’t understand how you can cry, considering what you are (and the lack of tear ducts), but you do anyways, ears drooping as all your worries, concerns, and relief manifest into tears.

I’m so glad you’re okay! Your trills and squeaks are nothing more than hiccups in-between tears. I’m sorry I couldn’t find you earlier!

And Diluc does his best to wipe away the droplets that come from where your eyes would be as he continues to soothe you through them. “You found me,” he says, voice warm like the hands he holds you in. You don't have the strength in you to tell him otherwise when he repeats it to you again and makes you believe it. “You found me.”

You spend the next half-hour or so with Sucrose who calms you down a great amount. Her genuine eagerness for alchemy combined with her shy, nervous demeanor is something that endears her to you quickly, especially when she is trying her best to make you feel better by rambling about her latest experiments.

With the worry for Diluc gone, you feel reaffirmed in your relationship with him. You are sad and will be for a while, that you do not have the talent to find Diluc whenever you can, but you are reassured by your determination to do so despite it.

Getting lost and being found again-- it seems as though that’s the cycle the two of you have started together.

“I apologize for causing you distress.” You perk up from your position above the alchemy table when Albedo walks back to you after a brief conversation with Diluc over the bubbling mechanisms on the table.

“Dragonspine is still an unpredictable terrain and I had not taken into consideration that there would be problems using this area as our testing ground,” Albedo says with a twinge of regret. You can understand him well enough to know that he truly did not intend for the day to be so emotional, so you squeak in response and fly in a loop. He looks relieved when you do, and you think for a brief moment that perhaps he isn’t so hard to read after all.

“Though the procedure was… unexpected, I hope you learned more about yourself as I have.” He waits as you eagerly nod in agreement, and you see him briefly hesitate. “...There’s a type of loneliness in being different. I’m sure you know this very well,” he says quietly as you float. “If you wish to learn more about what you are, feel free to visit any time. I will be happy to help.” The smile he gives you is partly fond as it is lonely, and you can only fly up to gently bump your head against his in response. “Until next time then,” he says with a tone of finality. “Perhaps when your companion isn’t so protective over you.” (Which is unlikely, Albedo thinks, but not impossible.)

Until next time, you say, watching as Albedo walks away into the snowy terrain. You spot Diluc, hands crossed as always as he leans against the darkened bark in a manner that is so reminiscent of the first time you found him. You feel oddly nostalgic as he watches you intently. Then, you do a somersault, and, going full circle, he smiles at you.

“Let’s go home,” he says to you, and you follow him, just as you did in the very beginning when you found him.

(If there is anything that the two of you could conclude at the end of this, it is the confirmed knowledge that the two of you would go till the ends of Teyvat to find each other again.)

[temp taglist]

@thetwinkims @loveyoutothestars @ninqat @winterptilopsis @nya-vivi @just-noelle

#diluc ragnvindr #diluc/reader #genshin impact diluc #genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader #genshin impact #genshin diluc #diluc #kaeya #albedo #klee #sucrose #kaeya alberich #mini seelie #this was supposed to be a one shot lol

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