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uridestiny · 6 months

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The Warrior of the Moon Chapter 7: Eyes on the horizon

Previous chapter:

https://www.tumblr.com/uridestiny/737998580694106112/the-warrior-of-the-moon-chapter-6-welcome-home?source=share

The next day, I accompanied Adrien to Gridania with a backpack on his back and he was not wearing his soldier uniform but rather simple clothes for traveling. He extended his hand towards me to hold him and I followed him.

The first thing we did was take an airship to Limsa Lominsa. Since from there we would take a direct boat to Sharlayan. He told me that under no circumstances should I be separated from him, because in a big city there were many possibilities that I would get lost among the people.

The ride on the airship was exciting. I have never felt the wind on my face in such a soft and refreshing way. I wanted to get closer to the edge to look at the landscape, but as soon as I tried, Adrien grabbed me by the waist to get up and warned me that, "If you get too close to the edge of the airship you could fall."

He asked me to stay seated until the end of the trip, because being so small I could easily fly away. At the thought of seeing myself flying out of the airship, I was very afraid thinking about the fall, so I didn't move again for the rest of the trip.

Upon arrival in Limsa Lominsa, Adrien spoke with several officers of Maelstrom and then were given two passes to take a ship to Sharlayan. Because my visit was so short I really remember little of what was in the new city. But the smell of salt and fish remained deeply engraved in my mind, as well as a faint distant smell of liquor bottles and polished wood.

When we went out to wait for our ship, Adrien took some sandwiches out of his backpack and gave me one.

¨I would have invited you to eat something long before we left Gridania, but we had to book our tickets to Sharlayan, these ships leave as soon as they appear... But that's because the inhabitants there are always on the move in search of knowledge.¨ Adrien paused as he bit into his sandwich. ¨It will be a long trip, and although we will have food on the ship, I don't know if you will feel dizzy traveling for several hours on the sea.¨

I took a bite of my sandwich too, I clearly remember the taste of the sandwich because it was the first time I felt close to Adrien; mayonnaise, eggs, lettuce and tomato, a simple but pleasant taste, just like Adrien is.

We were silent for a long time, even after finishing the sandwiches, I couldn't find words to say to him. So I focused my attention on the sea, the first time I had seen it was when I left the building where I worked for my uncle. The sea looks bright and blue, it was like seeing a huge lake that had no end.

¨Do you like the sea?¨ Adrien asked.

¨I don't know, it's the second time I've seen it.¨ I replied.

¨Ummm... Do you know that fish also live in the sea? ¨ It seemed like he was trying to make a conversation.

¨Yes, but I didn't imagine the sea looked like that. Mom showed me maps where the sea reaches all the continents, but because of where we lived there was no way to see it.¨

"There is more beyond what you can see on maps, not everything is there" Adrien said and now I turned to look at him.

¨The world remains a very enormous mystery, not everything has been discovered yet, there may even be lands that have not yet been discovered; there are people who undertake the journey to make new discoveries, maybe on the next map you buy you'll find a totally new island that wasn't there.¨

I remained silent.

¨Ugh, I sounded like my brother, he's a bookworm, he's very serious but also very kind, it's just hard for him to show it.¨ Then he seemed to remember another detail. ¨Oh, by the way, when you meet my brother, I hope you won't be surprised that we are very similar.¨

I cocked my head in confusion, but before I could ask a man shouted.

¨ALL BOARD TO GO TO SHARLAYAN!¨

¨Well that's our ship, let's go.¨ Adrien got up and extended his hand to me again to go with him, I took his hand and we walked together towards the ship.

I remember falling asleep shortly after we got on the ship, and I don't really remember how much time had passed; when I opened my eyes, Adrien was holding me by the shoulders with one of his hands protectively; on the ship there were many people of different races talking to each other, clearly to help pass the hours of travel.

Then I saw how Adrien's ears moved and then he released his grip on me to stretch his body.

¨I hope it won't be long before we get there because otherwise I'll die of boredom.¨ Adrien said.

"Don't die" I told him.

"No, don't get me wrong, I'm not really going to die, it's just, uh... How do I explain it?"

¨What cute brothers¨ I heard someone say. I looked up at an older woman who approached us.

Adrien tried to say that we weren't brothers, but the only thing that came out of his mouth was stammering, it seemed that in his mind didn't know how to put the situation and the relationship between him and me.

¨Are you hungry? I have cornbread with me.¨ And yes, just as she said, she showed a spongy cornbread, although several hours had passed and it was not hot, its smell and texture seemed to have been well preserved throughout the trip.

The woman smiled at my attention to the bread and cut a slice for me.

¨Thank you very much ma'am¨ Adrien said and I also whispered a thank you to the lady.

¨ What about you, young man?¨ The lady asked Adrien.

“I'm fine, thank you very much for your kindness.” He politely declined.

¨Very well then...¨ The lady put the bread away and before leaving she told us ¨It won't be long before we get to Sharlayan, something tells me that it will be in sight soon.¨

The lady walked away while waving goodbye, heading up the platform to go outside.

Carefully taste the cornbread, my mother used to prepare it, especially in the afternoon we used to eat it with a cup of sweet tea with honey. The taste made me feel nostalgic for those days I spent with her, I felt like my tears were about to overflow from my eyes.

“When you finish eating, would you like to go out and say hello to Sharlayan?”

Just as he said, after finishing my cornbread, we got up from our place, and walked outside to the upper platform, the wind was cold, but not unpleasant, the smell of salt water from the ocean stung my nose, and the sun was setting.

I looked around, looking for the island that Adrien talked so much about, but I could only see the blue mantle of the ocean, and when I looked down, how the ship crossed the waters with speed downwind.

Then I heard a familiar sound of a bird, a seagull above our heads, flying north and... There it was.

¨SHARLAYAN IN SIGHT!¨ A man shouted.

Just as Adrien said, it is a huge island, with a statue of the deity Thaliak next to the port where all ships were received, where the water from his vase spread over the vast ocean, my first impression I had was It seemed like he wanted to fill the ocean with more water than it already had. Although later they explained to me that this was not the case.

#ff14 #ffxiv #ff14 wol #ffxiv wol #final fantasy 14 #final fantasy xiv #ff14 writing #ff14 fanfic #ffxiv fanfiction #my ocs #my writing

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foxleycrow · 3 years

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Thranduil & Túrin playing together in Doriath, for @tolkiengenweek —when I realized they could have been kids in Doriath at the same time, I had to draw them together.

This one also comes with a short accompanying fic about their meeting:

To Wear an Elven Crown

Thranduil had longed to meet the Adan since he had heard the first tales of his arrival in Doriath. His wish had displaced most other longings in his heart. If he could speak to an Adan, he could practice his Mannish and ask him about so many things, like the life of his people and the world outside the Fence. Beleg Cúthalion had found the Adan lost in the woods, and then King Thingol had adopted him! Thranduil had never heard of anyone adopting an Adan, let alone the king himself. If he were now Thingol's son, did that mean he was an Elf, as well as a Man?

Thranduil had asked his father several times whether he could visit the Adan, but each time he was told the newcomer was too unwell. He had been sick and weak when he was discovered, and he was not yet strong enough to entertain company. This news sank him into a deep state of worry. The Edain could contract illnesses, and were mortal. What if this one became very sick, or even died! Of course, the healers of Doriath were the greatest in Middle-earth, but the Adan had come from dangerous lands far from the protection of Doriath, where anything might have befallen him. Thranduil had heard stories of strange fevers and chills that Edain could suffer from; what if the Elven healers did not know how to treat them?

"If he were to speak with someone his own age, Ada, he might feel better." The Adan was young, like himself. Not precisely the same age, since Edain aged so differently, but near enough in essence. He wondered what kind of games the Edain played. Maybe they had invented some no Elves had dreamed of…

"Do you believe so?" asked Oropher, raising an eyebrow. "An interesting perspective. I did not know you had become such an expert on the matter."

"I would feel better, if it were me." In defiance of his father's eyebrow, he added, "I asked Beleg to tell me everything he knows about the Edain."

"Oh, so you are an expert. My mistake." Oropher's hand settled on his head. Thranduil felt the warmth of his father's skin on his brow and blinked. "He has been through much, little Tuil," said Oropher. "We will not tax him any more than we need to."

After offering a gentle pat, Oropher withdrew his hand. Thranduil lay back, resting his head among the grasses. Thranduil did not expect his father to understand, for Oropher was very old. There were no children in King Thingol's house, and if they would not allow Thranduil to visit and talk to the Adan, then they would not have let any other children in to speak to him; that was obvious.

"I am an expert," Thranduil murmured, closing his eyes. Beleg had told him that the Edain could grow lonely and sad, like Elves, and that they too loved to dance and sing and tell tales. The Adan was named Túrin, and his father had been an Elf-friend. That meant he was an Elf-friend, too. If he was a friend, then he should be treated as one and given a warm welcome by everyone in Menegroth. Surely that would make him feel better than being kept away from others.

"Are you falling asleep?" Oropher asked. "I'll take you back home."

He shook his head stubbornly, the blades of grass making themselves felt on his cheeks and chin. Narrow, but not quite sharp. They did not hurt, but he sensed each one keenly. "No, I want to nap out here in the sun." They were well behind the Fence and close to Menegroth, so these woods were safe and guarded. He could play or explore or rest among the trees whenever he liked, because Queen Melian kept them all from harm.

He heard Oropher's soft laughter and felt his father's hand settle on his head again briefly. Then he was only aware of the warm sun heating his skin and the faintly prickly touch of the grass carpeting the clearing. Soon, he was not aware of the clearing either, lost in a dream, wandering far from the waking world. He dreamed he was journeying through a dark, withered wood, bristling with dead branches. The sky was veiled with dense, gray clouds. There was an unnatural air to them, as if storm clouds had been thickened with smoke.

There was a cold wind at his back, and he was all alone. The dead trees were so tall, they made him feel smaller. He heard something moving behind him, breaking branches and rustling through shriveled leaves. An animal? Or something worse? He did not know, and he did not want to turn to look, so he ran. He ran until he felt he had been always running, yet no matter how quick his steps, the noises behind him persisted, never any closer, but never farther away.

Thranduil woke with a gasp. He sat up and scanned the clearing. It was as green and tranquil as it had been when he fell asleep. He heard the low buzz of insect song and the faint voices of the trees. Father was gone. He saw no sign of anyone nearby, although that was not unusual. The sun's light was starting to fade from the sky. It was that between-time when patches of sunlight were still scattered across the forest floor, while the first stars appeared in the purpling twilight above. Thranduil rose to his feet. He was a little hungry, but he was well-rested, and he wasn't ready to return home. He would rather play, until Father came to fetch him. He left the clearing, slipping into the undergrowth as soundlessly as possible.

One of his favorite games was Marchwarden. It was more fun to play with someone else, but it was a game he could also play alone, simply by moving as quickly and quietly as possible, so that no enemies could see or hear him—exactly like a Marchwarden. He was tracking. Not hunting, but searching for any sign of danger, to keep Doriath safe. He studied whatever tracks he came across, or other signs of passage, such as broken twigs or bent grasses, trying to judge who or what had come the same way, and how long ago. He could wander like this for hours, happily, alone.

He was not entirely happy. He was more uneasy as he searched for signs in the grass, because of his dream. Within the dead wood, he had felt like he would never be allowed to rest, racing with an enemy eternally at his back. Dreams always meant something, but not always what you thought they meant. It took a wise Elf to read dreams. He could have asked his father about it, and maybe he would later. Now, he stalked through the dense growth, crouching low so his pale hair couldn't be seen.

When he heard low and distant voices, Thranduil was still lost in his game, so he crouched lower, listening intently as he crept closer. He slowed his breathing, his heartbeat, hiding as he'd been taught.

"—where he could have gone—?"

"We will find him, and soon. There's only so far...."

"I hadn't thought he was strong enough. I would never have guessed he'd be so quick."

"You shouldn't underestimate—"

The speakers moved away, out of the range of his hearing. Those were two of Thingol's guards. Could they have been talking about the Adan? It was possible, and not only because Thranduil thought of the Adan so often. Who else would they have thought wasn't strong enough? If the Adan was lost, he might grow sicker. Imagine how upset King Thingol would be. If Thranduil was a Marchwarden, then he had a duty to do whatever he could to protect everyone in Doriath: including any Edain. He moved on again, more quickly and with greater purpose.

He studied the forest, down to the least leaf, and he listened to the birds singing, the faint breeze moving through the branches. He listened for telltale noises, or telltale silences. He wondered whether the Adan had had a nightmare, like he had. Maybe that was why he had run off. It must have been hard for him to leave his home behind, especially because of the war: that distant, dark shadow hanging over everything, even the forests of Doriath.

Where would an Adan go? Possibly into the undergrowth, where he was. A place where someone small would hide. Thranduil knew of many secret spaces ideal for concealing himself, but few of them were nearby, close to where the guards were hunting. A slight Adan would leave faint footprints. Like Thranduil, he would have been trained in how to hide, if he were in danger. Thranduil was sure that the great trackers of Doriath could find anyone, but maybe Túrin would be difficult to find, more difficult than they expected.

Thranduil headed toward the Dome—it was a vast, curving structure of twisted woody shrubs, crowned with flowering vines. It was bright enough to draw the eye of a stranger to these woods, and dense enough to provide ample cover and shelter. Thranduil often crawled in there to play, because it was like a fortress. He could pretend he ruled there, lord of the branches and leaves and blossoms.

Thranduil found a faint indentation that might have been left by someone running this way. Shortly after that, he spied a tiny tuft of thread, caught on a hooked thorn. It was bright blue in color, so it stood out more than it might have otherwise. Could he have been correct in thinking the Adan might have been come this way? He had been guessing, but maybe he really was a Marchwarden. He would have to tell Beleg, if he succeeded in his hunt.

Emboldened by the thought that he might be better at tracking than Thingol's own guard, Thranduil sank to his knees and crawled into one of the narrow passageways that led into the Dome. With twisting branches on either side of him, and a ceiling of ivy above, no one outside would be able to see him, once he had travelled the length of a few paces. There were no wider ways in, the growth here was so dense. Anyone who was much larger than Thranduil would have had to cut their way through. Among the branches, Thranduil caught sight of another slight scrap of blue thread. The branches here loved to tug on clothing.

Encouraged, Thranduil moved faster, until he arrived at a fall of dense vines, pushed through them, and found himself confronted by a pair of dark, shining eyes, staring at him. The Adan gave a start, but did not run. It was hard to travel quickly within the Dome, especially if one didn't know it as well as Thranduil did. Thranduil had half-suspected he was imagining his grand success in tracking, so he sat, blinked and stared back at his quarry, startled and bewildered and pleased.

The Adan was seated with his knees drawn up toward his chest. He was very thin, the thinnest child Thranduil had ever seen. His narrow face made his eyes look bigger. Here, he was walled off from the world—or most of it. He looked a great deal like an Elf, although Thranduil could tell he was different as well. It was hard to say exactly why; he simply felt different, like the night air felt different from the air of day, or the atmosphere before a storm as opposed to in the dry season: different in so many various slight ways, some of which were easier to describe than others.

Although Thranduil had longed for their meeting with joy, he felt unexpectedly solemn, now that it was taking place. "Hello," he ventured, in Sindarin. "I'm Thranduil, Son of Oropher."

The Adan blinked, and for a moment, Thranduil wasn't sure if he would—or could—reply, but at last he answered softly, "I'm Túrin, Son of Húrin."

"Why are you out here?" Thranduil asked. He didn't wish to sound accusatory, so he added, "Did you want to play?"

Túrin looked away, into the shadows between the leaves. "I wanted to be by myself."

Thranduil nodded, as this was perfectly understandable. "I like to be by myself, too."

Túrin's gaze shifted back to Thranduil. He seemed relieved to hear this, exhaling.

"Can I stay, though?" Thranduil asked. "Now that I'm here."

"You can stay," Túrin said.

Thranduil knew that Thingol and all his guards and attendants and everyone must be nervous, but he didn't think a little while longer would do any harm, especially not when Túrin must have run here for a reason. Being surrounded by everyone at court could be overwhelming. Thranduil had never been far away from home and everyone he knew before, but it must be hard. It would be better not to rush him. He would let Túrin rest for a little while, and then he would take him to Thingol—just as Beleg had, before.

"I can show you something," he offered.

After another hesitation, Túrin nodded.

"Follow me," said Thranduil. He crawled ahead, between the branches, into the gloom. The last of the day's slight, slipping in through the leaves and vines above, made soft, pale shifting shapes on their hands and on the ground beneath. After a long way, the structure of the dome opened up onto a green glade, surrounded by dense undergrowth on all sides. No one would walk here casually, and if he and Túrin didn't stand up, no one would be able to see them from outside the enclosure. The glade was also hidden, but there was more room to stretch out, and even lie down. It was a fine place for a nap, with soft earth and open sky above. Clusters of flowers grew in profusion, along with tufts of dense grass. Thranduil and Túrin admired their new hiding place in silence, while birds sang in the trees overhead. It was not yet true night, only early twilight. The birds would keep singing a little longer.

"I come here sometimes when I want to be alone," Thranduil said. In the past days and weeks, he had formulated an ever-growing list of questions he would like to ask the Adan, but he did not ask a single one of them now.

Túrin nodded again, lowering his gaze. He reached down and ran his fingers through the grass. There were shadows beneath his eyes, and he did not smile.

"Everyone's looking for you," said Thranduil. "They must be worried."

"I didn't mean to make anyone worry. They shouldn't worry. I don't know why I—" He broke off, closing his eyes.

"It's all right. No one will be angry with you," Thranduil reassured him quickly, moved by Túrin's pained expression. "I'm not angry. I've been waiting to meet you. I've never met an Adan before."

Túrin's eyes reopened, slowly. "Never?"

Thranduil inclined his head in confirmation. "Never."

"I hadn't really met Elves before," said Túrin.

"But now you have. You've met Beleg, and King Thingol, and me. Everyone's happy you're here, that's why they're worried. But we don't have to go back right away. We can wait until you feel better." He cast about the glade, looking for something else he could show the Adan, to cheer him. Along with the two of them, the glade was bursting with life, all the usual green and growing things, rising from the earth and insisting on themselves… "Here—I'll make you something."

"Make me what—?"

"Look." Thranduil's gaze went to a stand of nearby pale purple flowers. These particular blossoms were edible and often harvested. It would do no harm to take a few, especially at this time of year. Quickly, he plucked a few of them, leaving a length of green stem on each. Once he had gathered enough, he wove them together. Flowers and grasses were easy to weave, especially into a circle. When they were joined, he tapped them with his fingers. He could feel the energy moving through the blooms and stems. He closed his eyes briefly, concentrating on that living force, pressing the separate strands of it into one: forging it into a single, singing ring and willing the flowers—live, preserve. They were no longer separate blooms; they had become a single entity. Their petals, which had been in the first stage of wilting, straightened with pride, made fresh and new. It was such a simple thing to do, yet Túrin was wide-eyed and rapt, staring at his hands as if he had performed a wonder. "A crown for you, Prince Túrin." Thranduil reached out and settled the circlet of blooms on Túrin's head.

Finally, Túrin smiled at him. Thranduil smiled back.

They did not stay long, alone in that green glade together, hidden by a conspiracy of leaves and vines and branches. They were never meant to stay long. The world outside was waiting for them to emerge. While the sun receded and the stars began to show themselves—one by one at first, then all at once, like a rain of jewels scattering across the sky—they played and laughed for a few moments.

As Thranduil predicted, when they returned to Menegroth, Túrin did not receive a single scolding. Thingol wrapped him in a fierce embrace. Beleg was as impressed by Thranduil's skills as Thranduil had hoped. He praised Thranduil for his skill in tracking, and said he could visit Túrin whenever he wanted. Eventually, he was able to ask Túrin every question on his extensive list.

Many long years later, tragedy faded into myth for so many, but not for those who were there. Thranduil rarely listened to the sad songs that touched on the subject of Túrin Turambar, but when a certain mood was on him, he would ask the harpers to play one of the few he approved of. Thranduil had grown very old. Seated on his throne, wearing his own heavy crown, he would lean back and remember the smile of a young boy with his dark hair full of flowers.

#thranduil #turin turambar #thranduil art #thranduil fic #tolkiengenweek #silmarillion #silmarillion art #silmarillion fic #tolkien #tolkien art #tolkien fic #oropher #silm fic #silm art #silm

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yostresswritinggirl · 3 years

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Seers' Miscellany

Prologue: Origins of the first bloom

A circular fic for the Dainsleif mini-series I'll be working on. This will be the introduction; of the evanescent bough keeper of the new world. "Observers of the North do not usually wind up in personal business, but when they do, in their wake comes great shifting of the plates of the timelines." Logs of the stag and the delicate flower.

Pairings -> Dainsleif x Reader; Reader is NOT Traveler

Word Count -> 1579

Themes -> Pretty sad, but also fluffy

Chapters -> 1

Warnings -> Story progression takes a while, oh dear why am I doing this now, I'm so busy

"500 mora; and three answered questions."

He's not really sure what lead him to indulge the requests of a simple adventurer when he made his rounds around the city of freedom. Was it the simple need for currency? It couldn't be, he was better off with other commissions that Katheryne could offer.

Was it the desperation in your voice and eyes? You looked at him like a prophet, your only salvation, and perhaps in this context that may be true. You were but a lone adventurer and the way your weight leans heavier on one foot shows your struggle to those who have keen eyes like him, no other person wished to indulge your needs and you were getting desperate.

Or was it the three questions? Dainsleif have yet to hear such contractual obligations before, but it felt as tho it was the most important part of the agreement he took the moment you pleaded with that soft voice. Humble yet resolved, not letting him walk away without at least considering it once.

And so he found himself traversing the land of the wolves through a dangerous path, where you skip ahead with a gait of happiness, bubbly and energetic enough to surpass even his long legs. You hummed without consideration at the glee of finally having a companion, and he did not mind it at the slightest despite the attention it may bring upon your little party.

"First question," Dainsleif fleeted his gaze away from the horizon to turn to you whom slowed your pace to match his, head looking over your shoulder with a wide grin. "How are you?" So innocent.

He huffs in amusement, the most emotion you've seen of him. "You don't need to waste a contract question for such a simple question, you know," he stands behind you as you crouch down on a shrubbery filled with Wolfhooks. Your main objective for visiting Wolvendom in the first place.

You assured him that you meant your question in every way possible as your hands carefully pick at the herbs, wary of the thorns and the intrusive prickly leaves. Despite your attention turned away from him he knows you await his answer. Dainsleif hums to himself and stops—

How is he? What does he truly feel in this moment of his time?

A simple question yet risked for one of the three inquiries agreed upon definitely holds a deeper meaning. His train of spiraling thoughts halts upon the sound of otherwordly grunts and chants as he turns away from your still busy form (you seem very focused on your foraging) to find three Hilichurls approaching with ill intent.

Dainsleif squints at the impending threat before shooting a final glance to make sure you weren't looking. His arm glows blue as he raises it, power in the form of blue swirling mist surges around him - how are you? The feeling brings him back to vague memories of his past, of the energy rising through him at his expeditions with an old companion, of the thrill spent upon encountering the unexpected. Such thoughts are not vivid but the familiarity of what he is experiencing right now was enough for him.

Though he was sure that there were no camps before they went through this route.

"You asked me how I am," he spoke when you finally turned from the bush with an armful of Wolfhooks on your arsenal, confusion on your face at the sight of downed Hilichurls and the side profile of the bough keeper.

His cerulean eyes were fixated at his left hand that he repeatedly closes and opens for a few seconds, before he fully turns to you (your eyes did not miss the blue glow from underneath his cape, where his right arm should be) with a wisp of a smile, "I feel alive right now."

You reciprocated the gesture with a wide grin, "I'm glad to hear that!"

A majority of the wolfhooks gathered where given to the little Botanist Chloris, the seller of flowers, who looked relieved and ecstatic upon your arrival. Something Dainsleif took great notice of. Carefully handing over the berries and some which you had to pluck singularly from your companion's flowy cape, the little girl gave you her Valberries in exchange.

It was sweet and familiar, something Dainsleif took note as he accepted your offer of the fruit despite his none need for sustenance.

Your little chewing sounded through as you two settled on the humble camp you managed to setup with your supply for a single individual. There was a little hole in the middle for a campfire Dainsleif had made the effort to prepare knowing the coldness the night will bring soon enough, and your fragile form is not something he wishes to bargain now. Is that really the reason? Perhaps in the back of his mind, he was really just working on forgotten routines.

"Second question," his footstep at the edge of the camp halts as he turns once again, where you sat on the mat as tonight's bedding, hands flicking to remove the stray juices of the berries. He stood still in wait before he goes back to his mini mission of getting fire wood.

"Go on," he urged when you stood a minute longer in silence.

"Do you like traveling, Dain?" Easy enough, he simply said yes and left when you ended the conversation with a nod.

When he came back with the wood and tinder bundle for easy spreading, out of the corner of his eye he watched your hands work on the mortal and pestle as you grinded the remaining wolfhooks on your person. The fire started the moment he was done setting up the kindling and your face filled with admiration at the sudden and immediate spark, praising him for his quick work.

Dainsleif is both talkative and not, and at times he finds himself rambling to the wind. The moments of the night passed without much details until he found himself talking about his past adventures with his old companion, of the world they've seen together and the now estranged relationship between them.

His responses were sometimes cryptic unintentionally, and he apologizes when there are things about it that he couldn't answer simply because he could not remember. When silence struck after he finished his tales and meal, the beautiful spike in his eyes found yours gleaming despite the drowsiness pulling at your whole feature.

"I'm glad you're very fond of traveling. If not, I wouldn't have met you," and he wouldn't have taken the commission. Dainsleif's eyes flashed in recognition, finally understanding the meaning behind your second question. Somehow this little commission deal turned into a silent back and forth quip of him understanding past your simple inquiries.

Like a little game he muses on with his curious mind.

That night you rested with the extra comfort of his eccentric cape, something you needed more than him as he gazes over the clear night sky. His eyes silently traced the galaxy of stars while the sound of your whispered breathing accompanies his sleepless night.

The last question and that last of your very quick expedition came the next day at the cliffside overlooking the lair sealed by winds.

Your fingers were dusted by the violet paste of grinded wolfhooks long consumed the night prior, stained fingers gripping the thin and fragile stem of the yellow dandelion in its grasp. It was his great observation that let him realize the disaster that happened now but even his foresight could not prepare him for what has to come.

"Third question," his head snapped down to watch your ethereal face don a calm smile, the sun's setting light kissing your cheeks in the right angle that matched that of the clean clouds above. Your eyes silently questioned his unfocused gaze but he only shook his head.

Don't worry about it. "I know this last question would end the commission with you," your voice trembled in both fear and fatigue but Dainsleif didn't force you to preserve your strength like he should. "But I wanted to ask, maybe tomorrow again,

do you want to be my traveling companion?"

The hand that clutched the Dandelion found it way to the side of his mask, the petals brushing against his eyelids as he looks down at you with an eye. A ghost of a smile lingers on his lips as he leans on your hand.

"It would be my pleasure."

Life momentarily flashed over your orbs before you let out a sharp exhale and a breathless, joyous laughter. Relief overtook the tension that laid on your shoulders, and your hand would have dropped to the ground immediately if he had not gripped it on the last second.

"That sounds good. I've always wanted to travel the world," he pulls the cape closer around your form as your eyelids droop to a close. And he witness another breathe, "It was supposed to be today, but I feel really tired today, I'll rest early too if that's okay."

He rose from the ground with you in his arms, "I'll be here."

"Mmm thank you... good... night."

"Good night, little dandelion."

And perhaps that distant memory from faraway had urged him to invite and indulge, when he saw the same spark of intrigue and desperation, of the warmth of carefree days in front of him.

"But I will require advance payment,

500 Mora, and three answered questions."

Dainsleif SUPREMACY MWAHAHAHAHAH

@genshin-idiot : here's your Dainsleif content

@moaa @dandelion-dreams @witchsungie @lehra @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @cala-ran @wind-wheel @lilydewi22 @yellowflowre @traveler-lumine @nonniechan

#genshin impact x reader #Dainsleif x Reader #Genshin impact #Dainsleif #genshin impact imagines #exile.goblet #exile.flower #exile.pocketwatch #gender neutral #art by @cwilock

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hum-my-name · 3 years

Text

Within and Without

Written for @whataboutthebard!!

Title: Within and Without

Prompt: Voyeurism

Pairing: Geralt/Jaskier

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: None

Also available on AO3! Please leave a comment or kudos, there if you have the time!

Crashes of silver against a naturally armored body. Fire traveling across dirt, catching at wriggling legs but never reaching the intended target. The beast disappearing beneath the ground— emerging too close, too sudden.

The bitter taste of swallow down the back of his throat, followed by the sweeter burst of cat as the giant centipede leads him farther into the trees. His body stings with each movement as though being branded, muscles twitching against the toxins— he’d had thunderbolt and petri’s philter before approaching the site of the attacks, and they’ve barely worn off. Too many potions, too soon.

But there’s only one centipede left from the bunch, and he’ll be damned if he’s struck down by a bug tonight.

At last, a burst of igni catches the monster between its mandibles, stopping its spew of acid with a small explosion and providing enough distraction for Geralt to bury his blade in its underside. Geralt rolls out of the way, avoiding the writhing body as it collapses beside him. He remains kneeled, watching the life drain from the bug. His mind ticks through Vesemir’s lessons, the alchemy ingredients he should collect and store before they rot in their own toxicity.

His hands, though, tremble against his knees. He still tastes potions on his tongue and teeth and gums and cheeks.

Too many potions. Too soon.

He stands slowly, wincing as even the small action overwhelms his senses. It’s a nasty side effect, heightening his senses until the slightest breeze through the grass could make him vomit, and it’s been a while since he’s been so stupid. Dirt crunches beneath his boots as he walks, the sound aching against his head.

Still— one foot after the other. He breathes deeply through his nose, hoping to ignore the taste of dead centipede stuck in the air.

As he inhales, though, another scent hits him in the guts.

Jaskier

Geralt stumbles to a stop, nearly dropping to his knees once more as the distant tones of plum and wine drift across the wind. Of course, he knows Jaskier is near, knows that he left him safely at camp— it’s a warm night, after all, and Jaskier refused to watch the centipede fight after the last one ripped his doublet— and Jaskier likes to compose when Geralt’s gone, likes to practice and hum and talk to Roach but—

But Geralt shuts his eyes and breathes in again. His hands fold into fists.

Sweat and the sound of Jaskier’s panting breaths, small whining and whimpering beneath each gasp. The smell of precum and the vial of Jaskier’s favorite oil.

Potions don’t let Geralt view so far into the night but, when he opens his eyes, he imagines he can see the scene before him— Jaskier spread across the lush Toussaint grasses, cheeks flushed and hair a mess as he reaches between his legs to touch and feel, his voice wrapping around Geralt’s name in that way it does when it’s Geralt above him, touching and feeling like he owns what his fingers find.

“Jaskier,” Geralt growls. With the sting from his potions still in his throat, it sounds more animalistic than he means.

Geralt’s body pulls towards Jaskier’s sound and scent, lust hanging in the air like a crumb trail for Geralt to follow. The world and its horrors of too much too much too much weaken until it’s only Jaskier, only a bard and the soft sounds he makes in the dark. Geralt’s hands twist at his sides as though they can feel Jaskier from here— and, with witcher potions in his system, who’s to say he can’t? Maybe the breeze scraping over his palms like a cat’s rough tongue is the same wind that brushed through Jaskier’s fingers as he undid the fastenings of his trousers. Maybe the subtle taste of dirt in the air comes from the dust that lifts from the camp as Jaskier twists against the ground.

Geralt’s breath trips hazardously into his throat at the thought, nearly stopping as his senses, once again, expand to include everything. The birds crying on the other side of the forest, the starlight burning against his eyes.

Above all, he feels Jaskier the most— breathing painlessly doesn’t seem too important, then, when it’s still Jaskier he’s sensing.

<><><> <><><> <><><>

Geralt arrives at camp a few moments later— a handful of moments but the potions make it hard to tell time, make it hard to say if he’s been walking for days or seconds. All he knows is that he followed Jaskier here.

And all he knows is that he found him as expected, nakedly tossed upon the ground with his cock in his hand.

Jaskier doesn’t move when he spots Geralt, though a slow flush deepens across his chest and cheeks. This close, standing on the edge of their camp, Geralt picks through the floral soaps and perfumes always clinging to Jaskier’s skin, breathing heavily until these, too, become nothing more than distractions to cast aside. Geralt’s chest grows tight as he locates Jaskier beneath them, his arousal and his pretty plum-wine smell.

He’s never been so near to Jaskier like this, body thrumming with potions that make everything feel imminent and bigger. Like this, he can see Jaskier’s pulse jumping in his throat. He can see each bead of sweat stretching across his skin like a caress. Geralt lets himself stare— if he looks away, he’ll be faced with a world that’s still too fucking much.

And, he thinks, if he looks away, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever have the chance to see Jaskier like this again— so vivid and surreal, like a painting whose colors have shifted into reality.

A quiet whisper of his name and the brush of the bedroll against the grass jars Geralt from his thoughts. Jaskier sits, shifting onto his knees. As Jaskier moves, though, the air around him changes, the very threads of the world twisting and tightening, rearranging around the blurry shape of Jaskier as Geralt stutters over a breath. He’s torn between wanting Jaskier pressed against him, breathing him in until there’s nothing left, or simply keeping him in place— keeping him still and hard, a pretty thing for Geralt to look at until anything else becomes bearable again. His head hurts and he doesn’t know what he’ll say if Jaskier reaches for him, if the pain of his touch is worth the pleasure of knowing it's Jaskier touching him.

But Jaskier, somehow, keeps quiet. His eyes study Geralt’s face— and Geralt knows he sees black eyes, dark veins, pale skin and tremors in each breath. Jaskier’s own inhale slides towards an understanding sound— and, even that, Jaskier tries to keep quiet.

The realization of Jaskier’s realization causes affection to curl warmly against Geralt’s skin— an affection that slips into arousal when Jaskier wraps a hand around his cock again.

“I know the world’s a lot right now,” Jaskier whispers— without witcher hearing, there’d be no way for Geralt to know he’s spoken. “So just focus on me until it all wears off.”

Geralt feels Jaskier’s voice as it travels through the air, the whispers like hands against his skin that bring him to his knees, mimicking Jaskier's position with his legs spread in an obscene V. He leans forward as Jaskier leans back, the bard stroking himself with gentle flicks of his wrist. Geralt's cock twitches in his pants but he makes no move to touch, knowing how the sensation would only ache as the potions make him sensitive to everything— everything, including the way Jaskier’s breath shudders out from between his lips, the taste of berries and sugar twisting through the air and onto Geralt’s tongue. Gods, he can taste Jaskier’s breath.

Geralt’s gasp hitches in time with Jaskier’s as nimble fingers pinch the head of Jaskier’s cock. Jaskier runs his thumb across the slit, gathering a drop of precum before circling up and down his length. Something between a whimper and moan echoes in the night, and Geralt doesn’t know which of them the sound belongs to. His eyes stray from Jaskier’s face to his hands, unsure of where to stick, unsure of what the prettier sight is. Jaskier makes the decision for him, blue eyes catching Geralt’s with a hot light within them— a gaze that burns into Geralt’s very core before guiding him down.

“Slowly,” Jaskier breathes. “Don’t rush yourself. I want you to see everything.”

Does Jaskier think he doesn’t? That he doesn’t see the way his cock twitches in his hand, or feel how his voice rasps against his throat? He furrows his brows and tries to form words to explain what he sees, what he knows— but then Jaskier bites his lip and raises his other hand to rub at his nipples, and Geralt only groans.

Jaskier’s arousal spikes as he circles a thumb across a nipple before pinching the pink nub, hips jerking even as his hand stills around his cock— teasing himself, torturing himself, face collapsing into nothing but desperation and need. He begs softly with each breath— no words, only small sounds that rock through Geralt’s very being, sounds that Geralt feels inside and around him—

Geralt doesn't forget the world-- it's just that world is simply Jaskier.

Jaskier’s body tenses and Geralt can see how much he wants to let go, how hungry he is for his release— though, perhaps, it’s more than seeing. In this moment, with all his senses as intensified as they can be, he and Jaskier feel like one and the same. Jaskier’s lust and need wrap around Geralt’s throat, choking those same wanting sounds out of him, scratching down his chest and back like Jaskier’s nails when they fuck. His hips move with the same aborted thrusts that Jaskier’s fighting so hard to keep back, building his climax with his eyes always on Geralt’s face.

I want you to see everything , Jaskier had said— and Geralt wonders, for a moment, if Jaskier knew that he's always everything to Geralt

“Geralt,” Jaskier gasps, back arching as he finally starts to stroke himself again— no pattern or rhythm, nothing more than a chase for the pleasure he’s denied himself.

“I can feel you,” Geralt finally says, feeling disconnected from his own voice. The world spins in colors that can’t exist, colors of Jaskier’s breaths and desires, the shades of every sense Jaskier fills.

Jaskier gasps as though he's used the last of his words on Geralt's name, as though nothing else matters more than the senseless and desperate sounds he makes. Geralt's voice growls and Jaskier shudders as though he, too, can feel things he shouldn't.

“It’s like—” Like Jaskier’s touching him, like Jaskier’s beside him, like Jaskier’s controlling each of Geralt’s senses. “Like you’re within me and around me. Even as far as you are, you're still right next to me.”

Geralt drags his gaze back to Jaskier’s eyes— he doesn’t need to see Jaskier’s cock to know how close he is to coming; he can sense it in the way Jaskier’s whimpers shape the space around him them, carving through Geralt's skin like a wound aiming for his core. He feels Jaskier’s gaze upon him as his hips jerk against that phantom touch, but all Geralt does is spread his knees further apart, incapable of hiding from Jaskier when their mutual desire has trapped them here together, some almost tangible thing that separates them from whatever is left of the world.

Jaskier’s orgasm hits them both at once— their voices colliding until it’s just one sound, one cry, one release as the scent of their climaxes fills the air.

For a moment, Geralt doesn’t move, doubled over as his cum absorbs into his trousers. He watches Jaskier, fascinated by the softening cock in his hand. The orgasm helped with the potion's effects but he can still see the smaller details, can still sense Jaskier’s feelings as strongly as though they’re his own. He shuts his eyes and breathes deeply, collecting air in his lungs before letting it out in a huff.

When he feels like he can move again, he shifts closer on his knees, half-crawling until he sits before Jaskier. Jaskier blinks at him, eyes glimmering from the satisfaction of his release— but, then, he smiles. Tiredly, lazily— fondly.

Geralt leans into him, all potion pain and toxicity forgotten as he takes Jaskier in his hands and pulls him into a tender kiss. It’s not long and it’s not much, but it sends sparks up and down Geralt’s skin in a way magic and potions never could.

Jaskier still smiles when they pull apart, a hand resting against Geralt’s chest.

“It wasn’t too much, was it?” He asks, eyes checking over Geralt’s face.

Geralt hums softly at the slight tone of concern in Jaskier’s voice. The last of the side effects fade away, bringing the world back into a manageable state. He rests his hand over Jaskier’s wrist— even without the potions, he can feel Jaskier’s pulse against his touch. Jaskier’s fingers— not quite nervous but never still— tap against his armor as though finding the right chords on his lute, trailing down until they rest against Geralt’s thigh. Jaskier drops his gaze only to bring it back up when Geralt leans forward to rest their foreheads together, tired from the hunt and the potions and his own messy orgasm.

“Perfect,” he says, meaning it as more than an answer to Jaskier’s question.

Geralt smiles when Jaskier’s hand twitches against his thigh, settling with a soft breath that brushes Geralt’s lips. He’s close enough he can still taste what lingers there but it’s not like it was before, not all encapsulating and demanding.

Instead, it’s just nice.

Just right.

Just enough for Geralt to press his lips to Jaskier’s again, the two leaning into each other— until they once again feel as though they’re one and the same.

#watb #what about the bard #fic #my writing #geraskier #geralt #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #smut #the witcher #be on the lookout for more fics from me for this event!

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madamewriterofwrongs · 3 years

Note

my sweet darling - how about an armed forces 911 AU? Maybe Eddie meets Navy Seal Buckley overseas? Maybe they meet back stateside at the VA?

You, my darling, always send me such fun and interesting prompts. I promise I didn’t forget.

Ooh, okay. Let’s see...

Prompt Me with AUs

Delta X-Ray (I am Sinking)

Read on Ao3

Eddie first sees him as he’s getting off the plane in Washington. He’s going to receive a medal. Apparently his work in Bagram made him a hero and not a broken, shell of a man. Who knew. And really, it’s just a glance because he has other things to worry about besides a Navy man getting dressed down by his captain. He doesn’t need to hear what’s being said to know that’s exactly what’s happening. He’s seen that look too many times, felt the hot breath of his superior as they spat harsh words meant to ‘toughen him up’.

As he passes the sailor, he hears something to the effect of “if it happens again, you will be dismissed.” And Eddie wonders how many times this particular man has received this exact lecture. It doesn’t really matter, anyways. He just wants to get his medal, shake a few hands of politicians who think they had anything to do with his ‘accomplishment’ and go home to his wife and child – ex-wife, he reminds himself. Shannon had the papers shipped to Afghanistan. Couldn’t get away fast enough, his mind bitterly supplied. All he would have at the end of the day was his son, and a medal to replace the wedding band he’d worn since he was 19.

Before he knows it, he’s standing on a small stage, a million lights flashing in his eyes as cameras and stage lights practically blind him. His shoulder aches – out of the sling for the afternoon so he can at least look more put together than he feels – and he’s dizzy from the attention. That’s his excuse for why he doesn’t recognize the man standing beside him.

“Seaman Petty Officer First Class Evan Buckley.” A blond man steps forward and Eddie catches himself staring at the dress whites and stone expression for longer than is strictly necessary. He seems a far cry from the officer being scolded less than an hour ago, but it is definitely him. And he was standing on stage beside Eddie, about to receive a medal of his own.

“For distinguishing oneself by heroism not involving actual conflict with an enemy of the United States, Petty Officer Buckley is awarded the Navy and Marine Corps Medal.”

As he watches the stripes being pined on the officer’s lapel, he lets himself wonder what crime the man could have committed to be dressed down and rewarded in the same afternoon.

He’s so curious, in fact, that he nearly misses his own name amongst the titles thrown around.

“Staff Sergeant Edmundo Diaz.” He steps forward, holding his breath until the entire ordeal is finally finished. “For gallantry in action against an enemy of the United States, Staff Sergeant Diaz is awarded the Silver Star.” The medal is heavier than he anticipated, but he supposes that makes sense. It is quite a burden he’ll be carrying around, and now he has a gold star to go with it – he wants to chuckle at the irony of his ‘Silver Star’ actually presenting as a golden one.

It seems everything about his life is a life.

There were a lot of reasons Eddie hated attending events like this: The politics, the bravado, the crowds of people ‘thanking him for his service’. Mostly, though: he never knows anyone. Sure, he can charm a senator or two for a few minutes, swap stories with other officers from other divisions about where they were and what they saw. But those are fleeting relationships, meant to get him through the day. He’ll go back to his hotel room at the end of the night with no more friends than when he’d stepped off the plane in this awful, awful town. Eddie is tired of ‘schmoozing’. With any luck, today will be the last time he has to tell the governor’s wife how lovely she looks in her dress.

That’s when he spots the man sitting at the edge of the bar like he’s trying to hide from the world, and he decides to make his way over.

“Do you mind if I join you?” He asks, even as he sits down.

The other man’s eyes light with recognition – and damn, are they as blue as the sea. “Not at all. Diaz, right?”

“Eddie.” He supplies, raising a finger to the bartender to snag his attention. If he is going to make it to the end of the evening, he’s going to need one, good drink. “And you’re Buckley.”

“Actually, it’s Evan but you can call me ‘Buck’.” His amusement must be evident because his new drinking buddy supplies the answer. “There are a surprising amount of ‘Evan’s in the Navy.”

It had never occurred to him to check how many ‘Eddie’s were in his squadron. Maybe he should ask his CO if that’s why he always called him by his full first name.

“Congratulations, by the way.” Buck looks somewhat nervous even as the words leave his mouth. “On your medal. Good job.”

“Oh.” Is all Eddie can bring himself to say as he stares into the bottom of his glass. “Thanks.”

“You don’t look too happy about it.”

He really isn’t doing a good job of hiding his emotions if this relative stranger ca read him so easily. “No, I-” he takes a deep breath to recalibrate his thoughts and paste his best fake smile. “It is a great honour.”

“Bullshit.” Buck laughs in his face but for some reason, Eddie doesn’t bristle nearly as hard as he expected. It almost feels playful. The rest of Buck’s response is cut off by his buzzing phone on the counter. The man quickly grabs it long enough to check his notifications, returning it to its place at the bar with a disappointed look.

“Are we keeping you from something?”

“Uh, no.” It’s Buck’s turn to look caught out and in need of recalibration. His expression changes much slower. “I’m just waiting for a call from my sister. I sent her an invitation to this thing but she never responded.”

Eddie has experience with family not coming to big social events like this one. Of course, in his case, he never invited them in the first place.

“Family ain’t easy.” He shrugs as he takes a long sip of whatever burning liquid he’d ordered – it really doesn’t matter so long as he can stay sitting here and not mingling with the crowds of vultures.

“It’s more than that.” Buck looks worried, and the way he bites his lip is… Eddie shouldn’t be focusing on that. “It’s just…” The man shakes his head, dismissing whatever feelings were eating at his gut. “I don’t want to bore you.”

“Please.” Eddie leans into his space with a playful smile. “It can’t be any more boring than this event. Please try to bore me to tears, if you dare.”

When Buck smiles, Eddie’s heart flutters out of his chest and sits beside him as they listen to Buck begin to speak. He tells Eddie about his sister, how she cared for him growing up, how she went away with her asshole of a boyfriend – now her deceased asshole of a husband – leaving him to fend for himself. He talks about travelling the country, trying every odd job he could get his hands on, until a buddy of his suggested he join the Navy. And he loves the work, he really does, but he hasn’t seen his sister in over a year. Their last conversation ended in a fight about some family secret that Buck is reluctant to talk about. Even Eddie can tell that the man just misses his sister. No matter what the argument was about.

Eddie finds himself talking – in less detail – about Shannon and the divorce and his son at home. At Buck’s prompting, he shows off his favourite photos of Christopher (avoiding the one burning a whole in his shirt pocket, torn and bloody, which never leaves him). The man’s face positively lights up when he sees the kid, offering an appropriate amount of sympathy for his divorce without pushing him for more emotions.

It’s easy talking to Buck, he realizes after a few hours. Because suddenly, the venue rental is nearly up and he’s still sitting at the corner of the bar, talking to Buck. Sure, a few people have passed by and shaken their hands, thanking them for their service – Eddie cringes every time and Buck has to hide his laughter once he realizes – but for the most part, it’s just the two of them, sitting and talking.

“The flag signalling we use now was established in 1855.” Buck explains as he leans further into Eddie’s space. “And while Robert Morse invented Morse Code in the 1830s, the International Morse Code that we use didn’t come out until the 1850s.”

“How do you know all of that?” Eddie was fairly certain he hadn’t had to study the history of communication when he was in training. But he’d also been very focused on his medical textbook.

Buck was incredibly cute when he blushed, Eddie decides – though he opts to keep that opinion to himself for now. “I get bored and I read.” The man shrugs nonchalantly, as though he hasn’t been entertaining Eddie with stories of Naval history and his own dumb-ass mistakes all evening. Honestly, Eddie wants to sit here all night and listen to Buck tell him stories of the world. It seems like he’s lived a lifetime already. And what has Eddie done? Gotten a girl pregnant, joined the army, gotten shot, and now he doesn’t even have a wife to go home to.

“Can I ask you something?” Eddie realizes too late that Buck looks nervous. He thinks he probably wouldn’t have said yes if he’d noticed. “How did you get your medal?”

Now he knows he doesn’t have to answer – and his initial instinct is to close out his tab and see if he can run to El Paso on his still-injured leg. But he also realizes that he hasn’t told anyone since it happened. Not the full story. Even now, he might not have the words. But he tries.

“Our helicopter got shot down while transporting wounded. I could still move so I got everyone out. Or I tried to get them out.” The echo of gunfire is not as distant as the others told him it would be. He can still smell it. “Support finally arrived and they decided to give me a medal for holding down the fort.”

Buck places a gentle hand over his and Eddie gasps, reminded that it has been a very long time since anyone has touched him. God, how he misses it.

“You saved wounded soldiers in the middle of the desert while being fired on. And you think you were just doing your job?”

“I’m an army medic.” He reasons with the bottom of his glass. “It’s my job to save people.”

“Maybe. But I don’t think that’s why you do it.” Without elaborating, Buck smiles at him and Eddie forgets the question.

“What about you?” He asks instead. “What’s yours for?”

Unlike the enthusiastic, bubbly personality he’s been talking to for the last few hours, Buck melts into the face he saw up on that stage. The stoic, professional.

“We were on our way back from an escort mission when we encountered some rough seas. I happened to be on deck with the chief mate when he had a stroke. I tried to tend to him but the storm was getting worse and no one could find the captain, so I just took over navigation. It was rough, I had no idea what I was doing, but we all made it out safely and the chief mate was okay.” As Buck shrugs, memories of an overheard conversation come flooding back to Eddie’s mind.

“Wait, were you on the USS Angelo?”

“Yeah. Why?”

Eddie can’t believe it. He has to laugh. “You were the cadet who sailed out of Hurricane Ida?”

“I am a petty officer first class, I’ll have you know.”

“Buck, you navigated a 2,000 ton ship out of a hurricane and all they gave you was a lousy medal?”

“I should get that printed on a t-shirt, or something.”

“That was incredibly reckless but also incredibly brave. Buck, you’re a hero.”

“I was just doing my job.” The smirk tells Eddie he knows exactly what he’s doing but it still hits him that he’s throwing Eddie’s words back in his face. Cute and cheeky.

He doesn’t know why he asks – well, he does, but it’s incredibly stupid and impulsive, and he definitely can’t blame it on the alcohol but he sure would like to.

“How long are you in town?”

Buck looks pleasantly surprised by his question but answers with regret in his eyes. “I head out with the Fifth Fleet in the morning.”

Wow. “You just got a medal, and you’re headed out to earn another one?”

“Something like that.” Buck laughs and Eddie wishes he was braver than he felt. “But I won’t be gone forever. And I’m really good at telegraphy if you wanted to send anyone a message.”

He’s so grateful that Buck has the good sense to be everything he needs right now. Because asking the next question is easier with someone standing next to him. “I suppose I’ll need a way to get in touch with you, then.”

Buck winks and Eddie has never been gladder that the concept of ‘standing’ was only metaphorical. The man should not be so irresistible after only a few hours, but Eddie can’t help but watch him push off his barstool and walk around the side of the bar.

“Hey, Diaz!” The spell is broken long enough for him to look across the room at where his name is being called. He waves at old friends – well, Senior Airman Han and Space Force First Sergeant Wilson are the closest things he has to old friends but in actuality, he’s not sure he knows their first names. “We’re going to the afterparty, want to join?”

On a normal night, Eddie would decline on the basis that he doesn’t want to go, and would rather lay in bed and watch reruns of ‘Murder She Wrote’. Tonight, Eddie wants to decline on the basis that he doesn’t want to go, and would rather stay up all night talking to someone who makes me feel curious about the future.

“Not tonight.” He shouts back across the room. “I’ll catch you at the next ceremony.”

They wave him off because they know it’s the same excuse he makes every single time but the only thing that matters is getting back to Buck.

“So.” He turns to the bar only to find it empty. The seat beside him is also unoccupied, as is any of the space surrounding him.

Had he dreamed up Buck? Had he been imagining this person who made him feel like divorce wasn’t his last chance at happiness? Was he truly so desperate and lonely?

“Hey.” Eddie looks up with too much hope in his eyes to only come face-to-face with the bartender. “He left this for you.” The man – who is not Buck, no matter how much Eddie hopes to see those eyes again – slides a napkin across the counter and walks away before Eddie can ask anymore questions.

He picks up the napkin and reads the blue ink-stained note written in messy scrawl.

Kilo

--... .---- --... ..... ..... ..... -.... --... ----. .----

The dots and dashes he recognizes as a series of numbers – a phone number, he hopes – but the word above? He tries to recall his academy days.

Kilo. Short for Kilogram. Used in the International Code of Symbols to represent the letter ‘K’. In Maritime Signal Flags, it indicates: I wish to communicate with you.

He’s pretty sure the bartender hates him for how late he stayed and how loudly he laughed at Buck’s note, but he can’t bring himself to care. Instead, he spends his energy memorizing the napkin’s contents long after he’s input the number. It’s more than just a piece of paper: it’s hope.

#military au #911 on fox #911 fox #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie fic #911 fic #first meeting #cj answers things #florenceandthemachine #cj writes things #love flo

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ellitx · 4 years

Text

Twig | Albedo x Reader

the final act of TWMA part 1 part 2

can be stand-alone

disclaimer: this is written before v1.2 so my interpretation of albedo’s story and lore is not accurate. these are just my assumptions and understanding that i based on each characters’ voicelines about him

word count: 3.4k

Something felt odd. What in the world happened…?

The male awoke from an unfamiliar scent that drifted through his nose. Likewise, he has woken up from a restless sleep due to the rough waves, to glimpse at the glowing and radiant sun peaking above the horizon out of the window. It extended its vivid light across the deep blue sky.

Its dazzling and inviting rays flowed through the window providing warmth to his body. Slowly the fatigue of the endless dreams was seeped out of him as the warm light trickled into replacing his unrest— it eased his body.

His mind meandered aimlessly into nothingness, continuously staring at the beige wall painted around the room.

He is aware when he is forgetting when there is something close yet hidden, yet he cannot at that moment fathom what it could be. It’s as if he was following a bread crumb trail and it ends, so he stopped.

It gives him ideas as to what is missing from his brain because if one always got stopped when traveling, you would know that there are blocks in your way preventing you from continuing any further— even if he has no clue to as what they are.

A peal of melodic laughter that is mirthful and playful then reached his ears, stopping him from his dreaming. Albedo turned his head to the source of the voice and saw a girl— that was around his age— chuckling as she held a tray in her hands.

“You’re finally awake.” She brought down the platter on the table next to him and poured a cup of tea. His visage frowned and tightly gripped the blanket that was tucked to him.

Why did he felt that she was mocking him? He doesn’t know why but for some reason it did irk him. He forgot about his memories. He doesn’t have the slightest clue as to where he was and why he was here.

“Here.” She gave him the cup and patiently waited for him to take it. So this is where the foreign scent was coming from. He thought to himself.

The smell was fragrant but had a tinge of spiciness in it. It made his nose crinkled but accepted it nonetheless— quite hesitant, as the girl observed. Taking a small sip of the tea, it surprised him that it tasted sweet. It was quite unexpected because of the tangy fragrance it gave off.

“You look so lost.”

The laugh came from her like a newly sprung leak— sheepish at first, stopping and starting. She wasn’t done yet though, he could tell from the way she turned her head and half-bit her lip. From deep inside her chest came a great shaking motion and her muscle face grew tight.

His eyebrows arched as he put down the cup on the tray, waiting. In moments this female’s laugh was more like a burst water main arching into the brilliant summer sky, soaking everyone around her with unrestrained gales that deliberated her to nonstop giggles and picked face picture of glee.

Albedo wanted to stay straight-faced and walk out the room— she was, after all, laughing “at him”, not “with him”. But before he could stop himself, his poker mouth twitched upwards, and was smiling despite himself.

Nevertheless, he didn’t hate it.

—

On the next day, she was already bombarding him with questions.

“Hey, hey, what was that thing you just did? That was my sister’s research she’s been working hard for and you’ve already solved it?!” [Eye color] optics sparkled in awe and admiration as [Name] gazed at him from her side.

He peered into her eyes and nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders, continuing to read the texts of the book she gave him. “It was a minor mistake she had done. I’ve read some pieces of information about that topic and was not expecting I would stumble upon it.”

She puckered her lips and pouted as she snatched the codex from his hands. His answer was so vague! It didn’t really satisfy her curiosity about this outlander. “Hey!”

The female raised her arms, preventing him from reaching it. “I won’t give this back to you until you tell me the whole story!” Albedo’s brows folded in confusion and struggled to grab it. “That is the whole story.”

Her cheeks puffed and watched him yanked the book from her. It was disappointing, to say the least how he easily took it.

Sighing countless times already made him question himself why this girl still insists on staying by his side. It’s not like he didn’t like it nor does he like it, it just raised him so many questions about what happened yesterday.

Why would the Knights took him in considering how [Name] just effortlessly helped him out of nowhere. Not to mention how he barely knows a single thing about Mondstadt. It made him indignant how he can’t remember even the slightest thing.

He doesn’t blame anyone for it. It’s no one’s fault that he lost his memories.

Just thinking about this bizarre occurrence that just magically appeared out of nowhere made his head ached. Though the tug on his arm caught his attention and looked at the young teen in puzzlement as they started to march off to archon knows where.

“Maybe I should tell Grandmaster Varka about this…” She softly muttered to herself. He caught her words perfectly and so further press a question to pique his interest. “Tell about what?”

Both of them slowed down and paused in their tracks, stopping midway near the fountain area. [Name] chuckled and winked at him playfully.

“You’ll see.”

Albedo hummed and looked fixedly on the back of her head as they continued to walk silently.

There was a delicious moment where his face washed blank with confusion, like his brain cogs couldn’t turn fast enough to take in the information from his wide eyes. It made [Name] stifle a laugh at the expression he was currently showing to all the members of Ordo Favonius.

Every muscle of the male’s body just froze before he looked away from them to the girl who stood beside him. A grin crept up onto her face, it soon stretched out from one side to the other showing every single tooth.

Surprise isn’t an emotion he’d ever taken well. He could tell himself he was at loss for words. He guessed he found himself dumb, in a sense that made his lexeme stopped flowing. Stopped because she has shown him a new direction he never anticipated for a moment.

Every member knows she had saved him— saved him from what though? That he did not know, he never asked her about it nor did she even tell him what happened to him. He just let it be.

Receiving the news that he’ll be a member of the Knights, to have the position as the Chief Alchemist, really made him bewildered and surprised.

“Isn’t this happening too fast?” He questioned whilst quirking a brow.

“Hm? What do you mean?” [Name] tipped her head as her eyes stared at his own turquoise ones.

“Why is everyone easily agreeing to it? I’ve only been here for a day and just assisted your sister in translating. I appreciate the thought that the Grandmaster here is giving me the position of Chief Alchemist but I can't help but question why.”

She glanced at him, her mouth pursed but slightly open and loose. Her eyes are fixed as if she’s looking at something a yard behind his head. He called her name to garner her attention.

She blinks, refocused. “Albedo, it’s actually been five days. Lisa talked to everyone about how genius you are.”

Now it was his turn to owlishly blink. Five days? Does time really move that fast?

Well, he did hear the saying that time flies fast when you’re having fun. He never noticed about it and now that the idea battered him, it continued to linger inside his head.

What happened yesterday, what happened today, everything still feels the same. Even if the fragment of memories within him seemed to etiolate. His hands clawed his chest, feeling the unusual warmth from it and throughout his body.

Everything has been important to him and will be important to him.

He knows that these distant memories seem so far and vague but are significant to him.

He doesn’t understand the reason why, but he shouldn’t forget.

At least that’s how he thinks things should be.

—

The sound of the ticking grandfather clock echoed throughout the silent room. It sounded so monotonous and lifeless inside. The tall and antiquated object stood there as the gateway for old-man time, the golden pendulum making its steady way back and forth.

The silence was so eerie, though none minded at all as two teenagers were fast asleep, still remaining inside their dreams.

An aroma Albedo has gotten used to woke him up. It’s the smell of the herbs and various flowers that have mixed together giving off a sweet and minty scent. He opened his eyes and stayed like that for a few minutes.

The alchemist tiredly glanced down to see the papers are now messed and scattered all over the table. Heaving a sigh as he raked his fingers through his hair, his aqua optics went on to the female’s sleeping body that rested on his lab’s bed.

She still hasn't woken up.

He stood up from his seat and quietly approached her unconscious form to check on her condition. [Name]’s features were much softer in sleep, the lines that usually creased her brow replaced by youthful appearance giving off a child-like look.

She looked peaceful, he thought to himself.

He pulled up the blanket over her shoulders and turned around to continue making remedies for her once she’s awake.

The Knights of Favonius were worried sick about her, especially her sister, Lisa. They were hoping and praying to the Seven she’ll wake up from her coma. They all miss her presence, days of not seeing her wandering around also worried the townsfolk of Mond.

She has been cooped up inside his room while Sucrose and Noelle assisted him in taking care of her.

The morning dusk is about to arrive and Albedo has to continue doing his research nonstop. He does so wished to see her [eye color] orbs finally open after the incident. It hurt him to know [Name] has been like this that he did not even realize until the Acting Grandmaster and her sister told him about it.

He stared at the small plant that was placed on the windowsill. Its leaves started to fall off from its branches as it slowly started to wilt in the darkness. He grabbed the small twig and observed the faintest of light it gives off.

Would it hurt to say that it reminded him of her?

[Name] is someone that has to be taken care of carefully. After all, when she saw what he had written about her condition, she didn’t want to believe it. He wanted to say that her “friend” was just a fragment of her imagination without affecting her mental state.

He hovered his hand over the small branch, watching it bloom before his eyes with ease. He placed it back in the vase and returned to the table. If only he could easily return her back just like how he did with the plant.

Return her from his arms again instead of that bard.

He let out a bitter laugh at that thought. This was his fault. Why would she come back running to him if he did not even once give her his time? When they’ve finally met again for so long, she was avoiding his eyes.

It hurt him, he won’t lie about that. Her welcome to him was just a simple nod and that’s it. No hugs, no welcomes, not even a small smile was given to him.

If he did stop his research and at least spend time with her, will everything change?

Albedo shook his head as the answer to himself. Even if it is, why would he still continue hoping and thinking about these things? Sometimes his formulation of the rationale of real-life situations irked him.

This isn’t alchemy, genius.

His self-feud stopped when he saw her fingers moved the slightest from his peripheral vision. His heart fluttered and gave him a bit of hope if the archons had finally heard their wishes.

When her eyelids flickered open, the sight was not what he was expecting.

A lone tear trickled down her cheek. Her lips quivered and continued to look at the distance. Out of complete silence, her soft cries arose. He’d never seen [Name] sat like that, so deflated. Her loose shoulders shook, her hands hanging low, making no attempt to conceal or even wipe her own tears.

All of these emotions coming to him at once hurt him.

His head throbbed and let the feeling of guilt crush him.

—

The giggle rolled around the room like a child’s spinning top, vibrant and heartwarming as it moved around the people in its chaotic ways. It came in its fits and bursts— loud to soft to nothing at all and back to loud again.

It was as if there was an invisible feather at [Name]’s nape brushing softly; she squirmed and raised her shoulders to block Barbara from tickling her neck. The laughter built up inside her like so much water behind a dam, making her shoulders and her belly hurt.

She cried when Klee jumped onto her body and joined in with the deaconess. Their carefree and playful tittering reached Albedo’s ears when he entered the room. Their eyes darted towards him as their laughs died down.

The Spark Knight ran towards him and hugged his legs, overjoyed in seeing the alchemist here. He knelt down to her height and patted her head as a smile slowly crept up to his face.

[Name]’s laugh caught his attention again, though he did not dare to look at the two females. As much as he tried to focus on listening to Klee’s words, he cannot help but listen to the former’s gentle hilarity.

For some reason, it made his chest wrenched every time he listens to it. He wondered why that is when it’s something he remembers all the time.

He recalled the day he got his Vision. It appeared out of thin air on his desk and she was the first one to point it out. It surprised [Name] why he had gotten Geo instead of Dendro. She watched him fiddle the trinket in his hands as he continued to analyze it.

He didn’t really mind whichever Vision he got. As long as he can continue doing his research then it’s fine with him.

He didn’t know why he found himself laughing so hard, but all of a sudden, he couldn’t stop. His breath came in quick gasps between his unstoppable tittering. Tears gathered in the corner of his eyes, threatening to spill over.

She was confused about why he was laughing all of a sudden worrying her. He waved his hand dismissively and pointed out the expression that was currently painted on her face. Her face reddened and slapped his back jokingly.

After their short playful bickering, the Chief Alchemist plucked a small branch from a plant and hand it over to her.

“Visions are gifts given to us by the Gods. Think of it like this sprig, there are many possibilities which among the elements they’ll receive yet no one knows what they’ll end up with until they’ve received it.”

She furrowed her brows as her brain cogs continue to process what he meant. It finally dawned on her what he meant and hummed. “But not everyone can receive Visions, though.” She remarked.

“Exactly. They may not bear fruits or maybe yet, one day it’ll come to them.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what is it?”

[Name] sighed and rested her chin on her palm. “Not everyone is blessed by the Seven.” The male was still and quiet.

“Well, I’m no god. I may not know how they give out Visions but it sure is something remarkable, isn’t it?” Her eyes lightened up and nodded vigorously.

“Right?! Wouldn’t it be better if they just give it to everyone?” Albedo laughed and admired her own exclamation.

“Perhaps.”

It surprised the female teen that he just suddenly grabbed her hand unnoticed. He observed how small her hands are compared to his. He placed the twig on her palm and with a simple motion of his wrist, the branches started to grow as small leaves then sprouted from it.

It occurred to her just how amazing Albedo is. She raised the small branch in the air and examine the faintest glow of the leaves it emitted. She gasped and stared with wide eyes as isotoma flowers started to bloom from the ends.

“W-was that suppose to happen?” She turned her head to him and pushed her arms forward to show the herb to him.

He bobbed his head and took out a pot filled with soil. He used his elemental skill on it and a cecilia shaped flower appeared. Instead of the usual vibrant white, it almost looked too rigid and rocky.

[Name] poked it and it really was sturdy. He asked her if she can use her own elemental skill, to which she responded with a yes. She twirled her hand and he can feel the air starting to get cold.

Small snowflakes started to form and dropped down on the pot. Once the snow made contact with the rocky flower, it formed into a crystal and bloomed into a refreshing and spirited cecilia.

It felt like a real flower instead of the stony one they just saw. The alchemist plucked it and carefully tucked it to her ear, adoring how well it donned her appearance and perfectly captured her delicacy.

Cecilias really does suit her.

That day, the day he only showed it to her. It’s the memoir he cherished the most. It’s the only special memory he couldn’t forget.

He understood why. He keeps thinking of her.

All these mnemonics with [Name] are important to him and are everything to him.

And on that day, he believed she wouldn’t leave.

—

A smell of a nostalgic sweet breeze wafted in him. The winds kissed his skin making him wish to go back to sleep, yet the sound of familiar laughter was what made him want to open his eyes.

He recognized those sweet mirths. It’s so close to him that he can feel the figure’s shakiness. The tree’s shadow helped him not to be blinded by the rays of the sun and the gales that caressed his skin were so calming, but his focus was purely glued to a smile.

Her smile.

He still waited for the day when he can show the small beauties of life to someone, but there are no fools like him in this vast world. Perhaps they exist, yet they must be distant, enjoying the same sky with other eyes yet the same thought.

The whistling of the birds that awaken their sleep in the trees, letting his perception be painted with white, yellow, and blue. It battered him that he was currently laying on her lap.

So shall it stay put, a smile eternally stained upon her lips. Her joy, her love, her laughter, her cheer. All will reach the ears of those who have forgotten the warmth of such harmonies.

Emotions came to his mind like the waves meeting the land. They come to him, soaking his entire being and helped him to understand his entire self better. He felt wet hot tears filled up his eyes.

But this was no tears of grief.

It was tears of joy that he has finally heard her laugh once again. Much closer than before. The distance with them has now shortened. Is this the archons saying they’ll give him another chance?

If it is, he’s very thankful to the Celestia and to the Seven. He was so happy that all he can do is cry and let the tears continuously fall down his cheeks. The tears stained his face but he didn’t care if it did.

Albedo was just so ecstatic he finally got to reunite with her. He can finally hold her in his arms and apologize for the mistake he has done to her. He missed her so much that he can’t bear the pain anymore of how distant they are.

And so he promised himself he won’t ever forget her.

this oneshot is based on this song

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votederpycausemufins · 3 years

Text

today i don’t have a paragraph above the read more because uh

tw: blood, tw: torture, tw: pain, tw: violence. idk everything i need to tag it with so please please please tell me if I need to add something.

@petrichormeraki

His side hurt as he put pressure on the stab wound. He was trying not to pass out as a knife was held in front of his face. “We’re best friends! Aren’t we? Say it! Say we’re best friends!”

He tried not to cry. “W-We are best friends.”

“What about the bag though, isn’t that your favorite part?” The knife was held closer to him. “Best friends know that about each other.”

There were people talking or shouting, but he couldn’t pay attention. “How about later we read some comics? Play some games. You like that, don’t you?”

He was too scared, the words wouldn’t come out and instead he started crying. “Would you just CALM DOWN FOR THREE SECONDS! Just THREE seconds! Alright? You’re just losing your mind a little, got it. That’s all it is. You just need to calm down with me and we’ll sort everything out.”

But he couldn’t calm down. He was holding a knife and could kill him at any moment. He already had a stab wound. No, it was multiple at this point. How didn’t he notice them before? “Please… I-I’m not-”

“Don’t you DARE say that again! Say it and I’ll lose my marbles. You don’t want me to lose my marbles, do you.”

He didn’t. If they weren’t already gone then losing them could make it worse. Or maybe better? Maybe death would be better. He could just be another ghost like the others who had died.

“Here! How about a high five!” It wasn’t a stab, but a punch and his face started to throb. “You’re just goofin and gaffin around, aren’t you.” And then another punch. “How about a little tickle?” And a pain erupted from one of his wounds as it was poked in some weak imitation of a tickle.

“Please! Please I’m not him!”

“What are you talking about?! Of course you are! Are you insane?!” The knife glinted as it moved down and stabbed him, his already brittle bones snapping. It was too much and he screamed loudly.

It was too tight, why was it too tight. Was someone talking? It sounded like it but the words weren’t processing in his brain. Something about night and bread and robots and birds. There was something black surrounding him. Was it going to hurt him? Stab him? ‘You’re my best friend.’ the sentence replayed in his mind. “No no please. I don’t want to be. I’m not him.” He managed to speak out, hoping he would listen to reason.

There was chirping as something bright blue came into view. It was calming as it moved closer until it wasn’t. Something darker on it glinted and he started screaming again. He didn’t want to be stabbed. Not again. He would do anything. He’ll wear his clothes, live in his house, but please don’t hurt him.

“Grian!” Someone shouted, but he shook his head. That wasn’t his name. He was Taurtis. He had to be. He wouldn’t get hurt anymore if he was Taurtis. He pleaded for Sam to listen. He was his best friend Taurtis. He wasn’t Grian and Jerry wasn’t Taurtis. He was Taurtis.

“I haven’t seen him this bad in ages.” Mumbo spoke, trying to comfort Tommy and Tubbo. The bots were fortunately still sleeping as it was programmed into them. Everyone else was staying in come beds that had been set up in a different room so they weren’t close enough to be woken up. But Tommy and Tubbo had stayed up far too long catching up and Mumbo had stayed in a room with Grian. All of them heard the moment he started screaming. Mumbo was pushed out of bed by Grian’s wings as he thrashed around and the other two had run in to see what was going on.

“He had nightmares when he first joined the server back in season six but they got better over time. The only other time it got bad again was during the head games and a few people showed off their rabbit heads.” Mumbo explained after a few other questions.

Professor Beak has also been nearby and woke to the sounds. He flew over to Grian as he mumbled something, sounding like he was pleading for his life. That seemed to calm him down for a few moments before the screams got louder. The bird was handed to Tubbo who held him close and Mumbo tried to soothe Grian.

It was agonizingly slow, but Grian was calming down. He was no longer screaming and just weeping, begging not to be hurt and that he would be someone named Taurtis. With that new information, Mumbo was able to calm Grian more effectively, not knowing what nightmare was being had.

Grian was still out of it when he was fully calmed down, mainly from the exhaustion that came from not having a good night’s sleep and from exerting himself so much in his panic after waking up.

“We’re going to have to take him to his mansion.” Mumbo started to explain as he hefted Grian onto his back. He wasn’t that heavy due to his avian nature as they normally didn’t grow that tall and had hollow bones like most birds. “He does better in familiar places and my old hobbit hole isn’t really a place he frequents. More just a place the children like to play.”

When Mumbo opened the bedroom door, he almost ran into Fundy who was holding the pillow from his bed, ears down against his head. “What happened?”

“Oh shit, that’s right, Fundy’s part fox.” Tommy cursed, remembering that meant he had much better hearing. “I’m guessing the screaming woke you up?”

Fundy hugged the pillow a little tighter. “Not right away. It found its way into my dreams first before I finally woke up.”

“I’m really sorry about that.” Mumbo apologized. “Grian’s having a nightmare of his own and it’s really bad. Say, your dad was wilbur, right? The tallest one? Any chance you could wake him up? With Grian like this I can’t really fly us there, minecarts can only fit one, and the nether isn’t the best place if you’re unconscious. I’m sure I can get him there myself, but having someone to trade off with would be best and the taller the better with Grian’s wings dragging on the ground.”

Fundy nodded and went to wake his dad up, he seemed to wake up Techno and Philza too as they also arrived behind Wilbur who was yawning and looked like he wanted to complain about being up so early. Techno at least kept his expression hidden and while Philza looked equally as tired as Wilbur, he woke up when he saw Grian’s condition.

Quickly, Mumbo explained what was going on with Grian and how they would be going to the mansion. He led them over to the minecart tunnels since Grian’s own hobbit hole wasn’t too far from his base and it was a safe path, especially since the sun wasn’t out yet and with how tired they all felt, there may be phantoms.

Tommy and Tubbo worked on waking the bots up as the tunnel was opened. Jrumbot ran to catch up asking many questions as Grumbot just watched with an expression of concern. Normally he was more robotic and logical, but Tommy could tell he was trying to hold himself together as the bot crushed his and Tubbo’s hands in worry.

At around the halfway point through the tunnels, everyone paused as Grian was moved onto Wilbur’s back. The avian gave out a sad whimper from being moved and Mumbo did his best to give comfort. Jrumbot pulled out a green robe which made Mumbo side with a hint of frustration as he recognised the item, but he did take it and place it over Grian like a blanket.

Tommy makes them wait a little longer as he places down his ender chest and pull out a coat that Wilbur immediately recognizes. He starts to argue about it with his younger brother but it starts to upset Grian and they stop without any warning needed.

As they exit through Grian’s side of the tunnel, Tommy explains how he first holed up in there when he showed up. He’s asked how Grian didn’t notice he was living in the same house but then corrects them. “No Grian moved out ages ago. I moved in because it was abandoned.” As they continued walking Tommy pointed out in the direction they were traveling. “He’s living there now.”

They were all left stunned as they strained their necks looking up at the building towering ahead. As if it weren’t impressive enough, Tommy added another comment. “He’s still not done with it and he also built a replica in the nether that is completely upside down.”

As they reached the base of the stairs, Wilbur looked like his back was going to give out just from looking at them all. Fortunately Mumbo took Grian back and also led them down instead of up. “He started with the basement first. It’s still quite large, but not as much and is mainly a storage system. He spent far too long ignoring the actual interior of his mansion.”

“And the back.” Tommy half whispered before laughing at a joke that no one but Mumbo really understood. Well, the bots did as well, but they were too worried about Grian.

Finally Mumbo reached Grian’s bed and laid him down in it. He gave the coat back to Tommy much to Wilbur’s dismay and put the robe in his inventory which made Jrumbot mad.

Everyone looked exhausted and Mumbo excused himself from the room. He gave Tommy a look and the blond distracted Tubbo so he didn’t hear the distant noise of a firework. Mumbo wasn’t gone for too long as he reappeared with the beds that had been left behind, letting everyone get back to sleep.

Iskall yawned as there was a knock on the wood of their tree. They were surprised to see Xisuma there and tried to make themself at least a little more presentable and not look like they had just woken up. “Hi Xisuma. What brings you here?” They said, stifling another yawn.

“Scar and I were up late going over everything having to do with the smp. We were debating getting rid of the time displacement protection or if we should help the new admin place the same kind on their world. Eventually the topic changed and we ended up on who all lives there. When you and Fundy were at the town hall for paperwork, he wrote a list of everyone there, or most if he can’t remember everyone.”

“Okay, and?” Iskall asked, not seeing where this was going. Xisuma just handed them a paper that was covered with Fundy’s handwriting - paw writing? - and Iskall read down the list. When they finished reading, they looked back up at Xisuma. “So?”

Xisuma pointed to a certain name on the list. “Read it again. Aloud this time.”

Iskall rolled their eye but then looked down and read the name. “Hbomb Aka Hbomb94.” Iskall was about to say more before they finally had the gears turning. “Wait, Hbomb?! That’s where he disappeared to?! I guess that makes sense why we couldn’t contact him.”

“I figured you would want to know. I’ll go see Ren and Stress next unless you want to tell them.”

“I’ll just message the whole group. They’ll want to know and we can have another meet up.”

Xisuma nodded and flew off as Iskall pulled out their communicator. They exited out of the main hermit chat and scrolled down to one labeled ‘vault boys’. They pulled up the chat box and started typing.

<Iskall85>: I know it’s only 8am for some people here.

<Iskall85>: but my friend Xisuma just showed up.

<Iskall85>: H is located.

<AntonioAsh>: are you saying you want a new meetup with him involved

<Iskall85>: of course. He’s been left out of the other times.

<AntonioAsh>: how soon are we talking?

<Iskall85>: maybe a week?

<StressMonster>: our time or normal time?

<Iskall85>: sounds like X is turning the displacement off for a little bit, so both.

<AntonioAsh>: I’ll see if I can make it, but it’s not a guarantee.

<Iskall85>: that’s fine.

<CaptainSparklez>: I’m down. Need a break from wrapping my head around Create. Okay if I bring my kid?

<Iskall85>: definitely. I’m sure she’ll love it.

<CaptainSparklez>: alright! Keep me updated!

<Rendog>: let me sleeeep

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justice4harwin · 3 years

Text

Light’s Corruption-Chapter II

Pairing: DarklingxAlina

Summary:With few friends at the Little Palace, Alina must work to win the favour of her fellow grisha and their commander, who makes her feel light headed every time she sees him.After training in Os Alta for two years, the king grows tired of waiting and demands the Sun Summoner joins a western post near the Fjerdan border along with the rest of The Second Army to test her abilities.Something happens. Suddenly, Alina wants blood to run down the rivers and those who stand in her and The Darkling’s way will be blinded by her light and swallowed by his shadows.It won’t be pretty.

Part 1 here

TW: Mentions of/referenced sexual assault

Tags: Like last time, I’m taking the liberty of tagging the people who commented/liked/rebloged my post where I asked if anybody would wanna read a story like this, but ill do it in the comment section cause a friend told me tumblr doesn’t forget to notify that.

Again, if you don’t want to be on the tag list, please let me know, or if you’re new and wanna be added, let me know too.

Hope you like this :D

Chapter 2: Queen Tatiana

Alina allowed the light to caress her, embrace her, gentle, phantasmagories touches that seemed to be thanking her for finally accepting it.

Her eyes opened, and all she could see was gold. Looking down, she noticed the power came from her palms, which were facing forward at her sides. A dome of light had formed around her, at least five meters in diameter.

She laughed in disbelief. She felt so strong, as if nothing could ever come her way.

She felt truly alive for the very first time.

So, this is what is like, uh?

“Miss Starkov?” she heard a distant voice, and turned to see The Darkling approaching her dome, eyes squinted.

She wasn’t sure what would happen if he touched the light, but she wanted him to see it, she wanted him inside with her.

She stretched out a hand, and slowly, the man stretched his own. After a tense moment of resistance, she felt his fingers grasping hers as he passed through, and then the rest of him.

He looked around, a new gleam to his eyes that lit up his features almost as much as her power lit her.

“Very impressive for a first time, Miss Starkov.” He congratulated her, his tone almost admiring. He looked her in the eye. “Very impressive, indeed.”

“Alina,” she found herself saying, elated at both her flowing light and his praise. “please, call me Alina.”

Smiling gently, he tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, his hand softly travelling down her neck, leaving goosebumps on its way, until it came to rest on her shoulder.

“You and I are going to change the world, Alina.” He said, with such passion is made her knees week, before turning serious again and squeezing her shoulder for a moment. “Now, make it shrink.”

“How?”

“Call it to you, as if receding the day into night, until only two small orbs remain in your hands.”

She nodded, focusing. Gently, like a mother soothing a scared child, she called the light back inside of her.

She felt like she was petting it, hushing it, telling it was time to rest.

Slowly, the dome began to shrink, and then more, and then more, and then she had to blink several times to get adjusted to the natural light of day.

She lifted her hands, one small orb of light in each, and smiled as brightly, looking up at The Darkling, who couldn’t seem to keep his eyes away from hers. His chest moved up and down in rapid motions, his gaze so wide there was almost no grey in there. There was a frenzy in his gaze, something primal yet profound, and Alina felt like he could be the one to burn her instead of the other way around.

Finally, she closed her hands into fists and the lights disappeared. She felt almost drunk, the satisfactory hum of her power now coursing through her body, giving her a new sense of confidence so foreign to her.

“You are magnificent.” The Darkling breathed out, startling her, making her cheeks burn.

“It was just my first try on my own.”

“And look around you. Look at what you can do.” He gestured with his arms.

She did, and found the grass turned black, the water of the lake smoking, some steam coming up and forth. She was definitely not putting her hand in there.

“The gardeners will hate me.”

He chuckled quietly, taking a step closer, until their chests almost brushed with their breaths.

“Maybe.” He said, taking her hand again. “But all of Ravka will love you.”

Slowly, he lifted her hand, still way too warm due do the use of her powers and bought it up to his cold lips. Alina held her breath before releasing it again, heart hammering in a way she didn’t fully comprehend.

“I don’t need all of Ravka.” She said, without thinking; a new habit around this particular man, apparently.

“Oh?”

Kiss me.

She thought, and he seemed to have guessed it, for he began to lean forward.

“ALINA STARKOV! I’VE BEEN LOOKING FOR YOU ALL OVER THE PLACE! I ALMOST HAD A HEART ATTACK AN—SAINTS!” Genya, who had been marching towards her with a big scowl, her white kefta willowing behind her like a snowstorm, came to an abrupt stop. “What have you done to this place?”

“I can summon now!” she exclaimed, beaming at her. Genya was the only one who knew of her little,…problem.

The tailor looked around, evidently impressed.

“Remind me to stay on your good side.” She took notice of The Darkling and immediately straightened, bowing slightly. “Forgive me, Moi Soverennyi, but the queen has extended an invitation for the Sun Summoner to have tea with her and her ladies.”

The Darkling nodded once, casually dropping Alina’s hand. By the way Genya’s eyes barely flickered, Alina knew she now suspected something.

“Of course, Miss Safin. Who am I to keep the queen waiting?”

They smirked at each other, and Genya held out her arm for Alina to entwine with. On her way, she quickly snatched the forgotten letter.

Alina didn’t look back to see the damage she had caused, but to see if he was still there, but The Darkling was already marching up to the stables without a second look in her direction.

“Here.” Alina offered the paper to Genya, who gave her an apprehensive look. “It’s the last one; I swear.”

Hesitant, Genya took it and hid it inside one of her many pockets as they continued their path towards the Little Palace.

“You stink, you know?” she said as they entered and began to walk through the corridors that led to the stairs.

Alina was aware. Her face felt hot and wet, and she couldn’t wait to get out of her clothes.

“Does the queen really want to have tea with me?”

“Unfortunately.” Genya sighed as they began their eternal ascension towards Alina’s bedroom. “It’s mostly so she can show you off to her friends as if you were a shiny ornament, and to get some intel for the king. So, be careful of what you say.”

“Will you be there?”

“Fortunately for you, yes. But I’ll be mostly by the bitch’s side.” She gave her friend a sideways look. “Do you know tea etiquette?”

“You… take the cup and drink from it?”

“Saints.”

“What? Why? It’s just tea.”

Genya opened the door and pushed her inside, slamming it shut and shooing her towards the waiting bathtub.

“Maybe she’s also expecting that. She does love to have a laugh at people regarding those things. HURRY UP OR WE’LL BE LATE!” she yelled, clapping her hands and taking out a blue dress from her wardrobe.

Alina did her best with the insufferable little buttons, almost ripping them off and exhaling in relief when it fell to the floor. She took off her boots next and the pleasure was even grander. How she hated to be sweaty.

Soon, she was naked and inside the bath, which smelled of lavender. She scrubbed her legs with the sponge.

“Can I come in?” Genya asked from the other side of the curtain.

“Yep.”

The woman, as usual, wasted no time.

“Did you wash your face already?”

“Yep.”

She knelt by the tub, behind Alina, and began to disentangle her mass of her with hard yanks.

“Hey!”

“Oh, I’m sorry; but if you had been where you were supposed to be we wouldn’t be going against the clock.”

It was true that she was meant to spend some time in the library learning grisha theory, but she had forgotten all about that as soon as her eyes shot open in the morning and decided to become what she was meant to.

“Sorry; I wanted to try something on my own.”

“You weren’t really on your own, were you?” the redhead asked carefully, twisting Alina’s hair from one place to the other.

“General Kirigan found me.” She hesitated for a moment. “He was actually the one who helped me summon.”

“I thought you had done it by yourself.” Her friend sounded confused.

“I did! He just,…gave me some words of encouragement.”

“Words of encouragement?”

“Yes.”

“Ah.”

“What?

“Nothing.”

“What?!”

“Up.” Genya held a towel for Alina to wrap herself in, and quickly took her back into the bedroom and sat her at her dressing table, getting to work on her face.

“What is it?”

“It’s nothing.” She said as she ran her expert fingers over her face, fixing and making her look presentable. “Now, I’ll run you over the etiquette really quick. So, keep up, Starkov.”

“Yes, Miss Safin.”

After a moment of severe silence, they both laughed.

Much to Genya’s apprehension, Alina refused to wear a dress, and insisted on taking a clean, silken kefta instead.

“If she wants me to dress pretty only to make my ignorance funnier, she’ll be disappointed.” Alina said as she took a belt. “The kefta will remind her who I am.”

“I don’t think she’ll care either way.”

“I can accidently blind her as a reminder.”

Genya laughed at that, shaking her head and taking her friend’s arm and leading her towards the Grand Palace.

They took some corridors which avoided the throne room Alina had seen only the first time she had arrived, which, come to think about it, she realized it was the only time she was inside that place at all.

They soon arrived at a grand double set door; the handles made of pure gold. Alina frowned. One could feed all the orphans at Keramzin for a few weeks with that.

Two guards opened the doors for them, and the young women entered, heads high and shoulders back. Alina had refused to relent her hold of Genya. She didn’t care if the queen felt insulted by it.

The woman in question sat upon a ridiculous golden chair, resembling of her own throne. There were two servants in white on either side holding trays. Down the steps of the queen’s chair-because of course she had to be set up on a dais- there was a small, round table almost full.

There were seven or eight women of various ages, all dressed finely and speaking faintly to each other.

When Alina entered, the room became silent. The queen shifted her blue eyes to her and raised an eyebrow, quickly taking in her clothing and her arm around Genya’s.

Letting go of her friend, Alina took a step forward and bent respectfully.

“Moya Tsaritsa. Thank you for the invitation.”

“Of course, Miss Starkov. I have been waiting for some time with our Sun Summoner for quite some time,” she spoke, her voice forcibly airy, as if she wanted to try and be some sort of ethereal creature. “alas, the general has kept you busy with all kinds of training.”

“He has, Your Highness. But it’s all for the good of Ravka.”

“It is so good to know you care so much about your country, Miss Starkov.” She said the last two words with a special accentuation, as if to belittle her due to her lack of title.

Alina did her best to smile.

“Don’t we all, Your Highness?”

“Of course, dear, of course.” She gestured towards an empty seat at the table, almost directly underneath her, between two middle aged women. “Please, have a seat.”

Alina could feel Genya moving in a different direction behind her as she approached the queen.

She sat down as gracefully as she could and smiled at the women around her.

An older woman clad in green smiled back.

“Tell me, Miss Starkov, how do you find Os Alta so far?”

Before Alina could answer, the queen spoke up:

“Well, that is quite rude of you, Lady Popovich. You have yet to let me introduce yourself.”

Lady Popovich looked down; face flushed as she uttered an apology.

As Genya conducted some male servants towards them, they shared a look.

“Miss Starkov; allow me to introduce you to Lady Tanya Popovich, to her right…” Alina did her best to remember their names, but as the queen introduced each of the ladies, she also launched into a small monologue about each of them. Alina couldn’t help but notice how she liked to talk highly of them, only to put in a small jab in the middle before finishing with some apologetic, merciful tone and moving on to the next one.

The servants placed a small plate filled with water in front of each woman, and the Sun Summoner couldn’t help but notice how all the women at the table and the queen had shifted their eyes towards her.

With a blank expression, Alina dipped her fingers delicately into the water and then used the cloth set to her left to dry them. Standing against a wall, Genya hid a smile as some of the ladies’ disappointment became evident.

The door busted open, and a young woman in pink rushed in. Her cheeks were flushed, her blond hair just a little bit messy.

She curtsied.

“Moya Tsaritsa, my deepest apologies.” She had a nice, gentle voice.

“Lady Anastasia, for a moment I thought you might desert us. It is unseemly to be late.”

“It will not happen again, Your Highness.”

“No. It will not.” She said, curtly, then nodded to the only chair available. “Sit.”

Lady Anastasia hurried towards the table and sat, quickly washing her hands. She looked up, and Alina thought she knew her from somewhere.

Then it hit her. She had run into her just days before in the maze, fooling around with Nadia.

Discreetly, Alina swiped her finger across the corner of her mouth. Lady Anastasia’s eyes grew large for the briefest moment before she wiped her mouth casually. Then, she sent the other woman a minuscule smile.

They all waited in silence as one of the servants handed the queen her cup of tea, and only after she took her first sip did the other servants approach the table.

Alina took in the smell. Was that peaches? She had never had peach tea. She was used to herbs and such, but fresh fruits were too rare in Keramzin and The First Army to use it for tea.

The servants laid out silver platters with sweets of all kinds, most of which she had never seen, and shot a look at Genya, who made an almost imperceptible sign with her hand.

Wait.

Everyone looked up at the queen as she took her first sip and contemplated the cup with fake, dramatic anticipation. Finally, she looked at her audience.

“Please, help yourselves. The tea is delicious, and the pies smell divine.”

Only then did the other women began to eat. Some had more water poured into their cups, but Alina always preferred a strong drink, no matter the taste.

She noticed how all the hands reached out for the pies instead of the biscuits or cookies, just like Genya had warned her. Apparently, the guests would preferably eat whatever the queen felt like it that day, and the rest tended to remain untouched and later thrown away.

“Miss Starkov,” the queen spoke, finishing a small slice of pie and handing the plate to the other servant behind her. Her eyes were slightly narrowed. “how have you been adjusting to life at the Little Palace? I imagine it must be quite the difference compared to an army camp.”

“Or an orphanage.” Snickered a woman across the table to Lady Anastasia, who frowned but then smiled slightly, not saying anything.

“I’m still settling, Your Highness.” Alina sat straight and looked her in the eyes to address her. “It’s quite the big change of scenario, but so far I’ve been adapting well enough.”

“I heard that you had a small incident with one of the Squallers about a month ago.” She said, with fake innocence. “What was her name, Genya?”

“Zoya Nazyalensky, Your Highness.”

“Oh, yes, I remember her from the last Winter Fete. So talented, so beautiful.” She said, looking pointedly at Alina at the last part.

She resisted the urge to tell her she wasn’t the one with a Tailor working on her stupid face day and night.

“Yes, Zoya and I were training with Botkin.” Alina admitted, wanting to smile at the memory of Zoya coming out of The Darkling’s chambers in tears. “It was hand to hand combat; she’s got far more experience than me, and I got hurt; but it was nothing.”

“I was sure I heard she had used her power on you.” The queen placed her fingers underneath her chin. “I believed that to be prohibited during combat training.”

Alina didn’t know what to say; she wasn’t sure what the woman sitting to her left and above her wanted to get at.

“It was an accident on her part. Sometimes, our powers just,” she flickered her fingers, a steam of light rolling over them and disappearing, startling the other guests. “come out on their own.”

She wanted to turn back so she could see Genya’s face, to know if she had given the right answer or not; but breaking eye contact while talking to the queen of Ravka was considered rude.

“And yet your general saw it fit to send her away.” She said, pretending to be confused.

Alina kept on hesitating. Something told her that, not matter how much she disliked Zoya, this was not the right time and place to give an honest opinion.

“She’s part of The Second Army, Your Highness. A lot of us are always being re-assigned somewhere or called back.”

“But you have not.”

“I—I’ve only been training for a few months. Zoya’s had years.”

“Besides,” a soft voice spoke up, and everyone turned to Lady Anastasia. “there is only one Sun Summoner; sending her out without sufficient training would put all of Ravka at risk, would it not?”

“Indeed, Lady Anastasia.” The queen had to concede. “You are very smart, are you not?”

Lady Anastasia bowed her head humbly.

“I simply enjoy all kind of knowledge, Your Highness.”

“So well educated, so modest and pretty, such an extraordinary lineage.” At this, queen Tatiana turned back to Alina. “The House Gusev extends back to the days before The Fold was formed; they even had a few monarchs on the throne.”

“A long time ago, yes.” Replied the blonde, hurriedly.

“And yet,” the queen squinted her eyes, and Alina already felt sorry for the young woman. “you remain unmarried. It is such an odd situation for you, dear. The years do go by,” she touched her face and smiled. “well, for some of us at least.” She laughed airily, and Alina really, really wanted to tell her that she couldn’t pull that off. She sounded ridiculous. “So, I assume you must have at least one prospect. What could possibly be wrong with you?”

“Nothing is wrong, Your Highness.” She replied, her cheeks red. From the distance, Alina thought she saw her eyes glistening with tears. “My father is very strict. He will not let just anyone wed his youngest daughter. And to be quite honest, I do not believe he wants to give away his youngest one yet. Seeing Zasha wed Galina and move out of our home was hard for him.” She finished with affection, earning several soft smiles.

As far as Alina knew, it was rare to see same sex marriages in the nobility, and it required a long process which involved plenty of paperwork. Regarding the royal family, it was prohibited.

The queen leaned back on her chair and stretched out her right hand. A small plate with the cup of tea was set upon it, and she took her time with the second, small sip.

“Well, I imagine you must be eager to start your new life. Marriage is such a bliss. I shall talk to your father about it soon.”

Lady Anastasia opened her mouth, but the queen was faster.

“Lady Yelena, would you please grace us with another one of your arias? You have the voice of an angel, my dear.” The woman sitting on her left stood up. "A moment. Genya, please take care of that ugly mole above her lip; it is most distracting."

Well, it seemed as if Alina were safe now, at the cost of that poor woman.

She didn’t dare to look at Genya for the rest of the event, for she could feel the queen’s eyes on her, analysing her every move.

Each lady bowed to the queen, uttering a respectful "Moya Tsaritsa", and the summoner did the same, aching to get out of that place.

The sun was setting when the queen finally decided she had had enough company for the afternoon. Alina was more than relieved to stand up; her butt hurt, her legs protested and her back cried.

"I should escort miss Starkov back to the Little Palace, Your Highness." Genya stepped forward.

"I am sure she can find her way back on her own." Interrupted a new voice.

Everyone turned to face the king and bowed, giving the expected greeting. His sleazy eyes drifted to the redhead, who stood stiff with both hands clasped behind her back. Alina looked at the queen, who didn't seem too happy either.

"If I may, Your Highness?" Alina took a step forward, not even knowing what she was gonna say. She felt sweatier than she did earlier in the gardens. "General Kirigan insisted that Miss Safin remain with me for this night. My training today was most …aggravating, and he saw it fit that someone helps me recover."

"Aggravating?" he asked, seemingly suspicious.

"In a good sense, Your Highness. I've shown quite the improvement today, but I'm afraid it's taken it's toll on me." Alina wasn't sure where all that came from, but she had a feeling The Darkling just might be a tad amused by her, and that only made her want to smile and reveal her charade.

"You do look plainer than usual."

You're one to talk.

She smiled humbly, and the king grunted.

"Very well, then. If General Kirigan insists."

"He does, …Moi Tsar."

How she hoped the king didn't bring the subject up with The Darkling.

"You are both dismissed then, but Miss Safin will return to her duties at dawn."

Both women bowed and left the room.

Alina casually held on to Genya's elbow as they hurried out of the Grand Palace, looking around at all the ugly paintings of Lantsov ancestors.

Once outside, the chilly air hit them both, but Genya continued to pull her along across the dark.

"You didn't have to do that." she said quietly.

Alina shrugged.

"It's nothing, really." she swallowed, giving her closest friend a sideways glance. "I've, uh, heard some rumours about the king and-"

"The queen usually keeps me too busy during the day, so his attention won't drift during the night." said the redhead, as if talking about the weather. "But sometimes it's inevitable." She looked at Alina, both now at the entrance to the Little Palace, illuminated by lanterns. "Thank you." she said, softly, looking into Alina's dark eyes with sincere, deep gratitude.

"It's nothing, really." the brunette felt uncomfortable. On the one side, she wanted to jump at the king and claw her way into his heart and rip it out for doing what he did; on the other, she knew there was nothing to do to help her friend. "It's just one night."

Genya sighed and drew her into a hug.

"One single night free can be a marvellous gift."

Alina smiled, returning the embrace.

"So, …I'm guessing we're having a sleepover? I never had one back at Keramzin! All the other girls were older than me and wouldn't let me join in!" she tried to cheer the mood.

Genya parted, quickly wiping her eyes.

"Neither have I, and I would love that." she turned serious again. "But first, we need to talk."

A/N: Hope you liked it!

Click here for part III

#shadow and bone #alina starkov #the darkling #aleksander morozova #alina x darkling #alina x aleksander #genya safin #my love is your time to shine #fuck the queen shes a bitch #lets kill the king #fanfic #shadow & bone trilogy #shadow and bone fanfic

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brywrites · 4 years

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Flight Risk IV

Summary: An answer to the age old CM question, “who’s flying the plane?” And the story of a pilot and a profiler. Part IV: In which airplane food is disappointing and the context of a case is heavy.

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Arthur stands waiting for her outside the jet stairs. “So you’re on speaking terms again?”

She freezes, hands still lifted in the middle of adjusting her cap. “What do you mean?”

Arthur gives half a shrug and begins climbing up into the plane. He’s not one to pry into the lives of other people, but she’s discovered he does make occasional exceptions to this rule. “Simply that you seem much happier to be around Dr. Reid today. Your scowl is gone.”

Her face flushes and she’s grateful he can’t see it as they file into the cockpit. “We talked, yes. I think we’ve reached an understanding.”

Arthur gives a noncommittal, mmmm, and gets to work adjusting Geff’s controls. She does the same, going through routine checks, only to be interrupted by a quiet, “Just be careful. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Y/N blinks, then looks down quickly. She doesn’t ask him to elaborate; Captain Dobson isn’t one for sentimental attachments or expressions. The fact that he’s saying this at all speaks volumes. It makes her happy, to know he considers her someone close. The BAU is obviously close-knit, she’s heard them refer to themselves more than once as a “family.” But the two of them, bound by similar schedules and shared challenges, they’re something of that sort too. Perhaps that makes them distant cousins of the FBI.

The team boards the plane, they’re cleared for takeoff, and it’s all smooth flying and blue skies for a solid three hours. They’re both tired, and the thought of being able to go home and sleep in her own comfortable bed lifts her spirits – until the cockpit door slides open and Agent Rossi steps in.

“I’m afraid I have some bad news,” he says. “We just got word of a case in Houston. Two previous victims and now there’s a kid missing.”

A kid. Oh, god. Rossi looks genuinely apologetic, but Arthur nods.

“We’ll change course immediately.” Rossi murmurs a thank you, then slides the door closed once more, muffling the voices of the other agents, already discussing the case behind them.

Y/N follows all orders, gets in touch with the air traffic controller, telling Indianapolis Center that they’ll be changing directions and heading for Houston. Other than exchanges with ATC and instructions to shift speeds and change controls, they fly in silence. It’s a heavy quiet, weighed both by an acknowledgement that somewhere, something horrible has happened, as well as the fact that they won’t be going home tonight.

It’s harder for Arthur, he has a boyfriend to go home to, people who need him. She has less attachments, but has no desire to spend more time in a small motel once again. Still, things could be worse. It’s important work.

“I think we’ve still got lunches prepared that I could heat up,” she offers. “What do you want – the chicken or the pasta?”

“Pasta,” he replies, without missing a beat.

“You always take the pasta.”

“I’m the captain. When your epaulets have four stripes, you can claim it first.”

“I don’t know why we even bother with the chicken,” she grumbles. “We both hate airplane meat.”

“You know the rules. We can’t have the same meal.”

Y/N carefully clambers to the sliding door. “I know. But honestly, how many planes have gone down as a result of the food?”

“There have been some close calls. Japan Air, 1975, omelets. Overseas National, 1982, tapioca. British Airways, 1984, hors d’oeuvres.” She rolls her eyes, but begrudgingly goes to fetch the saran-wrapped meals. Slipping out of the cockpit, she catches bits and pieces of conversation as the team begins to work. The previous victims were a little older, most in their early and mid-twenties. All women with blonde hair.

“But Caroline Chapman is only twelve,” Morgan adds. “Though she fits the physical type.” Twelve years old. Her stomach turns, and it has nothing to do with the plane. She swallows hard and grabs the meals from the warm tray, hurrying back to the cockpit before she can hear anything else.

Their world is so different from hers. Their work is so heavy. Sometimes, in the silence of the flight, she pretends she’s a commercial pilot, bringing passengers somewhere cheerful. Maybe part of the crew on one of those Make-A-Wish flights.

The pilots eat in silence, then Arthur, sensing she needs a distraction, begins one of their infamous verbal games.

“Fortunately,” begins Arthur, thinking it over, “I’m taking a vacation in Seattle.”

“Unfortunately,” she counters, “climate change has turned Seattle to a frozen wasteland.”

“Fortunately, I’m an Iditarod champion and getting around won’t be an issue.”

“Unfortunately, the number of confused squirrels on the snow is distracting the sled dogs.”

Back and forth they continue, trying to create the most complicated situation until one of them has no counterpoint, or says something so absolutely outlandish they must concede. Sometimes their games can carry on for almost an hour; depending on which one they’re playing. This one finally ends when Arthur claims he’s saved up enough vacation time, and she rebuttals that the BAU has called in an emergency and he has to come fly the plane.

“Ah,” says Arthur, “fortunately Seattle is a frozen wasteland and no planes can take off.”

Y/N admits defeat. They sit in silence, cloud rushing past them. Then she says, “They’re only twelve.”

“I heard,” he says, starting straight ahead at the sky. She shifts in her seat, searching for the words to explain how she’s feeling. Arthur adds, “You can’t think about it too much. That’s their job.”

That’s all he has to say. A few hours later, they touch down just outside of Houston, and the agents file off to SUVs. She and Arthur prepare Geff for his overnight stay at the little airport they’ve landed at, before going off to the hotel. It’s been a long day, and they end up staying at the same one as the team. After a nap, she takes a long hot shower, and they order takeout, exhausted from the long flight.

Dinner arrives at nearly 8 pm; Arthur takes his to his room, and she makes herself comfortable in the lobby. Wet hair thrown up in a bun, a sweatshirt and leggings. That’s the nice thing about traveling. Nobody knows her. She can be anyone in a new city, only to disappear a few days later and leave only faint traces of herself. The sun has nearly disappeared outside the lobby window, when half of the team comes in, looking entirely drained. They head off in different directions, and she’s pleasantly surprised when Reid goes not to his room, but to join her on the hotel lobby couch. Y/N tries not to look too excited.

“You look tired,” she remarks. Holds out the container of pad thai and chopsticks. “Have you eaten yet?”

He politely refuses. “I have, thanks. Besides, I don’t know how to use chopsticks.”

“What? We’re going to have to fix this.” Her joking smile shrinks to one of hesitancy when she asks, “How are you doing?”

Reid shrugs, runs his hand through his long hair. It seems the more stressed he is, the messier it gets, and something makes her want to sit him down and brush her fingers through it until he looks calm.

“We’ve got enough for a partial profile, but that’s it. We still don’t have – I mean, we still can’t find the girl.”

Arthur explicitly warned her not to get involved, not to think about it. And yet, she asks, “So… what does that mean?” She knows enough to realize it’s not good.

Reid purses his lips. “The first hour is the most important. When a stranger abducts a child, it doesn’t always mean they’ll be killed. But of the children who are, almost half die within the first hour. Nearly all of them are killed within the first twenty-four, and we just passed that mark. Hotch, JJ, and Rossi are still out looking, with the CARD team. In five hours, they’ll come back and I’ll go out with Morgan and Kate.”

Kate Callahan is the newest member of their team, a short woman with dark hair and no time for anyone’s crap. She likes the way they look out for each other, making sure they have a chance to rest. But twenty-four hours, it’s such a short timespan. Gone too soon already. What does that mean for Caroline Chapman?

“Are you okay?” Reid asks, tilting his head. His voice is gentle, making it easy to admit to him what she hates to admit to herself.

“This job – it’s different for us, you know? As pilots,” she says. “You’re trained for this. It’s what you know you’ll be doing, going off to fight evil and save lives. I never thought I’d be involved with that. I mean, I like this job, don’t get me wrong. But I love flying. And lately, every time I get a call from work, my heart breaks because I know the only reason I’m going up in the air is because something terrible has happened to someone, and I just don’t know how to reconcile that. Every time I get into that plane, every time we get Geff off the ground, we’re taking you all to danger, and I only get to do what I love because someone else has suffered a tragedy.”

It’s so complicated, to have her great love for the sky tangled up in this mess she feels when the phone rings. It’s fear and it’s anxiety and it’s sorrow – grief for people she will never even meet. And flying back can be just as difficult. A case closing may mean a happy ending, but it also might mean that a victim is dead, or that an unsub – she’s picked up their lingo – is dead. Either way, there has almost always been some sort of loss. Perhaps in the form of innocence or hope or comfort. She can see it when they board before heading home. This job takes things from them. Will a day come when they have nothing left?

“I know it might sound selfish, but it’s just hard for me to understand. And you,” she adds. “I’m always so happy to see you and talk to you, but that only happens when there’s a case. I feel like I shouldn’t feel that way, not when someone’s life is on the line.”

Does it make sense to him? She hopes it does, because otherwise it’s going to sound so self-centered. Of course his job is more emotionally taxing. Of course she’d rather be a pilot than a profiler. But it hurts her heart each time she hears there’s a case. She grieves for them too. And she worries for the team, her team, their team.

He must understand though, because he places one hand over hers, just long enough for her to understand it’s meant as a comforting gesture, and not purely accidental. Reid doesn’t touch many people, she never sees him shake hands with anyone he doesn’t know. Crossing that barrier is a big deal, and that’s what leaves her all the more surprised.

“It’s okay,” he tells her. “It’s okay to feel whatever you feel – about this job, or a case. You don’t have to disconnect from things or stop being affected by them. But you also don’t have to feel guilty about liking your work. You shouldn’t – you’re a great pilot, and a really good person.”

“Thanks, Doctor.”

Reid gives her half a smile, then looks nervously down at the floor. His pulls at his fingers. “You know, maybe we could meet sometime outside of work. That way we can actually talk for a normal amount of time, and we don’t have to worry about anything else.”

“That would be really, really nice.” At that, his smile widens, and she can feel her own mouth mirroring his expression. “Maybe after all this, when we’ve both had enough sleep, we could go get coffee or something? Go to a library?”

Reid’s grin makes his eyes seem less tired, and for a moment it’s so easy to forget the circumstances. “I’d like that.”

#criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #reid x reader #spencer reid x reader #flight risk

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just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot · 4 years

Text

Soulmate September - Day 11

Day 11 - Pick your favorite Soulmate AU and write about it, it can be from this list or something completely different.

(Balloon AU: you have a spirit-like balloon with the name of your soulmate written on it that only you can see. It will often drift towards your soulmate’s when they’re close by.)

Pairing(s): Romantic Logicality, Romantic Remile

TWs: Character Death (it’s loosely based on Disney’s UP, so y’all know whats going on), implied homophobia for a small section, unspecified heart condition mention

Author’s note: please forgive any inaccuracies in time periods and such, I did my best ;w;

Also don’t let the tags throw you off, this story’s bittersweet but it’s really lovely, thank you if you do indeed keep reading, ily <3

–

They met when they were just children back in March of 1950.

Logan Crofter had just come from the theatre after having seen the newest Walt Disney movie, Cinderella, when he overheard a commotion coming from the children’s park on his way home. He was always a cautious young lad but as he caught sight of his balloon begin to sway that way, Logan wasted no time in hurrying towards the sound of children arguing.

“Boys don’t wear dresses, stupid!!!”

“But it’s really pretty!!”

Logan arrived in time to see an older boy shove another boy about his age into a puddle, soaking the light blue dress he was wearing over a light t-shirt and dungarees. Upon realising the dress was likely ruined, the boy began crying. Logan wasted no time in getting between the two of them,

“Leave him alone, or I’ll inform the proper authorities!”

“.... You’ll what?”, the taller boy asked dumbfoundedly.

“It means I’ll tell your mom!!”

He was bluffing of course, Logan had no idea who the boy was, but the threat was enough to send him running. With a sigh of relief, he turned his attention to the boy in the puddle. Instead of crying anymore, he was gazing up at Logan in excited adoration,

“Wow!! You saved me!! Just like Prince Charming saved Cinderella!!!”

The boy wiped his face of tears and stood up to grasp Logan’s hands, “Thank you, thank you, thank youuuu!!”

Embarrassed by the overly sweet gesture, Logan cleared his throat, “You’re far too kind, I simply cannot tolerate bullying, I’m certainly no Prince Charming.”, he tried to assure the boy, “Truly, it was no trouble. Are you going to be alright, um-?”

“Patton!”, the boy, Patton, beamed.

A gasp left Logan, the name wasn’t that common, so perhaps…. “Patton Hart?”

The boy nodded, surprised, “That’s me-”, then realised, “A-Are you Logan Crofter!?”

Logan’s smile must’ve said it all as Patton threw his arms around him, “I can’t believe it! My soulmate saved me! I really am like Cinderella!”

“You are pretty like Cinderella as well.”, Logan offered shyly, shuffling his feet awkwardly. Patton giggled and took his hands.

“Come on! I wanna introduce you to mama!! She’ll like you lots!!”

Patton was right, Logan adored Mrs Hart from the moment they were introduced. He loved the whole family with every member he was introduced to; it wasn’t hard to see where Patton got his shining personality from, happiness and warmth radiated from every one of them. Logan remembered the way Patton had introduced him to his parents and that summer he’d done the same for all his grandparents, his ‘tios and tias’ as he referred to them, and his many cousins who welcomed Logan with open arms.

He was grateful for such a loving family especially when his own disowned him. Logan had known from the day he finally brought Patton home to meet his parents - six years after they’d first met - that they would never accept his soulmate. Despite the majority of the world’s population accepting that the soulmate bond was a fixed infallible system, the Crofters had their minds made up that their son’s soulmate would be someone worthy of their expectations. Someone stoic and serious, not bubbly and energetic. Someone who was all work and no play, not someone who wanted to have fun and just enjoy life. Someone who was female, not another male. Logan hadn’t anticipated that extra twist of the knife but all the same, he wouldn’t trade Patton for anyone else.

It was hard being fourteen and having to turn his back on the family home he’d grown up in, but as Patton’s family helped him move his things into the room they’d painstakingly cleared out for him, Logan figured that feeling would soon pass.

Throughout high school, the two grew even more inseparable; Logan helped tutor Patton in math and science while Patton helped Logan with art and music. Logan joined Patton’s cooking club to support his cause while Patton would always attend Logan’s debates, captivated by his drive and dedication.

Another routine they’d started over the years was attending the latest screenings of each new Disney movie. In truth, Logan had lost his taste for “childish exploits” around the age of ten, but he would never admit out loud that seeing the way Patton would smile during their theatre dates made his heart race faster than any other sight on the entire planet. That was why for their 27th anniversary, Logan proposed to Patton during the double bill screening of The Many Adventures of Winnie The Pooh. He burned the moment Patton threw his arms around him in sheer glee into his brain forever. He would carry the joy of hearing his soulmate - no, his husband-to-be - cry out that wonderful “yes!” with him for eternity.

Sending out the invitations had been a nerve wracking affair for Logan, but Patton had assured him that everything would be okay in the end as he sent out his half of the invitations. He knew his parents wouldn’t show so he didn’t bother to invite them, but he wasn’t sure if his grandparents or distant aunts and uncles would. Aside from them, he’d never met much of his own family, most of them residing outside of the states.

In the end, only his paternal grandparents and mother’s brother agreed to attend. Logan didn’t mind, he was just glad to have someone. Thankfully, his side of the church wouldn’t be too empty for the friends he made in his highschool years were more than happy to fill the pews.

Logan Crofter-Hart married his husband Patton Hart in the spring of 1981 after four years of planning and saving for their first home together. Logan’s endless studying and training to become a lecturer combined with Patton’s enthusiasm and drive to make money working at Foster’s Family Diner had all led up to this moment. As Logan placed the ring on Patton’s finger and promised to love and honour him - in sickness and in health, til death did they part - he couldn’t help but think himself the luckiest man alive. After the ceremony, his uncle and paternal grandparents had congratulated him, with the former asking what their next step would be.

Logan wasn’t sure about the far future, but at the time while he watched the love of his life dance and gesture for Logan to join him, all he could think to answer was “Simple, our Traditional Disney Movie Date.”, as he got up to indulge Patton’s request.

Said movie was The Fox And The Hound, and Patton, bless him, had cried for most of it. Logan draped his arm around his husband’s shoulders and softly wiped his tears with his other hand. While the scene where Todd’s owner sadly releases him into the wild played, Patton snuggled closer to Logan for comfort. Logan would deny that he teared up at that part too, though the memory of Patton humming the tune of Goodbye May Seem Forever would always stick with him even on his saddest days...

“Logan?”, Patton softly piped up as they lay in bed watching TV together one night.

Logan turned to face his husband, “Yes, starlight?”

“What do you think about...”, he hesitated, but continued at Logan’s nod of encouragement, “...us adopting?”

The idea had indeed occurred to Logan. They’d been married only a year but he knew his husband would make a wonderful father.

“.... Do you think I’d be ready, Patton?”, Logan offered unsurely. Patton softly removed his head from Logan’s shoulder and sat in his lap to properly apply one soothing hug directly to his darling husband.

“Only you’ll know for sure, but I think you’ll be an amazing father, Logie Bear.”

A soft kiss from his husband destroyed any doubt Logan had harboured. “Just imagine it, getting to watch our son or daughter grow up and get married someday! Ooh, or maybe they’ll become an astronaut! The second person to go into space!”

Logan chuckled, knowing Patton was playing on his fondness for space travel, “Perhaps, however, they would in fact be the fifth person to go into space-”

With a fond sigh, Patton brought Logan into a gentle kiss, one that Logan had no intentions of breaking to keep infodumping. He wrapped his arms around his husband’s waist, pulling him closer as if no amount of closeness would ever be enough. Another memory that would burn itself into his brain forever. Patton pulled back to his Logan with those puppy dog eyes that resulted in him getting what he wanted at least 80% of the time.

“So, does this mean you want to give adopting a try, Logie Bear?”

Feigning annoyance with a smiling eye roll and a forced huff of air, Logan replied, “Yeah. I guess-”

He spent the rest of the night returning Patton’s delighted kisses and listening to him ramble adorably about all the wonderful memories they’d make as a family.

The rejection hit the Hart couple hard; Patton even more so than Logan.

Yes, he was just as crushed by the news, but Patton was distraught.

They’d done all they could to be sure the adoption would be a success. Logan had been hired as part of the local university’s astrophysics division which did bring in enough money to allow the couple to renovate Logan’s old office room into a bedroom for their potential child. The day had been filled with laughter and, with some coercion from Patton, dancing along to the radio in between paint drying times. They’d been sure to go through all the steps, make sure their house was child friendly, even going as far as to secure references from friends and family in case they were needed.

Alas, some bad luck out of nowhere had been the first blow to the couple. After hanging on for a good decade or so, Foster’s Family Diner was bought over by a larger franchise and thus, Patton had been laid off with little warning to cut down the number of employees. The only comfort he found at the time was from his fellow staff who were devastated to see him go. The full weight of the situation really hit home when they realised it’d put enough of a dent in their income to make things a little less comfy for a while.

The second blow was the twins. Two young boys Patton had grown attached to during an Adoption Activity Day he and Logan had attended. Logan knew while he watched both boys painting his husband’s face with vastly different degrees of success, that they’d be the children Patton wanted to adopt. The boys seemed to love them too, going by their reluctance to let either of them leave at the end of the event. But the blow to their finances and the lack of a large enough room for twins had been a cause for concern with the agency, and try as the Harts might, they just weren’t able to get the room up to code in time.

Both boys were adopted that same week, and Patton further spiralled even further. Logan tried his best to try and cheer him up, but nothing seemed to work. As a last ditch attempt, Logan even requested to be able to be put in contact with the twins’ adoptive parents to ask for a visit but he was told, as anticipated, that the agency couldn’t allow it.

Logan refused to give up though. Using his university’s connections, he was able to find Patton a prospective new job; one of the researchers in the history department had a brother who worked for the local zoo. She assured Logan that with her brother’s approval, Patton would more than likely be offered the job opening they had going.

It wasn’t much, not really, but when he brought Patton to the zoo to surprise him with the offer of running the park’s souvenir shop, his husband’s glowing smile stole Logan’s breath away. For the first time in months, he heard Patton laugh with delight as he accepted the job.

With both of them working again, Logan put all of his effort into a new goal; helping Patton feel ready to adopt once more. It would be a slow venture; they cut out anything that wasn’t necessary and swapped the pricier items for store brands. The 80s rolled into the 90s and it felt like for a while the world would doom them to a life of endless saving, even having to eventually forgo their sacred cinema dates in favour of waiting for video and later DVD releases.

But they were happy.

Happy to have each other, and happily thinking of the day when they could try adopting again.

As the years went on, however, Logan began to worry. With he and his husband approaching their fifties, Patton’s hopes of adopting a young child to raise dwindled, knowing that they often gave other couples older children to look after. He knew Patton wanted to see them attend their first day of school, to teach them to ride a bike, to spend as much time as possible with them.

So Logan made a bold suggestion to Patton that night that they try again.

Patton was quiet for a while causing Logan to fear it was still too soon, but his husband agreed that it had been long enough. They once more gave adoption a try.

The second time proved to be a charm and the Harts welcomed their son - six year old Emile - into the family in 1993.

He was an eccentric, curious young lad with a love of cartoons and biology; a perfect combination for the happy parents. Not that it would have mattered in the long run, they’d have loved their son no matter what.

Logan looked to the man asleep on his shoulder and their son who had also tuckered himself out watching The Nightmare Before Christmas with them. With a fond smile, Logan rested his head against the back of the sofa, catching sight of his soul balloon. It’d been years since he’d really paid much attention to it, but the name Patton Hart still glistened in wonderous golden letters set against the baby blue of the balloon. He glanced over to Patton, seeing that same cute sleepy face he always made. Logan wondered how, whenever he believed he had hit the maximum, he ended up falling more and more in love with Patton.

The stronger the feeling grew, the more Logan felt like he could conquer anything, and he would do so in a heartbeat for his husband, and now his son too..

Love alone, however, couldn’t conquer all things.

During Emile’s 14th birthday party, Patton collapsed. It was sudden and terrifying, but thankfully Logan was able to keep him out of harm's way until the paramedics arrived. Luckily, they were able to treat Patton at home, coming to the conclusion that heat exhaustion had been the culprit when they were informed that Patton had given himself little time to rest coupled with the unusually hot day.

Logan still wanted Patton to see a doctor as soon as possible, but Patton sweetly but stubbornly insisted he was fine. He didn’t want to cause more of a scene during Emile’s big day. Reluctantly, Logan let him make the final call, relief setting in as Patton went about the rest of the day as his usual cheerful self. Logan made sure to stay by his husband just in case, but the day passed without another hitch.

That couldn’t be said for the second time.

The call came for Logan during one of his lectures; Patton had been catching up with an old coworker from his diner days who’d come to the zoo with their granddaughter when he’d just crumpled to the floor without warning. Logan wasn’t sure what exactly happened, but the next thing he knew, he was parking his car outside the hospital and desperately asking the staff where his husband was being treated.

Fortunately, once again, Patton was more or less alright. When Logan saw him sitting upright in his hospital bed chattering away to a young girl in a hospital gown, he knew for sure his husband was alright. At least for now.

“Will you ever stop giving me a heart attack?”, Logan had sighed with fond exhaustion as he sat next to Patton with his hard carding through his soft umber hair. Patton chuckled and played with the blue tie Logan was so fond of, “Not if it means you’ll keep coming to my rescue like Prince Charming.”.

Logan let out a huff of laughter, fondly recalling their first meeting. It felt like yesterday still…

“Does that mean you’re still my Cinderella?”

Patton tapped a finger to his chin and finally answered with a smile, “Maybe not. Glass slippers and fairy godmothers or not, I’d never leave your side for anything, Logie Bear.”

Logan wished Patton could have kept that promise.

The following years passed with a couple of stumbles along the way in regards to Patton’s health and still the doctor’s weren’t sure what caused his episodes. Logan was naturally worried; he and Patton were in their sixties, he knew that even though Patton kept bouncing back that one day statistically he wouldn’t be able to. That one day Patton would…

Logan didn’t allow himself to think about it. Instead he sat with his husband, enjoying the movie they’d put on; Disney’s UP. His attention wasn’t so much on the movie as it was on Patton. Every time he looked at his husband, Logan didn’t see the silver roots, eye wrinkles, and laughter lines; he saw the boy he’d moved in with at 14, the beautiful young man he went on regular cinema dates with like clockwork, the man whose excited tearful “yes!” still echoed in his brain no matter how many years had passed. 1979 felt both so long ago, yet like it was just yesterday. And now they were doing just what Logan had hoped; growing old together while their son was out in the world working as a therapist alongside his own husband.

Logan had been skeptical of Remy the first time Emile had introduced them to his parents, but in spite of their sharp tongue and sassy attitude, Logan had easily grown fond of the person who would later become his child-in-law. Logan wasn’t sure if that was the term, but he did his best to keep up. He remembered the day Emile had come home from high school, excitedly babbling about his soulmate. Patton had been on cloud nine the whole time, and while Logan was just as delighted for their son, he was too wrapped up in admiring the happiness that radiated from his husband.

Goodness, when had Logan gotten this sentimental? He asked, knowing full well he’d always been that way when it came to Pat. He decided to tune back in to the movie only to realise he’d been lost in his memories for nearly the entire run time.

On screen, Carl Fredricksen had just discovered the rest of his late wife’s additions to her adventure book. The more stoic Logan of the past would never have been swayed by such a heart-string tugging moment, but well. The years had softened that stony exterior. At least, that's what he told himself while he felt tears roll down his cheeks silently. Patton’s gentle thumb wiping away his tears, drew his attention, noting that his husband was also tearing up. But my god, that smile. Logan could’ve stared at that sunshine grin til the end of time itself. Seizing the moment, Logan gently leant in to give Patton a kiss, which his husband returned in kind.

At that moment, Logan had an idea. It took a lot of string pulling to make it happen, granted, but he refused to allow anything to get in the way of his plans.

January of 2010 saw Patton’s 66th’s birthday roll in, and Logan first surprised his husband by driving their old car, a blue 1955 Ford Thunderbird, into the driveway. It wasn’t in the greatest condition, having been kept in their garage for years, but Logan had secretly washed and maintained it leading up to today. It still had their cassette tape in the player; the Beach Boys’ Wouldn’t It Be Nice played just as it had back in the day.

The car was only one of the surprises Logan had in store; he’d found an old diner that, while it wasn’t much like Foster’s, was dedicated to capturing the 1980s vibe they were both familiar with. After a couple of milkshakes and Patton’s insistence that they dance together when the jukebox would play their favourite tunes, Logan parked outside of a familiar sight.

Their old theatre and origin of Patton’s nickname, The Starlight; it’d been renamed of course, but thankfully the former owner’s daughter remembered the couple from back in her father’s day, and so Logan had asked if the old sign could be replaced just this once. She’d done one better, adding a lovely “Happy Birthday Patton!” banner underneath. Logan wasn’t sure if hugs could be fatal, but the one Patton sent his way nearly crushed him with the weight of it’s love.

Once inside the foyer, Logan directed Patton to their private screening of Cinderella. He had wanted the same movie he’d proposed to Patton with initially, but alas, the owner couldn’t track it down in time, thus they went with the movie that had led Logan to his soulmate in the first place. The Harts sat in a comfortable silence throughout the film; they didn’t need to say anything, their intertwined hands and soft sighs of adoration were enough. When the movie ended, they began to drive home until Patton spoke up, “Logan, look!”, he gestured out the window towards a familiar sight; the park where they’d met.

The old equipment had been removed and changed somewhat over the years, but the familiar landmarks were all still there. Logan didn’t need to be asked the question as he parked nearby and walked with his beloved towards the spot where they’d met. The small indent in the ground where the same puddle he’d helped Patton out of was still there in all it’s sentimental glory. Logan raised an eyebrow as Patton sat at the edge of the former puddle until he realised what he was up to,

“Oh no! I’ve fallen! And I can’t get up! Oh where is my Prince Charming who shall come to save me?!”

Logan had to stifle his laughter with his hand for a second before offering it to Patton, rolling his eyes fondly as he stated, “I’m here, I’m here, don’t worry, fair Cinderella.”

He helped Patton to his feet, stumbling a little but thankfully he caught his husband in his waiting arms. With a smile that shone like the gold of his soul balloon’s cursive, Patton met Logan’s eyes, whispering a soft, loving, “I love you, Logan.”

Logan gently brushed a strand of Patton’s hair away from his soulmate’s eyes, “I love you too, Patton.”

The two began to walk back to the car, hand in hand, while Patton explained to Logan where he’d gotten the blue dress he’d met him in when Patton stopped.

“Patton? Is everything alright-?”

Patton’s breathing hastened, and before he could try and say he was okay, he curled in on himself, grasping his chest. Terrified for his husband, Logan called 911, doing his best to get Patton to the car to drive him to A&E.

Nothing was alright.

Logan stayed by Patton’s side in hospital when the doctors delivered the bad news.

Heart failure.

The doctor was apologetic the whole time - “I’m so sorry” “If only we’d caught it sooner” “Too late for a transplant” “Surgery would only prolong the inevitable” - but Logan couldn’t bear to hear it. The love of his life lay dying in a cold, sterile room when he should be at home; dancing around their living room, baking with him in their kitchen, laying next to him in bed as they held hands and regaled each other with happy memories and countless “I love you”s.

The decision wasn’t difficult, not for Logan anyway. The doctors offered to let Logan take him home so he could pass in the comfort of his own home, and while Emile had tried to convince his parents to try for more time in hospital, his fathers both refused. Patton was stubborn when he wanted to be, and Logan even more so. They’d wasted three days with Logan having to stay in hospital with Patton, he wasn’t about to jeopardise any more time.

Emile and Remy came to visit each day once Patton came home. Neither one would comment on just how tired he looked, but Logan could see the concern in their faces. They both knew as well as Logan that any day could be Patton’s last. Every time they left, both would hold Patton tightly, making sure to always leave with an “I love you, dad”, no matter how late it made them for an appointment or the like.

One night, Logan noticed Patton was sitting outside on the porch step in the early morning sunrise, in one hand was a pack of balloons, and in the other, some string and markers.

“What’re you up to, starlight?”, Logan questioned curiously, unable to stop himself smiling as Patton sent him a smile at the old nickname.

“Just wanted to try something, Logie Bear. Here, you can pick out your color.”

Ah. Logan understood, rifling through the pack for the right shade of baby blue to make his soul balloon. He and Patton had of course described their balloons to each other, “Mine’s this lovely dark blue with silver writing! Bold and smart, just like you, Logan!”, Patton had said. He watched Patton try to blow up the balloon, but upon giving himself a coughing fit, Logan went to get the helium pump he’d used for the balloons at Emile’s 14th birthday.

Once both balloons were safely inflated and tied with some string, the Harts set about writing each other’s name in an imitation of their respective soul balloon. Patton wasn’t sure whether to write Logan’s married name or the one on the balloon, but Logan assured him he didn’t mind. With both balloons finished, the couple tied the ends of their strings together, Patton requesting Logan take some pictures with his phone to show Emile and Remy later. With the request indulged - along with some depicting the couple sat cuddled together with their respective balloons - the two held out the tied end of the balloons and let them go.

Bobbing in the wind, the balloons carried themselves into the sky, twirling in a dance as they soared towards the clouds. The Harts watched until they could no longer see the pair anymore; eventually just sitting side by side on the porch, their fingers locked together and their heads rested against one another.

The morning was stunning; soft cloudy skies that let the sun peek through while a warm breeze drifted by.

“Hey, Logie Bear?”, Patton quietly requested. His voice ghostly even in it’s happiness.

“Yes, starlight?”

Logan couldn’t explain how or why he knew that it’d be the last thing he heard Patton say, but he simply held his husband of thirty nine years, his soulmate since birth, even closer as Patton’s last words carved themselves into his memory;

“Thanks for the adventure.”, his stunning eyes met Logan’s one last time, “I love you, Logan.”

“You too, Patton,”, Logan couldn’t stop the tears that rolled down his cheeks, “I love you too.”

Even as Patton’s grip loosened, as his eyes closed, as his breathing shuddered to a halt, Logan stayed with his husband for hours. He knew he’d soon have to break the news to their son before the poor lad and his husband found them still sitting together like always. But Logan couldn’t bring himself to move an inch.

“I’d never leave your side for anything, starlight...”

--------

I’m not crying I’m SOBBING

This one has me in tears just rereading it to make last minute corrections, god...

Day 12 will be back to much happier themes, I promise!

@tsshipmonth2020

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @cateye-glasses @fandomsofrandom

106 notes · View notes

kayoticworld · 4 years

Text

Just like you...

Genshin Impact

WARNINGS: None?

Be nice, English is not my native language and this is basically just a little test to see if people like it. If yes, I'll upload more

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Diluc! I'm not here to boss you around! I want to help! Why don't you get that?!"

A young woman with long purple hair stood in front of the tavern owner. Tears made her flaming pink eyes sparkling, but not a single drop had left them yet. She held back her emotions with all affordable strength, yet the air around that woman seemed to be charged with pure electric energy.

"And I told you, that I don't need any help. Why don't you get that, Akali?", he answered with his arms crossed.

Diluc was always distant, nevertheless she tried to be close to him. Ever since they were little, she tried her best, but now Akali wondered why she even tried.

"Fine."

No more words were spoken. She bit her lip, so there wouldn't be any words she'd regret. Only the bitter sweet taste of her own blood.

With all the strength left in her bones, Akali walked out of the room, her head up high and not looking back. Only so could she remain her dignity.

By all the Archons, she wished that he would shout after her, stop her, call her name, but he never did.

He never would. It just wasn't Diluc's way.

It's been years since they last saw each other. Many things had changed, but Diluc didn't. He remained as stubborn and cold as she left him.

Why couldn't he just accept her help?

Akali passed some guests of the tavern when she stormed out of the backroom. It was hard to keep her mind focused on all the anger and thoughts, when there was so much joy all round. All of the people were having lively conversations while hovering infront of their glasses.

She couldn't take the atmosphere right now. It made her sick.

All those noisy people engaged in their happy conversations, drinking expensive wine on wooden chairs in Dilucs tavern. What in earth was she thinking? That he'd change? That he'd accept help just this once?

His honor came before everything, even their friendship. Ugh! There are people's life on the line and Diluc kept on playing the hero who didn't need help, when he actually did.

Who else could he ask for help? Or maybe who else could she ask?

But just before Akali could leave the stuffy air of Diluc's tavern behind, the door opened and it was none other than her other childhood best friend.

"Kaeya?"

It didn't took her long to recognize him. He stood out by everything he wore, his eyepatch, the long dark blue hair and his eyes. They had the most beautiful icy color, Akali had ever seen and she had seen many.

But apparently not only she did recognize the one in front of her.

"Kali! What are you doing here? Having a glass of wine without me?", he grinned.

Of course he noticed the tears in her eyes, the way her face had turned all red when she was angry and the static in the air, but most importantly he noticed Diluc, who had just now returned to his spot behind the counter and was keeping an eye on them.

Something must have happened, it always did.

"I'm staying in Mondstadt for a few days and I thought I... visit someone.", she bitterly admitted.

"Well then, would you fancy having a drink together? Telling me about your adventures, perhaps? Or if you'd prefer, we could go somewhere else."

"No! No... It's okay. We can stay... I would gladly spend some time with you."

Under the strict eyes of the tavern owner the two of them sat down in a corner at the back of the establishment, away from all the noise, the bard's music and happenings.

Kaeya had aged really well, Akali thought to herself. He had indeed become very attractive. She even dared to think that he looked fancy.

Something about him had always been kind of exotic... Maybe that was why he stood out. But on her journey Akali had learned to sort of like the things that stood out.

"So tell me, what have you been doing all these years?", the blue haired asked.

"Traveled the world. I've just wanted to see as much as possible. I worked for different people, helped most of them too. And now I'm here for sometime. It's really not that special."

Kaeya leaned back in his chair. Blue eyes still focused on her silhouette.

The three of them, Akali, Diluc and him were childhood friends. They spend many years of training together. They were like family, one could have even said.

Together they had been through so much fun and trouble... Memories of better times, that layed way to long in the past.

For now Kaeya could only remember how much he wanted the little purple haired girl to be happy. Or maybe he always tried to make that happen.

A long time had passed since she left and now instead of the cute, friendly girl, that picked on him and made him laugh, a young, beautiful woman was sitting right next to him.

"I think it is very interesting indeed. You need to tell me more."

A grin formed on both their lips, as she looked up from the table and directly into his ice blue eyes.

"Well, I guess I can tell you some stories, but what about you? Are you a knight of the order? Or just..."

"Just what?"

"I don't know. Just independent, like others...", she said slightly teasingly, with a slick eye roll.

"I'm a knight. Cavalary Captain of the Knights of Favonius, to be exact."

"Wow, sounds like alot of responsibility."

"It is. Although the grandmaster took all the Cavalary and now there is none for me to captain.", he nodded with a soft simile on his lips.

"But tell me, for how long have you been in Mondstadt?"

A short silence settled in between the two. Not long enough to make it awkward, but also not short enough to go unnoticed.

It was a moment of thinking.

"I arrived two days ago. But-", Akali couldn't finish her explanation about how she wanted to go see him after some things were sorted out, as a waitress interrupted the talk.

"H-Hello, d-do you know what you'd like to order yet?", the woman asked nervously.

Kaeya knew her. Donna, a shy, mousy girl, although very friendly, but she had a crush on Diluc, for literally all the wrong reasons. Hm, not that that was something new.

"The usual, for the both of us this time.", he quickly responded.

"O-okay."

Quickly Donna left. Her cheeks had the color of wild raspberries by the moment she could finally leave their table and over her, one could only see Diluc's flaming red eyes darting towards the two, but none of them actually cared.

"So... the usual, huh?"

"Oh don't worry. It's called "Death by Afternoon", which is sparkling wine with three parts dandelion wine. You'll like it. Trust me."

Of course she trusted him.

They both shared a moment. Of course, Kaeya forgot that Kali didn't drink. Surprisingly enough that the usually confident woman didn't intervine.

"What about your non-drinking attitude?", he winked.

"Let's say that that changed over the years. I wouldn't want to be caught dead with a glass of grape juice in my hands, now would I?"

Of course she nagged Diluc over his favorite drink, just like Kaeya usually did.

"Some people are just unromantic."

They shared a laughter together, that felt like it had been the first time in forever. So that is what both of them missed.

"Maybe you're right. But I hope you didn't order anything bitter. You know, I'm not really into that."

"Don't worry. Death by afternoon is a Mondstadt speciality. Dandelion wine makes the bitterness of the sparkling wine disappear completely. You'll like it, I'm sure of that."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"You got good taste."

The adventure and the knight engaged in a lively talk about their work, their experiences and even their childhood.

It's been too many years since Akali had last visited Mondstadt. Everything seemed to be new, but from outside it nothing seemed to ever really change.

Diluc gave them another glare.

What else could he do? Kaeya was a charming as one could be and Akali was falling for it. He didn't mind it going on for an hour, at least Diluc tried to talk himself into thinking that, but the more they drank, the closer they got.

A little gesture here. A small touch there. They were friends, but this behavior annoyed him.

Usually he was the one, who had this... thing going on with the electric user. They had this sort of connection, where he didn't mind her being close to him. But her being close with Kaeya? It made him angry.

Was that... jealousy, he felt?

Quickly he shook his head, trying his best to keep a straight face.

"Wait! You really started that ruin guard just to prove your point?", Kali giggled.

"Well, let's just say, no one will ever question my authority again."

Fascinated by her beauty, Kaeya watched her laugh at his story. The feeling of a close friend from the past at his side... He couldn't even remember when he last felt that familiarity.

"That's enough."

Rough, like a hot wind hitting a wall of ice, Diluc stood in front of their table.

Theratingly he had his arms crossed infront of him.

The other two just shared a look of slight amusement.

"What have we done this time?"

"We pissed him off, that's what it is, Kaeya."

"You are both drunk."

Both laughed. They did drink some glasses, maybe one or two over their usual limit, but neither Kaeya nor Akali were drunk.

"No, we're not.", the knight wanted to explain, but he got interrupted by his friend.

"Seems like we're not welcome here anymore, Kaeya. Let's pay and go somewhere else. Maybe somewhere where we are more welcome."

Diluc instantly tried to correct this statement, but he couldn't go on about is explanation.

"That's not what I meant."

"You never mean anything, Diluc. See ya."

Kali grabbed her companion's upper arm and dragged him out of the tavern, but not without giving Diluc a last sarcastic wave.

Other guests noticed the scene, but most of them didn't. A great part of the customers had already left, that is how late it had gotten.

Cursing Kaeya, himself and even Akali in his head Diluc had watched them leave in silence.

He scoffed.

Well, he ruined it. Great. Was that the only thing he managed to do?

38 notes · View notes

damoreyunho · 3 years

Text

Vol1 Ch1: Lights

It was a late summer's day, the blue sky above was dotted with white cotton clouds, and Hongjoong sat peacefully on a bench watching the world around him. He watched a flock of pigeons make a fuss over a piece of bread and his eyes followed them as one bird fled with it, the others following, not far behind. He could hear the laughter of families playing with their kids in the open areas of the park. From further away a faint barking sounded from the pet-friendly zone. The air was warm but not hot. A soft little breeze blew past him and some lonely strands of his hair wavered along with it.

It was the last week before summer break ended and everyone were out and about trying to make the best of their remaining free time. The city was bustling with activity as most had already returned home from their vacations. From within the park Hongjoong could barely hear the city noise. Only vaguely if he tried hard enough. On the other hand he could definitely still see it. The city. Beyond the large trees outlining the park rose tall high rise buildings. Some would probably even be considered skyscrapers. The sun's reflection on the glass covered buildings made him squint as he looked up. He closed his eyes for a moment, observing the imprints which the bright light had left in his eyes, before opening them again.

Hongjoong got up, did a little stretch and was about to move on when he noticed something. Or was it actually someone? Crouched beside a flower bed was a young man, probably around the same age as himself. His hair was ash grey with the comma style and an undercut. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt and black jeans. An also black jacket was slung over his left arm.

Hongjoong approached the stranger and stood a little off to one side tilting his head slightly in attempt to see what the other was looking at. He eventually noticed Hongjoong's shadow and stood up. He was quite a bit taller than Hongjoong, but who wasn't taller than him. The eyes of the other were a beautiful smoky grey and it was obvious that his hair color had been chosen to match the eyes. The two of them stared at each other for a moment that felt too long. Hongjoong broke the slightly awkward silence first.

HJ: "Did you find anything of interest?"

???: "Not really."

The taller man glanced down at the flowers uneasily. He seemed slightly flustered by being approached so suddenly.

HJ: "My name is Hongjoong. Do you live nearby? I've not seen you around before."

Hongjoong attempted to spark a conversation between the two of them. The stranger seemed a bit hesitant before replying.

SH: "I am Seonghwa. It is my first time here, though I guess you could say I live nearby."

Seonghwa cracked a small smile. His voice was soft and slightly deep. Even though he spoke quietly, his voice did not tremble at all. It was a voice that undoubtedly held power and probably also a certain level of authority. Hongjoong could not pinpoint which type of person he might be. Could he be a CEO for some company? Maybe he was a big politician? It would definitely be some sort of leadership role though he did not know which.

Quite suddenly it felt like something had changed within Seonghwa. His eyes which had seemed somewhat distant grew warm and welcoming. It was as if they started to focus. Onto Hongjoong to be precise.

SH: "Want to join me for tea?"

Seonghwa spoke warmly and had now turned his body in the direction of a path that would lead them out of the park. Hongjoong nodded and started to walk in the direction which the other had initiated.

──── ⋅ ☾ ⋅ ────

The two of them had found a small cafe in which they were now seated by the window. Seonghwa had tea while Hongjoong had coffee. Hongjoong was slightly worried about the silence between the two of them but he also kind of enjoyed it. There was something comforting about Seonghwa's presence. He just couldn't figure out what.

SH: "Do you go to the park often? You seemed familiar with your surroundings."

Hongjoong adverted his gaze from the street outside to the man opposite of him.

HJ: "I go there when I feel in need for inspiration. I love watching the butterflies during the summer and feeling the warmth of the sun."

SH: "Inspiration?"

Seonghwa's voice was encouraging Hongjoong to continue talking. And he did.

HJ: "I'm an artist in my free time. I like to design my own clothes and accessories."

He stretched out one leg from under the table and tilted his foot to the side. On his shoes were some writing in Hangul, hand-painted onto the sides of them. Seonghwa admired the work for some time before finally looking back at Hongjoong.

SH: "They are really beautiful. You have a unique style."

HJ: "Thank you. I also designed my own phone case!"

Hongjoong could feel the happiness within him. It was so nice to have someone listen and admire something you had put a lot of care and effort into. He held out his phone to Seonghwa who gently accepted the item with his right hand. On the case were two butterflies neatly painted in turquoise. The background was a simple dark blue, nearly black sky with a few white sprinkles for stars.

SH: "Do you like the night?"

Seonghwa's admiration for Hongjoong's work was very apparent. Hongjoong couldn't help but smile proudly.

HJ: "Most butterflies go to sleep during the night. But the stars will always be beautiful. Sadly the light from the city obscures the stars most of the time."

SH: "The butterflies may go to sleep, but this makes way for the moths."

Seonghwa handed the phone back to Hongjoong. He looked as if he was going to add something else. One short thought later he continued.

SH: "I can show you the stars. If you are interested of course."

Hongjoong stared intriguingly at Seonghwa.

HJ: "You can really do that? But we would have to leave for a place outside the city. I don't think there's enough time. I have work tomorrow."

He let out a sigh of dismay. He had seen the stars before, but he did not have a lot of money and he had to work if he wanted to save up money to travel.

SH: "It is not far from here. I do not think it will interfere with any plans you might have."

Seonghwa's voice had perked up at this conversation. His emotions were not easy to read as he did not show many expressions. During the short time Hongjoong had known him, Seonghwa had only shown his resting expression and soft smiles. His composure resembled royalty a lot. At this point Hongjoong was certain that he had met a significant person. Suspicions of him being an actor arose. Of course every muscle in his face was under control if he were an actor.

SH: "Do I have something on my face?"

Hongjoong's mind jerked back into reality. He had been staring mindlessly at Seonghwa while deep in thought.

HJ: "Ah no! I'm sorry. I was thinking about something."

He laughed awkwardly feeling his cheeks heat up. Whilst watching Seonghwa pay for their drinks, he couldn't help but notice how beautiful his hands were. They were not big but they were slender and elegant. One single ring adorned the middle finger of his right hand. Hongjoong got up before Seonghwa and headed for the exit. Seonghwa followed not far behind.

──── ⋅ ☾ ⋅ ────

The sun had set not long ago. The sky was now deep orange to the west, purple above and deep blue to the east. Hongjoong was walking along the park road beside a man he had just met that same day. Why he had agreed to join Seonghwa for a walk in the middle of the night, he did not know. But Seonghwa seemed genuine and Hongjoong disliked limiting himself because of distrust. The two of them stepped off the pavement and onto a path that would lead them into the depths of the park.

HJ: "So... How will you be able to show me the stars? The park is isolated but we're still in the middle of a huge city."

SH: "Just wait."

Hongjoong was unsure if he had heard a smile in Seonghwa's voice or it was just his imagination. He discreetly searched the other's face for any clues of his intentions but did not learn anything. Had it been a bad idea to go through with this? There was still time to turn back if he wanted to. Hongjoong's doubt made the rhythm of his walking irregular for a moment. But the moment was long enough for Seonghwa to notice. He halted and looked at Hongjoong.

SH: "It is alright. We are nearly there."

He smiled and turned his gaze from Hongjoong towards a smaller path that lead off the main path and into an overgrowth of trees and bushes. Hongjoong let Seonghwa take the lead down the path and followed behind. It wasn't long before the trees had blocked out all the city lights.

HJ: "I can't see anything."

Hongjoong walked slowly and took small steps to avoid falling over when he suddenly felt a hand clasp around his left wrist. Upon instinct he tried to pull away. The hand held him firmly but not harshly.

SH: "It is not far. I will lead you."

Hongjoong heard no concern in Seonghwa's voice.

HJ: " How can you see? And how can I trust you? We're in the middle of a dark park all alone. This feels very deceptive."

Before Seonghwa could reply, they stepped out and into a clearing. It was still dark, but it was bright enough for Hongjoong to make out the contour of a lake. Seonghwa let go of Hongjoong's wrist.

SH: "We have arrived."

Hongjoong looked up at the sky but saw nothing but the crescent moon.

SH: "Try looking down."

A smirk was apparent in his voice as he spoke. Hongjoong hesitantly approached the lakeside. He felt on edge with Seonghwa behind him but as long as he could hear that Seonghwa didn't move, he felt fairly safe. As Hongjoong neared the waters edge he saw it. In the water were countless lights. He looked up at the sky then at the water and then back again. No stars were visible in the sky, yet the surface reflected a hemisphere full of stars. Hongjoong spun around to face Seonghwa expecting him to have moved. He hadn't.

HJ: "How is this possible? How can I see the reflections of stars that aren't visible?"

His voice was filled with both awe and wonder.

SH: "The lake is filled with magical creatures that light up the lake. They feast tonight and the fires of their large ovens can be seen as the brightest lights."

Hongjoong looked at Seonghwa with an expression that told him to be serious. And for the first time since they had met, Seonghwa's composure faltered and he let out a soft giggle.

SH: "I am sorry. I do not know why this lake reflects the stars even though they cannot be seen in the sky. My best guess is that there is something in the water that allows it to reflect light in a certain way. Either that or there are insects or bugs with luminescent bodies."

HJ: "The lights don't seem to move so it's probably the first option."

The two of them were quiet and Hongjoong turned back to the water to look at the lights.

HJ: "Would you not want to see it too? Come join me."

He waved his hand in a motion that invited Seonghwa to join him but Seonghwa simply shook his head and stayed back.

──── ⋅ ☾ ⋅ ────

Besides the moon, the sky was now completely dark. Seonghwa had agreed to walk Hongjoong to his exit of the park.

HJ: "Thank you for showing me that. It was really beautiful. I had no idea that lake was even there."

SH: "The path is vey hard to find. I am almost certain that no one knows about it. I accidentally stumbled upon it when looking through the park one evening."

HJ: "What were you even looking for when we met. You were almost sitting in a flower bed."

SH: "Ah. I was primarily admiring the colourful flowers but I was also searching for something. I did not find anything though."

They observed each other shortly, before Seonghwa spoke again.

SH: "It is late. You should go home and get some sleep. I remember you said you have work tomorrow."

HJ: "Yeah. Sadly. Thank you for a nice day though."

He hesitated before proceeding.

HJ: "Do you think we could exchange numbers? I'd love to see you again."

SH: "I- Yes. I would love to see you again too. Actually. I think I will be around in the park quite often from now on. Come by and we might meet again."

Hongjoong noticed how Seonghwa avoided the question but he let it pass. He was probably not comfortable enough to share his number yet. They had just met that same day after all.

HJ: "Yes. I will definitely come by. I'll see you soon."

Both men moved but neither knew what they wanted to do. They were not familiar enough for a hug but waving whilst standing face to face would be weird too. It was really awkward but Seonghwa eventually stepped back and bid the final goodbye. Hongjoong watched him walk off back into the park. And as Seonghwa walked away he could not help but notice how beautiful he looked as the moonlight lit up his tall figure.

──── ⋅ ☾ ⋅ ────

First time posting on tumblr. Let’s see how this goes XD

↓ these are the shoes Hongjoong designed. Both in this story and in real life

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koala-otter · 4 years

Note

so i have this idea that aang and katara ask zuko and sokka to take care of bumi kya and tenzin for the weekend and i would appreciate if you could give me that 🥺🥺 i love everything you write btw

thank you so much anon!! (and thank you for your patience with this)

I took some artistic license and made it pure Bumi (it came out pretty soft I think as a result, but writing so many kids’ dynamics seemed like a lot for me rn hahaha)

also this is only part 1 of 2 (maybe 3) and is on ao3

a weekend with bumi almost 2k words

Breakfast has just been served on the eastern patio of the Fire Nation royal palace when an attendant rushes over to the Fire Lord’s table. Zuko’s soup spoon has made it halfway toward his mouth while Sokka has been regaling Katara and Aang with a story about his latest trip to the royal tailor—his visits have only become more frequent now that he is officially married to the Fire Lord and has unlimited access to the best silks from Shiruku mountain—and the young parents have been steadily feeding one-year-old Bumi bites of fermented soybean. Zuko returns the spoon to the bowl when he sees the member of his senior staff approaching, the steam of the broth curling up and disappearing in front of his face.

“Yes, Hoshi?” he asks.

Hoshi bows deeply in front of Zuko. “My lord,” he begins, “a messenger hawk has just arrived from the Earth Kingdom.” He rises and turns toward the other side of the table, a scroll held out in his hand. “For Avatar Aang.”

“Thanks, Hoshi,” Aang says, reaching out to take the message. Hoshi disappears back into the palace.

Aang finishes feeding Bumi a piece of sweet potato before carefully placing his chopsticks next to his dish and unfurling the message. The rest of the table falls quiet as he reads, and for a while, there are only the sounds of birdsong and rustling trees from the garden below them. But then Bumi’s chubby hand reaches into his mouth, and Sokka fails to hold in a guffaw as the baby flings mushy sweet potato right onto Katara’s dress. Just as Sokka’s about to let loose into a full laugh, Katara victoriously holds up the napkin preemptively placed on her lap, immediately disappointing her brother. Zuko smiles in amusement. Aang rolls the message back up.

“What is it, Aang?” Katara asks.

“There’s a spirit attacking a village on the west coast of the Earth Kingdom,” Aang says, already rising from his seat. “I have to help them.”

“I’m coming with you,” Katara says determinedly. She shifts Bumi to her hip to stand.

“But, Katara, it’s not safe,” Aang reasons with her. “The spirit’s already ruined half of the villagers’ homes and taken some of them into the Spirit World.”

“Then you shouldn’t go alone,” Katara replies. “They’ll need help from both of us.”

“Okay,” Aang says slowly, “but I really meant not safe for Bumi.” He tilts his head toward the baby boy gurgling on his mother’s hip, his round, little fist once more in his mouth.

Sokka and Zuko watch Katara as she considers her son carefully. Bumi always joins his parents on their travels—they’ve even taken him down the mail chutes at Omashu and on the backs of kangaroos on Kangaroo Island. Leaving him behind seems unimaginable. But a fierce expression lights across Katara’s face, much like the one she gets before endangering their lives to save a village, or when she decides to teach the Northern Water Tribe’s female benders herself. She has an idea, and she will follow through on it.

“Sokka and Zuko can take care of him,” she says matter-of-factly.

Sokka and Zuko exchange alarmed looks as Katara hands Bumi to her brother, and Sokka becomes very concerned with holding the baby up and out from under his arms. Bumi’s always been big for his age, but Sokka’s hands still wrap completely around the upper part of Bumi’s torso, his fingertips meeting across Bumi’s back. Sokka always worries while holding him that his nephew is a very small, very fragile, little human being, but now he feels doubly aware of it, especially as the person suddenly responsible for his care.

“Are you sure—”

“Why didn’t I think of that?” Aang says cheerfully. He pulls out his bison whistle to call Appa, but before he blows into it, he turns to the two men still sitting, stunned, on the floor and asks, “As long as you’re okay with it?”

“Of course,” Zuko says, shaking off his surprise. He stands and takes Bumi from Sokka, his arms still outstretched, and tries to hold him in a way that might reassure Katara and Aang that they’ve made the right decision. From their small smiles and intense focus on the sky, however, it doesn’t look like they need much reassuring.

“You’re in good hands, buddy,” Aang says to his son once Appa’s arrived. He gives Bumi’s hand a little shake. “We’ll be back as soon as possible.”

Katara kisses both of Bumi’s cheeks and the top of his head, and then tickles his neck to make him erupt into a fit of giggles.

“We’ll keep him safe,” Sokka promises, now standing to put his arm around Zuko’s shoulders.

“I know,” Katara replies with a smile. She hugs her brother fiercely, then Zuko just as tightly, and kisses Bumi one more time for good measure. She only looks a little sad when Aang helps her onto Appa’s saddle.

“Be careful!” Zuko calls after them.

“You’re one to talk, Zuko,” Aang laughs as they take off, and Zuko can only smile and shake his head goodnaturedly, watching as Appa becomes only a speck in the sky.

When Zuko looks away, he finds Sokka still staring into the clouds in great distress. His eyes have gone wide, a grimace is plastered to his face, and if his arm weren’t around Zuko, he’d probably be pulling his own hair.

“Hey,” Zuko says in that soft, raspy voice of his, “they’ll be okay.”

Sokka starts. “I know that,” he says, pulling his arm back.

“Then what are you so worried about?”

Sokka uses both hands to gesture toward Bumi, gurgling away in Zuko’s arms. “How are we supposed to take care of a baby?” His voice is high-pitched and nasal, the way it sounds every time they’re confronted with an impending fight, or when one of his plans does not, well, go to plan.

“How would I know?” Zuko spies drool dribbling down Bumi’s chin and does his best to wipe it discreetly with his sleeve. He sneaks a glance at Sokka in case he’s noticed his grimace of disgust, and then clears his throat and says, “He’s your nephew.”

“Hey,” Sokka says quickly, crossing his arms, “as of three months ago, he’s yours, too.” His tone turns borderline academic, and his arm extends in something like an invitation. “Maybe you could come up with an idea for how to take care of him?”

Zuko frowns in response. With Aang and Katara gone, he and Sokka are the only adults on the patio. The leaves of the trees in the garden below shudder in the wind, no figures present to impede them but insects and their wings. Hoshi is nowhere within calling distance, the nearest guard is somewhere on the roof, and the last royal nurse was dismissed years ago. It is just them and the little table covered in dishes that have barely been touched, the bowls of soup still steaming.

Bumi lets out the beginning of a low wail and immediately succeeds in regaining Zuko’s attention.

Zuko pales and begins bouncing his nephew. “We could start by finishing breakfast?” he suggests.

Sokka immediately breaks into an eager grin and reaches excitedly for Bumi, whom Zuko is more than happy to hand over. “Why didn’t I think of that?” he almost chides himself, suddenly balancing Bumi seemingly effortlessly on his arm. He lands easily back in his seat at the table, holding the baby up so they can both survey the spread before them.

From this angle, Zuko realizes, with Bumi’s dark hair and dark skin and blue eyes, he and Sokka look stunningly alike. It comes not only from the clear markers of their shared heritage, but also in the pure emotion of their faces, Sokka’s so angular, Bumi’s soft and round. The look and smell of the food causes similar reactions in both of them, absorbing all of their attention and analysis. Zuko almost wants to laugh at the sight, an unfamiliar sensation bubbling in his chest and filling him with a welcome warmth, almost like plunging into a hot bath.

“All right, Bumi,” Sokka says instructionally. He moves his chopsticks adeptly over the collection of plates. “Your dad might be a vegetarian, but you’re half-Water Tribe, so it’s your birthright to eat meat. And your mom isn’t here to stop me. So.”

Sokka reaches for one of the plates, only to spy Zuko looking down at him disapprovingly.

“It’s not like they’re gonna find out!” he says helplessly.

“Katara and Aang are his parents,” Zuko says, crossing his arms, “and we promised to take care of him for them.” He sits down and moves the plate out of Sokka’s reach, much to his husband’s dismay. “That means following their rules.”

Sokka sighs. “Fine,” he acquiesces, his eyes closing briefly in resignation. They open suddenly, and he points a finger in Zuko’s direction. “But when we have a kid, they’re eating meat every day.”

Zuko freezes in response. When he and Sokka have talked about children, it has always been in the abstract, and always in a distant future neither can really envision. They both know of the expectations for an heir, but still, the surrounding language has always been “if;” never “when.” Even the last time it was mentioned, three months before, when a very drunk, very off-duty Admiral Chen made a comment about preparing the navy for toddlers armed with boomerangs and fire, Sokka only mirrored the horrified expression on Zuko’s own face.

Sokka barrels on, clearly not having noticed Zuko’s reaction, or his lack of a response. “Change of plans,” he says to Bumi, who reaches out with his tiny hand to lightly smack Sokka’s cheek. Sokka grins in response. “We’re trying fish.”

The words pull Zuko out of his daydream. “Sokka,” he says warningly.

“What? It’s fish,” Sokka says with a roll of his eyes. “It’s barely meat.”

He pulls off a small piece of grilled fish and brings it close to Bumi, whose eyes widen at the sight. He pulses forward on Sokka’s arm with his mouth open wide, waiting expectantly. With a shift of an inch, the fish lands in his mouth, and Bumi bursts into a loud hum.

Zuko laughs loudly at the sound.

“It’s good, right?” Sokka asks excitedly, already getting more for the baby boy to eat. Bumi nods his head, and his wild hair bounces around him, mouth already open again for the next approaching morsel. “Yeah, get the skin, it’s the best part!”

Sokka looks up to beam at Zuko. “This might not be so bad after all,” he says. His eyes sparkle with an energy Zuko’s never seen from him before.

“Yeah.” Zuko leans forward to feed Bumi his next bite himself, and chuckles when his nephew grows impatient and grabs the fish off of the chopsticks, mashing it into little flakes between his tiny fingers. He only laughs more as Sokka desperately tries to keep any of the flakes from falling on his clothing, but soon enough, Zuko grabs a napkin and distracts Bumi with a piece of sweet potato, cleaning off one little hand at a time. Sokka smiles gratefully at him and pulls Bumi back into his lap, while Zuko folds the napkin back up and places it beside his plate on the table. He settles back into his seat and listens to the wind in the leaves, the vibration of insect wings, the little songs of the birds, and Bumi, humming loudly still with each taste of his breakfast, and beginning to converse with his uncle in his special brand of baby talk.

Zuko smiles. “It might even be kind of fun.”

#zukka #zukka fanfic #atla #atla fanfic #zuko #sokka #v soft #my writing

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snow-whiteandred-rose · 4 years

Note

Hello can I make a request where the reader is on vacation in Malta while BTS is there for Bon Voyage s3 and they end up crossing paths with each other (and maybe fall in love🥴)

A/N: Sure, I´m sorry it took a few days, but here it is. Hope you enjoy it! Vanessa :) Word Count: 4,4k

-Picture is not mine-

Namjoon

You sat in a Café at the shopping mall and enjoyed your iced coffee. It was a hustle and bustle in there because everyone escaped from the hot weather outside, so did you. During lunch time it was hell. Next to you were two guys who browsed through the travel guide and looked visibly overwhelmed. The one who stabbed you in the eye was tall and had light blond hair which matched perfectly with his skin tone. He wore a red shirt and a short jeans. His sunglasses rested on his forehead to keep his hair out of his face. “We can go to the war museum first and after that we could watch the canons...” he said to the other. “But isn't that a detour? We also have the next days to go to the museum. We shouldn’t stress ourselves, Namjoon.” “You are right... Hugh..that’s more difficult than writing songs.” “Do you need some help?” You asked them and both looked in your direction,” I didn't mean to interfere. But I thought you might need some help. I live here and I can give you some recommendations if you like.” “That would be really great, thank you.” Namjoon smiled at you and you got a warm feeling in your stomach. The next twenty minutes you spent with browsing through the travel guide together and you made them a schedule at what daytimes it was perfect to see everything so they will never had the problem that the places were too crowded. “Thank you very much. Now we are well prepared!” “You’re welcome, I love it to be a travel guide,” you smiled and Namjoon started to search in his pocket for something. When he found a note and a pencil he wrote his name and his number on it. “I would be happy when you text me if you have more recommendations or insider Tipps. It’s also good to have someone around who knows the ropes.” “Oh yeah sure, I will text you,” you answered and the two guys stood up to continue their path. They already went a few steps before Namjoon looked back to you and said:”I also would be happy if you could text me when you want to drink a coffee with me.” “I will. You can count on it,” you smiled and waved.

-Picture is not mine-

Seokjin

You worked at a restaurant in Valetta. Summer time was tourism time so you had always full house. A calming evening or time to breath was rare. So you enjoyed every minute you could take a breath or got a little bit distracted. Normally all people were distant and in their own world. They just wanted to have a relaxed evening after they discovered the city. Time to time it happened that somebody engaged you in a conversation but you never felt comfortable with it. You weren’t an introvert person but for you the chemistry had to be right so that you could talk relaxed with someone you didn’t know. This evening a guy took your attention. You couldn’t miss him because his whole appearance was conspicuous. He wore a pink mapped shirt and a tie but the crowning glory was his straw hat. You had to be very confident to wear something like this. Of course all people looked at his outfit but he didn’t care. That was something you found really attractive. For him it didn’t matter what the others were thinking as long as he felt alright. It also seemed like he was part of a reality show because he had a camera with him and talked with them all the time. Because he sat in your area it was your job to take his order. “Hey, can I take your order?” You asked him. “Yes, I like to eat the shrimps and tortellinis. And two tequila, please,”he answered and you admired his efforts to speak in English. “You are really good in speaking English,”You complimented him. “Thank you,” he said and added laughing ,”do you know BTS?” “I have heard about them but I don’t know them at all.” “I have to watch the videos, they are really good and you can’t miss Mr. Worldwide handsome,” he did advertise. “Thanks for the recommendation. I will look at them later. I’m sorry I have to get back to work but it was nice talking to you,” you said and went back to the kitchen. As much as you wanted to talk with him more you had to do your work at first. Everything else could wait. When your shift was slowly coming to an end you noticed that he was still at the restaurant and talked with the people and the camera. He was just about to drink his tequila and you could just frown your brows about his technique. At first he drank the tequila, about 4 seconds later he bit into the lemon and then he licked the salt. You used this chance to start a new conversation. “Okay I can't watch this. So what do you mean, I will teach you the right way to drink tequila and you show me the handsome guy?” You sat next to him. “I wouldn’t say no to that. Gladly I know Mr. Worldwide handsome very well.” Jin answered and laughed.

Yoongi

You had a fight with your best friend and needed a few hours on your own to digest everything. Of course it happened sometimes that you hadn’t the same opinion, that’s life, but it still didn’t let you go. That’s the reason why you came to the Irish Pub. Sometimes everything became better with a shot and you already had the feeling that your mind did relax and you could think about anything else than the fight. But it only lasted as long until you felt an uncomfortable presence right beside you. It started with the two men just looking at you but you kept your eyes on your glass. After approximately 10 minutes the guys came to your desk and started to talk with you but it was that type of conversation you wanted to over soon. “Hey sweetheart, why is someone so beautiful alone here? Your friend should take better care of you, it is really dangerous when it gets dark,” one of them told you in a disgustingly sweet sound “I appreciate your concern, but I can take care of myself,” you answered and tried to ignore them. “I wouldn't doubt it but don’t you think it's boring alone? Why won't you join us for a drink? At the hotel we have a big suite all to ourselves.” “Thank you, no!” You said cold. Unfortunately they were two of the stubborn kind and did not let go. “Oh, come on, sweetie. We could have a lot of fun.” The other one said and you felt a hand on your arm causing you to tense up. “I think she has made it very clear to you that she wants to be left alone.” Suddenly a deep voice sounded behind you. You turned around and saw a guy approximately your age with a dark shirt and black head. He looked at the other guys like a cat that sneaked up. “What kind of guy are you? I don't remember talking to you. This sweetie here is just a little uptight, but she'll get over it,”one of the obtrusive guys said. “Get the hell out of here and leave her alone or we'll sort it out another way,” your rescuer said and grabs one by the collar. “Keep calm! We are already leaving.” The two guys said and you started to breath again when they left the bar. “Oh my god, thank you so much,”You said to guy in black. “You’re welcome, I don't like it when men disrespect women as if they were nothing. Are you okay?” “I’m fine. There are not many people who stand up against someone. Most people just look the other way. I can't thank you enough,” you said and gave him a short peck on his cheek. You were surprised by yourself because normally you didn’t do something like this but you were so facilitated. Your peck caused him to blush a bit. “I know I just rescued you from the guys but I would feel better when you join me and my friend so that we could take care of you.” He pointed in the direction of his friend, also in black clothes and a hat. His big deer eyes looked in your direction and you couldn’t help but to smile softly and wave him. “Honestly I would really love it and it would make me feel better also,”You said with a smile. “Then you are invited to drink with us. I’m Yoongi by the way and that’s my friend Jungkook.” He said and pated Jungkook on the back. “Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.”

-Picture is not mine-

Hobi

Every week when you werer doing the weekly groceries you asked yourself: Why do all old people had to do their shopping at the evening when they had time the whole day. It was a mystery but something you had to deal with. Of course the supermarket was full when you arrived there and you where already stressed. Annoyed you took a shopping card and searched for the list in your bag when you felt a push from behind causing you to fell against the card. “Ouch,” You whined because you hurt your ankle and when you realized that you crashed again into another card yours,” I’m sorry, that wasn’t my intention. Somebody just pushed their way through.” “Everything is fine. Don’t worry, that can happen in a full supermarket,” a friendly voice said and you noticed the guy you crashed with. He wore a sunhat and light blue sunglasses to which he wore the matching t-shirt. The light colour was a contrast to his complexion. You had the feeling that he was the sunshine in person such an positive aura surrounded him. You smiled to him before you continued your path or you tried. When you walked through the shelves you noticed the pain in your ankle again so you could just hobble. You hadn’t realized that you made such a big twist and of course all stuff you needed stood on the top of the shelve. You tried your best but you couldn't reach the box. Suddenly another arm appeared beside you and helped to pick the box. Surprised you looked to your left and saw the guy from a few minutes before. “Oh, thank you so much. Why do they have to put everything important so high up?” You asked rhetorically. “That’s a good question, I think they hope that they will have to refill the shelves upstairs less, because they all reach down first.” You two walked down the hall together when he noticed your limp. “Is your foot alright?” He asked you and you saw his worried gaze on your foot. “It’s okay, I think it will be better in the next hour. It happened when somebody pushed me a few minutes ago.” “I'm not so sure, it looks a little swollen. Let me help you with the groceries and then we'll go to the hospital together,” he said and it sounded less like a question than a statement. “Hobi I found the...” another tall guy appeared and a stopped when he saw you two. “Namjoon our plans have changed. We help her with the shopping and then I will go with her to a doctor. Maybe you can call the members to inform them.” He talked to the other guy. “You really don't have to help me. I'm fine. You don't even know me.” You butt in. You didn't want him to change his plans just for you. “Right, how rude. I'm a Hobi. At least now you know my name, and we'll get to know each other even better in the next few hours,” he smiled and hooked you in.

Jimin

Summer in Malta was really hot but that didn’t keep you from exploring the city and doing all the sightseeing stuff. Of course you had a detailed plan what you wanted to see. You had almost all things done from your list except for one thing: seeing the canon shoot. It was a spectacle you could see twice a day. You didn’t know why but until today it just didn't work out that you were there at the right time. But today was perfect. The best view was from the opposite side of the castle but you weren’t the only one who knew this. Nearly all tourists watched the shoots from this side of the sea. So you planned your time that you arrived there twenty minutes earlier to make sure you had a great place to see. The fire started exactly at 4 pm and although it was just one shot, it was worth the time. After it you rested there a view minutes and enjoyed the view over the city. “Here we are. It has to start soon,” you heard an excited voice next to you and looked after it. Two boys stood next to you and looked to the opposite side of the sea. One of them was completely dressed in black and also wore a black hat. You could only see a few strands of his pink hair. The other one wore a light jeans shirt and short beige trousers. His hair was dyed in a light ash blond which perfectly matched with his honey colored Teint. “I hope so Hyung, my foots hurt,” the other one whined. After a few minutes where still nothing has happened the first one became nervous and looked on his phone. “I don’t understand it, we were punctual.” Because both looked really sympathetically you decided to help them. “Are you two waiting for the canons?” You asked them. The guy with the black hat just looked at you with his big deer eyes and nodded shyly. “You are a few minutes to late, they already shooted. The next time is tomorrow morning.” “Oh no, really? That’s a pity. But then we have time to go to the museum, jungkookie.” The guy with the honey skin said to the other one. “But why? I can’t understand it... you can also see it when you search on google.” You frown your eyebrows. “Yes, but that’s not the same,” you both said at the same time and the other guy showed you his smile which made you blush. “Have you been there already?” “No, actually not yet, but that was next on my list,” you answered. “So what do you think? Would you like to join us? It would please me if at least one person would be interested in it” “Oh yes i would love it, if that’s okay for you both,” you answered also in the direction of the other guy who wanted to talk in the moment but the other one started to speak. “He’s totally fine with it. So I’m Jimin and that’s Jungkook.” “Nice to meet you two, I’m Y/N.” The three of you started to walk down the hill. “You owe me for that Hyung!” Jungkook whispered to Jimin and the sound of his smile was the best noise you heard that day.

Taehyung

It were the last days at Malta so it was time to enjoy the nightlife of the city with your best friend. It was unique how locations looked different at different times. Also it was really interesting how the paths of strangers could cross again and again until they speak to each other. It felt like the fate wanted to reunite you two. The first time you saw him this evening was when you went to the big fountain with your friend. You were just about to threw a coin in the fountain, the typical superstition all tourists believe in, when you saw a blond guy with a bandana and black clothes. You didn’t know why but you just couldn't look away, he kept attracting your attention. He and his friend were fooling around at the fountain, just like you and your friend, taking pictures. Their interactions made you smile. The second time you saw them was when you two went to the restaurant. They arrived just a few minutes after you ordered. Of course they sat behind you and of course your friend sat back to back to his friend that you had to look straight in his direction. While you planned what you wanted to do the rest of the evening your neighbors started to make pictures in funny poses and laughed when they looked at them. As your eyes wandered to him once again, he caught you and smiled. You had to confess that it was the most beautiful smile you had ever seen, because his whole face started to glow. You blushed and looked quickly back on your plate. „Are you alright?“ your friend asked you. „Yes, what should be?“ you answered hypocritical but she frowned her brows and turned around just to look at the other guys. Of course her move didn’t remain undiscovered. You kicked her in the shins and she made a face. „Ouch! That did hurt!“ she whined. „I don’t know what you mean,“ you smiled innocent. After you finished eating you walked through the city and rested a bit at a viewing platform. You had read that there should be a firework which you wanted to see. It wasn’t surprising that the handsome guys were also there. They stood right beside you and it felt a bit like you watched the fireworks together even when you didn’t talk to another. When it came to an end you felt his gaze and looked at him. „And what are we looking at now? I had a feeling we'd meet there again anyway. So what's the plan?“ he asked and you smiled. Sometimes everything fell into place all by itself.

Jungkook

It was a mild summer night and there was nothing more perfect than busking at a warm night. When it became dark and the nightlife started and all people enjoyed the feeling of a cool breeze on their skin. You were on your way to the public plaza you loved so much, surrounded by restaurants and bars when you noticed the young guy at the corner of the street which looked disorientated on his phone. You watched as he walked a few steps just to look at the name of the street and his phone again. It was obviously that he didn’t has a clue where he was. “Hey do you need some help?” You asked him and smiled softly. He just looked at you with his big eyes and you had the feeling that you could nearly looked at his innocent soul. He wore a black hat and a few wisps of his light red hair come out. He had a cute little snubnose but the most attractive you found this cheekbones and his strong jawline. After a few seconds he noticed that he still hadn’t answered and stuttered:”I search this place.” He showed you the map of his phone. “You are lucky I need to go to the same place, so we can go together if you like?” He nodded and you two started to walk up the hill. You didn’t know why but everything about him made you like him already even if he hadn’t talked much. But you were sure that there was more behind his facade. “So how is your evening?” You asked him. “I was in a pub with my Hyung, but he went back home. I saw somebody busking a few minutes ago and now I have the desire to do the same,” he said shy. “Then we have something in common again,” You smiled at him. “Oh are you a singer?” “Not really... I just do it as a hobby now and then. And you?” “Something like that yeah.. but as a hobby it is also cool,” he said and showed his bunny smile for the first time and you had the feeling that you were already falling in love. Okay what’s going on with you? Actually something like that never went so fast with you, but he simply gave you a comfortable feeling when you looked at him. “Oh really? A big audience and so on?” “yes, you might say that.” That was the point you noticed a turn in his charm and he became confident. “Then I'm excited about the show. Now I have high expectations.” You smiled wide and touched his shoulders lightly. “I'm happy to do it. I’m Jungkook by the way.”

#bts #bts x reader #bts fluff #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #jungkook x reader #namjoon x reader #seokjin x reader #hobi x reader #yoongi x reader #bon voyage #bts malta #bts imagines #bts reactions #bts scenarios

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despairforme · 3 years

Text

His single eye cracked open, slowly, slowly. The first thing that met him was a PANG of pain through his head like someone had just taken a sledge hammer and gone to town. It briefly made him squeeze that eye shut again, and a pained noise escaped him, while he instinctively reached for his head. Nnoitra knew a thing or two about headaches. He had, after all, gotten SHOT in his head at one point. What he remembered the most about that was the moment before the gun fired. He remembered thinking what a freaking rare and awesome weapon that was. He stood by that statement, even if said weapon had literally given him a hole through his head. That made for plenty of good jokes about him being stupid and missing half a brain. The pain he was feeling right now wasn’t the same as it had been when he got shot. The pain was ringing through his entire skull. Another groan. He told his body it was time to attempt to sit up straight, but it woudln’t listen. He managed to keep his eye open this time though, to look around. Where was he? What had happened? He remembered... What was the last thing he remembered? He forced his aching head to cooperate. He had been playing cards with his crew-mates. That was the last image he could clearly bring forth. Yeah, he had been about to lose big time. A per usual. Could he have possibly started a fight because he was about to lose at cards? That did sound like some stupid shith he could pull. But, there was something not quite right here. He hadn’t noticed it before now, but the scent in the air was NOTHING like the smell onbaord the ship. On the ship, there was the very distinct smell that came when men who didn’t care too much about their personal hygine lived together in close-quarters. The scent he was breathing in now was fresh. It smelled like a forest. The air was moist. He could smell dirt and flowers and grass. Was he outside? His curiosity inspired him to try to push his body again, and this time it allowed him to sit upright. The world started spinning, making him dizzy. It was light here, now that he thought about it. Bright, white light was shining down. So he was outdoors then? Had his crewmates finally gotten tired of him, knocked him out and dumped him off on a planet? Was he marooned? If he was, then traditionally, he should be left with a gun with single shot in it. However, when he looked down, his weapon was gone. What the fuck?

He looked around some more, and saw why everything smelled like he was outside. He was surrounded by plants. Plants of different sizes, types, colors. More variety than he had EVER seen in his life ( and Nnoitra had traveled quite a lot ). Close to him there was a large, orange flower that at first glance looked almost like it was on fire. It was giving off the most alluring scent, and Nnoitra almost wanted to plant his face into it and just inhale. On the ground, where he was sitting, there was grass, or at least what appeared to be grass - except it was blue. Above him were white lights, but also plants growing in what he thought he could make out to be a ceiling. Okay - so he wasn’t outside then. That only puzzled him more. Where the fuck was he then? In the distance he could hear the sound of running water, otherwise everything was quiet. No, wait, there might be a buzzing of some insects nearby too. He made yet another attempt to stand, but it just made him feel more dizzy, and he groaned again.

“You should lay still. You are still recovering.” Nnoitra literally JUMPED in his seat, and yeah, that made his head spin. He had not expected anyone to speak to him. The voice had been deep and calm. A man’s voice. When the world stood still before him again, he turned his head in the direction of the voice.

His eyes were glowing. That was the very first thing Nnoitra noticed about him. He had large, yellow eyes that glowed like distant suns. They were regarding him from behind long, purple eyelashes. He had skin the color of steel, and on the top of his baled head there were two small, curved horns, almost like spikes. He must be tall, though it was hard to tell just how tall since Nnoitra was sitting, but he would guess he was even taller than himself. He was wearing a large, black coat that appeared to be made up entirely out of pockets. Was Nnoitra’s gun in one of them? The next striking thing about him, was the CRACK in his head. Maybe Nnoitra noticed it especially because he, himself had a hole through his own. It looked like someone had SMASHED this guy’s skull. The left side of his head looked almost like a broken mirror, except the cracks were filled with what literally looked like gold. It was bright and shiny, and extremely visible against that grey skin. Nnoitra had met a great deal of beings throughout his time, but usually he had a vague idea about what kind of species they were. This time? He had no clue. Whoever this guy was, he had to be something incredibly rare. The pirate side of Nnoitra briefly connected the dots between him being rare and him being worth a lot on the creature-market. That thought was pushed aside. Nnoitra had traded creatures before, but it was always risky because he, himself was an extremely rare ( if not unique ) human-insectoid hybrid. He had to be careful about appearing in the wrong circles. And in any case - there were more pressing matters than him SELLING this guy. Like, for example -

“What ‘da fuck happened?” He asked, his voice just a little pained while he looked over at the stranger. The other didn’t appear hostile, he noted. Not even vary, as if he knew that right now Nnoitra posed little threat to him. He probably wasn’t wrong about that. Even if Nnoitra hadn’t been injured, he didn’t know what kinds of powers this alien possessed. He might be incredibly strong.

There was a pause, before the alien looked away from him, and turned his attention to the nearest plant. He brushed the leaves with a finger, almost similar to how someone would lovingly caress a partner.

“Your ship collided with something. I received the distress signal.” Another pause, or was this more like hesitation? Then he continued - “When arrived, you were the only one I could find. I don’t know if maybe someone was there before me and picked up survivors and simply didn’t see you.”

That was a lot of information. Nnoitra tried to process it. HOW could they have collided with something? If they really had, then chances were there weren’t many survivors. Most of the crewmates were human, and they were just genetically fragile. Nnoitra’s hybrid genes made him a lot more durable, which was most likely what he could thank for being alive. Nnoitra DID have people he’d consider.. Well, not friends, but... Yeah. People he had known a while and who tolerated him ( and who he tolerated in return ). Were all of them dead then? Just like that? People he had been traveling with for years. People he had just been sitting there with, playing cards. Had they been ripped from life at the moment of impact with whatever it was the ship had crashed into? It was so INCREDIBLY rare to actually crash in space. It was fucking ETERNAL after all. One would think there was enough space for a shitty, little space-ship. Nnoitra realized something - there was a chance they had been shot down. They were pirates after all. The distress signal that the ship had sent out was something that happened automatically when it sustained too much damage to be saved. There was no way this man would know what kind of ship had sent out the SOS. If all he had arrived at was a total wreck, then he really had no way of knowing that Nnoitra was a pirate. Nnoitra looked at him. He was still busy with the plant. Nnoitra thought he could see the plant turn slightly towards those glowing eyes, as if it was looking back at him. Freaky.

“So everyone’s dead, except me, huh?” Nnoitra didn’t sound like he was mourning, and neither was he. He wasn’t going to be upset about those guys dying. They wouldn’t have given a shit if HE had died. And, in any case, some of them might still be alive. The alien was looking at him again, probably as a reaction to the coldness in which Nnoitra spoke about his dead crewmates.

“In all likelihood, yes. I’m guessing it’s because you are not fully human. In my experience, humans can hardly survive anything.” Oh, that was a sharp observation. Seemed Nnoitra wasn’t the only one who thought humans were weak. He nodded.

“Yeah, I guess ‘daz why I ain’t dead. I’m surprised ya figured out I ain’t fully human. Most people can’t tell, ‘cause I look like one.” A vague gesture was made towards his general appearance. Nnoitra really did appear fully human ( except for the hole in his head, which he always covered with an eyepatch as well as his hair anyway. Nnoitra DID have the ability to grow an extra set of arms, but he very rarely did so, as it was very painful for him. “I bet it ain’t ‘da same ‘fer ya.” Basically, Nnoitra was asking him - what the fuck are you. A subtle expression of surprise settled upon the other’s face, and he tilted his head just slightly.

“You don’t know what I am?” His voice was partly confused, partly suspicious and partly surprised. Nnoitra furrowed his brows, and looked him up and down as if that would somehow magically make him know what kind of species he was. He really didn’t have any idea. Apparently, he SHOULD know.

“No? I don’t go ‘round studyin’ every fuckin’ species in ‘da universe. Ya know how MANY that is?” He.. Didn’t know how many there were, but since space was infinite, it was safe to assume that the amount of different species of aliens was beyond count. Nnoitra was used to how his rude approach to conversations was off-putting to others, and more often than not, he got himself into trouble thanks to his mouth. The alien didn’t seem annoyed at all though. If anything, he looked reassured and almost calm.

“You can call me Fowkwer.” The alien introduced himself. That name wasn’t too difficult. Nnoitra often met guys with absolutely freakishly long names that he could never in his life hope to remember. It DID seem appropriate that he should at least manage to remember the name of the dude that had saved him.

“I’m Nnoitra.”

“Welcome aboard my ship, Nnoitra.”

“So this is a ship? I was kinda wonderin’ ‘bout that. It looks more like a jungle.” Which he absolutely loved. This was the nicest ship he had ever been aboard, and all he had been doing was sit in this one spot in the blue grass. He had no idea how large the ship was, but he would guess it was fairly big. This room alone seemed to serve no other purpose than as a storage room for these plants. Then again, it was RARE for one person to operate a large ship. Were there others onboard here, or was Fowkwer the only one? He seemed to be the Captain at least, since he had referred to it as ‘ my ‘ ship.

“Yes, it’s built that way. I don’t have a guest room, as I rarely have guests onboard. It’s usually just me and the plants.” So he was alone then.

“Yer lucky. Havin’ a whoel space ship ‘ta yerself that looks like a jungle? Fuckin’ livin’ ‘da dream. How much ya chargin’ ‘fer tickets?” It was a half-joke. Nnoitra had learned from his life as a pirate that NOTHING was free, and he was pretty sure the same went for getting your life saved by a glowy-eyed alien whose name was FUCKWHERE. No -- Fowkwer. Well, close enough.

“I wasn’t planning on charging you anything. You have nothing I want. All I ask is that you do not harm my plants. If you do I won’t hesitate to dispose of you.” His tone up until this point had been calm. It was still calm now, but there was an added seriousness and a coldness that hadn’t been there before. As his voice turned colder, Nnoitra thought it looked like his glowing eyes became less luminescent too. As if they too got colder. Nnoitra’s expression was once again one of those where you could almost see the question marks pop up over his head. Okay.. Was he dealing with some kind of... REAL weirdo here? Maybe he had been traveling so long with only his plants as company that he had started to think of them as his friends. Nnoitra had heard stories like that before. People getting lost in space of years and turning bat-shit crazy, talking to their helmets and shit like that. Was this a similar thing? Fowkwer looked serious.

“Hands off ‘da plants. Got it.” Nnoitra held up his hands, as if to surrender. Seeing as he actually LIKED nature, he had no wish to uproot the plants or whatever. The only thing he did want to do was put his face inside that orange one that smelled like heaven. He had to wonder how Fowkwer would dispose of him. Just how strong was that guy? It didn’t feel good, not knowing whether or not he could overpower someone. And, also, it didn’t feel good to be unarmed. But, he could hardly ask for his gun back, could he? That would be too suspicious. Some of what he was thinking must’ve shown on his face.

“You can have your weapon back. It’s not of any threat to me. I just took it from you to ensure you wouldn’t start wildly shooting around and damage my plants.” Nnoitra’s beloved gun ( he had had it for years, okay? ) was pulled out of one of those deep pockets of the other’s coat. Fowkwer walked over to him, and bent down to return the weapon to him. Now that he was closer, Nnoitra could tell that Fowkwer was definitely taller than him. He had a bigger build too. Broad shoulders and a wide chest, and strong, muscular arms. Nnoitra’s skinny fingers accepted the gun, and he strapped to his belt where he always kept it. The other had said it was no threat to him. Did that mean his skin could withstand a shot then? Honestly it seemed like all the guy cared about was his plants.

“So yer pretty tough, huh? But that - “ He pointed to the other’s head. He was certain that those golden cracks were actually a scar, and a gnarly one at that. “That looks like it hurt.” Was this his way of finding out Fowkwer’s weaknesses? Oh, absolutely. It wasn’t like he cared here.

“No more than yours. These are just cracks after all.” He touched the golden scar with a hand, and then he gestured to his own eye, as if acting as a mirror for Nnoitra. “You’ve got a hole.” Oh, so he had seen it then? Mah, that was fine. It explained how he could tell he wasn’t human. That was the only reason why Nnoitra kept it hidden.

“Yeah, I fuckin’ don’t recommend gettin’ shot in ‘da head by a BG-2000. Unless yer a badass motherfucker like me.” He grinned, cocking his head back. “I don’t recommend bein’ in a crash either, even if I’m pretty surprised I’m still in one piece.” His head hurt and he felt terribly weak, but that was about it. Considering he had been knocked out upon impact, his injuries seemed minimal.

“You looked far worse when I found you.”

“But ya did some magic-shit ‘n now I’m all good?” There were many different healing methods out there, and the best ones were very expensive. Mah, maybe this guy had some sort of healing plant here or something? Seemed likely.

“Something like that.” One thing that Nnoitra had noted was that Fowkwer had yet to smile. Not all species could, of course, but generally that was the one universal thing that everyone had in common. As long as you had a mouth, you could smile, and Fowkwer had a completely normal mouth, though his lips were a strange shade of purple. He probably just hadn’t warmed up to him yet. Was he suspicious of him still? Maybe.

“Mah, whatever ya did I’m.. Ya know -” He gestured between the two of them, the word ‘ grateful ‘ getting stuck in his throat. Fowkwer arched his brows slightly.

“Thankful?”

“Yeah, that.” A grin. Yeah, he WAS glad to still be alive ( oddly enough, he had never really thought he valued his life all that much ). The next question was - how long would he have to stay here? Actually, he wasn’t in any rush to have that answered. Compared to most of the shitty places he had visited in his life, where he was right now was kinda nice. He doubted Fowkwer would want to have him onboard longer than necessary. Who knew how long it was until they could land on a planet.

#[ completely self indulgent ]#[ letting space pirate Nnoitra meet my alien oc ]#[ it's just for my wordcount ]#[ i say even tho i could write about Nnoitra meeting my ocs all day every day ahahaha ]#[ i miss writing my ocs sometimes ]#ᵈᵉˢᵖᵃᶤʳ ;; ic.#ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗᵃʳˢ ;; au.05.#ˢᵗᵒʳʸᵗᶤᵐᵉ ;; drabble.#longpost //

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