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dumplingsfordays · 9 months

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eyes are the windows of the soul

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ok so hihi, first time writing stuff for a fandom...

this one's kinda self indulgent because (cough cough) dainsleif (cough cough) anyways

i don't think i mentioned any female anatomy but reader's pronouns are she/her and she works at a coffee shop! so yeah

also lots and lots of pining from reader because dainsleif is absolutely perfect

(but you can apply this to any other blonde, blue-eyed reserved man if you want to bc his name isn't mentioned)

umm yeah so not proofread!!, might be mistakes / errors so feel free to correct! english is not my first language so i'm sorry if i make any mistakes. also written in third person.

art found on pinterest through @cartavaya_vorona, i couldn't find the original artist (sorry!)

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The more (y/n) fell in love with him, the more her desire to truly understand him grew.

He was mysterious, reserved. They hadn't even talked, but (y/n)'s gaze always lingered on his long, dark blue cloak when he would pass by the counter while the customer in front of her ordered their coffee. She would fumble with the trays of freshly-baked lemon tarts when his image came into her mind - gorgeous blonde hair, deep cerulean eyes which she could never make eye contact with, but he was always expressionless. His smile, by far, was the most puzzling thing about him, and (y/n) was determined to uncover that mystery, whatever it took. She'd always make sure his order was right, make little jokes when she'd bring his coffee and food to the small table in the corner where he always sat, but none of those things seemed to work. He just always thanked her, politely but quietly, still with that neutral expression on his face, and resumed reading whatever book he was holding, to her dismay.

This happened routinely for around two months now. He would come in, usually between six to seven in the afternoon, and order a medium cappuccino with no sugar and a quiche. He'd sit down and eat, and when the café closed at eight, he would thank (y/n) with a simple nod before exiting.

But on one calm, late September evening, when the sun painted the sky in brilliant shades of red and orange and purple that poured through the windows like molten gold, when (y/n) stood behind the counter, washing the used coffee cups in the sink, when the man that she'd been thinking of at that moment entered the café, he came up to her and waited silently until she would see him.

(y/n) sensed his presence, and swiveled her head around to meet his gaze. However, this time, she couldn't look away. Her (e/c) eyes widened.

She felt so heavy, and yet so light at the same time, like she was drifting along a cold river, and staring upwards at the sky. It was littered in multicolored stars, with the bright full moon hanging to the left of her vision, and when she felt a particularly cold current sweep past her, she felt a twinge of pain, of etherealness, of tainted purity, and her heart began to throb in a sort of sweet bitterness. She blinked, and was back in this world, in her cafe.

“Oh, hello,” she said, cringing inwardly as she looked away, at the wooden surface of the counter. She was probably staring before. “Would you like your usual?”

“No, actually.” (y/n) spotted him twiddling his thumbs in her peripheral vision. “I would like to try something new today. What is your favorite item on the menu?”

She paused. She didn’t expect this, not in a million years.

“Um… I'm actually not sure. I think I like all of them, but if I had to choose… I do really enjoy the éclairs.”

“I’ll have one of those then, please. And a cappuccino.”

“You sure love your coffee, huh?” (y/n) chuckled.

“I do.” The man nodded, and went to the seating area (which was surprisingly fairly empty), taking a seat at a table closer to the counter. At first, (y/n) didn't notice - she wanted to select the best éclair for him so he wouldn't think ill of her recommendation, and after she brewed the coffee and put everything on a thin wooden tray, she strode over to his usual seat by the window in the corner, but then noticed he wasn't there. She blinked in confusion a couple of times, before finally finding him sitting at a table that was still adjacent to the wall, but was one column closer to the counter. Trying to hide the fact that her face was light pink from embarrassment, she walked to his table and set everything down. She met his eyes again, but this time more shyly.

“Let me know if anything tastes bad.” She hated how her voice squeaked against her will just now.

“I will. Thank you,” he replied, and (y/n) could swear that she saw just the faintest glint of gentleness in his deep azure eyes. Giddly, and with a gigantic smile on her face, she smiled, and rushed off back to the counter with her head turned away. Jesus Christ, could she be any more obvious?

She speed-walked into the kitchen, sat down on a low stool across from one oven, and covered her (probably very) red face with her hands. Never before had the man shown any emotion, with the exception of mild frustration, and seeing his eyes slightly crinkle at the ends and sparkle with this sort of softness sent pleasant shivers down (y/n)'s spine.

Eyes are truly the windows of the soul, she thought.

#dainsleif x y/n #dainsleif x you #dainsleif x reader #genshin dainsleif #dainsleif #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin x you #dainsleif imagines #dain <33 #he's so pretty i can't #ik the last sentence is a little cheesy but like #writeblr #genshin fanfic #fanfic

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munozchristiansen46 · 2 years

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hermes crocodile kelly 17

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Replica Hermes Handbags Online Store © 2022 Designer Replica Hermes Handbags Store, Hermes Replica Online, Replica Hermes Belts. Round-the-clock assistance for a easy buying experience. Price ranges are estimates that fluctuate based on measurement and materials, and can change yearly. Will often ship within 1 enterprise day of receiving cleared fee. Exceptional Hermes Kelly 32 bag in burgundy leather field custom-made with the uncommon and highly wanted Niloticus crocodile "Himalaya"(Reverso shoulder strap added in Himalaya croco... Guaranteed authentic Hermes 32 Kelly bag featured in coveted matte Fauve Barenia Porosus crocodile. crocodile kelly Besides handbags, treasure hunters are also turning to pawnshops to seek out coveted watches and jewelry from manufacturers corresponding to Cartier, Bvlgari and Rolex at pawnshops. These two classes continue to be a mainstay for pawnshops as they attraction to a wider group of customers. wikipedia hermes crocodile kelly Not all luxurious baggage owned by Aurel had been bought along with his personal cash. Whether the ultimate product is a silk carréin a kaleidoscope of colors, or a chunky lacquer H-bangle, every Hermès object evokes the posh of the model. Exquisite in magnificent jewel toned Red Bourgogne Hermes Crocodile pores and skin with Navy edging and rich gold hardware. Its distinctive form was impressed by the ‘Haut à Courroies’, a large bag designed in 1892 for horsemen. In the thirties, with the rise of the motor automobile, Hermès prolonged its offering to leather goods and designed a travel bag with a more feminine attraction reinterpreting the ‘Haut à Courroies’ on a smaller scale. One of essentially the most coveted luxury luggage amongst collectors and an nearly unimaginable get, making this Mini Kelly II an excellent funding piece.

#hermes crocodile kelly #himalayan kelly #hermes himalayan kelly #crocodile hermes bags #himalayan kelly bag #himalaya kelly #crocodile kelly #himalayan crocodile #replica hermes crocodile kelly

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ptergwen · 3 years

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hii, i love your writing so i was wondering if you could do something where the reader is a celebrity and she receives a package from a promotion brand and they send her lingerie and Tom is all excited :)

thank you babes!! i made this fluffy cuz yeah

being a well known face in hollywood, you’re asked to do a lot of red carpets and photoshoots for high end companies. things sell when they have your name on them. you also get to enjoy the perks of it, your house filled with free swag from each event. you’ve filmed makeup commercials, louboutin ads, anything you can think of except for lingerie.

it’s not that you didn’t want to. you’ve just been waiting for one specific brand to reach out, one that your fellow actresses and favorite artists are all ambassadors for. savage x fenty, of course. besides the fact that you’d be working with rihanna, you love the message of inclusivity she pushes. getting to be one of the beautiful women who represents that would mean everything to you.

plus, the stuff is really cute. tom was practically foaming at the mouth when you told him you got added to the promo list. he’d been a little offended at first that rihanna didn’t choose him after his tribute in lip sync battle. really though, he was over the moon for you. himself as well, to be honest.

they’re sending you a box today, this way you can try on their newest items and post yourself in them. as the supportive boyfriend he is, tom offered to take the pictures for your instagram. he’s so obvious.

“babe, it’s here!” you shout from the front door, your package held tight in both hands. “coming!” tom calls back. his footsteps are loud and fast as he makes his way to you in literal seconds. the eagerness of it makes you laugh to yourself. “you’re more excited than i am,” you joke, tom pressing a kiss to your lips in response. he’s out of breath, so it doesn’t last long.

“open it up, let’s see,” tom pants out with a goofy smile. you drum your fingers over the box, smirking wickedly at him. “upstairs.” “god, you’re gonna be the death of me one day,” he groans, you leading the way and him following behind. once you’re both sat on the bed, you put the package in your lap so both of you can see.

“time for the big reveal. you ready?” you smile at tom over your shoulder. “more than,” he hums, brushing your hair to the side and peppering the back of your neck in tickling kisses. while he does that and you try not to let it distract you, you pull open the pink parcel. your eyes go wide at what’s inside, holding it up to get a better look.

it’s a long sleeve slip made entirely of see-through lace, in a deep shade of purple with a cutout near the middle. there’s another set under the dress, but you’ll save that one just for tom. you want to surprise him with it later.

“fuck.” tom’s voice is a whisper, his arms tightening around your waist. “fucking hell.” he’s bought you lingerie on a few occasions, some for your every day wear, others for the bedroom. none have been like this. it’s so grand, so different from anything else that’s out there. you knew you made the right choice promoting fenty.

“do you like it?” you ask lowly and lean your head back on his shoulder. you’re both gazing at the material, tom giving your waist a gentle squeeze. “i’ll answer that when it’s on you,” he hums, a lopsided grin crossing his features. “what about you, hm?” “yeah, it’s really pretty. i love the color,” you smile back at him. “i’m gonna go try it on.”

tom takes his phone out of his pocket and waves it around. “let me set up for the shoot, then.” “you do that,” you laugh, pecking his cheek before you get up from the bed. his hand grabbing yours stops you. “y/n/n?” you turn around again. “yeah?” “i’m proud of you. know you’ve been wanting to do this for a while,” he speaks softly while playing with your fingers.

“‘s not easy to put yourself out there, either. all the young girls that look up to you, they’re lucky to have someone so strong.” hearing tom’s words of encouragement, you could seriously cry. he makes you feel so conifident in everything you do, and you’re eternally grateful for it and him. “thank you so much, baby. you really think i’m, like, a role model?” you wonder with a hopeful smile. “i’ve always tried to be.”

“you are, and there’s millions of people who would agree with me,” tom assures you and holds your intertwined hands to his chest. you’re so moved by him, you can hardly think of what to say. “i love you,” you settle on, using your free hand to cup his cheek. “i love you too, sweetheart. here,” he hands you the slip dress, biting back another smile.

while you change into your lingerie, tom messes with his camera settings, taking a few test pictures. he snaps one of the wall you’re doing your makeshift photoshoot in front of. the next one he gets, you’re suddenly in the frame, a blur of purple and big grins. tom puts down his phone so he can see you in real time. his tongue runs across his lower lip as he gives you a once over, eyes twinkling in admiration.

“wow,” he breathes out, you doing a little strut over to him. he’s still on the bed with you now in front of him. “i guess you do like it,” you tease and spin around so he can have a three-sixty view. nodding, he sets his hands on your hips, the thin material barely separating his warm palms from your skin. “i love it.” tom uses his index finger to trace the outline of the cutout.

“angel, you’re so gorgeous,” he murmurs, an arm wrapping around your almost bare back. “wrong brand,” you joke in reference to victoria’s secret. his hands run up and down your sides carefully, like you’re a work of art only he gets to touch. you are a work of art in his eyes. “i mean it, you look so beautiful in this.” he’s licking his lips again. “and, all the time.”

“thanks, tommy. you’re a really good hype-man, you know,” you beam at him, putting your hands on top of his. “i’ve been told.” tom dips his head down and leaves a kiss on your exposed belly button. it makes you giggle, your nose scrunching up. “my pretty girl. my gorgeous girl,” he mumbles as he kisses your hip, then your other one. you take his face in both your hands.

“shouldn’t we save this for after the pictures?” you suggest, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. you’ll never get them done if you don’t stop tom while he’s ahead. “mm, i guess so,” he concurs and nudges your stomach with his nose. “we’ll do those, then i wanna do... a few other things.”

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland request #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut

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ponyguru · 2 years

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Behold! The lovely Pretty Pumpkin Masterpost - for real this time!

I always like to do a post-custom discussion, because I figure that people enjoy seeing my process, and I of course love talking about my ponies!

Pretty Pumpkin was a pony design I came up with, a bit on the spur of the moment, for the coloring contest in 2020. (The lineart is by Shaiyeh on the MLPArena!) The pony was shown with pumpkins flying around her, and so I added those to her symbol! She won first place in her division, and I fell in love with her design. Purple is my favorite color after all!

This year, as usual, I left things a bit to the last minute, but I knew at the start of October that I wanted to make a Halloween pony! So I made my first foray into dip-dying nylon hair. I didn’t set up my boil pot of dye like I do for ponies, because I’ve heard that you can dye hair much more easily than pony plastic. But after my first black dye came out brown, I decided it needed to be hotter, so I boiled some water in the microwave, which did the trick. It’s not perfect (you can see her hair is a bit brown IRL), but I’m still very proud of it! I got 99% of the colors I wanted, and for a first try, that’s not bad!

(More custom rambling under the cut!)

Her mane was from my stash of old DH hair (who I don’t recommend to anyone anymore) in two shades of yellow; I used two full hanks and a half hank of Lemonade and Golden Delicious, and only had around a quarter hank left over! G3s take a lot of hair! (Especially if you love to give them long, flowing locks like me!) I widened her tail hole a bit, too, since it seemed pretty paltry.

I used some new paints for this, specifically the orange pumpkin and the black liner, and it made a huge difference. These are miniature paints from my local gaming store, and they gave immediate coverage without having to do ten million layers - hence, my tiny lines are much neater. They were only around $5 a bottle, and I highly recommend them!!

I can’t remember exactly where Pretty Pumpkin’s base came from - I found her in my big box of G3 baits, already stripped and dehaired, ready to go! I’m only disappointed that I forgot to get a pic of my dyed hair before I rerooted her!! Or even post-reroot pre-paint? Good job, me! I did find a few in-progress paint pics, so I included those! I try to remember to take in-progress shots, but I so often forget, or get wrapped up in the painting.

I had a bit of an adventure with the paint - it said it would dry in 2 hours, and 48 hours later it still hadn’t set!! So I had to set her up with a hair dryer for about an hour, and that did the trick! But that was a fun little panic-inducing snag, right before Halloween!

She was painted in one night, in a 11pm-3am mad dash, so I could finish her in time for Halloween! She still needs to get sealed, so I’ll share some pics once she’s truly, truly finished!

#my little pony #mlp #my little pony g3 #g3 mlp #mlp g2 #g3 #pretty pumpkin #halloween #ponygurucustom #ponyguru custom #g3 my little pony

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fruitcoops · 3 years

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if you are still taking request I think that it would be so cute if lily convinced remus to go to the nail salon with her, and he was going to just get like a manicure and clear coat, and he changes his mind and comes home with his nails done sirius' favorite color as a surprise and sirius is just like dumbstruck by how much the little things remus does makes him fall even more in love with him and fluffy cuteness ensues

This is adorable! Enjoy some Loops and Lily, ft. fluffy Coops on this lovely Monday. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

“Remind me why I’m coming with you again?” Remus sighed as they turned the corner. “It’s just going to chip off in two days anyway.”

“Because you had a shitty weekend and deserve a hand massage,” Lily said briskly. She looped her arm through his and tucked her hand into her pocket, tilting her face up toward the sun and trusting him to guide her along the sidewalk. “You don’t have to choose colors if you don’t want to.”

“If I have to go, I’m not going to half-ass it.”

She grinned and cracked one eye open. “There’s my Remus.”

A gentle bell jingled above his head as they ducked into the shop—Lily called it a ‘salon’, which he didn’t really understand, but it sounded fancy. One woman looked up from a client’s nails and waved, then pointed to the far wall. “Pick whatever colors you’d like! I’ll be with you in a few.”

Remus stopped in his tracks. “That’s…a lot.”

Lily rolled her eyes and dragged him closer. “You’re not chickening out on me over some colors, Lupin. Which one do you like?”

“I don’t know! There’s too many!”

“There’s green,” Lily huffed, planting him in front of about three dozen different shades. “Go nuts.”

“I’m not putting green on my nails. It’ll look weird.”

“Then do red and gold!”

“That’s lame. Can’t I just watch you get yours done?”

“No,” Lily groaned. It wasn’t the first time he had asked, and likely wouldn’t be the last. “It’s about the experience, Re. If you want just a clear coat, that’s fine, but you said you—”

“—didn’t want to half-ass it, I know,” he finished with a grumble. Colors. Colors aren’t that difficult. Green would be odd, orange would be worse…

His eyes caught on a little bottle near the base of the racks. It was a plain, pretty blue; nothing special, yet calming. Sea You Later! the base read when he picked it up. Lily made an approving noise over his shoulder. “That’s cute.”

“It’s not bad.”

“Looks like Sirius’ shirt, actually. The one with the dogs on it?”

Remus rolled the bottle around for a moment. “It really does, now that you mention it. Huh.”

She patted his hip and went back to the shiny, shimmery ones on the right. “You should give it a shot.”

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Painting nails took a really, really long time. Much longer than Remus was anticipating when he hesitantly rested his hands on the towel and tried not to think about how much bigger they were than Lily’s. He felt awkward in a place like this, where everyone seemed so put-together and comfortable.

His worries were quickly dispelled when the nail artist began rubbing the tension from his joints with peony-scented lotion; he immediately relaxed into her touch, letting the calluses from sticks and weights be soothed. Judging from her pleased hum when she inspected his nails, he hadn’t accidentally been butchering them his whole life—the scrape of the nail file made him grimace, but she didn’t have to do much before a coat of clear polish went on.

“It’s a protector,” Lily said at his confused look. “So your nails stay healthy and don’t turn yellow.”

“This is a lot more complicated than I thought it would be,” Remus muttered as he stuck his hands underneath the miniature fan.

The nail artist laughed as she rolled her chair to Lily’s station. “First time?”

“Yeah. I can’t imagine you get a lot of guys in here.”

She shrugged. “More than you’d think, I bet. There’s nothing wrong with wanting your hands to look nice, and a pop of color never hurt anybody.”

“Good point.”

The clear polish—base coat, Lily said with a teasing smile—dried quickly, and soon two perfect layers of blue shone under the bright lamp. Lily’s design was much more complex than his own, with shimmery bits and spiraled paint, but he liked the simplicity. It even matched his socks.

Lily and the nail artist chatted the whole time, swapping stories about summer activities and everything that had happened since she last visited; Remus waited patiently with his fingertips under the fan and people-watched as the sun grew higher in the sky.

After an hour, they were finally done, and Remus couldn’t stop rubbing his hands together as they headed back outside until Lily smacked his arm. “Stop it, you look like a Disney villain.”

“I’m sorry, they’re just so soft!” He brought his hands to his face and breathed in the soft floral scent. “Here, feel.”

“I’m not going to feel your hands.”

“Feel them.” When she shook her head and kept walking, he jogged ahead and held them out, palms-up. “Lily! Feel my hands!”

“Alright, fine!” she laughed, grabbing them both. Her eyebrows rose. “Damn, they are soft.”

“Told you so.”

“That color looks really good on you, too.”

“Yeah?” Remus looked down at the polish again, smiling to himself. There was just something about them that made him happy. “They match my socks.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” He reached down and pulled his pantleg up, startling a snort out of Lily.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said as she linked their arms again. “Did you have fun?”

“It was nice,” Remus said with a shrug. “I don’t know if I’ll go back a lot, but I had a good time listening to you two talk.”

Lily nodded, looking quite self-satisfied. “Good. I bet Sirius will get a kick out of them.”

“You think so?”

“For sure. He always likes mine.”

Remus thought back to the many, many times Lily had displayed her freshly-done nails to them with great pride; Sirius did have a penchant for colorful and sparkly things, after all. Why should his ordinary blue nails be any different?

Lily made sure to take an obligatory Instagram photo of their hands before they entered the house, then immediately laid out in front of the fan by the back door while she uploaded it. “Hey, Lily, it’s good to see you, too,” Sirius said drily as he came in from the backyard. “I’m good, thanks for asking. It’s pretty hot out there, but—”

“Shut up,” she laughed, grabbing the back of his ankle when he stepped over her. “Where’s my lover?”

“Your husband is tormenting my dog,” he called over his shoulder before winding his arms around Remus’ waist for a kiss. “Bonjour, mon amour.”

“Hey, you.” Remus bumped their noses together with a grin he could never even try to hold down. “You know how I never half-ass things?”

“Mhmm.”

He held his fingers up. “Ta-da!”

“Oh, pretty.” Sirius’ eyes went wide as he took one of Remus’ hands. “Your hands are so soft!”

“I know, right?”

“He made me feel them!” Lily groaned from the floor. “It was so weird.”

“You love it!” Remus shot back before leaning onto his tiptoes to kiss Sirius’ forehead. “I figured you’d like the blue.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t do green.”

Heat rose to his cheeks, and it had nothing to do with the sunshine. “It’s your favorite color, right? Not too green, not too purple. Reminded me of you.”

Sirius’ eyes grew impossibly soft and he cupped Remus’ jaw, pulling him in for an unhurried kiss that melted his brain into his toes. “Je t’aime.”

“Love you, too,” he breathed. His face was definitely redder than a fire engine by that point, but he hardly cared.

There was a light squeeze around his hand. “These look really nice.”

A spark of joy lit in Remus’ chest. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Ugh, love,” Lily scoffed, despite the fact that James was pressing a million and one kisses to her neck as he hugged her from behind. 6

Sirius thumped his forehead on Remus’ collarbone. “You are the worst sister-in-law of all time.”

“I know,” she said with a smug smile, tilting her head to kiss James’ cheek. “Hi, lover.”

“Hi. Your nails are so beautiful.”

“I didn’t get them in your favorite color. Sorry.”

“I’ll never recover,” James sighed. “Well, at least we’re not a terrible rom-com cliché.”

Remus flipped him off over Sirius’ shoulder; the nail polish gave the gesture a little extra oomph that certainly canceled out the grin that made his whole face ache.

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viking-raider · 3 years

Text

Quarantine: Warm Water *Cotton Candy Goodness!*

Summary: Henry’s sore from his Witcher workout, so you take care of him.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/You

Word Count: 2,225

Warnings: NONE - Cotton Candy Goodness (Yes, More cavities) Fluff, Kal, Very Small Angst, Domestic Kink

Inspiration: A one-shot by @the-soot-sprite! and I’m just really feeling the small, sweet and domestic things a couple does for each other and together.

A/N: This is really starting to turn into a mini Series xD

When you returned from your run to the store, you found Henry lying stretched out on the couch, softly snoring, his arm slung over his eyes to shade them from the dying afternoon sun. You smiled at him, knowing he must have really worn himself out.

Even though you guys were still in quarantine, Henry was still doing his tough workouts for the Witcher. So, you let him rest and put all the groceries away. But, once that was finished, Henry was still sound asleep. You couldn't help, but tiptoe up to his prone body and gingerly fold up the hem of his blue tank top. You grinned impishly, carefully maneuvering yourself between his long legs and gently lowered your head to brush your lips against his flat stomach. Henry half moaned and half chuckled, in his sleep. He had some of the most sensitive skin you had ever encountered on a man before, and you sometimes loved torturing him about it.

Grinning, you pressed your lips to his belly and took a deep breath through your nose, before pushing it out past your lips, blowing a big raspberry against his stomach, just above his naval.

The muscles in Henry's stomach tensed against your lips, his abs becoming defined under the light dusting of hair that covered his torso, and he busted out laughing, a moment before he was even completely awake from his nap. He squirmed and thrashed as you blew another raspberry against his side and several other locations on his tummy, melting him into a flowing stream of laughter, his hands moving from trying to guard his stomach to gripping your shoulders.

“Babe!” Henry panted and giggled, a huge smile on his tired face. “Ba-Baby, p-pleasse!” He begged you, his feet kicking under your mouth's assault on his stomach. “Oh, fuck! Babe, I'm sore!” He gasped, out of breath.

You sat up, your own grin melting down into a frown, suddenly feeling bad. “I'm sorry, Puppy.” You whispered, gently rubbing away the wet spots on his stomach. “I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.” You sighed, rubbing your palms up and down his torso, now feeling the tight knots from his hardcore workout.

“It's all right, baby.” Henry sighed, catching his breath and stared up at the ceiling. “You didn't know.” He added, softly.

You frowned harder at him, then pressed an extra gentle kiss to his tummy and got up off the couch, then climbed the stairs to your shared bedroom and into the master bathroom. You stood there for a moment, reconsidering the thought of starting a nice warm shower for Henry to step into, so he could ease his sore Witcher muscles.

“Hm.”

Pulling out a nice fluffy towel and laying it out on the counter, you hummed to yourself as you plugged the drain to the huge tub and started the tap. Smiling to yourself, you reached under the sink and pulled out two round objects and padded back downstairs to where Henry was now sitting up on the couch, trying to find something on the television.

“Which one?” You asked, holding out two different types of bath bombs to him.

“Um.” Henry frowned, brows drawing together as he looked at them, before picking the one in your right hand. “That one.” He said, blinking up at you.

“Okay.” You smiled, and went back up stairs, turning off the tap of the now full tub.

You took out a washcloth and set it on the edge of the tub, put Henry's two-in-one, Cypress and Cedar scented soap next to it, with the Chamomile and Lavender bath bomb. You even lit several candles, situating them around the rim of the sink and the shelf above the toilet. Satisfied, you removed your clothing and went back downstairs, knowing that being naked would instantly entice Henry into listening to you.

“What's going on, Babe?” Henry asked slowly, his eyes wide as he took in your naked beauty.

“Come upstairs with me, Hen.” You replied, in a silky voice and turned away from him.

Henry blindly turned the tv off and followed after you, like leading an animal back to their pen. “What's this, Nugget?” He asked, as you both entered the candle lit bathroom.

“We're going to take a bath.” You smiled at him, curling your fingers around the hem of his tank top.

Chuckling, Henry lifted his arms and let you take his tank top off. Setting his tank top aside, you gently pulled open the ties of his sweat pants and tugged them down his thick thighs, followed by his boxers. You rubbed your palms up and down his sides, pushing up on your toes to peck him on the lips, then moved away from him.

“In you go.” You told him, with a playful pat on the bum.

Giving you a sly smirk, Henry carefully stepped into the tub, moaning as he lowered his large frame into the hot water. He leaned back and stretched his legs out, opening them, so you could take your usual bath time spot between them.

But, you shook your head at him.

“Nope, you're the little duck in this rub-a-dub-tub.” You chuckled at him; he always referred to you as the 'little duck', when the two of you took a bath together, making him, of course, 'the big duck'.

Henry narrowed his eyes at you, but moved forward, so you could move in behind him, hugging your legs around his waist and wrapped your arms around his upper body to reach out and drop the bath bomb he picked into the water. Henry laughed, finally putting together all the puzzle pieces as he watched the bath bomb spin, bob and fizz out its fragrance and turned the water a purple color.

“You drew me a bath, to relax.” He sighed, looking over his shoulder at you.

“I did.” You smiled, hugging your arms around his torso and pressed your lips to the very base of his neck. “You need to relax and your muscles are sore, cause you're a hard worker, and you deserve to relax and not have to always work so hard.” You told him, rubbing your palms up and down his chest, gently kneading as you did.

“Thanks, love.” He whispered, touched and warmed at your effort to make him feel better.

Smiling softly at him and kissed his shoulder, you sat there like that with him, for several long minutes, cuddling in the hot and steamy purple water, the pleasing and relaxing scent of Lavender and Chamomile permeating in the warm mist around you. Grabbing a small cup, you had also set out while prepping Henry's bath, and filling it with the bath water, you carefully nudged Henry forward, so he could rest against you and tip his head back. You cupped your free hand against his forehead to keep the water out of his eyes and face, and carefully poured the cupful of water into his dark curls.

Pouring another cup of water into his hair, you let Henry sit back up and grabbed his shampoo, squeezing it into your hand, then gently started working the shampoo into his hair and scalp, going extra slow and massaging his scalp and head as you did. Henry moaned loudly as your fingers scrubbed deep into his hair, it almost felt like you were scrubbing and massaging his brain. He slowly melted, like the bath bomb bobbing between his bent knees; hunching forward and nodding off.

You smiled softly, hearing the change in his breathing. Gently leaning him back against you again, Henry barely stirred as you methodically rinsed out the shampoo, then grabbed the wash cloth, using the soap to lather it up and pushed him forward again, careful he didn't go completely forward. You used the soapy cloth to rub and massage Henry's neck and shoulders, spending several long minutes working at each location to untangle the knots his workout and regular stress had caused, then moved over the broad expanse of his back, dipping into the water to knead his hips, before moving on to his heavy arms.

You washed and massaged every inch of Henry's body you could reach, before rinsing the soap away, then leaned back, allowing his body to comfortably rest back against you. Your fingers trailing up and down his chest and nearly falling asleep yourself. Henry took a deep breath, his blue eyes blinking around the bathroom, the cooling water lapping at his chest as he shifted against you, sitting up.

“How long was I out?” He asked, blinking and glancing at the clock.

“Oh, about twenty minutes.” You chuckled and rested forward against his back, your cheek pressed to his shoulder. “Sleeping like a baby.” You teased him, kissing the side of his neck.

“It's like you bewitched me.” Henry chuckled back.

“Let's get out.” You whispered, feeling him struggle to keep his eyes open.

“Hmm.”

Was his reply, sluggishly standing up and stepping out of the tub, while you pulled the plug on the water and stepped out with him.

“Here.” You smirked, watching him fumbled with the towel. “You're one relaxed and sleepy, Puppy.” You cooed at him, taking the towel from him, unfolded it and started rubbing him dry.

“I feel like I've been drugged.” Henry lazily smiled back, his large body wavering for a moment, causing him to grab the edge of the sink, to stay upright.

“The wonders of hot water, a clean body and a solid massage.” You replied, rubbing the towel over his side as you moved around to his back.

“You know, what would make it a million times better?” He asked, yawning sleepily.

“Tell me.” You replied, maneuvering him yourself, so he sat down on the closed toilet lid.

“A snuggle, in a warm bed with the love of my life.” He mumbled and hummed, as you draped the towel over his head and stated to dry his dripping curls, like you were polishing something.

“I'll get you in bed with Kal, then.” You quipped, smirking as you finished drying his hair.

“It's going to get messed up.” He protested, as you started brushing his wild and fluffed up curls.

“Hush your face and enjoy it.” You tutted at him, taming his curls. “Arms up!” You sang out, picking up his spray on deodorant.

“I can't pick my eyelids up, and she wants me to put up my arms, Kal.” Henry commented to the Akita, who had come into the bathroom during his nap in the tub.

You giggled and grabbed the wrist of Henry's left arm and lifted it, then sprayed his armpit with the deodorant, before giving his right armpit the same treatment. “I love you to death, dearly and truly, but you're brushing your own teeth, yourself.” You told him, drying yourself off.

“Oh gosh, gone from the Witcher to the invalid with one bath.” You huffed playfully, at his whine. “I'll wet your toothbrush.” You said, taking the electric toothbrush from the cup it was stored in, wet it under the sink tap and put a dab of his Oral-B, charcoal toothpaste on it.

“That's all you're getting out of me, sir.” You told him, turning the toothbrush on and handing it to him. “Well, almost.” You poured a capful of mouthwash for him.

Both of you bathed, dried, hair tamed and teeth brushed, you directed your zombie-like boyfriend to his side of the bed and sat him down, then returned to the bathroom to blow out all the candles. You chuckled, finding Henry hunched over again, having dozed off in the minute it took you to blow the candles out. Shaking your head, you pulled down the blankets and gently pushed Henry over, to lay down on the bed.

“Ssshh.” You cooed at his sleepy whimper, then covered him up.

“Babe.” Henry mumbled, not even really awake.

“What, honey?” You whispered quietly back, not wanting to bother him, in case he was just mumbling in his sleep.

“I don't wanna snuggle with Kal.” He murmured, his brow creasing. “I wanna snuggle with you.”

A smile instantly spread across your face, he had been so tired and relaxed, that your Bear of a boyfriend, had completely missed your humor. “Okay.” You said softly, gently brushing your fingers over his wrinkled brow, smoothing the crease away. “I'll let him know, he has to get out of my spot.” You assured him.

“Okay.” He let out in a soft sigh, his entire body going slack against the mattress.

“Sorry, Bear.” You whispered to Kal, who sat at the foot of the bed.

You turned the lights out and crawled into bed with Henry, gliding your hand up his arm and kissed his cheek as he rolled over at your touch, wrapping his arm around your waist and hugged you against his body, tucking you beneath him as he pillowed his heavy head on your breast. You pulled the blankets over you both and carded your fingers through his damp hair, massaged the back of his neck and caressed the space between his shoulder-blades; slowly falling asleep yourself.

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villainousshakespeare · 3 years

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Bobby’s Playdate Part 2

Part 1

The pandemic is keeping Tom idling in London by himself. One positive is that wearing the mask helps him avoid recognition, allowing him to wander in the park with his dog, Bobby. On one of their walks, Bobby becomes smitten with a dog named Lulu and Tom is equally enchanted by her human. Can the Hiddleston men manage to find a way to see the lovely ladies again?

Tom Hiddleston/OFC

Chapter 2 of4

Rated M - Pandemic, Fluff, Quarantine, Masks, Adorable Puppies, Meet Cute, Second Part May (will) Contain Smut

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish–doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @gorgeous1974 @maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston @wolfsmom1 @poetic-fiasco @shiningloki @dangertoozmanykids101 @bookworm-christina @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy @amwolowicz @delightfulheartdream @frostbitten-written @what-a-flammable-heart @tom-hlover @nonsensicalobsessions @myraiswack @loki-yoursaviourishere, from-hel-i-with-love, @sweetsigyn, @fictiondoesitbetter, @ms-cellanies @evieplease @viviennes-tears @turniptitaness @cynic-spirit @spooky1980 @ghostypau @viviennes-tears @lady-loki-ren

I am so sorry I took so long to update this! First I was distracted by a super busy week, and then I decided to rework what I had in store for it. It took a while to redo, but I have decided to make it a 4 part story. Hope you enjoy, and that the wait was worth it!

The day had started out like every other since the lock down began. Leia had slept late, having no where to go. A cold, wet kiss on her nose from Lulu woke her up when the pup could no longer wait to be let out and grumbling she had taken her out for a quick walk up and down the block. After two cups of coffee and some melon, Leia had realized that after three months of enforced solitude, both she and her dog had gotten decidedly surly. It was time to get out, even if it was only to the local park.

Lulu’s excitement when she took out the little pink and white checked dress had been enough to put a smile on Leia’s face. Really, the small dog was a ridiculous creature, but she could be such a bundle of sunshine. After they were both outfitted – Lulu in her dress and Leia in a comfy outfit and mask, they made their way to the nearby park, enjoying a leisurely stroll around the newly green paths. She wished that Lulu was not too timid to play in the dog run, but after spending a year in the shelter the poor thing was terrified of other dogs.

That was why she was so surprised when Lulu’s tale began to wag excitedly. Normally she would have been cowering and whimpering in fear at the sound of another dog approaching, but for once her reaction was completely different. She jumped up from where she had been snuggling on Leia’s lap and perked up her ears, tongue lolling out happily. When the chocolate spaniel came trotting around the bend, she even jumped of Leia and strained at the leash to meet him.

Keeping a tight hold on Lulu’s leash, Leia let her eyes travel up the lead attached to the strange dog. It was quite a long trip, as it happened, past a pair of long legs in torn jogging pants, a faded shirt that would once have been bright blue, and a plain black mask until she got to a set of smiling blue eyes that made her heart stop.

“I’m sorry,” the man said, “I promise he is completely friendly.”

She had known who he was instantly, of course. No face mask could disguise those cheek bones, the copper curls that brushed his collar, or the baby blues that had sent a million fan girls swooning. If she had had any doubts, one word from that sinful voice, a verbal caress of polite friendliness, would have stamped it out. She had seen almost all of his movies, after all, and quite a number of his promotional appearances as well.

“It’s okay, so is she,” she replied struggling to keep her voice normal and grateful for the mask that hid her stunned initial gape. “You know, she’s usually quite shy, but she seems to like him! May I pet him?”

And then Tom Hiddleston – The Tom Hiddleston! – had sat down on the bench next to her while she petted Bobby and struck up a casual conversation! She had kept her eyes on the pups at first, afraid that if she looked at him, he would see the excitement and intimidation in her eyes. He introduced himself, needlessly, of course, and she gave him her name in a kind of daze. She realized that he had only provided his first name and had the quick flash of insight that he might be enjoying the idea of anonymity. If that were the case, she would not want to spoil it for him by gushing. Uncertain of what to do, she let the obvious joke about her name lead her to mentioning Marvel characters. That way, she decided, he would have a segue to talking about his career should he want to. When he let it slide and quickly changed the subject, she decided that her assumption must have been correct.

Which was absolutely fine with her! She was sitting and talking to Tom Hiddleston! While she would, of course, love to pick his brain about Loki, or Shakespeare, or any of a dozen projects, she was more than happy to listen to him discuss his dog in that proud pappa voice. By the time she had told him the story behind Lulu’s dress excitement she was reasonably settled and could actually manage to look him in the eye without blushing.

She had met a few famous people in her time as a London tour guide, and many of them had been a colossal let down. Tom was not one of them. He was everything she had ever imagined or hoped he would be. Kind, funny, clever, a little prone to talk on about any subject he happened on, but in all a delightful conversation partner. She was disappointed but not surprised when he had to leave, but she didn’t want to be too greedy; it was already one of the most magical afternoons of his life. When he mentioned running into them again, she almost squealed with excitement, just barely managing to keep her face impassive.

Thus began a fairy tale of month for Leia and Lulu. After two days of rain, during which she was certain he would forget all about her, they had found the boys again at the same spot. Leia half wondered if she were simply dreaming, but if so, she had no desire to wake up. They met up with Tom and Bobby most days, walking for hours sometimes as they discussed London, their childhoods, school. She learned quickly that he changed the subject instinctively whenever anything came up that might lead to his career. She could respect that. It must be hard, she thought, being always in the public eye. For her own part, Leia tacitly decided to keep the subject of her book a secret. After all, a fantasy story based on Norse Mythology, with Loki playing a leading role, was bound to bring up the sort of conversation he obviously wished to avoid.

As time went on, she began to forget he was a movie star and just think of him as her friend, insane as that struck her when she stopped to look at it. Oh, she was still absurdly attracted to him, but it was no longer for his stunning character portrayals or teasing banter with interviewers. No, the teasing banter she was interested in now was much more personal for her. He was delightful company, unfailingly polite, quick with a wickedly funny comment or a profound musing on life. In short, Leia was well and truly smitten. Hopelessly, she thought with a sigh.

When he invited her to his home, she could barely believe it. A casual acquaintance in the park was one thing, a dinner chez Hiddleston was completely different. She knew it was in large part for the sake of the puppies, and that was fine. Lulu was as besotted with Bobby as Leia was with Tom, only in this case it was obviously mutual. Leia would just have to be careful to guard her heart. She was not a part of his real life, and she needed to remember that, even if they never discussed it.

***

Bobby started barking seconds before the buzzer rang, his tail wagging back and forth at a frantic pace. Tom, scarcely less excited, gave a quick glance in the mirror before slipping on his mask and opening the door.

Leia stood on his doorstep looking even more lovely than usual. Her simple leggings and long tee had been replaced by a pretty, floral sundress in shades of red and yellow and her hair, usually tied up or back, was long and curling about her shoulders. Tom swallowed and tried to keep his eyes from doing too obvious an up and down of her body. It was difficult, considering the shape of her legs and amount of them showing. Lulu’s yip drew his eyes down to her, and he saw that she was dressed in a purple polka dotted number for the evening, her hair sporting several sparkly clips to keep her braids from coming undone.

“Hi, welcome!” he greeted them, straining to keep Bobby from leaping out the door. “Won’t you come in?”

“Thanks,” she smiled with her eyes as he ushered her inside.

“You found the place alright?”

“Your directions were perfect,” she assured him, glancing around at his newly bare entryway. “It’s quite the posh street you live on! I don’t think I’ve ever been into one of these houses.”

“Oh, it’s just like any other home,” he said modestly, feeling stupid as he did. His house had an electronic gate (that he had left unlocked for her) and a private surveillance system. He knew it was not the usual home. “I can give you a tour later if you like.”

“I’d love that. Whatever you have cooking smells delicious!”

“Thanks. I’ll have to check on it in a bit. For now, though, why don’t we go out back? I have some drinks chilling.”

He gestured for her to proceed him and subtly steered her past the kitchen and living room and out the sliding glass doors into the back. The yard was pretty, a nice square plot with flowers growing along the fence on three sides and one large tree giving shade. A table with four chairs and a grill stood on a little stone area, and Tom had set it up with a selection of glasses for beer, wine, and mixed drinks. A pitcher of iced water stood next to a bottle of dry rose in an ice bucket, and another small bucket contained iced beers.

“Here you go, Bobby,” he unleashed the spaniel who instantly tore off around the yard, looking for his favorite toy. “Why don’t you two have a nice frolic.”

“Oh Lulu, this will be fun!” Leia cooed to her pup, also removing her dog’s leash.

As the little dog scampered off after Bobby, Tom took a deep breath and turned to her owner. Now was the moment he had been waiting for.

“I suppose since we are alone and outside and all… as long as we stay six feet apart… would you mind?” he gestured towards his mask.

“Not at all. Oh, and I got my negative test results back. I have a copy on my phone if you want to see them!” she offered.

“No need, I trust you,” he was quick to assure her. “I got mine as well.”

It was strange – until a few months ago he would have felt tremendously awkward wearing a mask around another person. Even when he had needed to wear one for a few scenes in Only Lovers Left Alive it had seemed tremendously cumbersome and rather silly. Now though, Tom realized that he could not remember the last time he had been around another person without one. There was something shockingly intimate in the act of taking it off in front of Leia, and he found himself feeling almost shy. Blushing a bit, he unhooked the straps from around his ears and took the fabric from in front of his mouth, setting it on one of the chairs.

His eyes fastened on her as she reached up to do the same, the red mask peeling away to reveal a small bow of a mouth, pink lips curved in a slight smile. Her chin was slightly pointed and had a cute little half dimple to one side. Smile lines were just barely visible and added to the appeal of her face. It was a very kissable mouth, he decided.

“Hi,” he said, rather fatuously, face breaking into a sheepish grin. “I’m Tom.”

“Hi Tom,” she smiled back, and his heart skipped a beat. “I’m Leia.”

They stood there for a moment, staring at each other, until he cleared his throat and pointed to a chair.

“Please, have a seat,” he managed to say. “As you see, I have wine, beer, water, or I could make you a cocktail if you’d rather. Or lemonade if you prefer a soft drink…” he realized he was babbling and cut himself off.

“Wine would be nice,” she said, sitting down and crossing one long leg over the other, giving him a lovely glimpse of her thigh.

“Right, wine it is,” he said, uncorking the bottle and grabbing a glass. “I hope it’s alright. My sister loves this brand, she brought it when she was here last, and it is better than anything I would have known to get.”

“Not a wine guy?” she asked, accepting the glass from him.

“Oh, I like a good hearty red with a steak now and then, and I will definitely have some with dinner tonight – I hope you like Italian, by the way – but for casual drinking, I’m more of a beer or scotch fan myself.”

While he prattled on Tom opened up one of the beers and poured it into a pint glass. When the foam had gone down a bit, he raised the glass and tilted it towards her.

“To deepening new friendships,” he dared to say, eyes finding hers.

They clinked their glasses, and he took a long sip of the hoppy beverage, hoping he hadn’t over stepped.

“To embracing human interaction!” she added. “Selectively, of course.”

Well, she obviously didn’t recognize him. That was a relief. He had been half worried that she would shriek, or become tongue tied, or worse. It was remarkable to him how many women seemed to have extreme reactions to meeting him. He was so ordinary! Just an overgrown ginger kid from Wimbledon. It wasn’t like they were meet Daniel Day Lewis for god’s sake. On the other hand, he couldn’t help feeling the tiniest twinge of disappointment. He worked hard at his job, after all, and was proud of the reputation he had developed and of the work he had done. It was strange, with how up on everything Leia always seemed, that she didn’t have any knowledge of Marvel at least, or The Night Manager. Still, some people didn’t watch a lot of movies and TV, or if they did it was more intellectual fare.

They both leaned back in their chairs and watched the dogs play chase back and forth. Tom found his eyes drifting back to her, staring at her mouth. He had never realized just how much a person’s mouth said about them. Leia’s smiled as a default, giving her a more youthful look than she had when it was covered. There was something fresh and approachable about her that he was drawn to.

The conversation was light and easy. Neither of them had been doing much of anything lately, so they resorted to telling older stories from their childhoods. Tom was amused to think of Leia playing with her friends, insisting that no, she wanted to be Han Solo despite what her thoughtless parents had named her. Tom, of course, had wanted to play all of the characters, and delighted her with his spot-on Darth Vadar and Grand Moff Tarkin impressions.

“You were a terror, weren’t you?” she laughed as he described bossing his sister about the correct way to make the light saber noises.

“A bit, yeah,” he admitted. “Emma and Sarah would probably say more than a bit. They had it coming though.”

“I’m sure they would agree with that, too,” she said sarcastically.

“It’s not my fault they couldn’t take direction,” he grinned. “I’m sure you would have made an excellent Han Solo. With the proper lessons.”

“Perhaps you can make me your student after dinner, if we have enough wine,” she suggested.

He knew she meant it innocently enough, but he felt a blush creep up his cheeks at the image her words planted in his mind. Leia in a schoolgirl outfit, bent over his desk flashing through his brain was enough to make him reach for his beer and gulp down more than was advisable. She seemed to realize after a moment, as she too reached for her glass and took a long swallow.

Lulu chose that moment to break away from where they had been digging around the tree and came running over to them, something grimy hanging from her mouth.

“What have you got there, peanut?” Leia sked, sounding a bit relieved.

“She seems to have unearthed one of Bobby’s treasures,” Tom smiled, glad of the distraction himself.

“Here, princess, you want me to throw it for you?”

Leia held out her hand and she happily dropped the toy into it. Tom looked at the toy and felt his jaw go slack and his eyes frantic. It was Loki. Of course it was. One of Bobby’s favorite toys, naturally, given to him during the lead up to one of the movies, the thick ropes of green and gold formed a long God of Mischief chew toy/tug of war combo, complete with horns. Tom licked his lips, glancing quickly at Leia, only to see that she was smiling down at her fluffy pup.

“Oh, Lulu, Look! It’s just like yours, only a bit more loved,” she said with a laugh. “Good girl, saving the handsome prince from a shallow grave. Loki never stays dead for long!”

With another laugh she took the toy and threw it across the yard, Lulu and Bobby both quickly scampering off after it. Tom gaped at her, uncertain what to say.

“You must have a lot of those,” she commented off handedly.

“You… you know?” he stammered.

“Know what?”

“Who I am?” it sounded stupid and conceited to his own ears.

“Well, I hope so since I’m in your home.”

“No, I mean you know what I do for a living,” he ground out, feeling like an utter ass.

“Of course,” she told him, quirking her lips.

“Since when?” he choked out.

“Since the first day. You’re not exactly easy to mistake, Tom.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You didn’t seem to want to talk about it. I figured it must get old, people falling all over themselves around you, treating you like you’re not even human.”

“Yeah. Yeah it does.”

“So I took my cue from you.”

“I see,” he was completely flummoxed. “And you have a Loki toy? For Lulu, I mean?”

“Of course, he’s our favorite! Poor, misunderstood boy. You know, I am glad I have the opportunity to tell you now how good you are. And not just as Loki. You were breath taking in Betrayal.”

“You saw Betrayal?”

“Twice. Stunning work.”

He knew his mouth was opening and closing stupidly, but he couldn’t seem to stop it. She had known, all this time. She had been humoring him by not talking about it. He was not entirely sure how to feel about that.

“Tom is everything alright?” she asked, sounding concerned.

“Was that why you talked to me?” he heard himself asking. “Why you agreed to come over? Because I am famous?”

“No,” she said slowly. “I came over because you asked, and because I like you. Yes, I was a bit star struck at first, but I got past it. Are you angry? I just assumed you realized.”

“No. No, I didn’t. I… I should go check on dinner.”

“Tom, really, are you okay?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Be right back.”

Turning tail, he fled into the house, mind in complete turmoil at the new turn of events.

#Tom Hiddleston #Bobby Hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #Fanfic #rpf fanfic #rpf #tom hiddleston rpf #Tom Hiddleston/OFC #Fluff #Lock Down #slight angst #romance #dating in quarantine #future smut #flirting #puppy love #Bobby gets a girlfriend too!#adorable #Bobby's Playdate

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vhenadahls · 3 years

Text

the remnants of the life i used to live here in eden

After Tali is exonerated, she decides to give Pippa Shepard a tour of the Rayya.

G, 2600 words.

“Tali’Zorah, in light of your history of service, we do not find sufficient evidence to convict. You are cleared of all charges.”

Admiral Raan’s voice is still steady and professional, a proper admiral’s voice, but it’s lighter than it’s been the entire time they’ve been on the Fleet. Tali sags forward against the railing in front of her and Pippa, relief exuding from her entire body. The garden plaza erupts with a buzz of chatter, blotting out both Raan’s and Shepard’s next words - not that Tali is sure she would’ve heard them anyways, her own heart is beating so loud. She hasn’t been exiled, and Shepard hasn’t revealed her father’s treachery, and when she woke up on the Normandy today she definitely had not expected this to be the way her day went.

The admirals end the trial, and people start to stream out of the garden plaza, still buzzing with conversation and gossip and thoughts and theories. Tali drags Pippa over to speak with each of the admirals, pointedly keeping the conversation with Admiral Xen blessedly short, and to thank Reegar and Veetor yet again for speaking up for her. Eventually they make it back to the corridor outside the plaza, Garrus trailing behind them. Looking up at the achingly familiar patched-together entranceway, she makes a split-second decision. “Garrus, you go on back to the Normandy. We’ll catch up.”

Garrus looks at Pippa for confirmation. She glances back at Tali, who knows her body language is telegraphing her excitement but that Pippa and Garrus won’t know what it means. After a moment Shepard nods, and Garrus walks back up the corridor to the docking bay the Normandy is in.

Pippa turns to face Tali full-on, a wide grin visible through the viewscreen of her helmet. “Well then, Miss vas Normandy, what’s got you so excited?”

Okay, maybe Pippa’s not so bad at quarian body language as she thought. She pushes that aside and bounces from foot to foot “We’re on the Rayya. It’s my birth ship. I thought I’d take you on a tour.”

Pippa’s mouth drops open behind her viewscreen - Tali’s learned this one, a display of shock or awe for many species, not just humans. “A tour? Really? Is that allowed?”

Laughing, Tali links her arm through Pippa’s and steers her towards the trading plaza. “Probably not, but I doubt they’re going to say anything after today.”

The trading plaza, just a short walk down the corridor from the garden plaza, is also achingly familiar and almost just as she remembers it. The people and items in it are different, of course, but it’s the same design as always. Bank of lockers on the back wall, all different sizes, all full of things someone didn’t need but someone else could use. Rows of desks for anyone to hawk wares, services, whatever it is they can do or make or trade that others might want. It’s loud, crowded, full of people speaking Khelish, people she can still understand if she turns off her translator. A wave of homesickness washes over her, even though she’s standing right in the middle of the ship she grew up on. She won’t live here again, not on the Rayya, even if she does come back to the Flotilla.

Trying to disengage from that feeling, she turns back to Pippa, whose grin has spread even wider. “Where are we now? It looks like a market.” Her eyes dart back and forth across the plaza, head turning so rapidly she looks like a top.

“Kind of,” Tali says, leading the way to the stall of a quilter she remembers from before her Pilgrimage. “We don’t use credits within the Flotilla. Needs like food, water, and medicine are doled out as needed, and you trade for other things. Trade your work, your surplus supplies, information, whatever you have. That’s what this is for - this is where people trade what they can. The lockers on the wall,” she points, “are for people to leave items they don’t want anymore, and someone else can take them. Other people make things to sell here. Quilts, suit adornments, and so on. And musicians and storytellers and dancers can show off their skills.” She points again, to a musician and a dancer attracting a small audience in the opposite corner.

“No credits? How?” Pippa slows, trying to watch exchanges between traders and customers while continuing to follow Tali. “Even when I was a kid on the streets, creds were king. That’s what will for sure get you food in your belly and a safe place to sleep.”

Tali’s heart squeezes painfully, the way it always does when Pippa mentions her childhood before BAaT and the Alliance. She’ll have to ask about that someday. “We don’t have to worry about food and shelter - everyone gets food, everyone gets shelter. You know that’s why we don’t have an incarceration system and our highest punishment is exile - we can’t support those who don’t work to provide for the community, because everyone is given those things by virtue of being quarian. But this sort of thing - things that aren’t necessities, things that make your life happier or easier or the like - those we trade for, because what better thing to offer than something else we value?” They’ve reached the quilt-trader, and Tali holds up her hand in greeting. “I’m Tali’Zorah, and this is Pippa Shepard.”

The quilt-trader nods. “I remember you, Tali’Zorah.” She turns to Pippa, holding out a hand with her palm facing forward, fingers slightly bent, so Pippa can interlace her own with them - a first-time greeting. “Welcome, Pippa Shepard. I am Chenah’Ayyal.”

Pippa looks back at Tali, probably confused, but holds her hand up - Tali would never have doubted she’d be a good sport. The quilt-seller interlinks their fingers, and Pippa won’t be able to tell, no matter how good she’s gotten at reading quarian body language, but Tali can almost feel the approval wafting off Ayyal.

“What brings you to the Rayya’s trading plaza, Shepard?” Ayyal asks, pointedly re-fluffing one of the quilts on her display. It’s reminiscent of Rannoch, qorach and canyons and wide-open sky, in shades of blue and purple.

Rather than answering, Pippa shoots a sidelong glance at Tali. The meaning is obvious - she’s going to let Tali do most of the talking, let Tali choose how others will see a human wandering around one of the Fleet’s most precious ships. She can spin this however she wants.

“I’m taking her on a tour,” she says. No spin. “I want to show her where I grew up.”

Ayyal’s stance becomes guarded, but not angry or mistrustful. Honestly more than Tali had expected, and her stomach unclenches just a bit. She draws one finger down the neat and even stitching of the Rannoch blanket. “This is beautiful. Your stitching is every bit as lovely as I remember. I’ve never seen it fray.”

With the disgusted sound Ayyal makes deep in her throat, the air clears even more. “How can you say that?” she asks, dragging the cloth from under Tali’s hand. “See here, the stitches are off center - everyone will notice! How am I supposed to be happy with anyone displaying this in their quarters? I’ll be a laughingstock!”

Tali tries her very best to muffle a laugh, and the hacking cough suddenly afflicting Pippa spells the same. “Just like a craftsperson,” she says, unable to contain a final huff of laughter. “Thank you for talking with us. Until I return.”

“Until I see you again,” Ayyal replies, and holds up her hand again to Pippa, who readily interlaces their fingers again. “And you, Pippa Shepard,” she adds, and Pippa’s answering grin could power the Flotilla for a week. At least.

Grinning too, Tali links her arm back with Pippa’s and steers her back out of the trading plaza and into another corridor. “So that’s the trading plaza, obviously. Most of what’s right around here is also community areas - a school, an infirmary, you saw the garden plaza, and those sorts of things.” She points out the places they pass as they go, places where she spent her childhood and adolescence. “Schools are clean rooms, because children don’t have suits yet. They’re bubbled - like Raan talked about - but when there’s that many children together, it’s better for the space to be clean too. Infirmary too, for obvious reasons, so those are usually right near each other for efficiency.”

“Name of the day on a ship, any ship.” Pippa peers in through windows when they exist, nodding at each quarian they pass. Tali’s heart skips yet another beat as she watches her. The Rayya might be one of the Fleet’s most important ships, but it’s still dingy and patched-together and shabby compared to the least Alliance ship, let alone the Normandy. But Pippa doesn’t look out of place or uncomfortable at all. She looks excited, interested. She looks like she fits in.

There’s only one reason Tali could be worrying about whether Pippa fits in on the Flotilla, and she is not ready to interrogate that quite yet. Instead, she pulls Pippa down a side corridor, so suddenly that Pippa yelps from being knocked off balance. “This way is to hydroponics - the reason these are called liveships.”

Pippa might be an entire handspan shorter than Tali, but she sure can walk fast when she’s excited about something. “Oh, man! I know I’m not going to understand any of it. But it’s so cool! You figured out how to grow enough food to support seventeen million people in space! Three hundred years ago!” She’s pulling Tali now, stopping dead when they reach an intersection. “Which way?”

Their footsteps echo on the metal floors, familiar and comforting, as Tali leads Pippa through the maze of cobbled-together corridors to the hydroponics observation deck. When the doors open, Pippa hurries over to the windows, pressing her faceplate against the glass to peer at the leafy green plants below. “Look at it! That’s all food!”

Laughing again, Tali joins her at the window. “We all take turns volunteering there, not just those of us who live on the liveships. So everyone has a chance to be part of how and where food comes from and is distributed and all of that.” She gestures to a corner on the far end of what they can see. “I always worked in that corner over there. Helped plant, check irrigation systems, whatever needed doing.”

“Wish I’d had something like that.” Pippa’s smile this time doesn’t actually reach her eyes. “Didn’t really think, as a kid, about where food came from before I nicked it.” Her voice is wistful - the opposite of nostalgic, whatever that is. Tali squeezes her hand, and Pippa turns away from the window.

“Show me where you used to live?” she asks. “If you want to.”

“That was my plan. It’s a deck down, so we’ll just go through here…” she lets her words trail off as they head back into the corridor maze, find the stairs, and go down to the deck where she spent most of her life. The designs painted on the walls, the quilts hung to muffle sound, someone in a familiar suit in literally every corner of the ship - it’s almost like she’s stepped back in time.

She stops in front of the door to her family’s apartment, the apartment that was her home until two years ago. The blank door beckons, but she doesn’t knock. “It belongs to someone else now, another family. They moved my father once I transfered to the Neema, gave him a space more conducive to one person alone and gave this to a family that needed more room.” Her voice is as devoid of emotion as she can make it, trying not to let Pippa hear how draining this is to be back in these spaces that hold memories of her father. And her mother.

Pippa’s hand appears on her shoulder, and Tali looks down at it, trying to let it pierce the haze of remembering. “Hey. It’s okay. It’s alright to be upset.”

It’s alright. Tali snorts. “My father wouldn’t agree. We don’t have time for sentimentality. We didn’t have time to come here at all, honestly. He would’ve been upset with me for letting my feelings overcome my duty.”

“Hey.” The hand on Tali’s shoulder slides down her arm to interlace their fingers together, three and five. “You’re allowed to care. He cared about you. He didn’t know how to show it, but he did. You care about him, still. You care about your people, about our crew. And that’s a good thing. That means you’ll do what you can to protect as many of them as you can.”

“They didn’t want me to come home.” An unfamiliar person emerges from the apartment door, looks between the two of them, and heads off down the hall without a word. Tali moves back up the corridor, Pippa trailing behind, so they won’t be right in front of someone’s door anymore. She tries again. “They didn’t want me to come home. They were using me as a prop, a piece in someone else’s game.” Her voice is rising, and she doesn’t care to stop it. “They stripped my ship name, Shepard!”

“I know. But you don’t have to accept their reasoning for it.” Pippa leans against the wall below a sign in Khelish telling her not to do exactly that.

Tali narrows her eyes. “How do you mean?”

“The ones who voted to strip your ship name wanted you to feel like you didn’t belong. Like you had no home, no one to stand with you. But you do, Tali, you have so many people who stand with you! And multiple homes!” So quickly she looks like she’ll topple over, Pippa stands up straight away from the wall, hands spread for emphasis. “Raan did what she could for you, Reegar and Veetor spoke up for you. They gave you the Normandy in your name in quarian fashion - that’s not a thing any other species does, you know that. You belong in both places. Both, and. Not neither.” Embarrassed, like she wasn’t expecting that speech to pop out of her, she leans back against the wall.

You belong in both places. No one’s ever made it sound like that could be possible. You go on Pilgrimage, you come home and you stay home. Or you don’t, and you never come home again. But Pippa - the same ridiculous human that Tali followed by chance two years ago, who’s come back from the dead at the hands of a terrorist organization Tali couldn’t hate more if she tried - Pippa thinks it doesn’t have to be like that. She can have a human ship name, an entirely non-quarian crew...and still belong to the Fleet. Two homes.

It’ll take some time to get used to that idea.

“You stood for me, too.” She nudges Pippa with her shoulder. “Don’t forget yourself.”

Another blush spreads across Pippa’s pale cheeks. “Well, yeah. I thought that was a given. Or at least, it’s a given to me.”

“It means a lot, though.” Tali takes a deep breath. “I’m glad to be part of your crew.”

The blush deepens. “I am too, Tali. Um, glad you’re part of the crew.” She looks back at the apartment door, closed now. “You ready to go home? Wait, shit, sorry. You ready to go back to the Normandy?”

Five minutes ago, Tali would’ve appreciated the correction. It still grates a little. But…

“Let’s go home.” She can have both. Or at least she can try.

#mass effect #tali'zorah #shepard #shepard x tali #shali #pippa shepard tag #otp: memories you bury or live by #logan writes fic

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penguinwithitsarseonfire · 3 years

Text

Dance For All We’ve Been Through

Pairing: Eleventh Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 1,771

Warnings: None

Summary: To stop a meteor hitting a small planet, the Doctor creates an elaborate plan involving a planet wide dance competition to stop it.

Request: I read in your tags that you were feeling fluff and I love how you write 11! Could you do 44 fluff with 11 please? and maybe with the Ponds there too? Prompt: “You’re an idiot” / “But I’m your idiot”

A/N: I don’t know what this is, I’m so sorry. This came from discussing Rick and Morty after a rehearsal in which there was a dance off.

The plan was bizarre – straight up weird, and, if it was anyone besides the Doctor, you would have had no faith that it would work.

Rory had finished drawing up a scaled version of the planet you were currently standing on. The planet was small - Pluto small, and a part of you wanted to cradle the drawing in your hands.

"How's this?" He asked, looking to Amy, then to you.

"It's good," you said, then, more of an aside. "I didn't know you could draw."

"We made him design all our aliens as kids,” Amy commented, and she leaned over Rory to get a better look at the map. "Where's the meteor supposed to hit?"

You had forgotten his name, but the president of the planet; a stocky man with a receding hairline, his purple face red from stress, hissed. "Don't say that so loud. If people know, it will cause a panic."

You groaned. "We've been through this. If we can't tell people, if we can't even tell your government-"

"We are not telling the government," he spat. He straightened, and you noticed his skin going back to a pale shade of purple. "My people are a fragile sort."

You ran a hand through your hair, trying to stifle your groan of frustration. He really wasn't making it easy.

The Doctor then ran into the room, and you almost cheered. The timing was perfect. You wouldn’t have to deal with the president now, the Doctor could. He would listen to the Doctor, everyone listened to the Doctor.

He came in to the sound of bells clattering against each-other, and you noticed that there actually were bells, draped over him like a sleigh bells. In fact, his whole body was decorated with an assortment of tinsel and lights. He looked like he was cosplaying a Christmas tree. "Almost done setting up the stage," he said. "How are we going in here?"

He was a strange dichotomy. In any other situation, you could image he would be grinning gleefully. The lights, the tinsel, the stage, the music, even, it was all up the Doctor's alley. Minus the planet destroying meteor.

His mouth, however, was pulled into a grim line.

It was the only clue you had that the Doctor was worried, too.

"Where's the meteor hitting?" Amy asked, with a slight pinch in her lips. She had noticed then, too.

"Oh it shouldn't be a problem," The Doctor waved to her, and his face morphed into a grin, which, by now, after all the times you had seen him do it, you knew wasn’t genuine. "All we need to do is move the planet by an inch or so, the meteor should fly right past."

“All we need,” the Doctor straightened and pointed to the three of you. “Is a dance move.”

“Ah,” you stared at your friends, who mirrored your blank expression.

Amy chewed her lip. “The macarena?”

You brightened. “Oh! That would be easy to teach everyone, it’s a classic!”

The Doctor physically slumped. “The macarena? Anyone can do the macarena,” he bumbled into the table, jingling away like a cheesy Christmas carol – which, why did you keep making Christmas metaphors – and came to your side. He leaned over you, studying the map.

He was close, you could feel some of the tinsel brush against your shoulder. He traced his finger along the edge of the planet, and in doing so he inadvertently moved further into your space. It was… warm. Safe. “If we sink the planet down – essentially, that’s not what we’re actually doing, the meteor-“

The president hissed.

The Doctor ignored him. “-Should just fly overhead. It means we need a dance move with extra oomph, where everyone dances…” he trailed off, turning to you. “Together.”

The Doctors eyes were so close to yours, you could see little flecks of gold in the green of his irises – something you had never noticed before.

From the side, you thought you heard someone – Amy, say something about pushing someone together to kiss.

You heard Rory say something else, something about being against the rules of the bet.

You decided to ignore them both. There were more pressing matters anyway

“So a partnered dance?” You said.

“Hang on,” Rory said. “Dancing – why are we dancing?”

“Oh,” The Doctor clapped his hands. “I love this part.”

“The explaining why you’re oh so very clever part?” Amy supplied.

“Exactly,” The Doctor said. He brushed his hands across the map. “Now, because Mr. Mean Purple Man-”

“President Button,” the president huffed.

“-Won’t let us tell the public the danger, which, judging by how your bodies can spontaneously combust under mass stress, isn’t a bad idea, it means we need a discreet way of solving the issue.”

“So… dancing?” Rory said.

“Dancing,” The Doctor said. “You see, it’s experimental, but, if everyone were to jump at the same time, whilst we’re all in the air, the planet should move an inch or so, just from the sheer force of conflict against the planets gravity. Then, it’s tricky, because, when we land, it will either move the planet another inch or…”

“Or?” The president said.

“Or move the planet back.”

“Oh,” you said, dejectedly. The planet moving back would be bad. Very bad.

You tried to think of an idea. What would make the planet move. “Wait,” you said, forming an idea. “So if two people are holding each other when they jump, shouldn’t they be able to jump higher? It’s got to do with momentum, right?”

“Correctumndo Y/L/N!” The Doctor beamed at you. “And we need to make sure everyone jumps in appropriately…” The Doctor stared at his plans. “37 minutes. Easy.”

Which was how, half an hour later, you ended up standing on a stage in a broadcast directed to the entire planet.

The dance wasn’t too difficult, all things considered. It was, however, ridiculous.

It had all the traits that made the Doctor… outlandishly goofy. There was a move that involve the Doctors strange giraffe arms - which he delighted in making you do, and a twirl that involved the two of jumping together, holding each-others forearms. If it were any other saturation, you would have felt self-conscious, hell, you would have felt downright absurd.

You laughed lightly when he demonstrated the wavey arm giraffe move again. He was brilliant, but he was also such an idiot. You paused for a moment, watching as he addressed the camera.

He was wonderful.

Standing on the stage, in front of all those cameras, talking to millions of people, felt so strange. The bright TV lights blared down on you. They were hot, and, after demonstrating the dance a couple of times, you could feel a sheen of sweat form on your brow.

The Doctor checked his watch. He looked to you, his expression grim. You didn’t have much time now.

“Alright,” you said, addressing the camera’s. “To win the competition, you must do the dance in time with us,” you said. “It what we humans,” you gestured to the Doctor, who was completely not human. “Value above all else in dance.”

Also a lie.

Amy grinned at you from behind the camera. She gave you an encouraging thumbs up.

“We’ll dance with you,” you continued. “And, whoever has the best timing, will win!”

You had no idea if you were convincing, but it was the best you could do.

So you danced.

It was, honestly, a blur. The only thing you could concentrate on was on the Doctor. The way his arms held you as you moved, the way his eyes shone when he twirled you under the lights.

Finally, finally, as Rory called out time, you both jumped into the air, clutching each other as you did so. In the corner of your eye, you saw the crew, Amy and Rory, even the President, jump into the air, and…

It was incredible.

It was like you could hear it. The entire population move as one, the planet shifting underneath your feet. You wanted to close your eyes, hold your breath, in case the meteor did come and all of you were brutally killed in an instant.

But you didn’t, you couldn’t look away. Because the Doctor was right in front of you, looking at you so sure, so positive that this would work out. He looked at you like you were brighter than the lights shining above you.

Then, you landed.

And nothing happened.

Nothing at all.

A loud cheer erupted over the room, and you couldn’t help joining in.

Here was this man, with his ridiculous, mad plan.

And it had worked.

After everything, when the four of you had wandered back to the TARDIS, and the President had thanked you for the fourteenth time, the Doctor took your hand. "Well then, I'd say that was another success. Where to next? I know a planet that makes amazing ice cream."

Amy laughed. "That dance was ridiculous, it was worse than my wedding."

"Oi, I’ll have you know that I've won dance offs with that move," he did an awkward wave, which was only made worse since you didn't join in, so it stopped rather sadly by your hand.

You laughed brightly. “You’re an idiot.”

The Doctor grinned at you. "Yes, but I am your idiot.”

You paused, doing a double take. Did he just-

"Oh," the Doctor paled as three pairs of stunned eyes stared at him. "Did I say that out loud?"

You processed what he had said. That he was.. well, yours. That was… well, that was amazing, really.

You squeezed his hand. "Good," you said. "I can't very well have you running off and being an idiot on your own."

Rory stared at you blankly. There was a beat, then he spoke. "Did - did you two just become a couple?" He brightened. "Did I just win the bet?"

There was a thump and Rory doubled over, clutching his stomach. He hissed out Amy's name, and, when you turned to face her, she was standing there with large, doe eyes, completely oblivious to her husband. She looked the picture of innocence.

You didn't believe her for a second.

You stood on your tip toes and placed a delicate kiss on the Doctors cheek. His blush reached the tips of his ears. "Take me on a date and we'll see," you said, enveloped in a ball of confidence. "Space boy." You squeezed his hand and winked at Amy, before stepping into the TARDIS.

From the outside, you thought you heard someone cheer.

It put a small smile on your face.

#the doctor x reader #eleventh doctor imagine #11th doctor x reader #eleventh doctor x reader #11th doctor #Elle: Speaks #opening Elle's vault #vault fic

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bonjour-rainycity · 3 years

Text

Double Heart | Chapter Eighteen ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 4719

Warnings: None

A/n Happy Monday! Oh, and if you like Bucky Barnes, I just posted a one-shot for him! You can find it here. Now, on to the story you came here for!

Late in August, three months after arriving in this new world, plans are made to travel to Lothlórien.

Lavandil’s tearful sniffles in the back of her shop clued me in before someone had officially told me, and my heart goes out to her.

“It gets harder every time,” she had muttered, staring at the ground. “Every time we are separated, a piece of me goes with him.”

Her words have not left my mind since.

They are not even bonded, yet the way not being with him pains her…it breaks my heart in a way that is almost too personal.

Our company is set to leave in five days. In my time here, I have amassed only a small number of belongings, so packing will be easy. I am prepared to go long before the others, who have somehow become busier in these last few days. Even Rumil, who has basically become my best friend these past few months, declines my offer to go riding, citing that he and his brothers have much to do in their remaining time here.

So, with no one to help me occupy my time, I end up in the gardens. I pass the afternoon away wandering through the endless labyrinth, discovering more blossoms that make me sneeze and some that don’t. I pick a few — Elrond said it was alright — to press in one of the journals I’ve acquired — a gift from Lavandil. The journal and the flowers will be keepsakes, tangible memories of my time here in Imladris.

A time I desperately do not want to forget.

In the back of my mind, lurking on the edge of my thoughts is a constant fear — the fear that, at any moment, the work with Elrond will prove fruitful and my memories will come rushing back — at the cost of my memories from my time here in Arda.

A bright, bluish-purple burst under the hedges distracts me from that anxious thought.

A cornflower, fallen to the ground and blown far from its bush by the wind.

I crouch, reaching under the green shrubbery.

“Lady Cosima?”

Flower in hand, I straighten, turning at the sound of the voice.

“Glorfindel!” I’m mildly shocked. Since his argument with Haldir, I’ve seen little of him. Seeming uncertain, he walks to meet me, bowing when he plants his feet.

I curtsey, though I can’t help but chuckle lightly at his formality. “You can just call me Cosima, you know. I’m not anyone important.”

Glorfindel shakes his head slowly, the edges of a smile playing at his lips. “I would be inclined to disagree with your statement, my dear Lady. It seems you have not only captured the attention of two worlds, but of my elven friends.” Before I can ask exactly what he means by that, Glorfindel furrows his eyebrows, gesturing to our surroundings. “I am surprised to find you here this evening. I would have thought you would be preparing for your departure.”

I twirl the cornflower between my fingers. “There’s nothing much for me to prepare. And it doesn’t seem I can be of much help to the others, either.”

A twinkle enters his eye, reminiscent of the playfulness he had the last time I interacted with him. “So you are trying to soak up all that Lord Elrond’s gardens have to offer?”

I smile, taking a look around. “It’s not a bad way to pass the time. I don’t know if Lothlórien will have all these flowers, so I’m taking a couple with me.” Unnecessarily, I hold up the growing bouquet in my hands. “But enough about me, why are you here at this time of day? Don’t you have a million things to do?”

Glorfindel grins, now fully the man I met upon first arriving here. “Ah, you’ve caught me. I am shirking my duties, but!” He holds up a hand to stop my nonexistent chiding. “I will pay for it tonight. Your Marchwarden and I have plans after dinner to surprise one of the border stations. We are going to creep through the area unannounced and see how long it takes for them to discover us. Surely we will be gone until morning.”

I gulp. My Marchwarden? I try to cover up how much that phrase affects me. “So, are you two back to being friends? Or are you still at odds?”

Thankfully, Glorfindel doesn’t get upset by the words I spoke without thought. “Yes, yes, we have been reconciled for weeks now. It is not uncommon for such strong personalities to disagree. All is well — I would have thought he told you.”

I shrug, trying to make the motion look natural even though I suddenly feel like every eye in Imladris is scrutinizing the movement. “We haven’t had the chance to talk much.”

Glorfindel smirks. “Ah, yes, I wondered why my friend had been even more stern than usual as of late.”

I freeze, and the question escapes my mouth before I can stop it. “What do you mean?”

No, Cosima, I chide. Do not engage!

But Glorfindel has already broadened his grin, evidently happy to indulge my pointless question. “He’s increased drills and border patrols, added requirements for promotions, re-worked the training schedule at least five times — he’s even taken his frustrations out on the guard — I worry more when they fight him than if they were facing a pack of orcs!” He laughs, but, after a moment, his expression softens into one of understanding. “Did something happen between the two of you?”

My eyes drop to the flowers in my hand. I twirl the cornflower again, scrutinizing its color.

It is the wrong shade of blue.

“No, nothing happened,” I respond, still not able to meet Glorfindel’s gaze. His questions and the lack of judgement in his voice lead me to share more than I should. “I…I think we both realized we were headed for something dangerous and it’s better to stop while we can.”

“I see,” he mutters, taking in a deep breath. “I am sorry.”

“Don’t be.” I force a smile, not wanting to dwell on something that already keeps me up at night. Time to change the subject. “I don’t know about you, but I’m quite hungry. Would you like to join me for dinner? Lavandil and Orophin will be there as well.”

His face breaks into an easy smile, though there’s something off in his eyes. He sweeps his hand forward, indicating his agreement. “Lead the way, my dear Lady.”

{***}

I stare at the clothes laid out on my bed, relying on the meager candlelight to tell me what each item of fabric is.

Lord Elrond said I was welcome to take home any of the pieces I wanted, but the space in my bag will only allow for a few of them. Turns out, the choice is harder than I thought it would be. I have no desire to wear the same outfit the whole time like I had to on the journey to Imladris. That means I should pack more tunic and legging sets. But there are so many pretty gowns I want to take — it doesn’t help that, as part of the payment for helping in her store, Lavandil took me shopping a couple of times. I look over my dresses, all equally loved.

I purse my lips. I know Rumil has three bags…perhaps he would be willing to donate one of them to a good cause. Lavandil hasn’t taken him shopping, so surely he has room to spare.

I creep out of my room, mindful to keep quiet at this late hour. Rumil’s likely to be awake — that ellon is a night owl if I’ve ever met one. I reach his door and knock softly.

But when the door opens, it’s not Rumil on the other side.

It’s Haldir.

I stop breathing. His eyebrows shoot to his hairline.

He steps back somewhat robotically, making space for me to enter the room. “Cosima.”

I freeze, unable to connect my brain to my feet to tell them to move. I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “You’re supposed to be gone.”

Haldir opens and closes his mouth, likely figuring out how to respond to something that sounded very much like an accusation. “I—ah, I apologize? Do you want me to—”

“No, I uh—” I look to the ground, trying to gather my hopelessly scattered thoughts. Being near him again takes me right back to the state I’ve tried desperately to avoid. “Sorry, no, I only meant that I ran into Glorfindel a few hours ago and he said the two of you would be gone tonight. I came looking for Rumil.”

“Oh.” Haldir furrows his eyebrows, though it looks like the initial shock has faded. “I am sorry — I sent him out tonight in my place. I planned on using this time to write out instructions for training after I am gone.”

I can’t keep myself from smiling. So dutiful. “That’s nice of you.”

Haldir shrugs, looking thrown by the compliment. “It’s my job.”

I blink, realizing that, both mercifully and sadly, I no longer have an excuse to stay here. I should go.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it.” I take a step back.

“Cosima, wait.”

I halt my exit, but remind myself of my resolve.

Haldir shifts on his feet before rolling back his shoulders, holding the door open with one hand. “I need a break from writing. Would you like to go for a walk?”

Your resolve, Cosima.

I search for any excuse, anything to give me a reason to say no when I so badly want to say yes. “I don’t have my cloak.”

The edges of Haldir’s lips twitch. “Now that, I may have a solution for. Wait here.”

I should go.

Just wait to see what this ‘solution’ is, I rationalize.

Haldir turns and nearly jogs to the wardrobe, burying his upper half inside until he emerges with a sage green bundle. He returns, presenting the neatly folded fabric to me. “This is for you.”

I blink in surprise, taking the bundle from his outstretched hand. Slowly, I unfurl it, and it falls into a sturdy, finely woven cloak. I look up at Haldir and then back to the garment, unsure of why he’s just handed me this, but nonetheless, pleased.

“You cannot wear your red one while we travel,” he explains. “This will blend in much better with our surroundings. Lavandil advised on the measurements, but if it’s too long, there’s still time to get it hemmed before we leave.”

I smile, running my fingers over the soft interior and the slicker outside. “What’s it made of?”

“Wool, but I asked the seamstress to assist in making it as waterproof as possible.” I look up at him sharply, surprised that he would think to include this. “I worry we will encounter rain again and I would hate to have you shivering like last time.”

I run my fingers over the fabric with a new fondness. I’m grateful and more touched than I would like to admit. “Thank you Haldir, really. This is so thoughtful. And practical.” I can’t help but laugh, looking up at him with a sudden onslaught of nerves. “Just like you.”

He smiles almost bashfully, dipping his head in acknowledgement of my words. “I’m glad you like it.”

I swing the cloak around my shoulders, pulling my hair through the back so it lays against the outside of the fabric. Haldir grabs the bag that rests on the hook by the door and retrieves another one of those beautiful leaf-shaped clips. He steps forward and slowly reaches his hands to where my cloak rests along my collarbones. He gathers the fabric and weaves it through the clip, securing the ends. He rests his hands there for just a moment and then steps back, nodding to himself.

“Perfect,” he breathes.

I blink. I have a cloak now. There’s no reason to say no. “Let’s go for that walk.”

Smiling in a soft, hesitant way, he grabs his own cloak and clip from their place near the door and we step outside of his room. In silence, mindful of the late hour, he leads me down a spiral staircase tucked into a corner I’ve never noticed before. As we descend, the sound of water crashing gets louder and the peace of the estate fades.

I halt and, a few stairs below me, Haldir stops too.

“Are we going below the city?”

He looks up at me — I can barely see his face in the dark. “It is perfectly safe — there are no heights to be conscious of.”

It feels wrong to make sound in the darkness, so when I speak, it’s barely more than a whisper. “Okay. I believe you.”

In the dim light, Haldir’s hand reaches up to me. I stare at it, feeling my jaw fall slightly.

“I think you will like where we’re going.” The darkness, the sound of his voice, just being with him after so much time apart — it’s too much.

I exhale a shallow breath.

I place my hand in his.

Tingles shoot up my arm.

We reach the bottom of the staircase, and he doesn’t let go.

It’s dark here, too, and I find myself drawing nearer to him. My arm brushes his and I suck in a breath, both of us laughing nervously. Haldir seems to know the way. His path is confident and sure as he leads us underneath the stone and earth of the city. Then, in a burst of clear blue light, we break from the darkness and arrive on soft grass.

I can see Haldir better now. Everything about him seems to almost glow in the moonlight. He smiles softly, tugging on my hand to encourage me to follow him closer to the water that lies ahead of us. I glance between us to where our hands meet, wrapped around each other.

It feels natural. It feels right.

I should let go.

I grip his hand tighter.

The stone holding up the city gives way to taller grass and trees whose low, swinging branches brush over us as we pass. Ahead lies a rippling lake — across it, waterfalls crash down, their thunderous roar diminished by the distance. Haldir takes us almost to the edge of the shore, then surprises me by pulling me to the left. We duck under a particularly low branch, Haldir almost having to double over completely. I laugh, bending down next to him, and he looks up at me with a carefree grin. We pass under the branch and emerge in a small clearing — an alcove, really. Behind us and to our left are tall, leafy trees, to our right is the stone of the mountain, and ahead, surely for miles and miles, lies the lake. Moonlight dances atop it, glinting in a way that makes it sparkle. And above it, in an endless stretch of sky—stars, a million of them, at least.

Haldir turns to face me.

I suck in a breath.

His eyes — I’ve always admired them, even when they held nothing more than indifference to me — seem to shine in a way I’ve never seen before. They gleam like living starlight, depthless and enchanting. The colors of the night drape him in a glow of soft blue, highlighting the strong edges of his jaw. He looks powerful, beautiful, otherworldly.

This is the first time I’ve truly understood the etherial beauty of an elf.

He smiles down at me expectantly. “Was I right?”

I exhale somewhat shakily, nodding my head. “Yes. Yes, you were right. This place is stunning.”

His smile broadens and he releases my hand to unclasp his cloak.

I miss the warmth of his hand encasing mine.

But I do get my wish from earlier today. Just as he did all those months ago, he lays his cloak on the ground, gesturing for me to sit. I do, folding my legs to the side to allow him room next to me. Before he can say anything, the nerves get the best of me, and I blurt out the first, most basic question that comes to mind. “How was your day?”

He smiles, stretching his legs out on the cloak. “My day went well, thank you. Glorfindel and I spent this morning debating the merits of extending Elrond’s borders by twenty or so miles — it would mean the guards have more land to protect, yes, but it would also provide a larger distance for any intruders to cross, should they break through the barrier. That could give the guard precious extra time to organize and combat the threat.”

I tilt my head. “So what did you decide?”

Haldir raises his shoulders then lets them fall, the action hinting at underlying stress. “It is not our decision, we were merely debating. The choice lies with Lord Elrond, and I cannot say what he will do.”

I chuckle, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. “You’re always steps ahead of everyone else. Come on, what do you think he’ll do?”

He sighs. “I think he will not expand the borders. Elrond cares about the security of his people, yes, but he still believes there is potential to stop this evil before his people will have to confront it.”

Tension gathers in the small of my back. Are we really that close to a fight? “And you disagree?”

“I did not mean to scare you.” He avoids answering my question directly.

I shake my head slowly, thinking over his words. Wary, yes, but scared? “I have gotten tougher, you know.”

Haldir smiles and lets out a soft laugh. "Now, that, I would have to agree with." He rolls his sleeve up to his bicep and holds out his arm. I squint in the moonlight, trying to make out whatever he's attempting to show me. "See this?" I shake my head, and Haldir laughs more freely now. "It is almost a bruise from where you hit me two days ago."

Now, I join him in his laughter, remembering my attempt to break free from his grasp during training. “You better watch out," I joke. "Soon I'll be able to put you on the ground."

Haldir schools his laughter but the edges of his lips stay quirked. "I'm sure."

I snort. “No, I actually believe that someday soon I’ll be able to beat you. Or, at the very least, catch you off your guard.”

I don’t actually believe that, of course, but it’s worth the exaggeration to see Haldir’s terrible attempt at pretending to agree with me.

“Ah, perhaps, yes. I would not entirely rule the possibility out.”

“Liar.” I roll my eyes and grin good-naturedly.

He merely holds my gaze with a smile of his own and raises an eyebrow.

I shudder out a breath. I wish he wouldn’t look at me that way. It makes me want things I absolutely can’t act on.

I force my eyes to return to the water, searching for a way to expel the tension that has somehow gathered in the air. “What made you want to come here?”

He shrugs, leaning back on one hand in a way that is almost arrestingly casual, because I do not feel casual. “It’s peaceful, it’s away from the bustle of the city…and it reminds me of home.” He smiles, craning his head back to view the moon and the stars. My eyes follow the length of his neck before correcting themselves to also look at the stars. “In Caras Galadon we live in talans built high in the branches. Common spaces and guest lodgings take up entire trees, wrapping around trunks and connecting with bridges. But my home is smaller, and all the way at the top of one of the oldest and tallest trees in the city…I can look up and I see the stars. It’s like I walk among them, I am so close. And here, though we are quite low on the ground…” His eyes drop to mine. I listen intently, captivated by the love he feels for his home so clearly expressed in his voice. “This feels somehow similar, like it is just you, me, the forest, and the sky.”

The words, ill-thought and reckless, rush from my mouth. “I like it being just us.”

His head dips closer to mine. “Me too.”

Our noses brush against each other. We are so close, so close to losing ourselves in something we cannot control.

I will bring nothing but pain to him.

I pull back just enough to see his eyes, hating the spark of hurt that runs through them. But I ground myself in that, use it as a warning of what is to come if I don’t stop this now.

But stopping hurts me, too. Because I want him. I want to be with him, to be his forever, more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my entire life. Memories or not, this, I’m sure of.

And I can’t have it.

Tears prick at my eyes.

Haldir’s hurt turns to concern and he trails a finger tenderly over my cheek, soothing and catching a tear that has managed to fall. “What’s wrong?”

I swallow, trying to force away the painful lump that has grown there. I can manage little more than a whisper. “You don’t want to do this with me.”

He shakes his head and brings a hand to my lower back. He presses gently, keeping me in place as if he knows I’m trying to find a way out, to talk us both out of doing this. He lowers his head to look directly into my eyes. “Yes, I do.”

I turn my gaze to the waterfall, not able to bear looking him in the eye. “Haldir, I’m temporary. To your lifespan, I…I’m nothing. Don’t waste your love on me.” And something I can’t say, something I’m too weak to admit out loud — don’t waste your life on me.

He brings a hand to my chin, pulling me to meet his eyes. What I see there takes me aback — a fierceness akin to how he looked during the attack. “It’s not a waste, it’s a choice. And I’ve chosen, Cosima. I want this, I want you.”

I shake my head, the tears falling freely now. I bring a hand to grip his wrist, trying to break his hold of my face. He follows my request but immediately takes both of my hands in his, refusing to let me go completely.

He speaks in a low, urgent voice. “Cosima, believe me, I tried. I’ve stayed away from you, I’ve tried to convince myself that there are others, that there could ever be someone else for me. I’ve distracted myself with training and planning and patrols but nothing works. Every day, I wake up and I ache for you.”

I close my eyes, all at once elated to hear those words and grieving his choice. Because loving him is the most selfish thing I’ll ever do.

“I wish I didn’t want this,” he continues. “I know what it means for me. Every instinct for self-preservation is screaming at me to stop, to run away, to fight this—”

“Then do,” I beg, trying to convince both him and myself. “Save yourself while you still can.”

Slowly, deliberately, he pulls his hands from mine and rests them on either side of my neck, thumbs brushing over my cheekbones. Despite my efforts, I suck in a breath, my heart beginning to race.

He’s so close, so honest, so…loving. He looks at me with the same reverence he reserves for the stars. He lets out a breath, eyes trailing down my face before meeting mine once more. “It is too late,” he murmurs, lips parting slightly. “I’ve fallen in love with you.”

And my resolve breaks.

I push myself forward to close the minuscule space between us, pressing my lips against his. He responds immediately, kissing me with a passion that sends tingles down my spine. His hold on me feels like fire, starting where his hands caress my neck, where his lips meet mine, and running through my entire body. My hands gather in the fabric of his tunic, pulling him impossibly closer. My mind fights between short-circuiting due to the feel of his lips on mine and shouting for joy. Never in my life have I felt so right, so secure, so…electric. Gone are the days of holding myself back, of distancing myself, torturing myself, staying away from the one I truly want to be with.

The one I love.

My back makes contact with the cloak covering the ground. Did I fall and pull him along, or did he push me? All efforts of solving that mystery disappear the moment he takes my lower lip between his teeth, biting down gently. I gasp, my grip on his tunic tightening. The hand that rests on the ground near my side, supporting his weight, curls into a fist.

His kisses slow.

He presses his lips to mine again, this time, as gentle as a breeze. I sigh into the kiss, my hand trailing slowly down his chest. For the first time in all my memory, I know that I am exactly where I am supposed to be.

And I am with who I am meant to be with.

Haldir’s lips leave mine. He balances his weight on one arm and his knees, bringing his free hand to my face to softly brush his fingers over my cheek. Slowly, I open my eyes.

Above me is perhaps the best and most beautiful sight I will ever see. A blanket of stars, brilliant and expansive, floats across the night sky. And in front of them, mere inches from my face, is Haldir, looking at me with a wide, adoring smile. I raise my head to bump my nose against his, earning myself a rumbling chuckle.

He shakes his head slowly. “The relief I feel, finally being able to tell you that I love you, to kiss you…”

I breathe out a weak laugh, knowing exactly what he’s describing. “I wouldn’t call what I feel relief.”

He grins and dips his head to mine, stopping just before our lips touch. “Yes, it is certainly not a peaceful relief. But I much prefer whatever this is to peace.”

“I agree,” I sigh into his mouth as his lips move against mine once more. But then I remember something, and push against his shoulders. He’s said his piece, now I get to say mine. “Hey, for the record, I love you too.”

He laughs indulgently, shaking his head, but I can see real joy lighting his eyes. “And yet you kept me in such suspense.”

I roll my eyes and grip his tunic, pulling him down again.

When we break apart, he falls onto his back next to me. I’m struck once again with the memory of us stargazing in Elrond’s gardens so many months ago. Then, I spent the whole night fighting the urge to cuddle against his side.

Now, it seems, that door is not closed to me.

Experimentally, I scoot closer to him. When he smiles rather than questions it, I pick up the arm nearest to me, moving it so I can lay against his side. He tenses, then sputters out a laugh, but doesn’t push me away. Instead, he cranes his head so he can see me and I grin up at him, happy to see that he wears a matching expression.

He raises an eyebrow. “Is this what the humans do?”

“Yes,” I smile up at him, pleased that being this close to him feels even better than I could have imagined. “It’s called cuddling.” I rest my head on his chest. In the silence of the night, I can hear the steady, reassuring beat of his heart.

After a moment, his hand comes to the back of my head, running his fingers gently over my hair and down my back. “Surprisingly, I like the human way.”

I smile, tucking my head further into his chest.

I stare at the sky.

And try not to think about what I’ve just done.

A/n YAYYYYYYYYY

|next chapter - to be posted|

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#haldir #haldir x ofc #haldir x oc #haldir fanfic #haldir fanfiction

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gojology · 3 years

Text

Handpicked.

back to homepage pairing : megumi fushiguro x gender neutral reader warnings : minor cursing and some fluff wordcount : 1371 a/n : HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!!!! so i hc megumi as having 2 dogs in this au,, and i had no idea what to name them since correct me if i’m wrong he doesn’t name his divine dogs in the actual manga. i named them kuro and shiro (black and white) since they’re both black and white. yeah i know, real creative. LMFAO ████████████████ 100% Complete. Enjoy your game.

Megumi Fushiguro was a simple man. Nothing interested him much besides his work, and his dogs. But who could blame him? He was good at the things he enjoyed, and that was one of life’s most straightforward principles. That was, until he met you. He found himself doing things that old Megumi would simply scoff at for you, going on random dates on a whim, actually going out to do stuff aside from hanging out with the two friends he had, doing sappy stuff just for you- you really did magic on him, and even he didn’t know what you particularly did for him to fall so hard. But nonetheless, he did. That’s how you found yourself in a quiet place that Megumi had brought you to, some place that you’ve never heard of before. Distant chirping of the birds was music to your ears as you sat on the picnic blanket, legs splayed out, and enjoying the refreshing weather. This was your first Valentines day together, and Megumi was determined to make it otherworldly. Droplets of dew still remained on the blades of grass, the sky was clear and a soft shade of blue. Trees rustled around you two, and an expansive tranquil pond was just in front of you, a few lily pads laid about, and if you squinted your eyes enough you could see a few frogs croaking. “This place is cool, Megumi!” you beam as soon as he sits down with you with a grunt, a picnic basket in his hand. His two dogs, Kuro and Shiro trailed after him, sniffing at the air and drinking in the new scent before eventually running off not too far to presumably play. You turn to sneak a glance at him, and he’s already looking at you back unsurprisingly. His legs also splayed out, he gives you a quick peck on the cheek before staring off into the pond as well. “I used to go here often as a child, no one really knew about it other then my sister and I. Nice and calm, isn’t it, (Y/N)?” he says, digging through the picnic and pulling out two simple onigiris. He hands one to you, before licking his lips and staring down at his tuna one. “Yeah.” you breathe in the air, and you could’ve sworn it felt fresher here. “This is perfect.” closing your eyes, you enjoyed the cool shade underneath the tree that you and Megumi had picked out prior to this date, sighing happily. He scoffs a little, opening his pre-packaged onigiri, the crinkling of the wrapper enough to make your stomach rumble. You hadn’t eaten since yesterday, eventually opening your eyes and doing the same. “I thought you wouldn’t like it...” you feel his eyes shoot lazers into your neck, and you look back at him, just to reassure that you were listening. “I don’t know, I guess it’s because living in Tokyo you’d expect me to take you out for something expensive, but I just assumed you’d like this better for some reason and I regretted it as soon as we started packing.” You noted how he spoke with a tinge of nervousness, and you smile at him, just as a way to coax him to continue on. Megumi looked down on his lap, taking a large bite out of the onigiri and sticking his finger into the tuna paste, he whistles loudly, and you hear distant thumping against the soil grow louder. Shiro and Kuro were rapidly advancing towards the pair of you, and your heart softens. This was something you loved about Megumi, he didn’t think about himself a lot of the time. Even if he didn’t realize it, he expressed more compassion then most people you’ve met. As the dogs lapped away at his fingers, he laughed like a child, talking about how it tickled under his breath. Rolling up his sleeves after they were done, he swirled his hands in the ponds a few times before flicking them, the water droplets seeping into your clothing. You giggle and he turns back up to look at you, expression softening as he realizes that some of the water had gotten onto your skin. “Here, love, we have a few extra napkins-” “What? No, that’s not necessary, dumbass.” you laugh. “It’s just a few droplets of water, I’ll be fine.” “I got it all over you, dumbass.” he retorts back, chuckling dryly. “As I said babe, I don’t mind~” taking a bite out of your onigiri as you say this, you just now realize how lucky you are. Spending time with the love of your life, Megumi Fushiguro, eating yummy food and watching the world pass by. It was something truly to remember. The banter and the nicknames was one of your favorite things about dating him. Sighing in defeat, Megumi shakes his head, grumbling under his breath before getting up. “Hey grumpypants, where are you going?” pulling at his leg, you look up at his looming figure, patiently waiting for an answer. Your half-eaten onigiri forgotten. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.” leaning a little, he kisses your forehead. “I just wanna do something..” “Nooo! Don’t leave me!” you dramatically bend back, the back of your hand limply placed onto your forehead. He looks at you with a confused expression. “Sarcasm.” is all that leaves your lips, and you try not to laugh at his expression that follows afterwards, almost like it was saying, “Ohhh! God I’m stupid.” “You should probably put your onigiri back into the basket though, Shiro and Kuro are gonna wreck the poor thing apart.” Megumi’s face lit up in realization, bending down even further and placing it back into the basket before giving you an awkward thumbs up and an even awkward-er grin. “Thanks. See, this is why you’re the best significant other ever.” he trails off, before straightening and looking down at you, silent. Opening his mouth to speak, you brace for something unexpected. Otherwise, why would he be so dramatic about what he was about to say? “I love you, by the way.” Or it was that. See, you two were in a fairly new relationship. “I love you’s” weren’t very prominent, but when it happened you swore you were the happiest person alive. “I love you too.” A flicker of relief shows in his dark eyes before disappearing, and he walks off into a pathway down the deep forest. He probably knew the area well, and so you place the back of your head on the tree trunk, content with life. ‧₊˚✩彡. “Hey, anyone home?” you hear a distant voice, and you open your eyes slightly, your eyesight adjusting to whoever could be there. The sky was growing dark, you realize, and you hear the slight buzzing of cicadas. “Megumi?-” waving your limp arm around to touch his body, he places a reassuring hand onto yours, and your heart rate goes down by one million. “Hey. You were knocked out cold, babe.” it wasn’t often he used babe, but you still loved that nickname. “Oops.” giving him a lazy grin, you look down at whatever he’s holding, and a small but vibrant bundle of native flowers look back at you. Vibrant purples, reds, pinks, and yellows, large and small. All of them equally as beautiful, you gape at them. “...Did I mention that I also liked flower gathering as a child...?” Megumi breathes out nervously, as if you’d do something to him if you didn’t like the arrangement, but you were truly speechless. The guy seriously went out and gathered beautiful flowers for you- LITERALLY handpicked- and he expected you to be disappointed? Just how bad was his self confidence? “I don’t like them.” his face falters and your heart almost explodes, all you wanted to do was hug the poor baby. “I love them!” Megumi looks almost surprised, as if he wasn’t expecting that, before a small curve to his lips formed. “Thank you.” is all he could muster. Standing up, you wrap your arms around his neck loosely, and he drops the flowers onto the picnic blanket (thankfully!). He too wraps his arms around your figure, and he so desperately tries to hide the blush forming quickly on his cheeks, but he fails to do so.

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vintagedolan · 3 years

Note

Post fix concept #1- how did gray propose???!

this makes me so 🥺

Indiana barely had time to let out the breath she had been holding before Grayson’s lips were on hers. He pulled her to him by her hip, grateful that there wasn’t a barrier between their seats.

“I’m so fucking proud of you.”

Indy smiled, her adrenaline still pumping enough to make her fingers shake as she ran them over his scruff. She rested her forehead against his for a moment, catching her breath as the flight attendant came over the intercom.

“G’day, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Sydney Australia Airport. Local time is 9:04 am and the temperature is a lovely 29 degrees. For your safety and comfort, please remain seated with your seat belt fastened until the Captain turns off the fasten seatbelt sign.”

“29, what is that, like 85 fahrenheit?” Indy asked, eyes moving to the windows that were opening on the opposite side of the aisle. They revealed a new place, a new world. It felt different somehow. Calm, and welcoming as she looked out over warm tones of brown and the far off ocean.

Grayson looked up the aisle, spotting his brother and Eden in first class, peaking their heads out to look back and check on Indy, no doubt. He threw them a quick thumbs up while Indy wasn’t looking. There had been a few moments on the flight he’d missed his usual first class ticket across the pond. But he knew with the wall between the seats, he’d have more trouble getting to Indy if she needed him. So, they went one step down, to the reclining wide seats next to each other in economy plus, big enough for Indy to climb over into his seat and sleep throughout the 15 hour flight if she needed him. Most people were there so long they forgot they were even in the air.

Indy didn’t. She slept more than she expected to though, only lulled off by Grayson’s gentle snores in her ear as he held her tight. Her body was confused, but it wasn’t anything worse than a hard 12 hour shift at the hospital. Still, her adrenaline from landing made her legs wobble when she stood in the aisle, hard enough for Grayson to stabilize her hips from behind her.

“You good?”

“Yeah, just ready to finally be off a plane,” she chuckled, reaching back to squeeze his fingers as they squeezed her waist. The group walked slowly through the line of people, made it through the airport, got their bags and made it out relatively quickly, and fresh air never smelled sweeter than on the curb before they climbed into their uber.

It didn’t hit Indy until they were there, scrunched up in the back with her between both the twins and Eden in the passenger seat.

“I did it. I actually fucking did it,” she said to herself. She turned to Grayson with a smile. “We’re here. I’m in fucking Australia!” Despite herself, she started to tear up a bit. Somewhere, tucked away, was ten year old Indy, leaping for joy at the fact that she’d accomplished something she never thought she’d be able to do.

“Hell yeah we are!” Ethan cheered, wrapping an arm around Indy’s shoulder and shaking her just barely. “Proud of you sis.”

Indy blinked back her tears and leaned against Grayson, closing her eyes as they made their way to their home for the next week and a half.

Grayson held her head against his shoulder for every bump and turn they encountered, turning his head to kiss her hair.

His mind? Well, other than keeping his girl comfortable, it was wandering to his bag in the back. Specifically, to a small wooden box that was wrapped up in one of his speedos for safe keeping.

A box that Grayson was paranoid that Indy would find every minute that he didn’t have his eyes on her. He’d been so excited to show her his favorite place, and even more excited to have his girlfriend all to himself in a king size bed that he hadn’t bothered to find a better hiding spot for it.

It worked out - there wasn’t a minute that he didn’t want to spend with her anyways. They packed their days with everything adventurous they could think of - snorkeling, beach days, exploring the outback. They went ziplining, and held koalas and pet kangaroos and learned about Australian history and culture.

Every night, they found themselves showering off the day together and crawling into bed with just enough energy left to get lost in the rhythm of Grayson’s hips and the sound of their lips on each other’s skin.

Except for the night of September 23rd. That night, Grayson put on his nicest shorts with pockets and slid the ring box into them with shaky hands before he went down the hall to find his brother.

Ethan perked up, confused for a moment before he smiled.

“Today’s the day huh?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

“You know so. You sure you don’t want me to take pictures or anything?”

“Nah, just want it to be us. I’m fucking scared bro.”

“That just means you love her. “ Ethan stood up and pulled his twin in by the shoulder, giving him a tight hug. “You got this man. Can’t wait to see you all when you get back.”

Grayson nodded and tried to settle his breathing down.

It picked right back up when he walked into the room and saw Indy in front of the mirror. She was in a sundress - a short dusty blue number that kissed the tops of her thighs, resting delicately on the curve of her ass while she leaned closer to the mirror to put on her mascara.

She smiled when she saw him, finishing quickly and turning around.

“Hi baby. I’m almost ready, just gotta pick out a lipstick.”

“Lipstick makes you sticky when I kiss you,” he pouted, making her roll her eyes playfully at him.

“Fine. Just for you.” She kissed him softly as if to prove her point, humming when he pulled her in by the hips. She melted against him for a moment, getting lost in his like she always did before her mind wandered back to her.

“We’re gonna be late to our reservations.”

“I made them for later. Wanted to show you something first.”

Indy was never one for surprises growing up, but the nervous excitement was welcomed now. She knew she could trust him, wholly, with anything. So she slid her shoes on took his hand and let him lead her to the car.

She bit her tongue when she wanted to ask where they were going, what they were doing. But it didn’t stop the worry when she pressed her fingers into Grayson’s wrist in the car, pausing the hearts she was tracing.

“Your pulse is 104. Are you good?”

“Okay human apple watch,” he laughed, pulling his arm away from her dramatically for a moment before giving it right back. “I’m fine baby. Maybe you just make my heart race.”

Indy snorted. “You wanna pull over for me to throw up or should I just do it out the window as we’re going.”

She kissed the back of his hand as they laughed.

Grayson on the other hand was 99% sure he was the one who would puke when he put the rental car in park.

Indy cocked her head to the side for a moment. Then she craned her neck up, trying to see over the embankment.

“Is the restaurant down there somewhere.”

In a moment of panic, Grayson raced to put his hand over her eyes, hitting her nose in the process.

“Okay ow?” Indy muttered.

“Fuck, sorry, sorry baby.” He leaned over and pressed a fleeting kiss to her temple. “Just close your eyes, I want it to be a surprise. Don’t open them until I say.”

“You coulda just said that,” Indy grumbled as Grayson got out of the car and went to her side. He pulled her door open, heart pounding so loud he was sure she could hear it when he leaned over to unbuckle her seatbelt.

“Okay, come out here.”

He guided her out of the car to stand up, putting his hands on her shoulders. He looked at her shoes - dainty sandals - and then at the thick sand they would have to get through to get to where he wanted on the beach. On the horizon, the sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of purple and pink. Avalon was the most beautiful beach he’d ever been to, and he knew it would only be even more special after that night.

“Get on my back.”

“Huh?”

“Just jump on my back,” he said, turning around and putting her hands on his shoulders.

“My ass will be fully out in this dress if I do that,” she countered.

“I’ll cover it with my hands or something, just jump.”

“So demanding,” she teased, but she jumped anyways. He smoothed the fabric down over her butt and held her up as he moved through the sand to the lookout he had in mind.

She rested her chin on his shoulder as he walked, eyes still squeezed shut.

“I hear the ocean,” she hummed, already content.

When he got to where he wanted, with the perfect view of the beach, he closed his eyes for a moment and sent a prayer up to all his angels that he would find the right words to say.

He sat her down gently on her feet and moved behind her, pulling the box out of his pocket. Slowly, he knelt down, watching her dress blow in the wind.

“Okay, open.”

Indy opened her eyes. The sun burned for a moment, and then she took it all in. The water was a painting of bright hues, reflected back off the sunset that tinted the clouds. The beach was pristine, fine white sand laying perfectly for as far as she could see in either direction.

“Oh wow. This place is perfect.”

And then she turned around.

The ring caught the fading light, sparkling in it’s little box lined with velvet. His smile was brighter. And nervous, more nervous than she’d seen it in so long. She watched him swallow as he looked up at her.

“Oh my god.” She covered her mouth, her legs feeling like jello beneath her.

“Indiana-”

He forgot his entire speech in the moment, and it didn’t matter.

“I love you. I knew I wanted you to be a part of my life from the first day that I met you. And then I fell in love with you, and I knew I was going to love you for the rest of my life, no matter what. I want everything, all of it. The wedding and the honeymoon and the kids and the good days and the hard days and the days when we’re old and gross but we still have each other. I want forever with you, and for me, marriage is the promise for that. And you have me, forever, no matter what. So... Indiana Jamie Cross... will you marry me?”

“Yes. A million times yes.”

She couldn’t kiss him fast enough. She crouched, cupping his face in both her hands as he stood up, desperate to have him. He wrapped his arms around her waist, spinning her around and sending sand flying that neither of them noticed as they laughed with tearful eyes.

indy was dizzy when he sat her down, hands shaking as he held up the box again. The ring was beautiful and delicate, with thin gold all the way around the stone.

“I got it custom. And I had them round out the top and bottom edges just a little bit so it doesn’t get caught on your gloves at work,” he explained.

“I love you so much. Forever,” she whispered, kissing him again just because she could. He breathed her in, squeezing her again before he pulled back and reached for her left hand, sliding the ring on, letting out a relieved sigh when it fit.

“Oh my god that really just happened,” Indy whispered, and all they could do was laugh and hold each other as it sank in.

Gray kissed her hair. “No going back now, you already said yes.”

She smacked his shoulder playfully, admiring the way the ring caught the light when she did. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, nuzzling into her hair as the swayed back and forth, soaking in the moment.

“Also, sad news. I totally lied about the reservation, and Ethan’s contribution is cooking dinner tonight. So we might be celebrating our engagement with food poisoning.”

Indy laughed into his shirt. “Well hey, at least if we’re puking our guts out later we’re doing it as fiancees.” The word felt foreign but somehow electrifying coming off her tongue.

“Fuck yeah we are. You ready to go home, or do you wanna stay another minute.”

“Just a few more minutes. I wanna remember this forever.”

Gray smiled his brightest smile and kissed her slow and warm before wrapping her up again, closing his eyes as they held each other again.

Against his back, through his shirt, he felt her finger move.

H-U-S-B-A-N-D

bonus: this is the ring :’)

#bsides #mixtape #im soft now damn

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fatefulfaerie · 3 years

Text

Hiding Injury

Febuwhump prompt #13/28

Franchise: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild

Word Count: 1,474

Link didn’t know Zelda had looked up from her book when he entered their Hateno house, that she was looking with an intent gaze at how the bag of hunted meat was slung over his right shoulder and not his left, how he very slightly winced as he set it down. Zelda’s green eyes flitted with rising concern, but when Link started to turn his head, she quickly returned her gaze to her book. However, the words on the page were ones that she was no longer actively reading.

She felt him staring for a lingering second, and she in particular felt the heat rise to her cheeks before he turned away to go about storing the meat he had hunted.

Zelda thought of a way to bring up the subject as she stared at sentences and paragraphs she cared not to read, information about the history of Hyrule that was no longer the most important thing.

“Link?” She inquired without moving her eyes, her pointed ears penned and ready for his response. She tried to be as nonchalant as possible. “Are you doing okay?”

Link had lifted his head so fast at her first inquiry that he bumped his head on the bottom of the staircase. At the second inquiry, he was walking towards her rubbing his head.

“Well my head hurts now, but it’s not too bad.”

Link watched as Zelda’s green eyes looked up from the book she held. Their eye contact stayed studying each other for more than a second before Link averted his gaze.

“I was thinking I would make meat pie for dinner tonight,” Link said as he crossed past her to the kitchen. “How does that sound?”

Zelda had started to stack the books that had gathered on the table on the pretense of clearing it.

“Good,” she said, holding a stack of several books in her hand as she stood up. After a couple paces, she took the stack into one arm and grabbed the book on the top, dropping it on the ground. Zelda returned her other arm to hold the stack just before Link turned around to see what the noise was.

“Would you mind picking that up for me?” Zelda asked, her head turned over her shoulder. She turned around completely when Link didn’t give a reply.

“You want me to pick that up?” Link said, pointing at the “fallen” book.

“That’s what I said,” Zelda replied. “I can’t very well do it with my hands occupied like this.”

“Well, yeah but—”

“Is there a problem?” Zelda interrupted.

“No,” Link insisted a bit too hard with his brow furrowed. “No, of course not.”

“Then pick up the book,” Zelda said.

Link’s faced showed an obvious pain and struggle as he slowly crouched down, wincing as he picked up the book and stood back up, placing it back on the stack. Zelda had raised her brow when Link automatically clutched his left side with the opposite hand, but he tried to play it off as soon as he noticed her eye on it, scratching his side nonchalantly and returning the small kitchen counter.

He continued making dinner as Zelda placed the stack of books on the table slowly, before taking a gentle step towards the hero that was ignoring her intelligence.

“You said you remembered me,” Zelda said, calm enough to hide her concern.

“I do,” Link said, continuing to prepare dinner without turning his head.

“What do remember most?” Her slight anger came through as she crossed her arms but Link didn’t detect it, chuckling instead.

“How smart you are,” he said. “And how selfless you are and how…”

He searched for the next word, thinking of the million different ones that would take things a step too far.

“Well…put…together…you are,” Link managed, Zelda rolling her eyes with a sigh.

“Link, how dumb do you think I am?!” Zelda exclaimed, Link turning around immediately. “You’re hurt aren’t you?!”

“I…”

“Take off your shirt!” Zelda demanded with a few strides forward.

“Excuse me?” Link asked in disbelief, his cheeks streaking pink.

“You heard me,” Zelda said, hands now on her hips. “Take off your shirt or I’ll do it for you.”

As much as a part of Link wanted to challenge her on that, he supposed that not complying to her demands was invitation to a disaster of proportions more lovely than he could handle.

And so he pulled off his light blue champion’s tunic with a wince in his expression, throwing it aside and presenting himself with an unenthusiastic opening of his hands. Yet Zelda was not amused.

“And the undershirt,” she said.

“Zelda…” he said, his eyes almost pleading with her.

“Alright,” She said and, before Link could even stop her, Zelda had lifted his shirt from the bottom.

She didn’t even need to lift it very high to see the large bruise, that was almost purple and looked horridly painful, even considering how little he had winced around the past couple days.

“Link?!” Zelda exclaimed, looking up at him with green eyes shaded with betrayal. “Your ribs are broken! Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

Zelda dove her forehead into her hand with a heavy sigh.

“That the biggest load of...”

She stopped her mumbling with a sigh, trying to calm herself down with a deep breath.

“You’re not impenetrable, Link,” she said.

“I know that,” he argued back.

“But for some reason you don’t think I know that! This foolish attempt to keep it from me. Of course you are vulnerable, Link! I may know that better than you. What in Hyrule are you doing trying to hide something so obvious from me! I thought you said I was smart.”

“You were!” Link insisted before stuttering. “I…I mean you are, it’s just…well it’s embarrassing, okay?!”

Zelda studied him for a moment, trying to make sense of his words.

“You’re embarrassed that you sustained an injury after a fight with the Calamity?” Zelda shook her head. “No you’re not.”

“I’m supposed to be the perfect hero—“

“Nuh-uh,” Zelda said, interrupting him again. “I know you better than that.” She stuck out her finger. “I’ve seen you get numerous injuries since after you woke up in the Shrine of Resurrection and you didn’t care about people seeing them one bit. Maybe you would have cared a hundred years ago about staying perfect but you’ve defeated the calamity now. No one is looking at you to be perfect anymore…”

Zelda’s expression faded and paled as she figured it out, and Link bowed his head when it became apparent that she had, deflecting his eyes from hers.

“Except for me,” she whispered, looking elsewhere as she sorted it out. “You want to be perfect…for me. It’s not because I’m the princess though, isn’t it? It’s because you—”

“Stop,” Link said suddenly, and Zelda sealed her lips. A tear rolled down her cheek as she closed and opened her eyes. She slowly ad shakily sat back down at the table, fingers clasped into each other as she tried to breath through her discovery and what it meant.

Link as well was trying to deal with his anxiety, hands brace against the lip of the wooden kitchen counter, his body leaning against it.

“I’m not expecting perfection, you know,” Zelda said quietly without turning her head. “Just you.”

Link gave a heavy sigh, like great weight was lifted off his shoulders.

“Zelda, I…” Link attempted. “I’m not sure I know how to do this, how to be…a good…goddesses I don’t even know what to call it.”

“What do you know?”

“I know that I’m in love with you,” Link said, his head lifting to look at the back of hers, “And that…”

He finally let himself say what he wanted to say before.

“You are too beautiful for words, my heart it…I think it’s always belonged to you.”

Zelda voiced no response.

“Oh Zelda, please say something,” he begged.

But when she turned towards him, standing up from the chair, she was very nearly bawling, breath hiccuping and shoulders shaking. Link came off from the counter and stepped towards her immediately, wiping away her tears of joy.

“I guess you can’t, huh?” He said with that charming smile that made Zelda’s heart melt. His forehead met hers gently. “Can’t say words that are comprehensible, it will only come out as blubbers of sound.”

Zelda nodded as best she could but nonetheless managed to mouth an “I love you too”, Link reading her lips and just as soon, introducing them to his.

Their kiss was the biggest breath of relief that had ever expelled from either of their lungs. And, although it hurt Link’s side to do so, his heart had never been happier.

#febuwhump #febuwhump2021 #febuwhumpday13 #zelink #zelda #link #botw #breath of the wild #tloz #the legend of zelda

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xbunnybunz · 3 years

Text

always maybe never [wolf keum x reader]

Summary: A story in which you love Wolf Keum, and maybe he likes you back.

Genre: Romance, Angst, One-sided romance

Date: December 27, 2020

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“They took my glasses,” He said.

He looked pissed.

You watched him blankly, taking in his bruises, the scrapes and the blood.

“Did you lose?” It slips out of your mouth before you can stop it, and boy does that get him worked up.

“No.” He snaps, louder than before. Maybe be regrets it, maybe he’s tired, but he lowers his volume immediately after. “No. I fucking didn’t.”

Silence falls over the both of you. Over you, drenched, standing over him in a moldy, stinking alley. Over him, shielded from the rain with your umbrella, lip busted and knuckles bruised.

The red and blue lights of a police car soaring through the night carry into the alley. It throws hues of neon colors upon Wolf’s face, he’s so belligerent even like this, you think you might just leave him here.

“If you’re done asking me questions, you can fuck right off now.”

He’s a nasty little thing, but the way his eyes glint like diamonds in the sliver of yellowed streetlights intrigue you.

“How long were you planning to stay here then?”

He doesn’t respond. Shifts half an inch away from you, like he kinda wants you to leave and also not really.

“It’s real cold out tonight.” You say. And he looks seriously hurt, but you don’t say this aloud. You wonder what the fight was about, if it was worth ending up next to a dumpster for.

You move closer, kneel so you’re eye-level with him despite his adamancy to not even glance in your direction. The moon bounces light off his damp hair, first silver, then purple. The city lights tend to play tricks on your eyes.

“Let’s get somewhere warm, alright?”

You present a palm to him, face up and already starting to pool with rainwater.

It hangs in the air for a long moment, long enough for you to begin to retract it. But then he reaches out and grabs it, a large, calloused hand wrapping over your own. Even in the chill of twilight, a warmth blossoms there.

“You’re fucking annoying.” Is all he says.

You roll your eyes and hoist him up to the best of your ability, which included almost dislocating your elbow as he slowly picked himself up. It’s only when the top of his head hits your umbrella do you realize how much bigger he is than you.

“Here, you should take this.” You hold out the umbrella to him. He takes it wordlessly, placing it right between the both of you. He’s shivering, despite his best efforts to hide it, you can feel the tremor of his body when it brushes against yours for that golden split second.

You look up at him, eyeballing the furrow of his brows, the slight twitch of his lip, eyes cast somewhere far into a long distance. Just what was he looking away from?

You make it to a nearby hole-in-the-wall eatery without serious injury. He flops down onto the seat like a wet fish and grills the patrons who look at him funny.

“Play nice.” You hum, moving beside him and drying him out as best you could with takeout napkins.

He grunts and exhales deep and heavy from his nostrils, hair matted to his forehead and neck. You dab at it, wondering if the purple color would bleed like cheap tye-dye. Of course, it doesn’t.

“You have such an interesting taste.” You coo. Fingers find strands of hair and pinch, rolling.

He turns his head slightly to meet your gaze, eyes cold yet burning. Like this hasn’t happened before, like he hasn’t absolutely taken you apart and pieced you back together before.

“I know.”

Just those two words are enough to send electricity down your spine. You pull away before you’re zapped by this high voltage man.

You take a seat but never break eye contact with him.

The low buzz of the yellowed restaurant lights above you hum life into your fingertips, into your ears, into your heart. It’s nauseating to see the dark red and purple bruising on his cheek and browbone.

“You should find some hobbies,” You offer, voice quieter now. “Like knitting, or something.”

Your lips begin to quirk up, but his straight face drains you of that energy.

“Maybe later.” He says, and you remind yourself to start keeping a tally of each time he says that.

“Right.” You look down at your lap and laugh, but it sounds dry. “Let’s eat, and then I’ll bring you home.”

He doesn’t argue.

The next time you see him, he’s got his glasses again. He’s still scuffed from the last fight but at least he can walk straight now.

“Are you alone?” You ask, bumping hips with him behind the slushie machine.

He takes one crinkling bag of chips off the shelf, cellophane crackling under his fingers. There’s a black motorcycle helmet wedged under his arm and he’s got his riding sneakers on.

“Yeah.”

You peek at the door and true to his word, you only spot his motorbike and pedestrians cursing how it was parked.

“That’s rare,” You tease. You’re standing close to him, so you dare to brush your pinky against his. Nearly have a heart attack when he hooks his with yours.

You look up at him but he’s not looking at you. To anyone who wasn’t watching for a sign, he’d just be pondering the selection. But you were watching, always watching for anything. A glance, a flutter, a chance that he was really there with you.

Today, he’s generous. Staring straight ahead, he graces you with a slight upward curve of his lips. Just a bit, just enough to dimple his cheek, just enough for you.

Play it coy. You pull away from him and tiptoe between the fridges with a sway in your step. You pray and pray he’s following you. When you catch sight of his figure in the reflection of a coffee pot, you feel like a million bucks.

“Ah, I wonder what I should get for tonight.”

You don’t mind that you’re in the unthawed hams section because you know he’s not paying attention anyways. He’s just relying on muscle memory while you agonize over all your movements, you’ve both been through this a hundred times.

Right on beat, he asks the question you’ve been praying for.

“Do you need a ride home?”

His shoulders look broader when he rolls them, the red school blazer stretching and falling back into place. He has no idea how mad he drives you.

“Oh, I guess that’d be nice.”

He smirks, a wicked smile.

Or maybe he does.

You love riding on his motorcycle because everything smells like him, but you guess that’s easy when your face is buried in his hair and the crook of his neck.

Every time you wrap your arms around his waist, you hold onto him like you’ll lose him. One of these days, you swear you will. Sometimes you catch him throwing a glance over his shoulder, and sometimes you wonder if today’s the day he’ll finally tell you to let go. But it never is.

The wind whips about the both of you and blisters your cheeks with the cold. He’s slowed down, and you love it because you know he rides like a demon without you.

The city lights zip by you like fireflies in the distance, the glow of commercial buildings dwindling to zero as you enter the residential area. The scrape of rubber tires on concrete pavement makes people peep out their windows, tongue in cheek, before closing the blinds.

“How are you back there?” He asks at a red light, voice muffled from under his helmet.

“Warm.” You lie. Kind of.

His chest moves in rippling motion that might’ve been a chuckle, might’ve been a cough. And he’s off again. Your eyes close and you hold him closer to you, feel his body and heartbeat against yours, breathe in the smell of his cologne, his bodywash. For the few minutes you’re on the back of his bike, there is only you and him in the universe.

It always ends a second sooner than you remember it should, and it makes you wonder if he’s riding faster or if you’re too eager. He shakes out his helmet hair and helps you off the bike like a proper gentleman, rare for someone as unruly as Wolf Keum.

“Thanks.” You say, and peer at him through your lashes, batting them slowly. You’re feeling cold and emboldened tonight, so you’re hoping he’ll take the bait.

He reaches out, long fingers brushing aside your windswept hair. He traces your jaw and it feels like home, like victory, like you’ve almost got him where you want him.

The warm lights of your house illuminate his face softly and silhouettes his more angular, predatory features. It brings out the Wolf Keum you know and you yearn to keep him like this forever, away from the bloody knuckles and broken bones that make him so sharp to hold.

“Do you want to come in?”

His eyes are calm, barely a trace of emotion save for keen interest. You pray to all the gods that he’ll come in just this once, after so many nights of being left empty handed. For a second, you think the heavens have heard you when he misses his cue to shake his head like every other time. His hesitation is dizzying, and the adrenaline that pumps through you overpowers even the motorbike ride.

He ponders for just a second too long, and his phone rings.

It snaps both of you out of the reverie. From where you stand, you can see the caller ID. Donald Na.

Wolf turns away and takes a step towards his bike to pick up the call. You can’t help the hand that goes out after him. When he looks back to you, he gestures to his phone.

“Maybe later.” He mouths.

And you smile and nod, because that’s what you always do. You watch as he pulls on his helmet and gets on the bike, idle chatter falling from his lips and into the receiver. When he drives away, the exhaust from his bike billows behind him and clouds your vision with smoke. You return home without knowing if he’d waved goodbye.

It’s a temperate day when you speak to him next.

You’re sitting in the park waiting for Wolf, shaded by trees and warmed by the sun. You’ve left the remainders of your croissant on the floor and it’s become a meal for a flurry of pigeons, cooing and flocking by our feet. An ant crawls up to your sneaker, confused with the obstruction. You’re entertained by it’s strange dancing for a few moments before a shadow crosses your vision.

“Hey.” He says.

You smile. “Hey yourself.”

He exhales through his nose in a manner that you assume is amusement.

You pat the seat next to you and he eases himself onto it, stretching out his legs and sending some pigeons head-bobbing awkwardly away from him.

Mindlessly, you note that he’s abandoned his blazer today, opting to tie it around his waist instead.

Birds chirp overhead and the grass tickles your ankles. There’s the sound of children laughing and the rushing of a fountain a ways from you.

He’s relaxed. You can tell from the way he’s kicking his feet.

You peek at where his hands are and notice that they’re close enough to feel his warmth, but don’t miss the bandages on his knuckles and forearms.

“You’ve been busy?” You ask. You pretend it’s a joke but it’s not actually.

He raises his arm and regards it as if it doesn’t break your heart to see him like this. “This? It’s nothing. Some shithead thought using a pocket-knife would hold us off.”

Something in your chest twists.

“That’s funny.”

He hums in agreement and you want to choke him for it.

You let the sounds of the park ease your mind and his. Wonder silently if there’s even a point to all of this heartache, this outlandish game of who-gives-less-fucks anymore.

Beside you, Wolf leans back and lets the sunlight wash over his face, his neck, his chest.

His eyes are closed, but you can see his eyelids fluttering slightly, like he wants to look into the sun but the brightness scares him. His messy lavender hair sweeps over his forehead and spills over his ears, just brushing the nape of his neck with soft curls. It’s nearly concealed, but you can see a faint line of a scar peeking out at you. Just past his adams apple, trailing upwards to his jaw. When he first got it, he refused to say where or how it had happened, but you’d be a fool to not know only metal and gems cut so deep.

This isn’t the only scar he adorns. You’ve memorized the marks he has lining his body like constellations; switchblade starry sky and cigarette burn borealis. In the sun, you can see the endless expanse of marks on his skin like a splatter of cursed stars. There’s far too many for you to count, so you turn away and rest your eyes.

It remains like this for a moment longer, but then he says something that surprises you.

“I’ve been thinking about it.”

Your head snaps towards him, blink and situate yourself further in your seat, wondering if you had somehow fallen asleep and wandered into a dream.

Wolf nods once and the action is slow, like he’s still churning the words in his head.

“Yeah,” he says, voice low. “Everything about this situation is... Strange.”

He picks up a hand and gazes at it, brows furrowed. He clenches a fist and unclenches it, turning it this way and that in the light of the sun.

“But say I do leave, right? Then what will I have left to do? My school life is shot, and no one dares to approach me.”

He drops his hand and looks at the clouds rolling lazily over the blue sky.

“If I leave, what will I have left?”

You almost want to laugh, almost want to cry, or maybe do both at the same time. You want to ask him if he remembers who is speaking to at all, but you cannot find the courage.

Suddenly, he looks in your direction and that peaceful yet painful moment is over. A strange look crosses his face and you can feel him tensing, back becoming just a bit straighter.

As you turn, the sound of a hundred of flapping wings taking off meets your ears. The shadows of pigeons in flight scatter across grass and the park path, crossing over the figures approaching briefly before ascending skyward.

The first foot to emerge from the shadows belongs to a tall blond hair with sharp eyes, followed by three or so other men.

You stare, but he doesn’t spare a glance in your direction.

“Keum, didn’t expect to see you in this part of Yeongduengpo.”

Wolf remains reticent. You look at him but he won’t take his eyes off of Donald.

Donald raises a hand to gesture to Wolf and you don’t miss the way his silver rings glint in the midday sun, all precious metal and shining gemstone. When he speaks, it’s almost a hiss.

“Come, I have last week’s reports to discuss with you.”

He doesn’t move from beside you, but you can hear him swallow thickly.

Donald begins to stroll again, the men beside him following suit. As he passes Wolf, he fails to even regard you and it makes you feel tiny.

A second passes as he holds his gaze with Wolf, it’s a challenge to disobey and it’s not at all unfamiliar to you. Those dreary nights Wolf has spent with you, both a man and a husk of a man, is because of Donald Na. It is within this essential and excruciating second that his behavior either becomes normal or abnormal, dictates whether he steeps deeper into that endless black sea or fights amidst the raging storm.

In this second, you hope he remembers himself, hope he remembers you. Those endless nights you’ve spent picking up pieces of his shattered self, putting him back together and brushing over the cracks with adoration. Those endless nights you’ve spent despairing for him, for yourself, for all the tears you’ve cried when trying to convince yourself this won’t get any better.

You hope that he proves you wrong this one time, hope that in his heart, he knows he’ll always have you.

But when you feel him pull his hand from yours, you already understand his answer.

You’re acquainted with this sensation in your throat, this burning in the back of your eyes. It’s made a home in your heart, barren since the day you ever laid eyes on Wolf Keum.

Still, a final flame of hope flickers within you.

You grab his hand just before he’s out of reach. When he looks back, he’s all sharp teeth and hard eyes but it’s nothing you can’t handle.

“Can we…” You want to speak, but your tongue feels leaden and dry. “Can we speak about this soon?”

Wolf’s face remains the blasé, brows set in a furrow and lips downturned into just the slightest scowl.

To a passerby who wasn’t looking for signs, he may seem apathetic, annoyed, even. But you were no passerby. For Wolf Keum, you’d always be willing. Waiting. Watching. For a glance, for a flutter, for anything that meant you hadn’t been the only one foolishly in love the entire time.

And for a second, you think he regards you with a gleam in his eye, something that resembles sorrow, or regret, or anything else that may ease the stale aching of your heart. But when he opens his mouth, it’s that same damning line again, that empty promise that keeps you stumbling in darkness for a trace of salvation.

“Maybe later.”

It will only ever be Wolf Keum that you allow yourself to be swindled by every time. You promise yourself this. Release his hand, or he pulls it away from you. You cannot tell which came first.

“I understand.” You say, heart breaking again.

You never will.

#weak hero #webtoon weak hero #wolf keum #seongji geum #wolf keum x reader #reader insert #fanfiction

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morihaus · 3 years

Text

Campfire

The skies are mild and clear over the Ashlands of Vvardenfell, a blanket of brilliant stars splayed above the camp of two travelers, an aspirant priest and a wayward blade. A campfire burns before them as they sit upon mats, having eaten their fill of supper and now content to while away the night in dialogue.

A book lies open in the layman's lap, a thick tome embossed in gold and daedric lettering. He reads from it passively, as he knows the words by his own heart. "HOAGA, the Mouth of Mud, who appeared as a great bearded king, had the powers of Marshaling and breathing the earth." Their voice is low and mellifluous as he recants the sermon, scarlet eyes tracing carefully over every stroke of lettering, savoring the prose which sprung from the mind of a god. "On the battlefields, this demon would often be seen on the sidelines, eating the soil voraciously." They speak this in a deadpan, though a soft smile has not left their face since they began.

His companion, a foreigner to this land, restrains her laughter out of respect, chuckling only slightly. She does not mean to offend, but is calm in this interaction; this Dunmer has been the most accommodating of her presence out of nearly everyone on this ashy scab of an island, and over the weeks of their traveling together, she's come to see them as a friend.

"Were these real people?" She asks.

The priest-to-be, Ranso, smiles coyly. "Of course. Everything in these lessons is to be taken as fact."

Junah laughs softly, her grin is warm to him in the firelight. "Just thought I'd ask- I've never heard of a Nord eating dirt. I mean, not a general, at least."

They continue to read, Junah letting her eyes fall shut as she absorbs his words. Most nights they would spend like this, them reading their holy books, her listening, asking questions, having her questions turned back at her, the two of them discussing usages of imagery and metaphor, subtext hidden between the lines. It's not unlike her time at Anvil's College of the Arts, those poetry meetings that would stretch on for hours as they wound their way through pages and pages of purple prose, except these poems were much grander, they were scripture, holy texts, penned not by a devotee, by a preacher or a prophet, but by a god.

It's been fascinating to consider, and strange to the Redguard, who for all her life had been brought up on worship of the distant Divines of Cyrodiil, who spoke in winding ways to their followers. This god had winding ways of hir own, but hir words were plain to read on the paper. Theologians of Morrowind should be so lucky.

As Ranso utters the last few lines and reaches for his water skin, Junah remarks as such. "It's still so... strange to me," Her voice is hushed and bereft of judgement- this land is new and harsh to her Imperial sensibilities, but she's not so low as to insult its ways. "That your gods can communicate to you like that. Through published poetry no less!" She snickers to herself. "If only Akatosh were so thoughtful."

The Dunmer smiles against his drink before setting it aside and turning back towards her. "Perhaps he is not a good poet?"

Junah laughs at that; such an odd statement, too absurd to be profane, and yet there's an edge to their words that make him almost sound serious in this accusation. "What makes you say that?" She asks, curious and eager to hear him.

Ranso flips a page in the tome held in his lap, still looking at Junah. The dark painted spirals on his face, segmented like a carapace, seem alight as they reflect the fire. "Poetry is a personal art- and yet it taps into something much bigger, something felt by many. The microcosm, the words on pages or hanging in the air, shaded with impermanence, fighting to persist. It is a mortal expression. A god could not comprehend it as we do, nor could one communicate in a way we understand."

"But Vivec is a god, is ze not?" Junah asks.

"Yes, ze is. But ze has lived as a mortal, as all the tribunes have." Ranso explains patiently, their words coming easy for their passion for the temple. "This is why they can understand us, they have tasted mortality, they have felt the fleetingness of it all, and they remember this, even now as they are ascendant. Vivec writes with a twofold mind, one mortal, one immortal. Ze translates the experience of hir divinity in a way no other can, so that we might understand... 'the eyelid of the kingdom shall fill thirty and six folios, but the eye shall read the world. By this the Hortator needs me to understand.'"

Junah nods thoughtfully, carefully going over their words amidst a comfortable silence. With only the two of them, there is not much to do while they compose their thoughts, but they are content merely to lie beside one another.

"...I remember some theology, from my temple days in Cyrodiil." Junah begins, drawing Ranso's attention as she leans back and lays down against her mat. Her heavy armor had been discarded for the night, leaving her in a dark undershirt, buttons undone down to her breast, a few faint marks and bruises bared to the world along her collar. She raises her hands up to lay her head down upon them while she stares up at the stars. "I think- mortals can understand the gods, in little ways. The ways they manifest in our world. If you know hard work, farming, crafts, then you know Zenithar, at least a little bit. He is those things, that's how he makes himself known to us." She gestures one hand up as she speaks, laying it across her body, idly straightening her shirt. "Most of what I learned was Maran and Dibellan, though. They're... a little harder to quantify. Love, devotion, beauty, expression- I mean, people know these things, don't they? And how could these things not know us? If the artist understands their art, does the art understand the artist?"

Ranso listens quietly; they are less than familiar with the Imperial tradition, only knowing so much as the priests would tell the young to avoid their proselytizers. The Aedra, those he knew, cursed in the sermons, spoken of in distant pondering in the Vehkian circles he ran in as a youth. They find her words fascinating, their eyes are focused on her dark painted lips as she speaks these Imperial ideas- something, Ranso thinks, is best met with spiritual dialogue rather than ostracism. "It sounds more as though you know of things, and you liken them to the ideas of gods. A rather one-sided conversation." They tread lightly with their words out of respect for their friend, quickly honing in on another talking point. "Does the art understand the artist?... I like that." They chuckle softly, pleased to see Junah's flattered expression as they speak. "It's rather fitting, isn't it? Here we are, beings of a great work of the gods, marveling and wondering at those who created it, it which created us."

Looking up in the sky, Junah almost feels like she's searching for a face in the heavens now. Distant planets, the moons- waxing and waning- and a million tiny pinholes of light are all that she can see. "I hadn't thought of it like that... I meant the art as the god- as Dibella."

"Right," Ranso nods. "I'm not sure. It is more difficult looking up than down- even then, looking down, how does the artist communicate unto the art?"

"The art is communication." Junah says.

"So, the riddle is hidden away in itself?"

"I guess so... fat lot of good that does us though, huh?"

Ranso smiles at her. "It's not hopeless. There are always means of reflection."

She laughs softly, sitting back up and shifting closer to their side. "Ah, you're right. Let me get a closer look at you, maybe I'll figure it out." She leans in playfully and is met with a slight bump on her forehead as he moves to do the same. The two pull back with bashful grins and laughter.

After a few moments, Ranso finds his place slumped against Junah's chest, sermons still in hand, her heartbeat in his ear. Their eyes are closed as he recites the sermon from memory.

"Vivec says unto the Hortator remember the words of Boet-hi-ah:" Junah smiles, leaning down to rest her chin against the fuzz of Ranso's close-cut hair.

"We pledge ourselves to you, the Frame-maker, the Scarab: a world for us to love you in, a cloak of dirt to cherish." The winds of the ashlands blow softly behind the proud and dark voice he dons for the prince's speech. "Betrayed by your ancestors when you were not even looking. Hoary Magnus and his ventured opinions cannot sway the understated, a trick worthy of the always satisfied." Junah wraps an arm around their chest as they attempt not to let her affections distract them. "A short season of towers, a rundown absolution... and what is this?"

Junah breathes a deep, contented sigh and opens her eyes. The campfire is still burning, bathing the two in its glow.

"What is this but fire under your eyelid?"

#tesfest21 #mori writing #oc: junah #oc: ranso

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