#i WILL get all the lingering echoes medals | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

greynatomy · 3 months

Text

too late

alexia putellas x reader

i know nothing about medical stuff except for the ones i’ve watched on grey’s anatomy

happy valentine’s day i guess

request here

———

The echoes of the heated argument lingered in the air as you paced around your living room. The tension between you and Alexia had reached a breaking point and you have no idea what to do next.

Alexia had left you alone in this big house — which isn’t really anything new — to god knows where. The trophies and medals that lined the shelves, displaying the accomplishments of your longtime partner, stares back at you like souvenirs.

Photographs covering the walls, showing the memories of the love she once held for you. Your fingers tracing the edges of the frame, heart heavy with doubt and sadness.

‘Where did I go wrong?’ You asked yourself.

That was almost three months ago. She had apologized and promised to make changes. The first week was a bliss. She’d wake you up with breakfast in bed, leaving breakfast in the kitchen when she had early training. Random dates throughout the week. You were living the dream.

Then, she won the world cup.

Interview after interview. Appearance after appearance. She was away more times than home. You don’t quite remember the last time you’d both slept in the same bed and woken up together.

—

It was Friday and you were in the kitchen waiting for Alexia to come home from training. You’ve cooked her favorite meal that Eli had taught you to make. You told her you had something to talk to her about so you hoped this meal could lighten the mood a bit.

Thirty minutes had passed so you thought she was just running a bit late.

Then an hour passed.

Another hour after that.

You’ve put away all of the food and prepared a plate for when she gets home to just reheat. Changing into your pajamas, you lounge around in the living room and check your phone. Right when you open up your social media, you were met with videos of your girlfriend and her team at a club.

You try to remember if Alexia had told you if she was going anywhere after practice, but she didn’t.

‘She probably just forgot.’

Hours later, Alexia came home to find you asleep on the couch. She stumbles into the bedroom and knocks out.

—

You’re at home in bed, staring into nothingness. You couldn’t do anything. At least not the things you used to be able to do. Even breathing became difficult.

Alexia was out so much she never noticed how much you’ve changed, how different you looked. She barely spared you a glance. When you do catch Alexia at home, she’s already asleep. You barely notice though because she’s been sleeping in the spare bedroom.

You slowly walk to the kitchen, steadying yourself against the walls. Grabbing a glass, you start to fill it with water when all of a sudden your vision starts going in and out.

Collapsing to the floor, darkness consumes you.

—

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” You ask as Alexia walked through the front door.

“I’m not even fully through the door and you’re already asking me to do things?”

“It won’t take long. It’s just something I have to tell—”

“Ay dios mío! I’m hungover and I just want to sleep. Talk to me tomorrow.”

Alexia walks away to the spare bedroom, knocking out instantly.

—

Alexia is at Mapi and Ingrid’s place with the rest of the team for team bonding. Alexia had an arm around one of Mapi’s friends that she invited over, the girl practically in her lap.

“Hey, Ale! Where’s the missus? Didn’t want to come today?” Mapi questions taking a seat next to Ingrid.

“Ooh, yeah! I miss Y/N, how is she doing?” Pina asks, the girl saw you as a big sister.

Alexia tenses, not knowing why. The girl on her shoves her arm off of her, moving to a different seat making Alexia frown in disappointment.

“Uh, she’s just at home probably. I don’t know?” She shrugs.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Mapi asks, eyebrows furrowed. “You were with her yesterday.”

“I was?” Alexia was confused because she definitely wasn’t. She was at some girl’s pla— her eyes widen. “I was! Yeah. She didn’t feel that well so she wanted to stay home. Yeah.”

Mapi and Ingrid share a look but drops the subject.

The team bonding became crazier that it was supposed to be. People were tipsy and Mapi was surprised they haven’t been yelled at by the neighbors yet.

“Alright.” Mapi stands up, catching everyone’s attention. “Me and Ingrid are going to run to the store, grab a couple things cause we’re running low.”

Everyone bid them goodbye, Ingrid following behind her girlfriend.

“We’re not running low on anything.” Ingrid states as Mapi starts driving.

“No, I just needed an excuse.”

“Excuse for what.”

“To check on Y/N.”

“She’s not home though. Told us herself.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t hurt to check. And we both know damn well Ale wasn’t with her yesterday.”

Arriving to yours and Alexia’s house, they knock on the door. Not getting a response, they try again, no response.

“Hey, Y/N? Are you home? It’s Mapi and Ingrid.”

After a couple of minutes with no response, Mapi uses the spare key she was given a long time ago. Stepping inside, it was quiet. The place was clean, almost too clean. It didn’t look like someone had lived in the place at all with how clean it looked.

Walking further in, Ingrid looks into the kitchen, finding a glass shattered on the floor. Walking around the kitchen island was a sight she didn’t want to see.

“Oh my god, María!” She immediately lays you on your back, placing two fingers on your neck. “There’s no pulse! Call the ambulance!” She starts slapping your face lightly, hoping to wake you up. “C’mon, Y/N. Open those eyes for me.”

“Here. Move.” Mapi pushes Ingrid away, handing her the phone. “You call for them. Wake up, Y/N. Don’t go yet.” She starts CPR, tears start flowing from her eyes, some dripping onto your face. “C’mon! Just wake up, damn it!”

Mapi doesn’t know how long she’s been doing CPR, but paramedics rush into the house, taking over. Ingrid pulls her into her arms where they break down, missing the looks that the paramedics gave each other.

They drive close behind as the ambulance speeds through the streets of Barcelona. Arriving at the hospital, Ingrid doesn’t bother to turn the car off, rushing to where you were being unloaded.

“What do we got?” Doctors rush out to the ambulance.

The paramedics just give a look to the doctors who immediately understand.

“Time of death…”

“Wait! What do you mean time of death? She-she’s fine right?”

“What’s your relationship to…”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N. What’s your relationship to Y/N?”

“She’s my friend and I need to know what’s happened.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t give out any information, but I saw she has a wedding ring on. Can you contact her husband?”

“Wife. She has a wife.”

“Okay, can you contact her wife for us?”

Ingrid is the one to make the call. Mapi watches as they roll you inside the hospital.

“She’s on her way.”

Ten minutes later, Alexia arrives to the hospital, walking to where Ingrid and Mapi were now sitting at the waiting room.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. They won’t tell us but they’ll tell you cause you’re her wife.”

“Y/N Putellas. I-I’m her wife and I need to see her.” Alexia asks, no demands when she goes up to the nurse’s counter.

“Mrs. Putellas. I can take you to her body.”

“Body? What-what do you mean body.”

“Just follow me.”

Walking into the room, a bed is seen in the middle of the room, a white sheet covering it.

“What’s this?”

Alexia walks up to the bed, hand hovering over the white sheet.

“Take your time.”

The nurse carefully pulls the top part of the white sheet to reveal someone — you.

“Oh my god.” Alexia gasps, not expecting to see you in this state. Mapi turns around in Ingrid’s hold, hiding her face in her chest, Ingrid also looking away. “What happened?”

“I can help with that.”

Turning towards the door, a doctor stood just outside.

“May I come in?” Not waiting for a response, he walks right in. He walks towards where your lay, staring at your features. “Mrs. Putellas lived longer than I expected.”

“Okay, can we stop being so criptic and just tell me what’s going on?” Alexia was losing patience. She has no clue what’s happening. She was having a great time and now she sees her wife lying dead right in front of her.

“Y/N Putellas, age twenty-eight, was diagnosed with stage four cancer three months ago. There was nothing that could be done as it was caught very late. All we could have done was make sure she was comfortable.”

“But she refused to be admitted into the hospital to make sure that she was still at home for her wife, no matter how much I protested.” A new voice was heard by the door. Your sister. “Her wife that leaves when she’s still sleeping. Her wife who would rather be out partying than notice how sick she was, fighting for her life. Her wife that doesn’t fucking love her!”

Your sister was now face to face with Alexia, finger stabbing her chest.

“No, no, no.” Alexia mumbles. “That- that’s not true. I love her. I do! Why didn’t she tell me?”

“She tried to.” Your sister stated, voice now void of emotion. “She tried and you brushed her off.”

“Why didn’t she tell me?” Mapi spoke up for the first time in a while.

“Because it didn’t feel important anymore after the many times that Alexia brushed it off.”

“She visited us just three days ago. She was fine.”

“She wasn’t. I think she knew she didn’t have much time left, so she had me drive her around so she can say her goodbyes.”

—

“Alright. Last house.” Your sister stated as she parked the car by the curb.

“Yeah.” You exit the car, slowly making your way to the front door. After knocking on the door, you take a step back. The door opens revealing Mapi.

“Hey, Y/N! What brings you by?”

“Uh, nothing. Is Ingrid here by any chance?”

“Yeah, let me call her. Ingrid!”

Ingrid stands next to Mapi.

“No need to shout. Hey, Y/N. What’s up?”

“Uh, well.” You clear your throat in anxiousness. “I’m gonna go somewhere in a couple of days and just wanted to see you both before I go.”

“Oh? Where are you going?”

“Just- just to take some time for myself.”

“Well, I hope you have fun wherever it is you’re going.”

You give them a smile. “Thank you.” As they were closing the door, you push it back open, wrapping your arms around Mapi tightly. Your breathing is ragged and you can feel the tears forming in your eyes. “You’re my best friend and you know that I love you right?”

Taken aback, she wraps her arms around you in return. “Yeah, you’re my best friend and I love you too.”

“You too Ingrid.” You now wrap your arms around her. “I’ll miss you both.” You step away, walking back down the driveway, giving them one last smile.

The couple don’t think much about the weird interaction, closing the door as they watched your car drive away.

—

Mapi and Ingrid broke down even more, now knowing that your goodbye was the goodbye.

“Tried to say goodbye to you too, but you were nowhere to be found.” You sister shrugged, getting tired of speaking to Alexia now.

“Why don’t you look depressed?”

“I’ve got to spend my time with her. I’ve had time to prepare for the inevitable.” Giving them all a face, she moves to stand where you laid. “I’m gonna talk to whoever about the arrangements and stuff, I’ll leave you guys alone.”

Seeing how Alexia was unable to take her eyes off of you, Mapi and Ingrid decide to give her some time, leaving the room and closing the door behind them. Now all along, Alexia hesitantly steps up next to your bed, hand hovering over yours.

In the dimly lit room, her voice shaky as she uttered, “I don’t even know where to begin. I don’t know if you can hear me, see me, but I never thought I’d see you like this. I never thought I’d hurt you like this.”

She grasps at your hand, squeezing it to stop the tears from streaming down her face.

“I’m too late. Too late. I never realized how good I had it and I see it now. You are— were the best part of me and I was too blind to see it. I took you for granted and I can’t apologize for it.”

The room remained silent, save for the soft hum of chatter outside. Alexia’s heart pounded, waiting for a response that she would never get. Bending down, she gives your forehead a kiss, letting her lips linger for just a moment.

“I’m sorry and I love you.” She whispered before exiting the room.

Arriving at home, Alexia’s emotions finally hit all at once. She couldn’t step any further away from the front door. She couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. The weight of her emotions become too much and the dam finally broke inside of her. Silent sobs racked her body as the vulnerability she had hidden so well crumbled away.

As the tears cascaded down her cheeks, memories of lost moments and shattered dreams replayed in her mind like a haunting film. Each drop carried the weight of unspoken words and broken promises, a wretched reminder of a love that once felt invincible.

The scars on her heart remained, the permanence of lost loves carved onto it, wondering how to face another day haunted by the ghosts of what could have been.

#woso x reader #woso #greynatomy #woso imagines #woso imagine #woso community #fcb femeni #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader

576 notes · View notes

she-posts-nerdy-stuff · 24 days

Text

Did someone say Zoyalai coded songs by indie artists who deserve more attention? Probably not but I’m going to give you some anyway

Kanej version - Helnik version - Wesper version

Blossoms by The Amazing Devil Zoya of the garden vibes but also works very well for both of them- “I climb up the ladder, had I taken more care I might’ve seen all the rot in the rungs” “And I stare at the soldiers before me, all my blossoms that have waited to fall, and I walk and I walk and I walk and I walk knowing every last one of them is painted in light as I make myself acquainted with the Saint of Never Getting It Right”

Drinking Song by House Phone actually planning a crows edit to this one but it still fits - “I might have grown to be a king, more mighty than the kings you’ve known, who led us through a peaceful time and never simply occupied the throne but out of castle light I’d still be such a sight for sorest eyes, I’d be a pauper in disguise. I might have led the cavalry into glory in the battle field, and they would cast a monument in silver of my weathered shield but now, with all my medals pawned, no proof except my silver tongue to tell of all the valour I have won”

King by Florence + the Machine - “I am no mother, I am no bride, I am King. I need my golden crown of sorrow, my bloody sword to swing, I need my empty halls to echo with grand self-mythology. I am no mother, I am no bride, I am King”

Not Yet/Love Run (reprise) by The Amazing Devil - “It seems, oh it seems, to me, that you can’t sleep” “Sing me awake with a song about pirates and I will try to harmonise, and sip the sunlight from your eyes, oh sing me awake with all the things we’ll do today but instead we’ll build a den out of pillows and get drunk again” “It seems, oh it seems, to me, that you… you can’t dance for shit” “Where is god, ma? Where’s the vodka? If my old mum could see me now, oh how she’d howl” “Love run (love run) Love run (love run) For all the things you wished you’d done, run for all you know that’s coming, run to show that love’s worth running to”

Howl by Florence + the Machine - “If you could only see the beast you’ve made of me, I held it in my heart it seems you’ve set it running free” “The Saints can’t help me now, the ropes have been unbound, I hunt for you with bloodied feet across the hallowed ground” “A man who is pure of heart and says his prayers by night may still become a wolf when the autumn moon is bright” “Be careful of the curse that falls on young lovers, starts so soft and sweet and turns them to hunters”

King by The Amazing Devil - “I’ll keep the king, when you are gone away. Into darkness and howling I’ll keep him from drowning when our boat is untethered from the dock” “And the waves made of fingers and the darkness that lingers rips into the bark of our bones” “the sea and its waters, every unwanted daughter” “but our voices collide with each howl of the tide singing all hell and its fire waits for us”

As usual I might come back and add more if I think of them, and please always feel free to add more

#zoyalai #nikolai lantsov #zoya nazyalensky #zoya nazyelensky #nikolai x zoya #grishaverse #leigh bardugo #king of scars #rule of wolves #shadow and bone #seige and storm #ruin and rising #zoya of the garden #dragon queen #Ravka #save shadow and bone

28 notes · View notes

autumnnnsun · 4 months

Text

Medals in Arknights are so funny I'd only get the medals for contingency contract events to wipe my ass but if I don't get all the medals in the Lingering Echoes rerun event I'll kill myself.

#autumnstext #arknights #lingering echoes #LE-EX-8 IS BEATING MY ASS I CAN'T DO THIS

16 notes · View notes

yitzhak-rabin-kinnie · 1 year

Text

TW // GERMAN PEOPLE .

. Okay so the Lingering Echoes event is finished, I cleared all the medals, trimmed one included, so now here are my thoughts on it. For ease of comprehension i'll be using the worm rating, courtesy of my shroomfie @newenglandofficial. PLEASE MIND THE SPOILERS

STORY (6.5/7 worms ) :

The story is pretty neat, all in all. It has the benefit of being self-contained in a very digestable setting, the nomadic city of Vysenheim, in Leithanien (Arknight's bastardised mix of Austria-Hungary and Germany). While there are no grand stakes like in the Abyssal Hunter storyline (will the fish women ever remember the fourth member of their lesbian polycule ?), I was quite invested in the Witch King lorecrumbs we got, and the spooky wooky conspiration to bring him back to life. Now let's now take a look at it through its most important prism, the characters. For the sake of the three people who'll read this, I will try and keep the events as accurate as possible.

All of them are fairly likable and bounce off fairly well of each other, with Ebenholz, the caprinae (goat people) main character of this event and banner poster-boy, being a tragic figure, not because he's obviously a massive homosexual, mind you, but because he's Austrian, a condition which unfortunately carries many incurable symptoms such as playing the violin, being an aristocrat, having weak little wrists, throwing tantrums in music shops and sleeping in the same bed as your best friend who happens to be a very distant relative. As you can see, he's clearly the highlight of this event. His quest for purpose is a pleasure to follow : after being baited into leaving his aristocratic crackden by the vulpo (wolf people) local ruler who's so hot my friends brain malfunctionned when I first showed him her sprite, he meets his soulmate, Kreide, a young caprinae coming to Vysenheim to cure his grandfather, who's currently suffering from the onset of magical rock cancer.

Following their encounter, the two newfound comrades then decide to apply for the traditional austrian coming-of-age rite, which involves playing music in an orchestra, since two spots are now open after the previous musicians got fed to Das Kindershredder in typical german fashion. The Concertmaster, Czerny, pictured below, rejects them at first, but the two manage to earn his respect after a fortunate encounter between them, Czerny, and my favorite AoE sidehoe, Hibiscus. The latter almost gets mobbed by a bunch of angry people manifesting the most popular teutonic characteristic, racism, but after the incident gets defused the whole gang meets at Czerny's place so that Hibiscus can casually give found poisoning to all of them by, I shit you not, cooking them healthy food, which bursts Czerny's ulcer, whose proud european organism can only run on fat Sauerkraut.

Unfortunately, soon after this merry and jolly reunion, the infected of the Afterglow (the local ghetto for rock cancer patients) start experiencing a worsening of their medical conditions. This is in fact caused by Kreide's twink aura, which is strong enough to cause the organism of every straight person in a five kilometer radius to spontaneously collapse, and even causes an invasion of toxic slugs from the sewers.

The gang then discovers that Ebenholz's and Kreide's entire existence are in fact fabricated : both of them are direct descendants of the dead Witch-King, and got kidnapped as kids so that his Loyalists, called the Remnants, could implant a symphony inside of them, which could then be used to resurrect him (think Horcruxes in harry potter basically). The new rulers of Leithanien, the Twin-Empresses (they're ugly sorry), find them, and, having mercy on them, decide to give one a fake identity as a random noble in bumfuck-nowhere (that's Ebenholz), and give one to a secret agent meant to keep an eye on him (Kreide).

Gertrude, Czerny's bitter ex and the lady who invited Ebenholz' here in the first place, whose dad was a Witch King loyalist, plans to turn the Geneva convention into a checklist by triggering this symphony, thus attracting the attention of the Twin Empresses' on the Remnants and taking her revenge on them ? I think that was her plan roughly lol I skipped that part.

Ebenholz then has a wizard duel with her in the street, dispels her hyperborean cloning powers, and then beats. Absolutely nothing happens though because she's the local ruler and instead she's gently taken away by the local glowie, some Perro (dog people) fuck named Biegler, who sjould clearly marry me.

During the fatidic day of the concert, after learning of his blood relationship with Kreide, and unable to face the potential prospect of their future gay babies morphing into Habsburgs through the sheer power of germanic incest, Ebenholz is thus forced to put down his malewife to save the city.

Kreide dies in Ebenholz' after gently caressing his face and telling to live, breaking the soft little heart of Ebenholz, who also has part of the Witch King's consciousness and voice inside of his brain, and decides to go to Rhodes Island after ditching his noble status.

GAMEPLAY (5/7 worms) :

It was pretty okay, I experienced the event in the best way possible, aka not reading the tutorial stages and assuming everybody not inside of their weird flux jizz would fucking die. As it turns out it's not the case it just gives you an SP regen debuff and the ennemies gimmicks now hit you harder. Also Kreide's (whose Witch-King infused form is the final boss) essentially kills himself during the final stage so that was fine.

BANNER (7/7 worms) :

I tried to convinced myself that I would NOT roll Ebenholz, with Pozyomka and Gavial (forma del ungabunga) approaching, but I caved in instantly when I heard his sweet little german lines telling me that he would, in fact, do fucking nothing as my assistant. Yas king slay give us fucking nothing.

Gameplay wise, I wish his S2 did NOT have the shift effect, since it tends to pull ennemies into the rest of the mines and fucking waste all of them for one ennemy. His S3 is gimmicky as fuck but would be broken if Hypergryph decided to let him stack his auto-attacks during his S3. All in all he's my adopted son and I love him.

Stay tuned for more objectively right review of other events, it was a pleasure writing that one !

#arknights #lingering echoes #spoilers #arknights spoilers #germ*n people

53 notes · View notes

silkflovvers · 4 months

Text

Oh heck I wanted the full Lingering Echoes medal set but idk if I have time to get through all the EX stages tonight NOOOOOO

I hate it when life throws everything at me during the Arknights events I want to go full completionist on, MAN.

#txt #ak

2 notes · View notes

theresawritesstuff · 2 years

Text

Altan and Isabel

(An expansion of my original shirt story Until Death Do Us Part. Also available on AO3)

The harold's horn echoed discordantly off the stone walls of the throne room, announcing his entrance with perhaps a bit more fanfare than was strictly necessary.

"Presenting Captain Altan of the Crimson Hills."

Altan fought back a wince to smile at the harold as he passed, the horn still ringing in his ears.

The harold acknowledged him briefly with a look of pity, though Altan suspected it wasn't in apology for his instrument's volume.

Odd…

Undeterred, Altan strode into the nearly empty throne room to stand before the king and queen.

He didn't bother to kneel. Centuries of travel had shown him, if nothing else, that people were just people no matter their finery or titles and as such he did not believe in kowtowing to monarchies. Never saw much sense in it.

Furthermore, he liked these pants and didn't care to dirty them on the cold stone tile that lay beneath his boots.

Still, he was aware of expected social graces, and deigned to give a short bow, sweeping his hat to the side.

"You summoned for me, your majesties?" Altan asked casually, breaking the silence first.

King Hector stiffened in his throne, unaccustomed to not getting the first word.

Altan bit back a smirk.

Normally he was a more patient man, but he also immensely enjoyed messing with the upper crust whenever he got the chance. And he genuinely was curious what they wanted from him. Or how he'd come to their attention for that matter.

Sure, he'd made a few friendly acquaintances amidst the royal guards in the past few months, but for the most part he'd felt he had kept a reasonably low profile. To his knowledge, no one had penned any folksongs baring his name in at least the past few decades.

"That we did, young man," King Hector replied, smoothing his expression into a more pleasant neutrality. "You've made quite a name for yourself amidst my court. A man renowned for bravery and heroics in the face of danger. Scaling cliffsides. Rescuing battalions…"

"I'm afraid I've sworn off dragon slaying, if that's what you're after," Altan quipped.

There was much debate whether these creatures ever truly existed, and even if they did once, it was long before Altan's time.

The king rolled his eyes, unamused. "No. Nothing of that sort."

"Am I to receive a medal or some such then?" Altan ventured. "While I'm honored, truly, your majesties, I must insist I was not the only one involved in the rescue of Lord De León's pet chicken. If this is a meeting to bestow accolades, they would be better suited for the men who have pledged their lives to the service of the crown."

The king's brow wrinkled in aggravation. "N–No! No, this is not about the chicken. This is about a much higher honor."

"Oh?"

Interesting…

"You seem a healthy sort of man, Captain. Would you agree with that assessment?" Queen Lavinia spoke up, having been quietly critiquing him with an eye of subtle interest up to this point.

She was a willowy sort of woman and had a voice to match. Middling in age, she held herself with an air of equal parts elegance and vanity, clearly a student of both since girlhood.

"Fit as a fiddle, as they say."

She hummed thoughtfully. "Charming. And your family. All healthy?"

"I was blessed to parents who made their living in medicine and used their knowledge well," Altan replied.

This was true to a point. Although most healers didn't go so far as to bring their patients back from the dead. But his father was a gifted sort of man…

"And you've no lasting maladies from your travels? Such that adventuring men might acquire that have a tendency to linger…in the body?" Queen Lavinia raised a brow, her eyes raking momentarily over his figure in subtle suggestion.

Altan cleared his throat, catching her meaning quite clearly. "Never been an issue, your highness."

The queen nodded, satisfied.

"Are you married, Captain?" she asked, her amused smile indicating he'd apparently passed muster.

Altan blinked at the question then decided to smile coyly in reply. "You flatter me, highness, but for your husband's sake…" he whispered in a mock aside.

Queen Lavinia laughed, thoroughly charmed. "Cheeky…"

"Answer the question, young man," King Hector promoted impatiently.

Oh the irony of that address...

He supposed he should be thankful that immortality had seen fit to preserve his youthful visage. Made for less excuses for his seemingly utter lack of self preservation.

He had it. He just happened to employ it less than most. Didn't need to. You die only to still wake up breathing enough times, in enough colorful ways, without fail, well… it opens up a multitude of possibilities, doesn't it?

Still, he did have some sense left and dying again wasn't on his to do list today.

"I am unattached," Altan replied, reigning himself in.

The monarchs shared a glance and a nod.

"Would you like to change that?"

Altan couldn't help but chuckle. "Really, your majesties are full of surprises today!"

"Our daughter, Captain, remains unwed," the king corrected.

Ah, there it was!

"Oooooh, Princess Isabel! Yes, I've heard many tales of her beauty," Altan replied, now playing up the part of the fool.

He had heard several accounts of the princess' purported loveliness. He'd also heard just as many rumors about her reason for remaining unwed. No viable suitors, it seemed, had been brave enough to challenge a fae's curse even for the rewards of a princess's hand in matrimony. A shame. The politics alone of such an arrangement would certainly spice up the history books.

"You'd be offered a generous yearly stipend as part of her dowry, of course, as well as granted a lavish estate by the coast," King Hector continued.

"Which should certainly be suitable to a man of your seafaring affinities. You are a sailor, they say?" Queen Lavinia wondered.

Altan gave her a sheepish shrug. "Of sorts and not of late, your highness."

He'd been retired long enough that The Red Dawn, as he'd been known, was spoken of more as a legend than a first hand encounter these days. He wondered if there were any of his old crew mates left…

"But you still know your way around a good rigging," Queen Lavinia purred.

"Certain skills you never forget."

"We could have your nuptials settled by the end of next month if that is agreeable to you," King Hector cut in, redirecting the conversation back to the current bargain he was attempting to strike.

Altan cleared his throat and turned his attention towards the king.

"Might I ask why I have been selected for such an honor? While I may not be a pauper, your majesties are aware I am not of noble birth?"

Hector had not expected a rebuttal.

"Perhaps not noble in birth, but as we've said you have made a reputation for your nobility in deed and in character. A true man of the people."

"A champion of the people," Queen Lavinia agreed.

In other words, disposable and without risk of political repercussions from neighboring monarchies.

So that was their angle. A scapegoat to work around a curse.

Oh this could be fun…

Altan smiled to himself in what outwardly might be construed as flattery.

But before he committed to playing this game, there was one more piece of information he needed.

"And what does Princess Isabel have to say on this matter? Is she agreeable to this arrangement? Marrying a stranger?"

The king and queen shared a look.

"She will be," King Hector asserted.

Altan raised a brow. "You're certain of that?"

Lavinia spoke with a gentle sigh, "We have been seeking a proper match for our daughter for nearly ten years now. She's our only heir and she is aware of the duties that come with that. A man of your repute, we believe, would make a very suitable match."

"I see…" Altan considered. "Anything else I should know?"

Such as the curse on your daughter assuring the demise of her first bridegroom?

There was a brief moment of hesitation from the monarchs.

"Isabel prefers garden walks to cut flower arrangements. Adores fresh cherries. Not much of a dancer, I'm afraid," Queen Lavinia replied.

Keeping him in the dark then…

Fair enough.

"So what do you say, young man? Care to be a royal son in law?" King Hector pressed, but did his best to sound friendly.

Altan made a show of considering his options.

Admittedly, an estate by the sea did sound nice. He'd been traveling on his own for so long now he'd lost track of the last time he'd called anywhere home. Sure, they were expecting him to die horribly in the course of the deal, but that wasn't anything he wasn't used to. He and death were old friends. And they were planning to pay him handsomely in the meantime. Always a bonus.

But what of his bride…

Altan looked them in the eye, letting them hang on his silence a moment longer.

"Have the details put into writing that I might review them properly at my leisure. And I will need a private audience with the princess to discuss the matter with her personally. Chaperoned if you wish, nothing untoward. Just a friendly conversation. If she is truly in agreement, I see no reason why we shouldn't be in business."

The king and queen looked stunned at his forthrightness.

"We will see it done," King Hector agreed.

"Splendid." Altan grinned broadly. "This has been a lovely surprise. Truly. We'll have to have these sort of chats more often. Really get to know each other. Over some tea next time, yeah?"

He didn't wait for their reply or their dismissal. He didn't need it.

"Wonderful. We'll be in touch."

Donning his hat once more, he strode out the way he came, giving a wink to the bewildered looking harold stationed in the doorway.

#theresa writes stuff #Altan and Isabel #the red dawn chronicles #original fiction #original work #original fantasy #original writer #trying something #please read #writing is hard and feedback helps me feel validated

8 notes · View notes

mlynar-nearl · 1 year

Note

the amount of pulls you just said was insane sorry, did you just say 290 for ling/lee? and 170 for gavalter/pozy? absolutely insane that is some. wow. (can i say anything i hand mhy my wallet like it is free)

ok but yeah i can see like.... why. i mean. i love old man nearl i want him, i want him now so i can finally get started on my nearl family agenda and have to m9/mod3/maxlvl everyone in the nearl family (i love them little lovelies) and i have only done this with nearlter but blemi needs rocks and i hate rocks i hate farming 1-7 with a passion i have literally postponed farming rocks so much i have like 7??? un-e2'ed 6*s just bcs they need rocks (and also bcs they are not meta lol)

ur wallet is terrifying. anyways will u max pot the old man? i feel like u wld tbh but like complete guess.

and yeah most ppl will talk abt honkais story instead since it is pretty good, but i like the gameplay very personally, like... im a sucker for good hack-and-slash games (that i can play on mobile bcs idh a pc oop) that also dont require *that* much brain and honkai has honestly filled up that for me lol. its nice its flashy i press buttons its a win-win

but yeah before that, for the longest time, it was just arknights that stuck with me and its really obvious why bcs its a really good game (even now ofc tho sss pains me in every way possible) and i still do is2 all the time for fun even tho ive maxed out my candle level for weeks alr like hell yeah !!! i love this game!!! i burn out sometimes but i usually get back within one or two events (hence my incomplete guide ahead + the one medal missing from lingering echos + i only completed medal set for tw on the rerun) but yeah i love arknights and sometimes i wish i had more friends to yell abt it !!! watched the concert (the one with phenomenal agents and i was rly sad that i couldnt talk abt it to anyone properly)

ah once again sorry for the length, but i would love to hear what other gacha games you play as well ! personally i am a gacha game only person (my standards are a bit low sometimes) and i dont play much outside of gacha tbh. ah and of course, have a nice day !

i pretty much only pull on limited banners which is why i could put in that many for gavial and pozy without dipping into the wallet that much. ling and lee, on the other hand, THAT shit hurted my money. for my arknights pulls i basically set myself a number of rules that rely on the slight delay between CN and global that let me think out ops in advance and such. essentially, i allow myself one operator release between limited banners to actually invest in, based on how they look, their mechanics, and what i like in a character. so mlynar is my one between gavialter/pozy and omertexas/penance, simple as. GG was a previous "one." so was surtr. unfortunately this system does mean i have to skip characters that i do like- for example, i prio'ed GG over gnosis and fiammetta, who i both really enjoy as characters- because i ruled that GG has the most utility that i can take advantage of in my average playstyle and her global range is just too good at covering for my smallbrain moments. so for that reason, i normally have around 17 ten-pulls saved for each limited banner including the free ones that you get (meaning i average around 175 pulls since i throw in a few singles to make it nice and even.) ling and lee were an exception since mr lee just decided to fight me on it. to this day the only operator released on a limited banner that hasn't come home is irene and that's because i put foresight in myself and reminded myself that gavialter and pozemka would be upcoming in a much shorter gap than between ling/lee and specalter/irene, and i would regret it if i went all in for irene. the primary goal is always the operator who will be impossible to get at any other time of the year. yes i plot these things that far in advance like a general going to war. it's how i Survive . i've been doing it pretty much since i started when the limited to save up for was W.

i don't intend to pull for maxpot on mlynar for this reason. even with him sitting at my all time favorite character in the game, it doesn't fit my standard of pulling. eyes are ahead to omertexas and penance once he's home. though i do have idle plans to use any royal guard tokens i get on him. i would like him to be maxpot someday but given that i generally roll with the broad goal of collecting as many characters as possible, it's incompatible for the moment.

rn i indulge at feh and genshin at the request of my friends who do play them. i do enjoy genshin and it's a fun time killer- it's a shame the fanbase is So. i try not to indulge in gacha games unless they're recommended to me by friends, and arknights was, in fact, a rec when it was fresh enough (i think right after partial necrosis dropped because i had the frostnova lore explained to me as a hook.) i started right at the tail end of nian's banner. most of the vibeo games i play are non-gacha to avoid the hurts to my wallet that mr lee put on it. at least with arknights i can feel like i'm actually paying them for a good game PFSDLGH.....

#ash answers #anonymous #i tend to be of the opinion that a lot of gacha games are exploitative which is why i dont really do them unless recommended #though when i was younger i was very into mobile gaming

2 notes · View notes

jackrrabbit · 3 years

Text

open season thirsts [4/?] /// Iwaizumi x f!Reader (18+)

Request: Omg I love you Bodyguard!Iwaizumi x bratty daughter of a wealthy man? I love this trope because of the tension, brat taming, and dom!iwa

A/N: why do i keep making these drabbles long asf…gotta say though this concept hits 🥵

Tags/warnings: dom/sub, brat taming, power dynamics, teasing, impact play/spanking, coercion? but like barely idk, all characters are adults

did you really think he wasn’t going to notice you leaving?

listen, iwaizumi gets it. you’re a grown woman, it must be difficult to live like a sheltered little girl just because you’re the daughter of a diplomat. but iwa’s not getting paid to listen to your excuses—he’s getting paid to stop you from doing dumb shit like sneaking out at 1AM to see your stuck-up trust-fund friends. and if you were really as mature as you seem to think you are, you’d at least have the decency to look ashamed when he catches you.

“…oops.”

“is that all you have to say for yourself?” iwa’s leaning on the hood of your lexus lfa, holding the keys up for you to see. the car is one of the many many luxury toys your dad’s spoiled you with over the years. if iwa remembers correctly, this one was an 18th birthday present a few years ago, long before he started working for your family. you’ve bought more cars since (always financed on daddy’s centurion amex), but the lexus is your favorite. iwa knew you’d be taking this one out.

“so you caught me. whatever.” you roll your eyes and swipe a lock of salon-perfect hair behind your ear. “what, are you waiting for a medal or something?”

god, you’re irritating. iwa should be at home right now watching the news and microwaving his dinner, but no. he’s in the garage of a mansion that’s worth more than his entire ancestral line has made in their collective lifetimes, babysitting a rich girl who’s too full of herself to understand the meaning of the word rules. “your father made it clear that you need to stay on the property after curfew.”

“what does he think’s going to happen? i went out all the time before he got this stupid job.”

iwa folds his arms over his chest and glares at you. lesser people would flinch, but you don’t seem to care. “the ambassador has received threats, and he’s deemed it an unacceptable risk—“

“oh, come on,” you interrupt. “he’s not here, is he? just let me go, i won’t tell.”

“i have a job to do.” it’s like you’re trying to get on his nerves…come to think of it, you probably are. iwa can’t stand your type. you’re under the impression that you can just bat your eyelashes and flash the ysl wallet you keep daddy’s money in and get whatever you want. but it stops here. “do you remember what your father said he’d do the next time i caught you sneaking out?”

that gets a reaction. you pull back and look directly at iwa. “wait—no, he wouldn’t. dad wouldn’t actually cut me off.”

“i guess we’ll see.” iwa twirls the keys around his finger and the jingling echoes out through the oversized garage.

you blink, take a couple slow steps up to him so you’re almost chest to chest, then delicately lay your hand over his, tracing soft circles on his pulse point with your thumb. “come on, hey. you’re not actually going to tell him, are you?”

and there it is, the coquette act. you have it down to an art. it’s probably worked on every other bodyguard your father’s hired, and iwa wouldn’t blame them—it’s almost working on him too. you know exactly what you’re doing and so does he, but fuck—you look up at him through those thick, pretty lashes, bite your lip, and he tries to swallow but—his mouth feels dry all of a sudden.

“please…would you let me off just this once?” you sigh, sweeter than licorice.

goddamnit. iwa can’t keep himself from skimming over your body, lingering first on your bare legs under the little skirt you’re wearing and then your soft perky tits and then the glossy wet pink of your lips. you look like a model in a magazine ad for clothes he can’t afford. you look too perfect to be real, like jesus no one looks that perfect in real life but somehow you do. your perfume smells like some combination of a swedish spa and—something like honey. fuck. your gel nails are filed into short points that you’re dragging lightly over his palm, trying to reach…

…the key. obviously.

“rules exist for a reason,” iwa says in monotone, pulling the key away from you. “go back to bed. i’m going to talk to your father in the morning.”

a quick look of frustration passes over your features, and then you smooth it down and slip back into your seduction attempt, this time playing with the sleeve of his jacket. “oh, please. i’m sure there’s something i can do to convince you. don’t you want to help me out?”

do you have any idea what you’re saying?

because sure, iwa hates your type. spoiled little rich girl. if you were anyone else, he’d shut it down right here, go tell your father as promised, force you to hate him. but for some reason that doesn’t feel like the right move with you…

you’re really not that bad. you talk to him like a person most of the time, and you aren’t quite as air-headed as the brats he usually has to keep track of. you just need to get it into your head that when you misbehave, your actions are going to have consequences.

like, see, when you told iwa just now that you’d like to do something to convince him to go easy on you—when you tipped your head to the side like that and put your hand on his shoulder to stroke his bicep—he knows you weren’t thinking of the follow-through. you’re expecting him to be so thrown that he just caves, gives you your key, and keeps his mouth shut. you’re not actually thinking he’ll take you up on your offer.

“maybe there is something,” iwa hears himself saying. “if you really don’t want your father to know…it looks like i’ll have to teach you a lesson instead.”

for a second you think you heard him wrong. no way. iwaizumi didn’t—your bodyguard didn’t just insinuate—what? you run through a few alternatives in your head but nothing seems to make sense, so you figure he’s joking. only when you shift your weight to your other foot (damn it, these heels were not made to actually be stood in) and pause for him to crack a smile and take it back, he doesn’t. the disapproving look on his face stays firm.

so you laugh, all cold and haughty so he knows you’re pissed. “you’re kidding.”

“bend over,” iwa tells you in the same tone of voice he always uses when he orders you around.

your jaw drops. “oh my god—who the hell do you think you are?”

“bend over the hood right now, or get cut off. your choice,” he says flatly.

and maybe it’s because you still don’t quite believe that he’ll actually do anything, but you decide to go ahead and play the game of chicken until he caves. iwa’s been working for your dad for almost a year now, and you’ve never seen him lose that ultra-professional bodyguard aura. sure, you’ll bend over, but it’s not like he’ll actually touch you.

“fine,” you say, flipping your hair over your shoulder and carefully setting your bag down on the lexus’s roof. you shoot iwa a look—hey idiot, i’m playing along, how do you like that?—and then primly fold forward over the hood with your ass in the air. today was not a good day to wear the wool miniskirt that’s currently riding way up over your hips—iwa must have an excellent view of the thong you’re wearing stretched tight over your mound.

which he does.

and honestly, it’s affecting his judgement a little.

you adjust your position a little bit and it makes you wiggle. iwa looks at the playboy-quality upskirt shot in front of him and thinks that the only possible thing that could make your ass look better right now would be if his hand was on it. “did you ever get spanked when you were young?”

“corporal punishment? that’s barbaric,” you scoff.

“hm…it’s about time someone actually disciplined you.” no turning back now. iwa strokes a hand over the soft skin of your ass cheek and sees your muscles twitch in response. “unless you want your father to know you tried to sneak out again.”

there’s your out, but you’re not taking it. what can you say? part of you wants to see your straight-laced bodyguard actually do something naughty for once. besides… you look back at him standing behind you and see he shed his jacket to reveal the tight white undershirt he was wearing underneath, the tanned skin of his neck, the veins roping down his forearms.

so he’s actually stupid hot. go figure.

“whatever. are you going to spank me or not?” you ask him, doing your best to keep the anticipation out of your voice.

fuuuuck. iwa has to grit his teeth, close his eyes for a second. “we’ll start with ten. keep quiet, or i’ll start over,” he says, and then without waiting for your reaction, he raises a hand and gives your ass a nice firm slap. it’s nowhere near what he’d consider hard, but he still hears the muffled squeak of shock coming out of your mouth. you turn back to him, eyes burning, obviously ready to chew him out, but a second later you think better of it and hold your tongue.

good girl, iwaizumi thinks. you’re learning. “that’s one.”

#iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #iwaizumi hajime x reader #hq x reader #hq imagines #jackrrabbit open season #iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu #hq #haikyuu!!#hq!!#iwa x reader #hq!! x reader #hq!! imagines #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! imagines

595 notes · View notes

45percenterthen · 3 years

Text

Belated bday fic for bearer of cursed fruit facts @seraphlm and thee plant dad cas truther @cactuscas !! Love u guys v much, happy bday <3 (ao3 link here)

“Fuck’s a horoscope again? It’s like, stars and shit, right?”

He bumps Cas’ elbow, who’s squinting at one of his fern-looking-things like he’s experimenting with horticultural telepathy. The saga of the fern-thing has been turbulent, to say the least. It’s wilting a bit, leaves curling in on themselves like tiny fists. Cas has spent the past few days carting it from one window ledge to another, muttering to himself about humidity levels with a familiar air of irritated devotion. Dean reckons the whole underground bunker situation probably isn’t helping. It’s well travelled, though, for a plant. Dean thinks it should be more grateful.

Cas nods, releasing a leaf with a sigh and sitting down next to Jack. “Indeed. Stars and shit.”

Jack’s engrossed in some magazine, finger tracing the words as he reads. Cas reaches for the edge of the page to hold it taut for him, and Dean can practically see his other hand itching for his phone. Diagnosis time for the fern-thing. Dean’s never seen a favorites bar so wholly taken up by gardening websites. Dean’s pretty sure the definition of true love is pausing Die Hard to read an article about potting soil drainage.

“Do you want to hear yours, Dean? It’s for this week.”

“Sure, kiddo.” To be honest, Dean thinks the concept of fate can very much, actually, go fuck itself. Jack looks delighted though, so he keeps it to himself. He stirs a bit of extra butter into the eggs because that’s the way Jack likes them, dutifully not looking at Cas to avoid a depressing conversation about his cholesterol levels.

“Oh! It says you’re lucky this week, Dean!”

“Awesome, bud! Time to stock up on the scratch cards, eh?”

Sam chooses that moment to come lumbering in. The state of his hair suggests a sleepless night, or that a recent localized hurricane that targeted his bedroom only.

“Hi Sam! We’re reading horoscopes. Dean’s an Aquarius.”

“Oh, cool.” Eileen had been delayed on a salt and burn with some of the new-hunter-network people. Sam looks suitably mopey about it, forlorn housewife that he is. “Mercury’s in marmalade, and all that.”

“Aquarius is ruled by Uranus,” Jack continues, and Sam instantly chokes. On air, apparently. Bastard.

“One more time, Jack? Dean’s ruled by his –”

“You’re a child, Samantha.” Dean looks around for the nearest something-painful-not-fatal to throw at him. Plant’s a no. Instant divorce. He glances at the eggs, but decides he doesn’t want to spend his morning getting egg yolk outta the tile grouting.

“Dude, oh my – I should’ve just checked your horoscope,” Sam walks over to the fridge, catching the Mary Berry’s Baking Bible that Jody sent them for Christmas in mid-air. “Would’ve saved us a talk.”

“Eat your pineapple and shut up, man.”

“Did you know that pineapples are technically berries?” Jack says. Dean wonders if Cas introduced him to WebMD-for-plants. Or maybe this is just a side effect of being The New God on the block. Berry omniscience. “Well. The outside bit is. Bananas are berries too.”

“That’s weird,” Sam closes the fridge door. Stares into his bowl like he’s offended. Dean’s offended Sam eats nothing but fruit in the morning. “After the heaven rebuild. You should, like, fix berries.”

Jack turns to Cas solemnly. “Should I fix berries?”

“Perhaps you should concentrate on heaven, first. Then we can see about berries.”

“I don’t want to ruin the fabric of our established universe,” Jack says, and Dean’s struck, once again, with the sudden realisation that he’s making eggs for the most powerful entity in Creation. Mondays, man.

“I don’t think Chuck had any such purity of intent in mind,” Cas says darkly, pouring more milk into God’s glass for strong bones and teeth, and yeah, Dean’s pretty keen to steer Cas away from that particular line of conversation.

“Hey, what’s Cas’ horo-whatever?” He takes the eggs off the heat and walks over to the table, leaning over to see what the hell magazine this is, actually. Looks Rowena-y. Is the Queen of Hell sending his son-God care packages? That’s one way to establish diplomatic relations.

He rests his hands on Cas’ shoulders, stroking his thumbs at the neckline of his t-shirt when he feels tension. He decides against pressing a kiss to Cas’s hair. Just ‘cause he’s with a dude now, doesn’t mean he’s gonna be all gay about it. Cas’ left hand comes up to cover his own. Their rings clink.

“Cas doesn’t have a birthday, though.” Jack frowns at the page slightly, apparently looking for the section on fallen angel anomalies.

“Then we’ll have to pick one –” Dean starts, just as Cas says, “September eighteenth.”

Cas tips his head back against Dean’s chest, peers up at him. He’s got dried toothpaste at the corner of his mouth. Dean grins stupidly at his upside-down face. “September eighteenth, yeah.” Something swoops in his chest. Cas is earnest, and it’s unbearable. He loves at full volume, and Dean’s as grateful as he is undeserving. He squeezes Cas’ shoulder. Tradition, and all that.

Jack taps the page. “It says you’re a Virgo, Cas!”

They’re still staring at each other as Jack starts reading aloud. Dean brushes hair off Cas’ forehead and thinks, for once, he’s landed himself the permanent kind of happy. Dean’s pretty sure he’s loved him for years and years, quietly, achingly.

There’s the sound of cutlery against ceramic, and Dean looks up to check Sammy’s not weeping into his fruit bowl out of sheer girlish pride or whatever. He’d made it six words into his best man speech before the waterworks. Dean’s never letting him live it down.

⁂

“So,” Dean says later, after Sam’s gone to collect Eileen from town, and Jack’s off on heavenly refurb duty. “My lucky week, huh?”

Dean circles his arms round Cas’ midriff. Lets his chin rest on his shoulder, because he can, and also to check Cas isn’t half-assing the washing up.

“Apparently so.”

Dean hums. It’s funny. They’re married. And yet moments like these, the big ones, still manage to make him a bit nervous. It’s stupid. He’s hardly gonna say no. But Dean supposes they’ve never managed to get anything in the right order. Two deathbed confessions amidst a decade of friendship. An ‘I love you too’ echoing off brick in an empty room. Two kids co-parented before they even kissed, and they were already living together when they started dating. Someone get Nicholas Sparks on the phone.

“Perfect week to put an offer down on a house then, right? That one on the lake?”

Cas drops a fork into the bubbles. He turns his head to reply and Dean takes it as an opportunity to kiss what’s within reach. The smile lines around his eye, his temple greying with the proof that Cas loves him. He’s all in. Dean is too, terrifyingly.

“Really?”

“Yeah, dude.” Dean nods at the fern guy. “Your plants would appreciate the sunlight, right? And there’s a room for Jack.”

Cas spins in his arms, leaning against the sink to look Dean in the eye. Dean grabs at his soapy palm, intertwining their fingers, confident in his sappiness when no one’s watching.

“I know I always say Sammy didn’t make the most of his college experience, but dorming in my forties isn’t exactly what I meant –”

“You’ll miss him, though.”

“Of course, man. Lived with Sam my whole life. But,” Dean relinquishes the hand to cup Cas’ face, “I kinda wanna do my own thing now. With you. So, move in with me, Mr. Winchester? Somewhere… overground?”

It’s so off-your-feet sweepingly romantic Dean feels like he deserves a medal. Maybe this is their karmic justice after the proposal debacle.

Cas is smiling at him, soft and sweet. “Okay, Dean.” He puts wet hands around his waist and Dean doesn’t even care that it’s seeping through his t-shirt. “Lake house it is.”

Dean leans in, kisses him three times in response. He lingers on the last one, smiling against Cas’ mouth. Cas knows what he means.

#destiel #deancas #destiel fic #zoesarahbday #deancas fic #bro I will shoehorn zoe’s cursed pineapple knowledge into this fic if it kills me #my writing

280 notes · View notes

blazesurrender · 3 years

Note

Hello! New follower but hoping to request Echo/Fives for a drabble? 💙

Welcome! I’m not sure what you wanted about them so I wrote something mildly angsty and very soft! It got long, much more than a drabble, and I accidentally briefly created an OC to fill space, I’m sorry!

For some, it only takes a moment to fall in love. Echo has loved Fives since before he can remember. Since before he was decanted, probably. Since the early days when all they had were each other’s numbers, he’d loved Fives.

The first happiest day of his life comes when he realizes Fives loves him back. The day that they fail their test and Fives hesitantly comes to him to ask if they can try to be placed together elsewhere. Despite the lingering hurt at Fives adopting that damned nickname for him, Echo (though he hates it less out of Fives’s mouth).

Learning that their squad would have a second chance gives them both the motivation they need to give their squad their devotion, at lea at long enough to successfully complete the trial despite Trainer Bric’s interference. Echo and Fives meet each other’s eyes and they realize that they both know what they mean to each other.

When Fives doesn’t join them at the transport time Rishi—doesn’t even say goodbye—Echo wonders what he did wrong. They both know that being split up means they might not see each other again, and Fives’s refusal to see them (to see him) off stings worse than any punishment by their trainers.

The relief that floods Echo when Fives eventually joins them on Rishi seeps through the whole squad, meaning that it takes days for them to actually get a few moments alone without Cutup or Hevy hurling themselves at Fives for a tussle.

When they finally have an hour alone together, the tension thickens. All the hurt Echo had ever felt bubbles up, twisting his joy and relief into something more passionate when he meets familiar brown eyes mirroring the love he feels.

“You didn’t even say goodbye.” He manages to choke out, and then Fives’s arms envelop him in such warmth and safety that he feels he could break and still be held together as long as he’s in this embrace.

Then all hell breaks loose and they lose DB. Then their Sargent. Then Cutup gets taken by the eel after disparaging their existence. And ultimately they lose Hevy as well, the unelected unanimously appreciated leader of their squad. Five dominos, down to two.

The next several days blur together, medals and ceremonies and a new squad, comprised of vode in similar positions from shattered squads of their own. Onyx, the only surviving member of Bravo Squad, usually watches them with guarded curiosity, though he generally keeps to himself when they’re around.

When Fives asks if he can kiss Echo, the reply is lost in the nonexistent space between their lips, chasing each other’s breath. The laugh that leaves Echo’s lungs lets Fives fly on giddiness, and they fall into bed together, wrapped up in each other, at peace as much as two clones can be.

#clonecest #arc trooper fives #arc trooper echo #echo x fives #echo5 #Onyx Clone OC #clone oc #clone OC only mentioned

67 notes · View notes

laurore-stormwitch · 3 years

Text

So this was supposed to be a birthday gift for my friend @not-just-human, but of course I am a day late (ily). This is to remember the major week-long breakdown we had when we first read about this. I am so so happy that I met you. Enjoy this endless yearning and pining about Nikolai giving Zoya the dragon timepiece

I’d give us time if I could - ao3

word count: 2282

“Do you intend to keep prying into my work from the corner or are you planning to make yourself useful at some point?”

Zoya kept her eyes trained on the document she was scanning as she talked, having finally had enough of the intent gaze that had been studying her. Behind her back, she heard Nikolai chuckle lightly, the sound echoing in her veins.

“I’ve been here a while. I am surprised you haven’t heard me.” Of course he had, and she had let him. His silent presence was far from unpleasant, though; it brought a sense of security to the room that she had wanted to enjoy for a while. Maybe it was the silent part that was shocking enough to not startle him from his rare lack of talking. “Are you perhaps losing the usual sharpness of your senses, General?”

It was not a matter of hearing; Zoya felt him, always, everywhere. She just knew, in some deep buried part of her, when he was there; he awoke something in her, quickened her pulse, muffled her thoughts. It could have been a consequence of her newly acquired powers, or that unbreakable connection that had seemed to have been forged between them. Either way, she had deliberately chosen not to dwell on the answer. Zoya discarded her pen and shuffled the papers away, turning on her seat to face him.

“What do you need?”

Nikolai was leaning on the doorframe of her bedchamber, his figure stark against the flickering of the fire. He folded his arms, cocking his head and producing his signature mischievous grin in her direction. She really wished he would lose the habit of appearing in her room late at night; even more, she wished he could avoid doing so with his hair ruffled and the top buttons of his shirt undone.

Or maybe you just wish he would stay and let you fix those buttons, her traitorous brain provided. If only to oppose those thoughts, she scowled at him, shooting an annoyed glare at his lack of response that only made him grin wider. He pushed back from the frame, walking towards her and coming to lean on her desk beside her instead, peering at her from the upside down. Zoya tensed up, unnerved by his excessive proximity and the salty scent of his skin invading her nose. His gaze wandered around the room, lingering on the two-stars flagged ship on the wall before coming to lock with her eyes.

“I’ve come to check on my General”, he mused. “Can a king not oversee his most trusted ally’s work?”

His voice had a strained edge and he kept fidgeting with the cuffs of his jacket. He looked almost nervous. Which was not preamble to anything positive. Zoya suppressed a groan, going for another baleful glare. “Cut to the chase, Nikolai”, she clipped out.

He just looked at her, seemingly at a loss for words, which was even more worrying. His eyes darkened, the shadow of something passing over them, something treacherous, the promise of an undoing. It had peered in vulnerable flutters in these weeks, carrying sparkles of electricity between them.

They had not talked much about what had happened in the Fold, aside from the detail of their worst enemy coming back to life; Zoya carefully avoided the subject of whatever it was that they had shared, whatever it was that made her heart ache whenever he entered a room. It drove him to search for her, to ask for her company, for her presence. It lingered in the swift gazes they exchanged or the casual brush of his hands on her. Either way, it had to remain shrouded in darkness; these moments he seemed to look for made the task to toss the desire away tiresome, if not at peril to be forsaken. She heard him discreetly take in a long breath before talking, the forced cheerful tone masking a tension she could sense enveloping the room.

“I have something for you”, he finally said. “Then I’ll leave you be.”

The force of his feelings was a tidal wave of confusion that threatened to drown her; Zoya used all of her might when he was near to put a blockade against them. It was one thing to be forced to experience other people's troubled sentiments, but with Nikolai, she did not want to know. She did not want to bask in whatever inner battle was waging inside him; it would not help either of them to hold the knowledge that their hearts were being tortured by the same hopeless war.

Zoya struggled to keep her focus and control over her power; her perfectly still posture unveiled nothing of the turmoil in her chest. She arched a brow at him; losing no more time in chatters - another clear enough indicator of his nervousness - Nikolai reached inside his jacket and delicately handed her a fine case with his royal seal branded on top. Zoya turned it over, resting her folded hands with it on her lap and coming back to fix her eyes on Nikolai’s ones with a silent question.

“It’s a - “, he started, straightening himself and wrapping his hands on the edge of the desk. He cleared his throat and shuffled on his feet, his restlessness betraying more than he let on. “It’s a gift, sort of. I thought you deserved a reward. A token of appreciation.”

“For what?”, Zoya inquired, half suspicious and half startled by his gesture. Again, those shadows swept through his features and his fingers twitched.

“For fighting beside me, I guess”, he said easily, shrugging his shoulders. “And saving our pitiful lives.”

“I do it on a daily basis”, Zoya diminished, tossing her hair. “You constantly put yourself in life-threatening situations. It hardly shocks me anymore, and I certainly don’t consider it a cause for celebration.”

Nikolai smiled at that, his genuine smirk recalling the familiar ease between them and clearing the strain from the air. Of course I saved you, you idiot , Zoya thought, and she knew her blue eyes had softened at the sight of him. I could not bear to lose you. “Undoubtedly”, he conceded, humming in agreement. “Think of it as a reminder of our heroic gestures and epic adventures. I spared you the torture of hearing me proclaim a poem to our valor and chose a symbolic practical gift instead.”

Zoya rolled her eyes, blowing a disgruntled scoff. “I would have not let you come as far as a sentence. Do not ever try to pull that poetry nonsense on me.”

A laugh burst from him, and the sound made her feel so light she thought she could float. “Just - “, he paused again, the words faltering on his tongue. Saints, what had gotten into him? He looked more like an excited schoolboy than a king. “Open it later. If it’s awful, at least I can be spared your disgusted face at my ghastly taste.”

“Your taste does lack finesse.”

“I like to pride myself with having gotten to know a fraction of your likings in these years. So perhaps I did not go completely off track with that”, he said, gesturing to the case still resting in her hands. He pushed himself up, running a hand through his hair. The king looked at her again, and she could see the words forming in his throat and dying on his lips, all the things he wished he could tell her. But that was not their truth to live. That was not their chance to gain. And whatever he would say, it had to not be what he desired. “Besides, it’s a useful gift. You always grumble about how late I am, now you could actually prove it.”

Zoya pursed her lips at the wink he gave her. “I do not grumble.”

"Occasionally. You’re extremely graceful in that too, don’t worry.”

With that, he turned to leave, as nonsensical and abrupt as he always needed to be. And Saints, she wanted to grab his arm and tell him to stay. She wanted so many futures she could not have, so many endings to this night that were forbidden.

“Nikolai”, she heard herself call to him, not sure where her own voice was coming from. Nikolai stopped dead in his tracks, his gaze darting back to Zoya still seated unmoving on her desk. His fingers were already curled around the handle; there they stood, facing each other at the brink of a duel or a surrender, at the crossroad where they kept finding and losing themselves. It would take a step, a touch, a slide of a tongue on lips. A syllable, a breath. Instead, there was silence, one that asked to be filled with mendacity, for it would be softer to tolerate than the blazing truth of an ember of hope that had already gotten extinguished. Zoya swallowed the bitter taste of pretense; she wondered how long it would keep scraping, if older pain got sweeter like a priced bourbon or turned rancid if left there to rot.

Thank you , she wished to tell him at least. A small thing it would be, yet one that would risk freeing a flood. “Close the door on your way out”, she said instead, her voice cold but lacking spite. “It’s late.”

Nikolai stood; she had chosen the path, and he knew he had to give in. It was not like they had another choice. And so he just nodded, the ghost of a smile grazing his lips because whether she spoke it aloud or not, he would always know. “Goodnight, General”, he murmured, taking his leave.

It would take her some time to get up from her seat and will herself to rest. Zoya remembered when they had found themselves in a similar position; it was three years ago, and in the box he had given her had rested the medal that had made her his General. He had been as jittery as tonight, with that grin that had never changed. Back then, the dance between them had been different, though the exchange of playful banters and silent truths had been the same.

It would then take her some other time to bring herself to open the case, and when she did, a part of her died while another came roaring to life. She could have wondered and wondered forever what it meant; if it was a promise, a farewell or a desperate plead to wait, to cling to his endless bright capability of finding a way when a way was not possible. Zoya would not try to sort out its meaning. She laid on her covers with the watch beside her, turning it in her hands as it caught the moonlight shining through the windows. When sleep came to claim her, she left it on her nightstand, focusing on its mellow ticking, a sliver of order to the chaos.

Coward , growled the beast inside her, trashing to be set free. Would you let him leave every time, until he comes back no more?

She thought back on the way she almost pleaded his name, on those seconds that stood suspended in time, when none of them had moved. She could have let go of her defenses; but then what? Why had she not said whatever was pressing in her lungs? Zoya had almost grown accustomed to those troubling doubts; she had every answer to them.

Why? Because they could not afford the tears that burned like daggers in her throat. Because they could not afford the longing that flared up the golden freckles of his irises. What would have happened if she had asked? She would have shut her lashes, and he would have reached for her, and the things that could not be would have weighed impossibly on them. The things that could not happen, in any of the lives they might be free to live.

The watch kept ticking. The dragon kept roaring, and the thorn wood kept strangling her heart, puncturing her skin.

They would keep marching. And the things that could not be would stay hidden in the silence and the rhythmic beat of a pointer slashing whatever time they had left. If she was someone else, Zoya might have hoped they could have it, not just symbolically, the gift of time. That those seconds that dripped away were not passing, that it was time they were earning. Wishful thinking and broken ideals lead nowhere, as a general knew. And she was not someone else, if not a soldier.

Nevertheless, when morning came, the timepiece rested on her nightstand, still ticking away. Zoya glanced at it as she got dressed; she brushed her hair, buttoned her kefta and put her boots on. And it kept ticking away, mercilessly calling to her.

And so she huffed in irritated surrender, and snatched it up and clasped it on the insides of her uniform. An instant relief flooded her; it matched her pulse, soothing her thoughts. She gave a tug to the kefta , smoothing its ruffled folds. She knew Nikolai would notice she was wearing it, at some point; for once, she could not bring herself to care that he was going to have this victory. Let him have it; and let her have something of him to hold.

That boy is going to be the death of me , she thought sourly, peering at herself in the mirror. A whisper arose from within, the careening thrum of her heart suggesting a different story, flashing the blank page of another chapter she could start writing, if she would only be brave enough.

What if he will be life?

#zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #zoyalai #zoya and nikolai #grishaverse #fan fiction #rule of wolves #nikolai duology #king of scars #yearning #pining #basically just that #nothing else #the dragon timepiece #we literally lost our minds over that #pre rule of wolves #love #as usual just them #really 2k of pointless yearning wow that was useless

69 notes · View notes

a-dorin · 3 years

Text

innocence

pairing: plo koon x femmale jedi!reader

word count: 1.815k (oops, got a little carried away)

warnings: alcohol consumption, teasing, allusions to sex, use of pet names, smut elements, nc-17

prompt: “don’t look at me like that and then feign innocence.”

“are you ready for tonight?”

aayla is practically glowing as you shift, eyes falling on her. a sleek, silk, inky black dress hugs her curves, a slit resting barely above the junction where her hip and thigh meet. a silver headdress glitters on her forehead and crest, trailing down her lekku. her plush lips are tinted a crimson hue, glossy and enticing as they curve into an admirable grin.

“well, don’t you look absolutely gorgeous.”

“i could say the same thing about you,” a giggle bubbles up as fingers smooth out a wrinkle on your own gown, “bly is going to have a heart attack when he sees you.”

she scoffs, “oh, this is nothing. the man’s seen every inch of me. did you ever find a date for the gala?”

“no,” you exhale, “i’ll be going solo.”

“i can assure you the moment you walk into that ballroom,” aayla crosses over to you, placing a consoling hand on your shoulder, “all sorts of men, clones and jedi alike, are going to be fighting tooth and nail for one dance with you.”

“i doubt that,” you snort, fiddling with a ring, “with my luck, i’ll be stuck with ki-adi-mundi for the evening.”

“he has five wives to worry about,” aayla chuckles warmly, “he doesn’t need a sixth.”

stifling a laugh, you fluff your hair, beaming at aayla’s work. it was a painstaking hour sitting still, but nonetheless, the end result was near perfect, not a single strand out of place. your own gown was flattering yet alluring, a simple black piece with an off the shoulder neckline. sleeves cling to your arms, a soft, satin-like fabric.

wrinkling your nose, you wriggle your hips, in a vain attempt to alleviate the tightness around the small of your back, dipping to the curve of your butt. there was a slit on the right side, just tapering off about mid thigh, but it wasn’t enough to create any sort of wriggle room.

which, aayla reassured you wasn’t an issue.

“you look fine,” you flinch as aayla’s firm tone floods you left ear, “the longer you stare into that mirror, the more you’re going to nitpick. if we don’t leave now, bly is going to get restless.”

“i’ll have to thank him for at least escorting me in,” you murmur, adjusting your dress for what felt like the fourteenth time in the last five minutes, “we should leave before i decide to stay in for the night.”

aayla flashes you a bright grin, “atta girl.”

departing from your quarters, the two of you make your way down the long corridor, taking a left at the end. in seconds, bly comes into view, shifting on his feet, glancing at the commlink strapped to his wrist.

bly is dressed in a luxurious suit, the color a snowy, bright white. his shoes were a leather of some sort, matching with the suit. however, the shoulder cuffs were an intense gold, gleaming under the dim light of the jedi temple. regalia and medals were pinned to his chest, displaying his battalion, rank, as well as other accomplishments.

in your peripheral, you could sense the admiration enveloping her features, how she was stunned by his appearance.

“hey loverboy,” aayla calls, “we’re right here.”

bly’s head swivels, his demeanor completely changing the second his eyes met with aayla’s, “well good evening to you too, love.”

aayla wraps her arm around his elbow, taking a moment to pick a curl off his crisp white uniform, “you look handsome, as always.”

“and you look radiant,” he leans over, pressing a light kiss to her temple, “i’ll have to keep my eye on that cheeky nautolan.”

“cheeky nautolan?” you echo, arching a brow.

aayla rolls her eyes, waving a hand, “oh, he’s referring to kit. he’s not a fan.”

bly’s jaw clenches, “and he’s not a fan of me either.”

“well you have no need to worry, commander,” aayla purrs, “i’ll be on your arm all night.”

“speaking of that,” bly remarks, jutting out his elbow, “if i recall, i have to escort you in, as well, general.”

“you don’t have to call me that,” you loop your arm through his, “let’s just skip the formalities for the night.”

“sounds like a plan to me,” bly nods, “i’m going to get wasted.”

“and have me take care of you again?” aayla teases, the click of her heels echoing through the corridor, “no thank you.”

“oh my love,” bly nudges his lover, “you’re always love taking care of me.”

“is our shuttle ready?” aayla queries, “i’m hoping it’s not a long way there.”

“it’s just at the senate building,” bly responds, gazing out the doors of the temple, “and if i’m correct, our chariot is waiting.”

“well, what are we waiting for?” aayla cocks her head.

“i was waiting for you,” bly opens the door, motioning his head towards the shuttle parked outside.

“after you, ladies.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

swirling a spoon in your drink, you suck in a sharp breath as a classical ballad begins to play, the sweet notes mixing effortlessly with the sound of laughter. there’s a calm, relaxed aura in the air as clone troopers, generals, commanders, senators, and jedi mill about, sharing tales of battle to the current political debates.

your drink is half-consumed, a refined corellian wine. the notes linger on your tongue, intertwining with the sharp taste of mint. you were crunching on the mints provided with the meal, head resting on your hand as you stare at the dance floor wistfully, aching for just one dance.

“why the long face, little dove?”

a rumble to your left startles you, eyes flickering over to a familiar face.

a kel dor hovers around your seat, talons tucked neatly into his clasped hands. his wardrobe for the night was a black suit, burgundy slash splayed across his chest. medals twinkle, silver and gold alike.

“oh,” you straighten your spine, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “just -- um, watching everyone.”

“are you watching everyone else or wishing to be like everyone else?” there’s a hint of a tease buried in his inquiry, “you’ve been sitting over here all night. i’m surprised kit has not asked you to dance, nor obi-wan. you’ve been a hot topic tonight at the bachelor’s table.”

“bachelor’s table,” you can’t help but feel the corners of your lips twitch into a meek smile, “was i really a topic of discussion tonight, plo?”

“indeed,” he hips his head. your eyes gravitate to his hand as it stretches out, palm up, “it would be an honor to dance with the most gorgeous woman in the room.”

“plo,” your eyes widen, “surely you did not--”

“did i stutter? dance with me, little dove.”

the moment your hand falls into his, he’s sweeping you away, bringing you out to the dance floor. a tender hand wraps around your waist, the other hand lacing with yours. carefully, you follow his lead, ensuring you don’t trip over his feet.

“don’t be so nervous,” plo’s voice is soft, “no one is paying attention to us, little dove. it’s just you and i.”

taking in a deep breath, you glance around, clinging onto the kel dor, “did you really want to dance with me or do you just pity me?”

heat flourishes through your cheeks, spreading to your neck as talons dig into your hip, “well, i wasn’t going to just let anyone have the first dance with you.”

“i’m surprised i was a topic of discussion at the bachelor’s table,” your heart flutters as he raises his arm, spinning you around, “i never knew i had that kind of power--”

“you do, little dove,” plo brings you in once again, in closer proximity than before, “and you don’t know the kind of power you hold over me.”

“o-over you?”

there’s a beat of silence as the song falters, the orchestra ceasing as they prepare for the next song. plo’s gaze locks with yours, and although you can’t distinguish the emotion behind it, you can sense the intensity, the pull, urging you to lean in. you lick your lips, blood roaring in your ears as the flipping of pages transition into a new melody.

“the things i want to do to you in that dress are utterly sinful.”

“do you care to elaborate?” your mind is reeling now as his hand drifts towards the small of your back, tugging on the fabric ever so slightly.

plo’s head extends, modulator just outside the crest of your earlobe. there’s a quiet huff, followed by the richness of his voice.

“i want to rip that little dress off of you, and make you mine.”

your lashes tickle your cheeks as you squeeze your eyes shut, “i-i -- plo, please--”

“oh little dove, how i would love to just hear you whimper my name.”

a shiver rolls down your spine as your knees buckle, the statement going directly to your core. plo purrs as you practically fall into his chest, skin hot to the touch with desire, “plo.”

“yes?”

“c-can we um--”

“there is nothing that i would love more.”

wrapping an arm around your waist, plo leads you away from the dance floor, deflecting the whistles and shouts of kit, wolffe, sinker, and comet. the hall adjacent to the ballroom is empty, not a single soul around. there’s not another word from plo as he strolls down, seeking out a storage closet.

tampering with the lock, he uses a talon, along with the force to pry it open. you slip in, followed by the kel dor. darkness floods your vision, yet you can feel his chest pressed against yours, a smooth surface cooling your back.

“may i remind you of something, my sweet girl?”

you nod, feeling his forehead brush against yours, choking back a whine as fingers curl around your breast, “y-yes plo?”

“don’t look at me like that and then feign innocence, as i will not hesitate to strip all of that away in a matter of minutes. are we understood?”

“y-yes,” you breathe, nearly crumpling to your knees as a talon drags lightly across your inner thigh, nearing your slick folds. you were practically dripping now, the rush of exhilaration pumping through your veins.

you could get caught at any moment.

and it was clear that plo did not have any hesitations about taking you here, right here in this storage closet, where there were hundreds of people gathered not too far away.

“no underwear?” the inquiry is edged with a growl as the pad of his calloused thumb circles your clit, “you’re soaking wet, sweet girl.”

his touch sends euphoria rippling through your being, and you find yourself craving more.

“plo,” his name drips like honey, “stars, plo, touch me.”

“oh, i’ll touch you, my little dove. as long as you can keep quiet, i’ll give you anything you desire.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

taglist: @fandom-gal44 @dexthtoyounglings @xcertaindarkthingsx @idiotonanadventure @pinkwhorecrux @letitrainathousandflames @maiaofmischief @laorme34 @vinciwolf @justalittlecloud @marina-isabella @queenofheavenandhell @always-on-tatooine

#plo koon #plo #star wars #plo koon x reader #the clone wars #tcw #plo x reader #star wars x reader #plo koon smut

298 notes · View notes

firemedicdiaz · 3 years

Text

When Everything is Gone (I’ll Be What You Want)

Fandom: 9-1-1. Prompt: missing scene for @buddiebingo. Pairing: None - mentions of Eddie x Ana, lots of mutual pining, Buddie feelings realization. Word Count: 2800. Genre: fluff. Rating: teen+. Summary: In the wake of the shooting, Eddie and Buck grapple with some big feelings, though it appears that they're the only two who can't make out just what those feelings mean. Note: Beta’d by @dearestdiaz and @fireladybuckley - thank you both for your tireless cheerleading, encouragement, and suggestions. Without the two of you, this fic never would have seen the light of day. Title from “Astronauts” by Rachel Platten. Gif by @fireladybuckley.

Read it on AO3.

Buck drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel in his Jeep as he sat outside Eddie’s house, glancing at his watch every few seconds as if keeping constant tabs on the time would help it go by faster. It was early and he didn’t want to intrude in case Eddie was still sleeping, especially since Pepa had taken Christopher with her after the previous evening’s festivities so that Eddie could have a little bit of time to recuperate without having to ready the boy for school. Buck knew Eddie was an early riser by nature, but he was also acutely aware of how enticing sleep was on high doses of painkillers and the last thing he wanted was to bother Eddie too early.

He needed to see him, though. He had lingered close to Eddie the night before, hugging the other man for just a beat longer than the others had. He’d needed the reassurance that Eddie wasn’t just alive, but that he was okay. Buck had been there when Eddie had been discharged, he knew that Eddie’s shoulder would mend, he would regain his range of motion, but no one had said anything about the trauma. Buck had only witnessed the shooting and he could barely close his eyes without being catapulted into a panic attack. He couldn’t begin to imagine how Eddie wasn’t more perturbed, and by staying close Buck hoped he could be there to support him if - when - he broke down.

Unable to wait any longer, Buck pulled his keys from the ignition and hopped out of the Jeep, jogging up the sidewalk to Eddie’s front door. He raised his hand to ring the doorbell, but stopped just shy of making contact. Still not wanting to wake Eddie, Buck changed his mind and reached for his keys instead, easily locating the one for Eddie’s front door. He slid it into the lock and turned it slowly as though even the quiet click of the bolt sliding open might wake the other man.

Stepping into the house, Buck craned his neck and listened for any noise. He couldn’t hear any snoring, but that didn’t mean Eddie wasn’t asleep. Creeping in further, he closed the door in his wake and slowly walked through the house, making his way through the living room and toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms.

“Ouch!”

Buck frowned as Eddie’s pained cry reached his ears. He paused at the end of the hallway, slipping the keys in his hand into his pocket as he strained to listen more closely. He could see shadows being thrown from inside the bathroom and he realized belatedly that Eddie wasn’t alone. Cursing himself for not calling ahead, Buck hovered, unsure of what to do.

“I’m sorry, I’m terrible at this.”

He was surprised to hear Ana’s voice, though he supposed he shouldn’t have been. She’d been at Eddie’s side throughout most of his hospitalization, and there was no reason for her to step back now that he was home. Still, Buck’s heart sank a little at the thought that he wouldn’t get Eddie all to himself for a while like he’d hoped.

“Here, maybe I can get this off and then all you have to do is stick the new one on.”

Buck debated just leaving, giving Eddie and Ana some space, but something about the conversation he’d dropped in on piqued his curiosity and he forged ahead. The floor creaked beneath him as he walked, and he knew they’d heard him when they suddenly fell quiet.

“It’s just me,” Buck announced as he stepped around the corner, pausing in the door frame. He took in the sight before him; Eddie was seated on the toilet, his shirt off, the dressing over his wound pulled back at one corner but otherwise intact. Ana, clad in an oversized pair of nitrile gloves, hovered nervously in front of him, various dressing supplies laid out on the counter at her side. Her glove was stuck to the small bit of exposed adhesive on the dressing, and it was obvious she was having trouble working at it with the excess of nitrile between her hands and the bandage. It was clear, too, that she was concerned with hurting Eddie if the apologetic crease to her brow was any indication. Buck smiled at the scene.

“Hey, man,” Eddie said with a grin. “I wasn’t expecting you so early.”

Buck chuckled. “Ah, but you were expecting me.”

Eddie rolled his eyes good-naturedly. Buck waved a hand over his shoulder, gesturing vaguely to the rest of the house.

“I can wait in the kitchen while you two finish up,” he offered. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

Ana shook her head, reaching up to pull off her gloves.

“No, please, stay,” she insisted. “I’m terrible at this anyway - I’m sure you could do a much better job.”

Buck smiled, ducking his head a little, catching the amusement in Eddie’s eyes at her statement. He met the other man’s gaze.

“Only if it’s okay with you.”

Eddie grinned.

“There’s no one else I’d trust more,” he murmured.

Ana clasped her hands together with a smile.

“That settles it, then; I’ll step aside and let a professional handle this.”

Her words drew laughter from both men and Ana took that as a cue to step down. Buck moved back, giving her room to pass in the doorway, and filled the gap she’d left behind as soon as she was gone. It was so easy, so natural to pick up where she’d left off.

Without missing a beat, Buck pulled on a pair of gloves. He glanced down at Eddie’s chest where the bandage Ana had only just begun to pull off was curled back at the very corner, the adhesive catching on the chain of Eddie’s St. Christopher medal where it hung around his neck. He regarded the image on it for a moment, his eyes tracing the outline of the saint and the child on his shoulders, the lines and grooves in the medal blackened and tarnished with age, standing out in stark contrast to the silver relief. Buck’s first instinct was to take it off, to set it away to have it polished later, but he thought better of it as the memory of Eddie’s chest in the wake of the gunshot - bloody and barren of the medallion when Buck had torn his uniform open - flashed in the forefront of his mind. With the image came the impression of the coppery scent of Eddie’s blood on his hands, the warmth of it in stark contrast to how cool Eddie’s skin had been. Echoes of Eddie’s pulse, quick and weak against his fingers but nowhere near as fast as his own - driven to its limits by adrenaline - pounded in his head. The recollection of the way the fire truck had lurched beneath them, nearly dislodging the hand Buck had been using to apply pressure to Eddie’s wound more than once, reverberated through his body and made his hands shake just the littlest bit.

Dispelling the memories, Buck settled for reaching up with a gentle hand and pushing it out of the way instead, not wanting to tempt fate. He pulled the medallion around to the back of Eddie’s neck, letting it drop and pull the chain away from the wound under its weight, leaving him a clearer field to work with.

“This might hurt a little,” Buck murmured softly, glancing briefly up at Eddie as he reached for the bandage.

Eddie chuckled softly.

“Do your worst.”

Buck rolled his eyes good-naturedly and grasped the corner of the bandage, carefully peeling up enough of it to hold onto. He held his fingertips to Eddie’s skin, applying a bit of pressure to offset the stinging of the adhesive being pulled away from where it had been stuck for nearly a day since Eddie’s last dressing change at the hospital. It held fast, but eventually started coming away. Buck flashed Eddie an apologetic glance, but to Eddie’s credit he didn’t so much as flinch.

It took a minute, but eventually Buck was able to remove the entirety of the dressing without disturbing Eddie’s skin too much. He gently smoothed his fingertips over the redness that remained in the wake of the bandage and reached for a few pieces of gauze. Wetting them with a bit of water and a gentle soap, Buck carefully washed around the wound, his eyes flicking up to Eddie’s face every few seconds to make sure he wasn’t causing the other man any unnecessary discomfort. Eddie smiled through it all, though, sitting perfectly still.

Far more still than he had for her, anyway, Ana thought.

She watched the two of them from the hallway, standing in the shadows outside the sliver of light that spilled out from the bathroom. The way Buck touched Eddie was so easy, so familiar. The way Eddie didn’t shy away from the contact spoke volumes on the level of trust they shared. The soft smiles they shared were intimate, private in a way that she knew they had both already put her presence out of their minds. Not intentionally, she knew - neither man had an unkind bone in their body - but because their focus had been so consumed with one another in the wake of their shared trauma that there was no room for anyone else. It made her heart ache a little to see what she’d wanted so badly for herself with Eddie playing out in front of her with Buck instead, but she understood. She knew that the heart wanted what it wanted, even if the head wasn’t always on board at the start. It was obvious, watching them, and she smiled a little sadly as she slipped away quietly, leaving the two of them to work through their feelings without an audience.

Buck switched the wet gauze in his hand out for a clean and dry wad and pressed it to Eddie’s chest below his wound. WIth his free hand, he carefully poured saline over the sutured skin, washing away some of the debris that had crusted over it, catching the drips with the gauze pad. He worked slowly to cause as little discomfort as he could, and eventually he got the wound clean. He inspected it closely for signs of infection before pulling back a moment to let Eddie’s skin dry.

“How’s it look?” Eddie asked, pulling his head back and glancing down in an attempt to get a peek at the wound.

Buck glanced up to meet his eyes, smiling.

“It’s healing well,” he acknowledged, his expression softening a little into apology as he continued. “Gonna leave a scar, though.”

Eddie nodded with a hollow chuckle.

“It’ll match the other one.”

Buck’s gaze flicked to Eddie’s other shoulder, taking in the puckered, darkened skin left behind in the wake of Eddie’s first gunshot wound. The edges of Eddie’s recent wound were already beginning to fade into the same tone as the older scar and Buck had to stop himself from reaching out to touch the imperfectly healed skin on Eddie’s left shoulder in reassurance. He settled on speaking instead to dispel the pull he felt toward the tender gesture.

"Scars tell stories.”

He picked up a tube of antibiotic ointment, squeezing a bit out onto a clean gauze square before carefully dabbing it onto Eddie’s wound.

“Scars raise questions,” Eddie corrected. “I’ll be the one having to tell the stories, and I’m not sure I want to.”

Buck hummed, setting the used gauze aside and carefully positioning a clean square over Eddie’s wound. He tacked it into place, using the ointment beneath to keep the gauze steady as he cut a fresh strip of adhesive with which to secure it on.

Eddie was an intensely private person, Buck knew, and it suddenly struck him how uncharacteristic it was of him to even be having such a discussion. For Eddie to be letting Buck take care of him in such a vulnerable state. The simple act of changing the dressing suddenly had a lot more gravity to it, and Buck’s touch was even lighter, more gentle as he smoothed the bandage into place over the gauze, finishing the procedure.

“And that’s it,” Buck murmured as he sat back, stripping off his gloves. “How’s it feel?”

Eddie slowly, carefully, experimentally shrugged his shoulder a little. The dressing pulled taut a bit and wrinkled when he rolled the joint forward, but otherwise stayed firmly in place. He winced at the movement but smiled as he settled again, giving Buck a thumbs up.

“Feels good. Thanks, man.”

Buck dipped his head, smiling and feeling his cheeks flush a little. There was something unmistakably intimate about the moment and it took Buck a second to shake it off. Glancing up, he watched Eddie reach for his shirt and noticed something he’d forgotten.

“Hold on,” Buck interjected.

Eddie stilled, watching Buck as the other man reached for him once more. Buck’s fingertips brushed the base of his throat, gently tugging at the chain that held his St. Christopher medal. The pendant shifted with the chain, tumbling over Eddie’s shoulder and landing against his chest over his heart, right where it belonged. Buck straightened it, facing it forward, his fingertips lingering for a moment as he ruminated on its significance.

Eventually, Buck pulled away and gave Eddie a hand with his shirt, his mind still reeling from the unchecked thoughts and feelings swirling there. He’d never considered his feelings about the shooting, about Eddie as anything noteworthy before, but somehow, in the cramped quietude of Eddie’s master bathroom, he’d begun to see things in a different light. Somehow, he’d gained some perspective.

“How about a coffee for your troubles?” Eddie’s voice broke through his reflection.

Buck laughed with a nod, busying himself with putting away the unused supplies for the next dressing change. Eddie brushed past him on his way out of the bathroom, leaving Buck to fathom in silence for a moment longer before he, too, made his way out and toward the kitchen in Eddie’s wake.

The remainder of the morning passed as they always did, in companionable silence over breakfast, broken occasionally by teasing banter and the clink of silverware against ceramic. All too quickly, Buck had to take his leave, but not before checking to make sure Eddie would be alright on his own. It hurt him a little bit to leave the other man so soon after they’d regained some semblance of normalcy, but the world wasn’t about to stop turning so that he could probe a little further into whatever feelings he’d only just begun to uncover.

Eddie watched Buck go, smiling to himself as he shut the door only after Buck’s Jeep had disappeared from view down the street. He reached into his pocket, slipping his phone free and firing off a text to Ana. He’d realized at some point that she’d disappeared, and he was surprised - though not overly bothered - to find that he hadn’t missed her. What he was surprised about, though, was the fact that she didn’t seem to have been missing him, either, when a message back appeared on his screen a moment later.

I think there’s someone else you ought to be asking out to dinner tonight, Edmundo.

Three dots bounced at the bottom of the display as Ana’s words sank in and a second message popped up before he could write anything back.

Go get your man before someone else does.

Eddie blinked at the screen, his mind stuck somewhere between I’m sorry and what are you talking about? His thumb hovered over the keyboard as he debated on a response, but he couldn’t settle on either. Eventually, he found the right words after all.

I think I will. Thank you.

Simple, concise, and enough to earn him a smile and a thumbs up emoji. Chuckling softly, Eddie closed Ana’s chat window, pulling up Buck’s instead. He had no idea how he was going to do it, to confess everything that had been building up inside of him for longer than he cared to admit, but he supposed he might as well start as he always did and see where things went from there.

I 'm thinking pizza for dinner tonight, you in?

Three dots again, and then -

Like you even have to ask. I’ll bring dessert.

Eddie chuckled as he set his phone on the counter. Whatever else changed in his life, whatever happened to him, some things would never change. Buck would never change. It was that constancy that Eddie was banking on as he sat down to drink the last of his coffee and to consider what, exactly, he was going to say later on that night.

#9-1-1 #fanfiction #Eddie Diaz #Evan Buckley #Buddie #mutual pining #feelings realization #post-4x14 #brief mentions of Ana Flores #Buddie Bingo

51 notes · View notes

foodieforthoughts · 3 years

Text

Sand and Stars - Chapter Five

Series Summary: After the water pump being blown up, the insurgents in Baqubah are taking a hold of the food supply to the village. Camp Warhorse is in dire need of reinforcements. It has been eight months of submitting countless requests when the High Command commissions Sergeant Olivia Ross to take her group of men and women and help Captain Syverson and his team to restore a semblance of normalcy. But with the war raging, does it get two hearts closer too?

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC x OMC

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: 18+, Mentions of war, military technicalities, slight angst, fluff, implied smut

A/N: Well Hello! Our dear Captain Alex has finally made an appearance! A big thank you to @thelastsock who is patiently beta-reading this, I love you woman with my whole heart.

<Chapter Four

Title: Chapter Five

The sun felt scorching hot on her skin as Olivia loaded her gun near the parked Humvees. A mild throbbing at the base of her skull added to the uncomfortable sensations each time she moved. She hadn’t planned to drink almost half a bottle of whiskey last night, but it was cold, and she needed the warmth.

Also, the drink had sort of been a gift from Sy.

Olivia groaned as the memories from last night flashed through her mind. She had literally invited him for a kiss, throwing herself on her Captain like a wanton whore. She felt embarrassed even thinking about it. Thankfully for her, Sy had a better judgement about entertaining drunk women and had resorted to just giving her a tight hug.

Her stomach felt queasy as a sour taste filled her mouth. She swallowed as the uncomfortable feeling set at the pit of her stomach. Running a hand over her sweat covered forehead, Olivia rested against the vehicle.

She felt worthless. Olivia couldn't shake the feeling of repeating history, despite the extreme effort of will she put her hungover mind to this time. She slung her gun over her shoulder as a distant memory of her time with Alex began flashing before her eyes.

The sound of their hurried footsteps on the marble floor echoed through the empty hall. It was almost noon, the temperature soaring high and drinks becoming difficult to keep down. Alex chuckled as Olivia pulled him towards a bathroom door, not caring whether it was for the ladies or the gents. She had been begging for Alex’s attention ever since they got to the wedding party for a fellow soldier, downing an unusual amount of alcohol before finally gathering up the courage to whisper naughty things in his ear. She had been hung over her Captain for far too long, it was time for her to finally taste him.

Olivia massaged her temple with her fingers. She had been so stupid and naïve to start something with Alex. Her Captain. She regretted it now more than ever, 3 years of hookups later. Alex had been her friend since she re-enlisted again after completing her Aviation course. Though to tell the truth she'd been crushing on him since she first laid eyes on his beautiful face. His unbridled confidence, panty-melting smile and boyish charm had worked its magic on Olivia’s mind. It wasn’t something she thought of pursuing on a long-term basis, but his sweet nature only kept driving her closer to him. She liked that he showered her with affection all the time, something her attention-starved mind craved desperately. Only she had mistaken her lust for love.

“Really? Here? You know our seniors are present out on the lawn.” Alex snickered as Olivia began undoing his belt. His blazing eyes sparkled with what was to come next, the anticipation dancing in his beautiful orbs. Dinners together had turned into overnight stays and eventually Olivia had kissed Alex one night, crossing the line of friendship with no turning back.

“We are on leave, aren’t we?” She had suggestively smiled at him, palming his bulge through his pants. She leaned in to kiss Alex, feeling the softness of his lips brushing against hers. She felt her arousal beginning to wet through the thin fabric of her panties as Alex plunged his tongue into the warm cavern of her mouth.

Olivia grinned mischievously as she hopped on the sink counter pulling Alex by his tie to stand between her legs. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he pulled her in to steal another kiss. She unzipped his pants as Alex began trailing down her neck, planting soft kisses over her warm skin and cupping her breast through her dress.

“I don’t have a condom,” Alex said against the skin peeking just above her breast.

“I’m on the pill,” she shrugged and pulled his hardening cock out of its constraints. It pulsated in her hand as she pumped him. Alex groaned into her soft skin and nipped at her in retaliation, making her hiss with pleasure. She bit her lip as she watched him take over his cock and enter her aching folds. Alex let out an unrestrained moan as her warmth enveloped his throbbing member.

“Happy birthday, little birdie.” Olivia blinked as Sy appeared in front of her, smiling from under his cap. He was dressed in his combat fatigues, the vest making him look bigger than he already was. “Hangover?”

Olivia shook her head, warmth spreading over her chest as the vivid memories registered in her mind. “Just…uh, regular headache.” She smiled at her Captain. Her eyes lingered on his, mesmerized yet again by the intensely blue orbs looking back at her. She noticed the freckles on his nose and his lip and the changing shade of brown of his beard as it travelled down his neck.

“Maybe later we can have some chai while we watch the sunset?” Sy leaned against the metal body of the Humvee, one hand resting low on his hip.

Olivia tilted her head to the side and raised her eyebrow. “Sunset? You do realize I fly a chopper for a living? I’ve seen my fair share of sunsets and sunrises by now.”

“But you haven’t seen a sunset with me.” A smirk formed on Sy’s lips, challenging her for another excuse.

Olivia felt a flutter in the pit of her belly and her mouth opened as she was rendered speechless. She felt herself balancing over the same dangerously thin line again. In a weird sense, this didn’t feel the same for her like it was with Alex. With him she had felt a rush of becoming reckless, but with Sy she wanted to be cautious, mindful. When he had kissed her forehead last night and embraced her, she had never felt more safe in the world like she did in that moment.

“Okay.” She nodded, “Rooftop like last night?” Olivia suggested as her unit members began getting into the Humvees, ready to head out. Sy tipped his cap in confirmation before walking towards his own team and barking orders to mount up.

Out in the desert, Olivia spent the rest of her day interacting with the locals and listening to their problems. She was following Lieutenant Pepps's orders about sympathizing with the public, to ensure they get local support in the future. As she listened to a weeping woman complain about the scarcity of food, her mind drifted back to a memory with Alex.

“What changed, Liv?” Alex pulled at her wrist, turning her around to face him. Olivia yanked at his hold, trying to free herself from his grasp. “Don’t you love me anymore?”

“Alex,” She pleaded, closing her eyes to escape this conversation. She had spent time in Afghanistan and the things she’d seen had changed her. She had seen the fragile nature of life and understood it was useless to be wasting her precious years on someone she only cared about as a friend.

“Tell me, Liv.” His voice was laced with anger, his eyes burning with hatred. “Tell me you don’t love me so that I can remove myself from your life. Because I can’t be your friend, not after all this.” He let go of her hand, slumping his shoulders as his eyes misted with tears and he fell on his knees.

Liv felt the weight of her actions crumbling her down in front of him. She never intended to hurt him, but she couldn’t love him, at least not the way he wanted her to. The possibility of losing her friend forever made her emotions win over her determination to end things with him. “I’m sorry, Alex. I’ll do better. I’m so sorry.”

Olivia sighed as she watched the sun slowly drift towards the horizon casting an orange hue over the sky. She had never gathered the courage to break things with Alex again. He had tried labelling them in a relationship, but she had avoided the topic like the plague. Their arrangement worked as they were deployed to different locations which gave her time away from him, only forcing her to pretend when they were on leave together. She grasped the Saint Christopher medal lying against her chest in her hand and felt the consequences of her actions pricking at her heart.

“Hey,” Sy called out from the doorstep leading out on the roof. He had a canteen in one hand and two cups in another. Liv had walked up to the roof as soon as they had returned to base. The parked white truck had indicated that Sy was back too but since there still had been time until sunset, she had decided to wait out alone on the roof.

“Hey,” she cleared her throat, shaking her head to ward away thoughts about Alex. She smiled weakly at Sy and walked towards him.

Sy frowned with his eyebrows scrunching together. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Did Mahmoud make the chai for us?” She changed the subject, sitting on the pile of sandbags against a wall.

“No, I did.” Sy proudly informed as he took a seat beside her.

Olivia watched as Sy poured the steaming cardamom tea in the cups and handed one to her. She breathed in the aroma before taking a sip of the hot liquid. “Incredible. When did you learn to make chai?”

“Picked up the recipe over the years.” He shrugged his shoulders, but Olivia noticed his chest puff up with pride on getting complimented on his acquired skill. Sy turned to face towards the expanse of the desert beyond the compound, silently sipping his tea.

“Captain Syverson, man of many talents.” She said in a sing-song voice and leaned back against the wall, bringing her knees up to her chest and holding her cup with both her hands.

Liv watched as Sy chuckled, his shoulders shaking with his laughter. The hair of his beard over his upper lip glistened with steam caught in it, almost urging her to wipe her hand over his mouth.

“You are staring, little birdie.” He looked at her sideways, his lips curling at the corners.

Liv rolled her eyes, but her mouth twitched with a smile forming on them. “What’s with the nickname?”

“Well you fly the Little Bird, so that makes you little Birdie.”

She laughed as he finished his sentence, looking at him to see if he was joking. “How original, Sy.” She shook her head dismissively, but a fluttery feeling settled in her heart.

“Hey, I didn’t want to call you by the names everyone used.” He defended himself, feigning hurt dramatically by clutching his left pec over his heart.

Liv continued to laugh thinking about the silly reason behind the nickname, but adding it to the list of names she already had. They sat in silence, enjoying their tea as they watched the sun dipping down the horizon with every passing minute. The sky burst into a mixed palette of orange and purple, the clouds drifting away with the wind.

She felt Sy’s eyes on her as she sipped the remnants of tea from her cup. She bit her lip feeling mischievous and commented, “You’re staring, Captain.” She tilted her head to look at him, only to feel her breath hitch as she stared into his cerulean eyes. Sy had the softest look on his face, his smile barely visible from under the bush of his beard.

“What?” She asked, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“Who’s Captain Coop?”

His question caught Olivia off-guard and she blinked several times to understand that Sy had indeed asked about Alex. “Wh-what?” She tried to not stumble over her words but Sy had left her stunned.

“Yesterday, they were teasing you with his name. I just thought I should ask.” Sy’s gaze never left her face, even when he placed his cup to the side along with hers and the empty canteen.

Liv let out a slow, ragged breath. The mention of Alex’s nickname had her heart racing, her mind going through a carousel of his memories. “He was our captain, before you. My men...they were just… fooling around.” She plucked a jute strand from the sandbag she was sitting on, avoiding Sy’s stare.

She felt him shift on the bag and when she peered, she noticed him coming to stand in front of her. Liv looked up at him as his body loomed over hers. He bent down so as his face was right in front of her.

“So, you’re saying, I don’t have to worry about another man in your life?” His voice was low, and his breath felt warm against her skin.

“N-no. Why?” She gulped as her throat became dry. She watched as Sy licked his lips wet and smiled at her.

“Because I am going to kiss you and I ain’t gonna kiss some other man’s girl.” Sy whispered and waited for her to answer. A slight nod of her head was all he needed as he brought his lips down on hers, placing a soft and gentle kiss over her desirous lips.

Liv closed her eyes as the feeling of his lips sent sparks down her spine. The coarse hairs of his beard grazed against her face as she moved her lips against his. Sy placed his hand over her cheeks as he moved his lips with hers, darting his tongue out seeking permission to enter. She grabbed a hold of his t-shirt and another at the nape of his neck and pulled him closer to her and opened her mouth slightly to grant him access.

The minutes felt like they stretched into hours as Sy’s tongue danced against hers. She could taste the faint taste of cardamom on his tongue and breathe in his musky scent as she willingly deprived herself of oxygen. Panting as their lungs struggled to take in air, Sy let go of her with a last pull on her bottom lip.

When Olivia opened her eyes, the sun had set beyond the horizon and darkness was falling over the desert. Sy let out a slow breath as he grazed his knuckles over her cheek. She felt herself leaning in his touch as her breathing came back to normal.

“Sunsets and kisses, aren’t you a romantic Syverson?” She teased, biting her lower lip between her teeth.

Sy chuckled. “Told you our first kiss would be memorable.” Sy shrugged his shoulders with a cheeky smile, before pulling Liv up for another breathtaking kiss.

Chapter Six>

🌟 Series Masterlist 🌟

#captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson x ofc #sand and stars series #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic

150 notes · View notes