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sope-and-shine · 3 years

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Written In the Stars: Finale

-> SFW // Soulmate!AU // fluff, // Mummy!Namjoon, Moon Goddess!Taehyung

-> Pairing: Namjoon x Reader // Taehyung x Reader

-> Word Count: 7k

-> Summary: Life after losing a loved one is challenging, especially when you’ve had the chance to see just how long the two of you have spent passing each other by. With it only being a few weeks since your loss, you’ve found your life has become dull and despondent. You can’t help but wonder if you’ll be able to move on, even with the help of friends.

-> Warning(s): mild language

a/n: I can’t believe we’re actually at the end 😭😭 I’ve put so much time and love into this story and I’m both sad and happy that I’ve been able to finish it! I hope everyone enjoys!

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Masterlist

“Ma’am, where’s the restroom?”

You turn and see a father holding a small boy in his arms, and you immediately jump into action, “Take a right out of these doors, down the hall until you see the blue traffic sign, and it’ll be on the right. There should be a Daffodil portrait on the wall right before your turn.”

The man heaves a happy - very relieved - sigh, “Thank you!”

“Of course!” You watch as he speedwalks out of the exhibit and takes off down the hall. You can only hope he actually makes it there.

The day shift has definitely been more exciting. It’s only been a few weeks, but your days have been filled with more excitement since you switched. You tried to continue with the night shift post, but the silence just became too overwhelming. Thankfully, Hoseok seemed to understand when you told him.

You switched back to the day shift in hopes it would help to take your mind off of Namjoon. You thought being surrounded by others would make you feel less lonely, but you can’t help but think about how your life has changed so drastically.

Adjusting to your new life hasn’t been easy. Everywhere you look, you’re reminded of Namjoon. You hear his laugh by the water fountains, you see his hair in crowds on the street, and you can still feel his arms around you at night as you lay in bed.

At first, you thought it was something you could handle. You thought if you embraced his goodbye, then you’d be content to live the rest of your life without him. But no one told you losing love would hurt this bad.

You’ve tried to do other things, like knitting and working out, but you’re not very good at either one - nor do you really like them. Cooking had seemed like a good idea until you realized that meant cleaning the dishes. With every attempt to move on, you seem to take 3 large steps back.

You find yourself going to places Namjoon would have liked. Spontaneous trips to the park lead to long evenings by the river. Extra hours at the museum have you wandering through the exhibits just to look at the art one more time. Even a quick trip to the store has you buying things you’ve never thought to try.

The one place you never go is the King’s exhibit. At least, not of your own free will. It’s only happened twice - once being today - because someone had to call out. And just like the time before, you find yourself at the aquarium.

A place where Namjoon was truly happy.

The touch tanks have quickly become a favorite of yours. They allow you time to think to yourself and drift off, to daydream about a handsome king with an endearing fascination for the world around him.

You like to visit the crabs the most. Mostly because you know Namjoon would if he could. He thought they were the cutest on your outing together, and holding the tiny creature in your palm you can see why.

“Ow!” You flinch at the small pinch from the crustacean. Your hands jerk, but you try to protect the crab the best you can without dropping it.

“Here-” A large hand reaches in front of you and plucks the crab from your hands, “These guys get a little finicky when you hold them up too high.”

You place your thumb over the pinch and turn to him, “Really? I can’t-” You pause mid-sentence.

Now, looking at the crab’s savior, you see him. Lilac strands poke out of the blue university hat he’s wearing. His khaki shorts are worn and just barely reach his knees, and his sneakers are all worn out. Even the socks he’s wearing have slightly lost their vibrance. His baggy t-shirt doesn’t hide the fact that he’s more fit than he was a few weeks ago, but a few weeks ago he had disappeared right in front of you. But there’s no mistaking that dimpled smile.

This is Namjoon.

You stare at him like a deer in headlights, and you must look exactly how you feel because his smile turns to concern, “Are you okay?” He asks.

You nod, “Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine…” You’re not. You’re absolutely stunned and he doesn’t seem to recognize you. They do say everyone in the world has 4 people that look just like them. How unfortunate that you’ve found his. “You just...look really familiar.”

“Really? Well, I guess that means I have a memorable face then.” He muses, chuckling to himself - Exactly like Namjoon. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You take another selfish moment to look at him, admiring how gentle he is with the small creature in his hands. “You really seem to like the crabs.”

“Yeah, I do!” He nods enthusiastically, “I really only applied here as an excuse to play in the touch tanks.”

“Something easy to wind down from classes?” You ask.

His eyes widen in surprise, and he turns to you as if you suddenly grew 2 extra heads, “How’d you know?”

You giggle, “You’re wearing a university hat with your grad year.”

“Really?!” You nod and he pulls the cap off of his head, letting out a frustrated groan when he confirms he’s wearing his university hat, “No wonder my supervisor straight up ignored me this morning. This is the third time this month I’ve grabbed the wrong one.”

“At least it’s a nice hat.” You assure him, trying to remain positive.

He places the cap back on his head and sighs, “Tell that to him.” He brings the small crab still resting in his palms eye level, “This little guy knows exactly what I’m talking about. Don’t you, buddy?”

“Don’t tell me you speak crab.”

“Of course I do! You just have to know how to listen.” He says matter of factly.

“Alright then. Ask him how he’s doing.”

“I will.” He turns to the crab and stares at it as if they’re having a staring contest, “How are you feeling, little guy?” He moves the crab up to his ear and acts as though it’s whispering to him, nodding and humming disagreement, “I see...I’d be pretty frightened too.”

You narrow your eyes, “What did he say?”

“He said he was having a great day until someone came and held him up too high.” He teases.

“You’re taller than me!” You argue.

He looks you up and down, nodding, “You’re right…” He seems to contemplate for a moment before he shrugs with a sly smile, “He probably just likes me better.”

“Oh, really now?” You challenge. He nods proudly and you scoff, “Well, what’s your name? Resident Crab Whisperer?”

“No! That’s way too long.” He laughs. He extends the hand not cradling a crab towards you and smiles, “My name is Kim Namjoon.”

“Well…” You hesitate, trying your best not to react. You swallow your nerves and shake his hand with a smile of your own, “-It’s nice to meet you, Kim Namjoon. Any relation to the mummy at the museum?”

“That hopeless romantic from the Seoul Museum?” He jokes. He takes this moment to place the crab back into his touch tank, “Yeah, he’s like a great-great-super great uncle or something like that.”

“Well, you look like him.” You say. He gives you a confused look and you’re quick to back-pedal, “His portraits! You look like his portraits.”

“I do?” He asks.

“Besides the purple hair, I’d say you’re the spitting image.”

“I’ll have to check it out myself then.”

“Well, their hours are 8am to 10pm Monday through Saturday and 12pm to 6pm on Sunday.” He gives you a pointed look and you shrug, “I’ve been the night guard the past few years. I just switched to day shift.”

“Really?!” He asks in disbelief, “Isn’t it creepy working the graveyard shift? It must be way too quiet.”

“Not really.” You think back to the nights you spent with your Namjoon and how he made you laugh. You remember asking him the same thing one Saturday night after the museum closed. You two were much closer than his first Sunday there, but you couldn’t help but worry about how he must get through the night alone. But Namjoon was a king. He wasn’t worried about a bit of peace and quiet. “A friend of mine once told me that silence is more reassuring than anything. It means peace.”

“They sound wise.”

“He was...” You can’t help but think about Namjoon’s absence.

This always happens when you think about any good times you may have had, remembering how much fun you had and how you’ll likely never have it again. Being in front of this Namjoon does nothing to help you feel at ease.

“You know that movie-?! It’s-Oh...What was it called…?” The lilac-haired Namjoon suddenly claps his hands together with a proud smile, “Night at the Museum! Anything like that happen after hours?”

You chuckle to yourself, knowing better than anyone how Ben Stiller’s character felt during that movie. Of course, the Namjoon in front of you would never believe you, “I wish. It’d make some of the exhibits a lot more interesting.”

He nods, “I bet they’d be pretty interactive too…Could you imagine history telling itself?!”

“Please, I don’t want to hear about the love-life of a thousand-year-old mummy.” You joke, knowing full well you already have.

“Yeah, I guess that would get annoying after a while...always lamenting about love and what-not…” He seems slightly disappointed, but his smile comes right back, “Why don’t you let me show you around and I’ll tell you about our exhibits instead?”

You’re taken aback by his boldness, “Oh, are you sure?” He nods, “I don’t want to get you in trouble or anything.”

“Don’t worry about it! My shift ended like 30 minutes ago and this place is only open for another 3 hours.” He assures you, “So, what do you say?”

Maybe it’s because he’s the spitting image of Namjoon, or maybe it’s the similarities in their personas. Maybe it’s just the way his dimples appear every time he laughs and his laugh sounds just like his. No matter what it is that’s drawing you to this Namjoon, you find that your heart has taken over for your brain and it’s putty in his hands, “Sure. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Namjoon breaks into an excited grin, dimples on full display, “That’s the spirit!” He straightens his posture and holds his arm out for you as if he were a butler or an escort, “From here until the aquarium closes, consider me your personal tour guide for the rest of the evening. There won’t be a bench you haven’t sat on by the time we’re done!”

He’s confident.

But perhaps he’s too confident…

He takes you to places you’ve been before, educating you on every animal in great detail. He doesn’t miss a single species, and he takes great care to make sure you see what he’s talking about - guiding your head and pointing in the right direction. His enthusiasm is infectious, and you could listen to him talk for hours. He’s so well-spoken, and he describes everything in such wonderful detail. It comes as no surprise to you when he mentions himself to be a literature major.

He has such a unique personality and the most terrible humor. He tells you about his bike and how much he enjoys riding by the river and through the park. He tells you about his love for moon jelly and how it’s like looking up at the sky when you see them. Everything about him is just so uniquely him, but you can’t help but see all of the similarities he holds to your Namjoon.

His physical features are all the same: his eyes, his nose, his lips, his dimples, his height, and even his haircut! There’s no doubt that this Namjoon would look identical to your Namjoon if his hair were the same dark brown. His interest in the Moon and his love of literature. Your Namjoon would have excelled academically in this world just like this Namjoon. Even his love of small creatures and terribly out-of-date dad jokes is exactly the same!

He’s Namjoon.

But he doesn’t hold the memories of your Namjoon…

Taehyung had told you how Fate had tried to warn him several times. How Fate couldn’t change what would happen, and she could only hope to guide everyone to the best outcome without ruining the future herself. But how cruel could Fate be to have another Namjoon this close to you yet not be yours. To thrust this on you so soon without even a few months to grieve more.

How could someone be so heartless?

---

“And this would be the last bench of our tour.” Namjoon says as you exit the aquarium, extending an arm as he presents it to you.

“Oh wow...” You thank him and take a seat, playing along with his charade - as you have all night - as you pretend to admire the bench. You admire the dedication plaque for just a moment before you turn to him in mock disappointment, “I thought you said we’d see everything on this tour?”

He shrugs, “I may have rambled here and there...” He seems almost sheepish as he realizes how he went on and on over every topic the two of you talked about, “Sorry about that.”

“No worries here.” You assure him. You’d take 5 more tours just to listen to him ramble on and on for hours, “Now I know that fish talk through make sounds by vibrating their muscles against their bladder. Pretty weird, but I wouldn’t know that if you hadn’t told me.”

“Well, I’m glad I could educate you a bit.” He seems nervous, shoving his hands into his pockets as he shifts from one foot to the other, “Maybe we can do this again?”

“Uh…” You hesitate, “Yeah. Maybe.”

It’s just a tour. No harm in that.

“Maybe...I could take you to dinner too?” He asks.

There’s some harm in that.

He already seems nervous so you try to find the right words to say, “Oh, I-” But your face seems to give you away way too easily.

“You’re not interested.”

“No-!”

“It’s okay! I get it, I understand.”

“No, you don’t.” You stand up and try to explain, but he seems to already have your rejection in his mind.

“No, please, don’t feel like you have to. I’ve been told I can be a bit pushy.”

“No, that’s really not it! I’d love to go to dinner with you!”

That seems to catch his attention.

“Really?”

You nod, “Yeah! Just not now, or like-...anytime soon.”

The last of Namjoon’s hope turns into skepticism, “Are you sure you’re not just saying that?”

“I know how it sounds, but please-!” You stop yourself before you can blurt out the wrong thing and scare him off entirely, “I lost someone really special to me recently. His loss hasn’t been easy for me, and I don’t want to jump into something too soon. I don’t think that’d be fair to you if I’m still hung up on someone else.”

“Oh wow...I’m really sorry about that.” You thank him and take a moment to breathe, holding yourself back from the tears that want to break free, “I went through a loss not too long ago too! You’re taking the right steps, and I appreciate you thinking about my feelings.”

You smile, “Of course! Everyone deserves that.”

“Well, no dinner then, but maybe another tour next weekend? Same time?” He asks, “Strictly hanging out though. No dinner.”

You nod, “I’d love that.”

“Then it’s a date!” He says excitedly. Though, as soon as the words leave his mouth he’s stepping over himself to correct what he’d said, “Not a date! Absolutely not a date. No, ma’am.”

You can’t help but smile fondly at how endearing he is, “I can’t wait.”

You squeeze the strap of the bag on your shoulder with one hand and wave with the other, turning and departing from the current Namjoon. Maybe in time, you can fall in love with this Namjoon for who he is and not because he reminds you of your Namjoon. At that point, then this lilac-haired, crab-loving, literature enthusiast would be your Namjoon.

You can only hope that day comes sooner rather than later.

“So, that’s it then?”

“I’m sorry?” You turn around confused, only about 50 feet away.

“I can’t believe you’re just going to be nice to this me, but not the one that waited 1,000 years for you!” He explains.

You’re so confused that it takes a second to grasp what this Namjoon is saying, and then it hits you. This Namjoon isn’t just any Namjoon.

He’s your Namjoon.

King Kim Namjoon.

The Hopeless Romantic from the Seoul Museum of Art and History.

“Namjoon…?” You ask. You know it’s him, you’re confident. But it still seems like it’s way too good to be true.

He nods, “It’s me.”

In an instant, you’re running towards him. You fling yourself into his awaiting arms and squeeze him as tight as humanly possible, burying your face into his neck as the tears begin to form in your eyes. You let your hands thread through his soft, purple locks and allow yourself to relax with his arms squeezing around your waist.

You bask in this overwhelming feeling of being whole again. You feel light and complete for the first time in weeks and it fills you with so much joy that you can hardly contain yourself. The embrace feels like that first kiss all over again, and you just never want to let him go.

As you calm down and you come to realize that Namjoon isn’t going anywhere, you pull away just enough so you can see his own tear-stained face. His cheeks are red and his eyes are puffy, but his smile is unmistakable with those gorgeous dimples of his.

Looking at him, it’s now that you realize…

He remembered you this whole time.

You smack his chest - not enough to hurt him, but enough so he knows you mean business - and he flinches, “How dare you play with me like this, Namjoon? Do you know how hard the past few weeks have been for me?!”

“I’m sorry!” He apologizes. He runs his hands up and down your sides affectionately, trying to keep you close - and not angry with him, “Trust me when I say this wasn’t easy for me either.”

As much as you would love to be mad with him for pretending he didn’t know you, you can’t. You’re just happy he’s here more than anything. But that still begs the question, “How are you here?”

“I’m not supposed to say much, but I can tell you the other deities had a few tricks up their sleeves.” He explains. He takes a moment to admire your features and leans down to press a kiss to your temple, “But I think most of the thanks needs to go to Taehyung.”

Your eyes widen in shock, “You know about him?!”

He nods, “It was a shock, but he and the other deities explained everything.” He pulls you closer and uses a hand to cup your face, “They gave me a whole life to share with you.”

You lean into his touch, but you’re still reeling from everything that’s happened in such a short time, “And you just remember everything?”

“They gave me the memories back.” He corrects. He’s so close now and you want nothing more than to start where the two of you had left off before you broke the spell, “I guess Fate had a backup plan for him.”

“Thank Fate for that.” You say before giving in to your temptation and pulling your soulmate in for a much needed, long-awaited, proper kiss

* *

“You wanted to see me?”

You look up from your paperwork to see Taehyung standing in your doorway, wearing his favorite emerald 3 piece suit. His fist is raised to the door frame as if he knocked just before he spoke. You must not have heard him.

You wave him in, “Yeah, come in! I’m just finishing up with this finance report.” You expect him to come right in, but he seems hesitant to do so. “Are you okay?”

“Am I not in trouble?” He asks.

Your brow raises in confusion, “Why would you be in trouble?”

“Well, Jimin said-'' Taehyung stops. He remembers the other day after work when he’d come home to Jimin and Jeongguk, going at it in the kitchen for the 4th time in 2 weeks. He’d thought it would be funny to dump water on them - and so had Guk - but the Earth deity had apparently been unamused. Of course, him being the pettiest individual he would settle for a payback that would absolutely scare him. He sits in the chair across from you and throws one leg over the other, “Nevermind. I know what happened.”

You chuckle, “Well, I have a surprise for you. That’s why I asked for you.”

“Oh, really?!” He’s definitely surprised, “What is it?”

“Well-” You move your finance report to the paper organizer on your desk, grab your bag at your feet, and stand up, “-why don’t show you?”

He uncrosses his legs and stands, “We’re going somewhere?”

You nod, “If you’re up for it.” You hold your hand out for him, an action that’s become normal between the two of you.

He takes your hand and you both exit your office together, leaving the human way. You make your way downstairs hand-in-hand, passing patrons that still roam the halls or meander up and down the stairs taking pictures to their heart's content. It all makes you feel human, and feeling human makes you feel happy.

On your way through the lobby, you catch sight of Eunha talking to another security guard. She’d made a request to switch shifts, and you made sure to have Hoseok take over her position under the guise of someone else. She looks happier, but you know better. Thankfully, her shift will be over in a few more hours.

“She’s pretty strong.” Taehyung comments, seeming to already know what you’re thinking. “I talked to her this morning and at lunch. She’s holding it together.”

You manage half a smile, “That’s good.”

Seokjin spots you walking together as you get closer to the exit and his smile widens, “Goodnight, (Y/n)! Goodnight, Taehyung!”

“Have a good night, Seokjin!” You respond, offering a small nod.

“See you tomorrow!” Taehyung waves. Seokjin gives him an indiscreet wink and you pretend you don’t see it even when Taehyung gives him an even more obvious wink back.

You playfully bump him with your hip and he pulls you with him, raising your joined hands above your head and resting them on your opposite shoulder. You squeeze as tight as you can together to fit through the door frame and out to the open air.

“I heard you promoted him.” Taehyung mentions as you make your descent down the large staircase.

You shrug, “There was an opening available.”

“Was there?” He asks, nudging you with his elbow.

You nod, “Yes. There was.” You nudge him back.

“Are you sure~?” The blonde asks again, “I’d hate to see you fall victim to those silly human emotions~”

You let out an exasperated sigh, “Oh, you are something else!” You drop his hand and rush two steps ahead of him, but he’s right behind you.

“I’m just looking out for you!” He defends. He rushes down the steps to the bottom before you make it to the last step and he puts his hands out to stop you, “We wouldn’t want to upset the council, would we?”

“I think you’ve done enough angering the council to cover me.” You remind him, poking his nose with your pointer finger, “Besides, maybe I want to get under their skin.”

“All of them? Or someone specific?” He asks, already knowing the answer.

You sigh, “I’m not saying Seowoo deserves it, but that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“I can’t argue with that.” He agrees. He looks both ways down the sidewalk, “Which way?”

“This way.” You point towards the side of the museum where the street light is out, the darkness wrapping around the corner and making the perfect disappearing point.

You take his hand and together you both walk into the shadows, walking into the darkest section of the sidewalk before disappearing at the corner. You round the trunk of a cherry willow, a sliver of distant light shining through the drooping branches.

Taehyung runs his thumb over your hand and stops, “Are you wearing rings?” He pulls back to check and does a double-take when he sees you in the dim light, “Why’d you change?”

“We’re at a university.” You explain. You’ve changed from your work clothes to a university sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, “I’d rather look like a student than a teacher. You should probably change too.”

“Oh...sure.” In his own fashion, he changes into a white shirt under a baggy, light beige sweater vest, a pair of jeans, and orange converse. He looks himself over once before fashioning a pair of gold-rimmed glasses to finish his look. “Where are we?”

“Eunha’s college.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen in surprise, “Why are we here? She’s still at work.”

“I want you to meet a friend of mine.” You explain.

“You have friends?” He asks, earning an unamused glare from you, “Sorry.”

“This way.” You lead Taehyung off the grass to the actual path and walk under the lights back towards the main building. When you reach a fork in the path you make a left to go around the side of the building between another series of buildings on the other side of the path. You keep walking until you reach another large area with benches, tables, and a fountain.

Sitting on the side of the fountain with just enough light that you can see them, is a trio of 3 men with different hair colors. One with midnight blue, a pastel pink, and lilac. Of course, you recognize them all without a problem at all.

“Hey, guys! Sorry, I’m late, I just had to grab Taehyung.” You call out.

The pastel pink head turns to reveal Hoseok - who’s changed from his normal all-black outfit to a black t-shirt with the word obey in colorful letters, bright orange pants, layered necklaces, and a pair of black, yellow-tinted glasses resting on the top of his head, “No worries, we haven’t gotten started yet.”

“Yeah, Joon was just telling us about the assignment we missed.” Yoongi agrees, revealing himself to be the midnight blue head of hair. He’s wearing an all blue, leaf-patterned outfit with a TuneSquad jersey underneath his top.

“You wouldn’t have missed it if you made it to class on time!” Taehyung freezes as soon as he hears his voice, pulling you to a stop as well. He knows that voice better than anyone, knowing damn well it belongs to someone that’s supposed to be dead.

Hoseok shrugs and leans back, “What can I say? I had priorities to attend to.”

“I just wasn’t interested.” Yoongi stands up and takes a few steps to stretch, revealing Namjoon sitting at the end of the three.

Namjoon is wearing a pair of light wash jeans and a black belt with a white shirt tucked in and a light blue button-up over it. He sighs, “How you have the highest marks in the class I will never know.”

Taehyung looks between the three of them, going back and forth between the two deities and Namjoon before settling on you, “What is going on right now?”

You squeeze his hand, “Just don’t say anything.” You pull him with you to join the others, coming to a stop in front of all of them. You point to the blonde and then to Hoseok, “Taehyung, this is Hoseok-”

The walking gumball throws up a peace sign, “Sup.”

“-Yoongi.”

“Hey.” He gives a small wave

“-And Namjoon.”

Namjoon is the only one to stand and walk up to Taehyung to offer his hand, “Nice to finally meet you.”

“Finally?” He asks, shaking the old king’s hand.

“(Y/n) hasn’t been able to shut up about you,” Namjoon explains with a devious smile. You visibly freeze and that only eggs him on more, “She said you were annoying when she first transferred into our class, then she said she thought she was in love with you.”

Taehyung gives you a look and you completely ignore him, “Namjoon!”

“Of course, we all knew she was,” Hoseok adds with a teasing smile of his own.

“Hoseok! Shut up!”

“How interesting.” Taehyung chuckles, happy to know how you feel even as you pretend you don’t exist, “Well, it’s nice to meet all of you.”

“Why don’t we all move this way? Maybe grab a bite to eat?” You suggest, hoping to move on from your own embarrassment.

“Yes!” Hoseok jumps up and throws his arms in the air before dropping them back down to his sides, “I’m starving!”

Yoongi scoffs, “You’re always starving...”

“I’m growing. I need sustenance.” Hoseok defends, patting his stomach for emphasis.

You walk up beside him and pat the back of his head, “I think all of that food is going right to your head.”

Hoseok looks like a kicked puppy and Namjoon sweeps into his defense, “C’mon, guys, don’t pick on him!”

“Yeah! Don’t pick on me!” He pouts, crossing his arms.

“He can’t help it if he loses brain cells without food,” Namjoon says, turning and grabbing his belongings while you and Yoongi laugh at Hoseok’s expense.

“Do you want me to swear at you?!” The poor god of Death looks absolutely appalled and utterly betrayed by the lilac-haired man. He huffs, “You children have no respect for your elders.”

“Can I quote you on that?” Yoongi asks, walking past Hoseok to grab his own bag.

“Absolutely not!”

Taehyung watches the dysfunctional chaos before him, in awe that the 3 pillars of balance could act like humans. Not just with each other, but with someone he himself once called a friend. You’re all so different than you are at the museum and the council meetings, it’s like you’re not even the same people.

“Tae?” You ask, pulling him out of his confused state. You hold your hand out to him, asking him to join you as the others continue to walk ahead. He accepts.

The 5 of you walk together, further away from the buildings on campus to the fence that lines the end of the property. You all forego the sidewalk for walking across the lawn, getting further away from the lights as you go.

Hoseok comes to a stop in the middle of the grass and Taehyung almost walks into him, “Do you think this is far enough?”

Yoongi looks around and shrugs, “I don’t think anyone will notice.”

“Notice what?” Taehyung asks.

“Way to sound like we brought him here to murder him.” Namjoon jokes.

“Namjoon. Hold my hand.” You say, dropping Taehyung’s for his.

Hoseok and Yoongi hold hands across from you and Namjoon laughs, “Oh, are we having that seance now?” He looks at Taehyung and winks, “Sorry, I guess we forgot to mention this part.”

“Just hold my hand.” You demand. He does and Hoseok takes his other, creating a chain between the 4 of you.

Yoongi takes a deep breath and sighs, “Alright, let’s do it.”

You and Hoseok nod in agreement and Namjoon nods as well, acting as though what you’re all doing is just a practical joke you hadn’t let him in on. It’s only when a soft golden light starts to travel between your hands and to him that he starts to get worried.

“What are you guys doing?” He asks, fearful of what’s going on. He tries to pull away, but you and Hoseok are much stronger than the poor human. The light only continues to grow brighter, and the brighter it glows the more concerned Namjoon becomes, “Guys-?!”

The light washes over him like a wave and it’s like someone has opened his eyes for the very first time again. He takes a deep breath, and then he’s looking around at the others and at himself and at Taehyung and it’s like he’s experiencing life for the first time all over again.

“How did-? But I thought-” He struggles to find the right words to say, unsure where to start, “What’s going on?”

You step in front of him, placing your hands on his shoulders, “Namjoon, I’d like to formally introduce myself. I’m (Y/n), and I’m Fate.”

His eyes widen, “Fate…?”

You nod and Hoseok pushes you out of the way to make his own introduction, “I’m Hoseok, but you’d know me better as Death.”

“You’re Death?” Namjoon asks, obviously not able to believe that someone like Hoseok could be something as dark and daunting as Death.

“Death equals mercy,” Hoseok explains. Both you and Yoongi push him from both sides and he chuckles, “Sometimes…”

Namjoon nods, not yet believing it but going along with the information anyways. He turns to Yoongi, “Does that make you Life?”

“Was it my sunny disposition that gave me away?” The blue-haired deity asks, earning a laugh from the king.

You move in front of Namjoon again and gently take his arm, “And this is Taehyung.” You pull him to where the blonde stands, still in shock, “You two have already met before, but you might remember him a bit differently.”

You place a hand over Taehyung’s head and down his front, revealing how he looked the very first time he had met with the king, “Jihye…”

“Hey.” Taehyung smiles sheepishly, waving shyly as his old appearance morphs back into his college boy disguise, “It’s been a while.”

They both just stare at each other, one nervous and the other in disbelief. Taehyung can’t help but think of all the things Namjoon could want to say to him. How disappointed he is. How upset he must be. It comes as no surprise to anyone when Namjoon moves forward and pulls Taehyung into a hug. His arms cross behind his head and he pulls Taehyung as close as humanly possible without hurting him, “I’ve missed you.”

His words are like a breath of fresh air and Taehyung finds himself relaxing into the embrace and holding his friend back just as tight, “I’ve missed you too…”

It’s a special moment, one Taehyung never thought he would get. His first friend is back and it’s thanks to 3 very unlikely people.

“Why didn’t you come to see me after the spell worked?” Namjoon asks, pulling away.

Taehyung looks down, slightly ashamed, “I didn’t want to mess up again.”

“Again?”

“Like the first time. We’d been so close, but even if I had made it work you still would have-” He stops. He doesn’t need to say it. Not when everyone already knows what he’s going to say.

“But I thought once we broke the spell I’d have to wait until my next life?” Namjoon asks, reiterating what both he and Eunha had put together.

“Technically, this is your next life.” Yoongi mentions.

Life’s revelation comes as a shock to both Namjoon and Taehyung, “What?”

“You were supposed to meet in this life, but because you two just had to make it happen sooner-” Yoongi makes sure to glare so hard in Taehyung’s direction that his planet might even shiver, “-the spell tore your soul away from this one and placed it with your previous body once the spell took hold again.”

“With the spell broken, we were able to put your soul back in this body and merge them together.” You explain. The 3 of you have been sitting on this plan for weeks, and you’ve carefully crafted a friendship with this Namjoon since his soul left his previous body just to ensure you’d be able to make this change happen altogether.

“You’ve been able to do this the whole time? Why didn’t you say anything?!” Taehyung asks, completely shocked. You give him this ‘are you kidding me right now' look and he seems to get the hint, “Right. Fate’s strings…multiple outcomes.”

“I can’t believe this…I can’t wait to tell Eunha.” The modern king is still entranced with himself like he’s never looked at his body before. And then his words hit him and he realizes that Eunha isn’t here and has no idea that he’s alive, “I have to go see her right now-!”

He turns to take off in a sprint and Hoseok places himself in front of him with a hand on his chest, “Not so fast, deadman.”

“Huh?”

Yoongi groans, “You cannot just go hunting her down.” He’d spent far too much time conversing with young adults and various incompetent professors just for this plan to work and he was not going to let it all boil down to nothing.

Namjoon however, doesn’t understand exactly what’s at stake, “Why not? I need to tell her I’m alive and that I’m okay!”

“The magic that brought you back is still fragile. If you go to her now then the whole thing could blow up in all of our faces!” Hoseok explains in his own, dramatic fashion.

“So, what? I’m supposed to just wait?!” The king asks in disbelief.

“It will happen as Fate allows.” You remind him, “You’ve waited this long for a miracle, I think you can wait just a bit more.”

Your words are simple and still just as cryptic as always, but they put him at ease and bring him back to his senses. He nods, “Right…”

“Geez, why couldn’t you have been that easy?” Yoongi says, turning to Taehyung.

The blonde scoffs, “I am easy!”

Hoseok laughs, “I don’t think you actually know what that means.”

Taehyung crosses his arms, “I’m doing my best, okay?”

“Well, now that we got all of that settled-” Hoseok claps his hands together loudly and rubs them together, “-let’s go get some grub.”

Yoongi turns to Hoseok in disbelief and hits his arm, “Are you serious, right now? You don’t need to eat to survive!” The blue-haired deity reminds him.

“But Namjoon does! I’m sure Namjoon would love a nice warm meal.” Hoseok turns to the poor human with a look that resembles a kicked puppy and it’s like they’ve gone back to being undercover again.

“I wouldn’t mind a bite to eat I guess?” Namjoon caves, the god of Death breaking into celebration while the god of Life can only sigh in disappointment, “If we go to that one place downtown we can order drinks at the student price.”

The offer of a few beers seems to peak Yoongi’s interest much more than a measly human meal, “Hoseok gets to pay for everything.”

Hoseok shrugs, “I don’t care. It’s not like I can’t create my own money.”

He turns to get back on track for the gate to leave campus and Namjoon trails after him, “Wait you can do that?! How does that even work?”

“Oh, don’t get him started. Just blame magic like every other human and let’s get to the bus before it leaves.” Yoongi calls out, starting at a slower pace behind them. They leave you and Taehyung to take the back of the group, the both of you trudging along at a slow pace behind them.

“So, are you going back to your duties now that everything is done?” Taehyung asks. A part of him hopes that you’ll stick around or maybe even come to visit him on his own planet, but he knows that you have your own duties to attend to.

But you’ve thought about this as well. You knew that once Namjoon’s memories were merged and he’d be left to go and find Eunha on his own, that you’d be free to go back to how you were before this fiasco started. But things are different now. Now, you have Taehyung who’s snuck his way into your heart and made you feel emotions that you’d left reserved for humans. He’s helped you understand how to feel without letting it interfere with your job, and you don’t want to let that go just yet.

You sigh, “You know, I don’t have a planet of my own. I really just drift freely within space when I’m not doing anything.” You kick at the dirt, “Maybe I could stay here on Earth. Do what humans do.”

He’s shocked, “You’re staying on earth?”

You shrug, “Yeah. I heard there’s this museum with this ancient mummy exhibit.” With a mischievous, all-knowing grin you ask, “Wanna go check it out sometime?”

Taehyung can’t help the smile that breaks out on his face. He takes his arm and wraps it over your shoulder, pulling you into his side, “I’d love to.”

You may not be able to look at your own future together, but at least you know that the both of you can do it together.

Maybe Hui was right.

Maybe for Fate, the future is written in the stars.

~ Thank you for reading ~

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hiccanna-tidbits · 3 years

Photo

SURPRISE BITCH I BET YOU THOUGHT YOU SAW THE LAST OF SAPPHIC JACKUNZEL

ABSOLUTELY NOT

FEM!JACK AND LESBIAN RAPUNZEL MY BELOVED

Anyways I was absolutely obligated by law to make a sequel to this at some point! I was wondering what kind of ballgown fem!Jack would wear to a fancy party or some other special event, and then this happened. Rapunzel wears lavendar/lilac when she dresses up nicely, of course!

***

“Come on, Jaina! You can come out now.”

“No!” An annoyed voice drifted out from behind the floral-painted changing board. “I just look so...so glitzy. I can’t deal with this.”

Rapunzel sighed deeply, leaning against the wall and running her fingers through the lavender chiffron of her skirt. “This whole thing was your idea. Don’t back out on me now.”

Jaina must have thought Rapunzel was blind if she didn’t think Rapunzel noticed the way the white-haired girl had always paused at the door to the closet, staring longingly at Rapunzel’s collection of dresses. They weren’t anything particularly special--mostly just casual wear, with a few nicer gowns that she had gotten as past birthday gifts. Nonetheless, Jaina looked at the bright, rippling waves of pink, green, purple, and blue like they were an especially tantalizing chocolate cake.

Rapunzel supposed it made sense that Jaina was drawn to them, since her normal look was not exactly the most colorful. Every time Rapunzel saw her, she had on the same plain brown dress, wrapped around the middle and the bottom of the skirt with dark red bands. She had a cape that she wore with it--one that she never failed to wave wildly about when she was being excessively dramatic, but was nonetheless equally brown. The most color she ever added to it was a dark blue sweatshirt she wore over her dress from time to time, although even that was fairly modest.

Still, it had come as a surprise when they’d been lying on Rapunzel’s bed, deciding on a lunch recipe, and Jaina had made her suggestion apropros to nothing.

“We should play dress-up with your nice clothes sometime. You know, just for the hell of it. It’s not like you’ll actually be needing any of that stuff for castle balls, so we might as well.”

And here Jaina was now, inexplicably nervous about Rapunzel seeing her in the fancy outfit she had requested to wear.

“Come on, Jai,” Rapunzel said, her voice softening. “I’m sure you look wonderful.”

“No, I’m--it’s weird! I don’t know!” Jaina’s voice cracked slightly, showing the first trace of fear. “I’m not supposed to look glamorous. I’m a little shit.”

Rapunzel shook her head. “You are not a little shit. No matter how much you try to be.”

“Hey! Take that back!”

Rapunzel giggled. “Well, the Jaina Frost I know would never be so much of a coward that she can’t handle her best friend seeing her in a different outfit.”

“Okay, okay! I’m coming out.”

As soon as Jaina stepped into the light, Rapunzel had to remember how to breathe.

Her skirt, billowing around her like the stream of a fountain, was a deep blue--like the very last glimmer of twilight before giving way to inky black. Silver-white glitter was dusted across the dark folds, glinting like stars. It trailed up to wrap the bodice completely, making Jaina look like she’d been dipped in moonlight.

Her hair was no surprise--Rapunzel had helped her to do it earlier. Rapunzel had weaved the braid crown now trailing over the tops of Jaina’s ears, and curled it into a rippling bun hanging from the back of her head. The braids were secured in place by a delicate line of silvery ice leaves--a little adornment Jaina had added for flare.

Nevertheless, seeing it together with the dress...

Jaina was gleaming, brighter than any of the lanterns Rapunzel had ever seen on her birthday. Brighter than the moon itself.

For a long moment, Rapunzel couldn’t speak.

“Do I look that stupid?” Rapunzel snapped out of her stupor at the sound of Jaina’s mumble. Her friend was looking anywhere but at her, cheeks slowly deepening to a bright pink.

“No, no!” Rapunzel shook her head rapidly, lifting her hands to try and reassure her friend. “You look--I just--I wasn’t ready for it. You look really beautiful, Jaina.”

“You think so?” Jaina’s voice slipped into uncharacteristic timidness--a timidness Rapunzel hasn’t heard since she kissed Jaina for the first time.

They had exchanged a few kisses since. They'd both been certain they liked it, and they hadn’t seen any reason not to try again. Every time, Rapunzel’s stomach felt like it was zipping around at great speeds, and she often wondered if she’d find herself floating up into the air like Jaina could.

Still, they had never talked about what it actually meant. Jaina had never brought up the topic, and Rapunzel had never asked.

She supposed some part of her was terrified to find out. Some part of her was terrified delving too deep into this would drive a stake into the only (human) friendship she’d ever had.

Rapunzel’s smile widened. “I know so.”

“It’s just...” Jaina bit her lip. “When I rose out of the ice, I wasn’t wearing--well, I wasn’t wearing anything like this. I don’t really know who I was before I was Jaina Frost--or if I was ever even technically human--but if I was, I sure as hell don’t think I was one of the fancy, well-off ones. I guess it just feels...wrong to wear stuff like this. Like I don’t belong in it.”

“I can’t see how,” Rapunzel argued. “You pull it off spectacularly. If anyone was made for that dress, it’s you.”

“I don’t know.” Jaina’s eyes darted around uncertainly. “It just feels like I don’t deserve to wear something this nice. Like I’m breaking some unspoken elegant clothing rule.”

“Well, you’ve never been above a little mischief.” Rapunzel smirked. “Seems like that would be right up your alley.”

“Yeah. Actually.” Jaina broke into a smirk of her own. “Maybe you’re right.”

She whooped and spun around, skirt fanning out like waves of night sky. Rapunzel felt her chest start to rise up like a drifting bubble.

Jaina really was far cuter than she had any right to be, and it frustrated Rapunzel to no end. It set all manner of emotions loose in her, many of them unbearably confusing.

“Yeah!” Jaina crowed, pumping her fist in the air. “The world is not ready for how fancy I am!”

Rapunzel couldn’t help but laugh. “No, no they aren’t!”

“For the record, though...” Jaina turned back to her, smile growing a little more shy. “I still think you look better.”

Rapunzel’s hand strayed to her hair, sprigs of wildflowers Jaina had picked sticking out of the loose braid. “Thank you. Although credit where credit is due--the flowers were your idea.”

Jaina giggled. Evening sunlight streamed in through the open window, washing the little circular room in extravagant gold. Lit from the back, Jaina’s hair glowed softly, making her look like some kind of ethereal princess.

Struck with a sudden idea, Rapunzel smiled and strode forward, extending a hand.

“Excuse me, beautiful lady. May I have this dance?”

Jaina spluttered, suddenly unable to form a complete sentence. Her cheeks turned a shade of pink to rival some of Rapunzel’s best dresses. “Huh, wh--wha--”

“Wait, wait! I know how to make it even better!”

Without waiting for Jaina to collect herself, Rapunzel rushed over to her dresser. She grabbed the enormous flower vase in the center (Mother had picked her an especially extravagant collection and brought them as a gift the other day) and quickly sifted through it, grabbing out several and gathering them into a bunch.

She sauntered over to Jaina, holding out the bundle. Petals drifted to the floor behind her, snowy white and deep blue rimmed with cyan.

“For you, fair maiden.”

Jaina blinked. “You matched my dress,” she said stupidly. “And my hair.”

Rapunzel smiled. “Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to match mine. Mother didn’t bring me as many daffodils as she usually does.”

Jaina stared at the flowers, expression unreadable. Something inside Rapunzel wilted.

“Do you--do you not want them? I mean, you don’t have to--”

Without warning, Jaina snatched the bouquet away, glowering at her. Apparently, she had been very concerned Rapunzel was about to change her mind.

Jaina leaned down, slowly inhaling and taking a long whiff of the faint floral scent. Suddenly she flung her arms into the air, sending the flowers careening up the the ceiling and floating down in a lazy, drifting rain.

Rapunzel glanced up at the scattering bouquet, and then back at Jaina. “What--”

“I was just setting the mood.” Jaina smirked. “Of course I’ll dance with you, idiot.”

Beaming, Rapunzel held out a hand again. Jaina slid her own on top of it, and they sauntered to the top of the stairwell with petals fluttering down all around them.

As they reached the small landing, Rapunzel felt her eyes dart to Jaina’s. Her friend’s eyes had slipped shut, lips curled up in a soft, tranquil smile.

Another idea seizing her, Rapunzel let her hand drift off of Jaina’s. She reached down, slipping one hand onto Jaina’s thigh and the other onto her lower back and scooping her up like a bride.

“Wh--RAE!” Jaina spluttered, legs dangling helplessly over Rapunzel’s arm and cheeks turning redder than some of Mother’s best gowns. “What are you doing?”

“I’m sweeping you off your feet!” Rapunzel beamed proudly. “You know, like the knights do in the stories?”

“Put me down!” Jaina huffed. “I’m not a damsel in distress!”

“Very well, if you don’t want to get a free ride down the stairs.”

As Rapunzel started to lower Jaina to the ground, she felt a hand swat her stomach.

“No, don’t actually! I’m just not used to being pampered. I usually have to take care of myself.”

Rapunzel looked down at the girl resting in her arms, and her heart suddenly broke.

Maybe this was the first time someone had been this soft with Jaina in over a century. Or three.

“I could take card of you, you know,” Rapunzel said softly. “If you let me.”

In response, Jaina rested her head against Rapunzel’s side and laid a timid hand on Rapunzel’s chest. “How are you even able to do this, anyways?” she grumbled.

Rapunzel giggled. “Pulling your mother up the side of an 80-foot tower every day for over 10 years doesn’t exactly leave you with weak arms.”

Jaina smiled weakly up at her. “Good point.”

“Can I--can I carry you down the stairwell?” It was almost embarrassing, how much eagerness Rapunzel felt creeping into her voice. “Like I see the princes do with the princesses in the pictures in my books?”

“Ew!” Jaina snorted. “Like I’d want some snobby king-to-be anywhere near me.”

“I know, but I don’t think you have to be a prince to do it,” Rapunzel retorted, voice rising into a slight whine. “Come on! They always look so happy in the pictures. I thought maybe we could be happy like that, too.”

Jaina pressed the back of a hand to her forehead and let out a dramatic sigh. “Very well. If you must.”

Jaina Frost wasn’t heavy--she was as light as winter wind, even with Rapunzel having to balance her way down the stairs. From the way she was nestled into Rapunzel’s chest when they reached the bottom, the blonde concluded that Jaina couldn’t have minded too much to be carried like a delicate princess--even if Jaina’s cheeks were now more scarlet-tinted than Rapunzel had ever seen them.

“Now, I know it’s tempting, but don’t fall asleep here,” Rapunzel teased. “We still need to dance.”

Jaina grinned. “Oh, I wouldn’t miss it for anything. As much as I am enjoying these big, strong arms of yours.”

“Don’t worry, you haven’t seen the last of them.”

“Wait, hold on, Rae. Let me add a finishing touch.”

Jaina lifted a hand and a blue-white beam shot out, zipping toward the tower roof. It hit the ceiling with a small crack, and a gleaming white chandelier sprung from the boards. Rapunzel watched in wonder as thin rings of ice grew down in concentric circles, rimmed in dangling white bulbs and curved icicles.

“Wow,” she breathed. “It’s…it’s beautiful.”

Jaina beamed proudly. “No castle ball’s complete without an over-the-top ceiling light, right? Now we’re ready to go.”

Rapunzel started to lower her arms, and Jaina leaped out of them like a spring hare. Her dress swirled around her as she turned to face Rapunzel, this time being the one to extend her hand.

“May I have this dance, Princess Rapunzel?”

Rapunzel laughed, and took Jaina Frost’s hand. “You flatter me too much. But yes.”

They took the floor, and they moved like liquid. Jaina took the lead, surprisingly confident for someone who had been blushing up a storm mere minutes ago. For anyone watching, it would have been impossible to tell that for countless decades, Jaina’s only dance partner had undoubtedly been herself. She spun and twirled and twisted and leaped, and at first Rapunzel felt herself breathing hard as she tried to keep up. At one point, Jaina even grabbed a rose from a vase on the windowsill, frosting it over before tossing it up to hold in her teeth. (Rapunzel seriously doubted the move was meant for anything other than showing off, but she didn’t mind.) It didn’t last long--during one particularly long twirl a few minutes later, Jaina snatched the rose from her mouth and flung it out the window in only the most overdramatic sweep of her arm.

It didn’t take long for Rapunzel to get the hang of the movements, though. In barely any time she was spinning around as fast as Jaina, weaving about the room with similar grace. They joined hands and let go again, pulling together and apart only in rhythm to a soft tune Rapunzel hummed. From time to time, Jaina stopped to twirl Rapunzel under her arm. Rapunzel, in a few moments of daring, dipped Jaina steeply toward the ground before pulling her up again at the last second.

For a long while, the dance was bouncy and energetic, rippling across the floor lit by nothing but the gleam of dying sunlight off of Jaina’s chandelier and the soft glow of summer fireflies drifting through the window. It could only be so long before the girls’ feet grew tired, though, and the tempo slowed down until they were just holding each other and gradually swaying from side to side.

There was moonlight in Jaina’s smile, and her eyes were softer than Rapunzel had ever seen them. When she spoke, Rapunzel was entirely unprepared for it.

“I’m in love with you.”

Rapunzel didn’t stop dancing. She couldn’t, too caught up in the rhythm of their movements. Still, she was sure her eyes flew open wide enough to rival those of her bulging-eyed chameleon companion.

It was a strange thing to suddenly (and dramatically) declare. Rapunzel wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“Well, of course we love each other,” Rapunzel said. “We’re friends.”

“No, I mean...” Jaina sighed. “I’m in love with you like the fairy tales. Like the princes who carry the princesses down the stairs. Like the big, elaborate royal weddings with 16-layer cakes. I’m in love with you like...I’d marry you, if I could. If you wanted to.”

The words enveloped Rapunzel like a snowstorm.

She was silent for several moments, trying to sort out her racing thoughts. Jaina loved her. Jaina loved her.

So that’s what all the kisses meant.

“Mother says girls don’t marry girls,” was all Rapunzel managed to get out. “I asked her about it when I was 10.”

“I know they don’t.” Jaina’s voice hardened. “I don’t care.”

“But will it--” Rapunzel’s voice broke, sudden anxiety gripping her. “Will things have to change? Will we not be able to be friends like we used to be?”

Jaina smiled, seeming to relax a little. “Nothing’s going to change, except that I’m giving you the opportunity to kiss me more frequently, if you’re interested. And we don’t have to be weird about it when we do.”

Rapunzel looked over Jaina. The snowy hair. The crystalline dress. The sparkling, mischievous eyes. The skip in her step and the lightness of her laugh. The energy that followed her when she zipped around Rapunzel’s room and painted tapestries of snowflakes in her wake. The way she stumbled through Rapunzel’s bedroom window with her arms overloaded with books, all on Rapunzel’s favorite topics. The way she’d practically shout “You’ll never be bored again!” while chucking the entire pile at Rapunzel.

The way she made Rapunzel feel like she had everything she could possibly want without even setting one foot out of her tower.

Rapunzel smiled, because now that she thought of it, there was no other possible way she could have imagined this going. It was clear as the stars on Jaina’s skirt, and everything clicked into place at once.

“I’m in love with you too,” she murmured.

Rapunzel pulled Jaina in, and kissed her slowly in the blinking shimmer of fireflies.

***

They sat on the windowsill well into the night--legs brushing, hands interlaced, Rapunzel’s head coming to rest on Jaina’s shoulder. The fireflies, still flitting about the summer evening, were backlit only by the faint light of a rising moon. Rapunzel gazed off into the dark treetops, sighing.

“They’re so beautiful,” she murmured. “I wish I could see them closer up. The fireflies, the trees, the lanterns...everything.”

“You know I’d take you if you wanted,” Jaina reminded her. “I’m always up for a little jaunt. And honestly, the whole world’s out there waiting for you. Seems like kind of a waste to hide from it in here, especially when I’m sure you’d love it.”

“I know. But Mother--”

“--doesn’t have to know,” Jaina finished. “Didn’t she go to some neighboring kingdom for that one special kind of perfume, anyways? You told me she won’t be back for a couple days.”

“Right. But...” Rapunzel bit her lip. “It’s dangerous outside.”

“Anyone gives you trouble, I can just fly us away. Remember?”

Jaina pulled away, leaving Rapunzel looking after her with a pout. She stood up, delicately stepping off of the windowsill and into the open air. Smirking, she turned and offered Rapunzel a hand.

“Ruffians and thus are very unlikely to have means of following us into the sky, you know. Care for an adventure?”

Rapunzel looked away. “I don’t know. I love so many things here. I mean, this is my home, I can’t just--”

Jaina snorted. “Come on, you don’t seriously think we can roam around in these fancy clothes forever, do you? We’re going to have to come back at some point to change. I’m not kidnapping you.”

Rapunzel stood up, eyeing Jaina’s outstretched fingers. “I guess not.”

She had to admit, she was tempted.

“Home will still be there when you want to come back to it,” Jaina said. “But there’s a whole world out there to see, too. And I want to show you everything.”

Rapunzel smiled, and finally took Jaina’s hand. “You have me back by noon tomorrow, or I’m never letting you wear my dresses again.”

“Deal.”

They were lost to the night, and the tower was left empty.

***

Since Jack/Jaina was clearly on the poorer side as a human, I HC Jaina (and by extension Jack too lol) as being a bit (initially) uncomfortable with putting on formalwear, if only because her subconscious is kinda going “Is this allowed??? IS THIS ALLOWED???”

It was actually kinda hard thinking of a fancy dress with icy/winterey vibes that hasn’t already been claimed by Elsa’s outfit lineup D: GOD DAMN IT ELSA YOU DON’T GET A COPYRIGHT ON ICE DRESSES

Rapunzel and any iteration of Jack Frost bonding over how much they love to dance is just something that can be so personal ;____; I mean, Jack spent the intro to his movie spinning and leaping all over the place, and Rapunzel started a huge-ass dance in a town square, so like...am I wrong??? THESE FUCKERS LIKE DANCING

I feel like since Rapunzel grew up so sheltered, she’d be pretty naive when it came to differentiating between different types of love. Like someone tells her they love her romantically and she’s like “well of course we love each other!! We’re friends!!!” and...it takes a bit for her to realize that romantic love is a whole different Vibe sometimes XD The fact that girls romantically loving other girls is most likely not commonplace in 18wheneverthefuckTangledtakesplace definitely doES NOT HELP lol

Pic credits available upon request!

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illyrian-lover-flower · 3 years

Text

Crow of hope

Hey @duneska I want to wish you a Happy and full of delight filled Birthday, you truly deserve it 😊.

You have become a wonderful friend over the little time I knew you and you just brightened up my whole day with even the littlest message. The conversations we had were always so bright and funny to me, and I just bonded with you over similarities I always believed no one would get.

But I am so glad I was wrong and I was able to form this friendship with you, you were after all one of the persons who brightened up my tumblr experience the most.

And like I said, you brightened up my day with even the littlest message.

I hope I could also brighten your day a bit and wish you a lot of fun with this piece I’ve written.

It might not be your taste as it is rather angsty at the beginning, but I’ll promise there is a lot of fluff making up for it. Something I also want to apologise in advance for is that it turned out soo long, but when I tried to shorten it - I just wasn’t happy with it. So buckle up and enjoy this fic with a well deserved piece of cake 😊

However, I have brabbled enough - enjoy your Birthday present and your B-day😊

Words: ~8.5k

„Alright, put the daffodils right there – yes, to the Dahlias.” Commanded Elain in a soft voice as fae of all kinds bustled around the grand hall – her voice a drowned-out whisper in all the other murmurs which echoed off the sleek white walls. Bustling skirts, hurried steps, exhausted breaths, and small conversations all around her lithe body, while everyone -female, male, old and young – worked together to make their High Lady proud.

No one knew that it wasn’t their priced High Lady who organized all this; the flowers, the decoration, the cluttery – it was all chosen by Elain, though the main idea really came from Feyre and perhaps that was all that mattered, but right now there was no time to frown at that.

Tables were still in the need to be placed by the walls, so everyone could dance to their hearts content in the middle of the great hall with tapered ceilings, the last bits of food needed preparation and mostly had the decoration to be finished -the colours a special order from Feyre herself when she had approached Elain two weeks ago. Telling her sister in a rushed afternoon, which the seer spent working in her greenhouse, that she would love to have an garland of flowers – rowed in the colours of the rainbow – stretching all over the room.

Considering the fact that the hall was at least thrice the size of the river Estates living room and mid-January – it was a miracle that there were even that many flowers available in Velaris. Many florists had given their last flowers to the charity event of the High Lady, once Elain’s begging voice whispered through their ears, having to close for the next couple of days as they had no other arrangements to put on display, but no one of the shop owners seemed to care.

And honestly, Elain didn’t either -having put the blooming part of her spacious greenhouse to good use – as the last flowers were braided into a river of poinsettias, orange Dahlias, daffodils, Jasmines, light blue Delphiniums and many, many more. If the seer was truly truthful, were it a bit too varying shades of colours to her, as they nearly seemed to jump into one’s eye, but who was she to care. Feyre was the artist who wished to paint this dull hall into a sea of happiness and surely knew what she was doing – hopefully.

Thought Elain while her delicate hands smoothed over the sea of flowers, a coughing fit crawling from her throat the moment all those different smells hit her flaring nose thrills – giving her already a headache – while she ordered for the garland to be pulled up.

“It’s just … magnificent.” Breathed Feyre next to Elain, a swirling cloud of dark chiffon skirts swaying to her feet, as she watched how the rainbow expanded over their heads in a bow, like a real rainbow. “It sure is.” Coughed Elain, while she tried to hide her coughing fit and tearing eyes behind the back of her hand – this was just too much for her nose!

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay till the party starts? You know, my students keep nagging me to bring my pretty sister back to the art lessons.” Mocked her carefree voice the tearing seer, who just shook her head – to more she wasn’t able anyway as Feyre already rushed off to Rhysand, who strode into the grand hall as if it was a catwalk, together with Nyx on his hip. Smiling sadly to herself did the seer shake her head and avoided to gaze at the happy family, safe, together and alive – unlike many other families who had fallen victim to the war.

The cold luring song of death pulling all those warriors and innocent fae away from their loved ones. This evening was for those loved ones, who stayed in the charts and rubble of a past life. This evening was supposed to be giving them hope – hope of a healed life as they were to laugh to their hearts content again. And Elain should have been happy for Feyre and Rhys – is happy for them – but somehow this was never all she felt, somehow there was this pinch. Twisting and stabbing her guts whenever she thought of all of the happiness, the freedom – all which she denied herself and did not dare to believe in anymore, as it was taken from her. Her freedom – her choice. Given to a male she nearly did not change a word with and did not even whish to have a bond with as her happiness vanished in the puff of a stary night as a ravenous voice declared to her: ‘It was a mistake.’

Never would she forget those words. Never would she ever be able to hear them from him again -whispered, yelled, breathed, or just told in a voice as cold as a grave – as no matter how, they would always be her end. Always send her heart bleeding in a flood of scarlet red while her eyes cried the river of a thousand seas binding together.

But it was no use- mourning after someone she was not supposed to be with. After all immortality awaited her and right now were the things on her mind far more important than a male – no matter how charming, generous, kind, patient and good looking he was. Elain tried to shake her head at those silly thoughts, her bleeding-heart wandering in a mine of salt with them, as her golden locks flew around her like a spinning skirt of the finest silk twirling under the glimmering lights of a chandelier. Sparkling and sprinkling as if a thousand stars lived in those heavy strands of hair. But those stars would not shine, would not rise as she hurried with silent steps away from the last preparations.

Past a happily laughing Rhys and Feyre as they listened to Nyx blabbering and let her pass without a second glance into the dull hallway.

‘She forgot!’

‘Of course, she forgot!’

Raged her mind while she waltzed over the marble in a barrel of sky blue chiffon skirts; ‘Why would she remember?’ , asked her heart her, this traitorous head of hers silently answering her ‘She has many things swirling in her head right now, she just forgot this year – there are millennia’s to come, don’t be too hard on her.’

Lie! Screamed her shattered heart, as tears dreaded to fall from her doe eyes, waiting like brave sailors at a plank end for the final push of the captain, while her delicate hands gathered the soft material of a dainty blue chiffon. But this last push never came.

The words in her head and memory those of a salt dipped dagger, but she did not cry, did not bend as her cruel heart sang to her, that her sister had not only forgotten this years Birthday, but the one of last year and the one before that and even before that.

Feyre forgot Elain’s birthday for the fourth time in a row and if things were going to continue like they were now, her younger sister would surely wonder in a century, if Elain was truly born or just popped out of a seed on some nameless day. Though Nesta was not of much difference, her number of rows only a three, while her pretendence of knowing her beloved gardener sister hurt just as much as Feyres.

Both seeming to know what was best for her.

Both seeming to know that a rainbow would wait to be spotted in her life – funny thing was just, that instead of letting her watch out for the numerous colours painted in her fate, did those two stand in front of her. Clouding her vision and senses with their good believed thoughts as they were ready to fight for this miraculous happiness of hers with a shield, dagger and sword, and bow and arrow. Never letting anyone past them, as they watched out for her, believing that this suffocating grip they had on her heart was something non-existent.

But they didn’t know that she felt about them this way, after all – Elain never really spoke a word of discomfort to them, never truly. All that spoke for her was her body – lithe a pale swaying from time to time under the glowing sun, whilst her last meal had been days ago. A peaceful sleep seemingly something which mocked her from a century long distance as it escaped her over and over again.

But no one noticed -except for Nuala and Cerridwen, who tried to nurse the delicate fawn silently back to health with heart sweetening friendship and occasional baking lessons, in which they all ate the results after wards.

Though did another name occur in her mind, as she raced through the long, sleek corridors and farther away from the shining stomach of the bustling manor. Grabbing her lilac cloak in a hurried way, while she repeated that same name over and over again in her head. The smile she wore stretching itself impossibly wider on her lips the more often she thought of him and his dazzling smile. Him and his gleaming eyes and sun lightening laughter.

And it were those thoughts which made her rushed walk to her home so much lighter, almost jumping from one step to the other as she hurried past chatting fae on the cobbled street. Only noticing with a distant consciousness that each house she passed grew darker and darker. Colour fading, whilst walls crumbled under the broken roofs.

Her nose didn’t even scrunch up at the rotten smell which wafted through the air, unlike she had done before, because she knew -just knew- that this was a familiar scent. One which would come without suffocating sisters, one which would come without an always smiling gardener but one which would come with a light sweet hearted boy, who lived among greys and browns.

Only a few houses stood crumbled, but proud, under the sinking sun of the night court. Rags and hastily put-up tents dominating the dark paths far in the outskirts of Velaris. Though some did not want to acknowledge that they were still part of this shining city, feeling out of place and unheard, whilst the high fae and lesser fae lived in glorious peace with their High Lord and Lady, who believed to have restored houses and families of their city. The healing of the peoples hearts a process which started long ago. The charity ball of Feyre was a part of this process too.

Her cheery and optimistic self, which also understood the pain and grief of the fae, made them all come together for those in need -mostly for those at the rainbow. Little did one of them know that those who needed the help the most, suffered in silence under ruins, and decayed bodies of their loved ones. Skeletons of delicate fae females, bulky males, Illyrians and even children resting in dreading ivory colour among crumbled walls and roofs.

Fortunately, he was not one of them, luckily, he was brave enough to get a hold of her skirt one fateful day on which she got lost. Mortified by the skeletons, ruins and death singing streets, did her heart nearly leap out of her chest once this little hand brought her to a halt. This traitorous muscle already readying her to meet the empty eye sockets of a dead being. But those eyes glittering and shimmering like a mountain lake at her were pretty much the liveliest she had ever seen. Specks of brown and green swimming in those eyes of his, that one could think they were fishes enjoying the warm presence of him.

Just like Elain would do now, as she reached a small house. A cracked door -rotten and hanging off on one hinge- was all which kept her from seeing him again. Eager to see his blinding smile, did she knock three times: one short and two long, just like she had told him.

“Elain!” squeaked his voice already from the inside, as he hurried to haul the door open. The seer could only smile at the little boy standing in front of her with this dazzling grin – one of his front incisors gone. “Hey Amel! Would you let me in?” “Of course!” beamed the boy and crushed the seer into a warm hug once she closed the door behind her. “What did I miss while I was gone?” spoke her voice softly, once she had picked him up and carried him towards the rag of a couch only a few steps away. His little wings twitching up for the shortest of moments, when she accidentally brushed the base of his wings with a slightly calloused hand. “Nothing much.”, mumbled Amels voice into her shoulder, “though I did miss you. Does that count?” Elain giggled at his hopeful eyes and could only plop his little nose; “Of course it does! I missed you too after all.”

Amel nuzzled into her at those sweet words and enjoyed her warmth like a giant cat, which curled up on the seers chest. Though he did not purr, but did the boy fold his wings neatly back in – almost as if he were ready to fall asleep.

“I have a surprise for you!” spoke up the little Illyrian in a rush, once Elain sat on the slightly mushy pillows of the couch, as if he had just remembered the surprise himself rather than to tell Elain. “And which one is that?” But she did not even receive an answer, as the little Illyrian had long scurried to the kitchenette in the back of the giant room, in which next to the sofa and a kitchenette stood an old table, with two chairs, accompanied by an old cask, which worked as a bathtub and an ancient fireplace. The in grey stone set cleft gaping at her, whilst the heavy stones crumbled, but the important parts of the old fireplace were still intact. The empty blackness reminding her that she had to feed it with wood and light them up in order to have some warmth in the perforated house.

Kneeling in front of the ancient fireplace did she fed log for log and lit the stack of wood with cold shaken fingers up, silently listening how Amel dragged a chair over to the kitchenette and climbed on top of it.

It were mere minutes which the seer had spend here, yet had the sun sunken that low already, that the stars begun their twinkling evening dance atop of their heads – bringing chilly January coldness with them, that let her breath fog. And that was the sign for Elain to start the nightly preparations with a whistling wind around her shaking shoulders, picking up various piles of blankets, while Amel still bustled around in the rotten kitchen cabins.

Blanket after blanket were strained atop of the clumsily, over the holes nailed wood. Blocking out any roaring sound of cold gusts and any light. And whilst the seer put the last blanket over the gaping slit of the broken door, did Amel sit down eagerly on the couch. “Come on, Elain! You are going to miss your surprise!” She smiled then, nailing the last blanket for today against the old wood and strode over towards the young boy with two thick wool blankets in her hand.

Once she sat down on the slightly warmed pillows, did Amel pull something to the front, from behind his back, the happiest smile he ever wore stretched on his thin lips: “Happy Birthday, Elain!” Exclaimed his cheery voice and let her gaze on a plain little muffin, which was topped with a half burned Birthday candle. “You shouldn’t have, Amel.” Whispered the seer as tears welled up in her eyes and hugged him with all her blazing heart.

She had only mentioned the day of her Birthday once, in a bedtime story she told him, and here he was – this young soul, full of happiness despite all his pain, who presented her a sweet little muffin as if it was a great Birthday cake. And it was, for her it was everything she ever asked for. Elain did not need any gowns or jewellery on her Birthday as presents, she just wanted a soul which remembered her.

And Amel was together with Nuala and Cerridwen the only souls which truly remembered her. Perhaps Azriel remembered the date too, but after the Solstice a few weeks ago it was probably clear that he would not wish to speak his congratulations to her, after all – she was a mistake. One he was likely to never do again, as he seemed to avoid her like the plague – only letting her catch one accidental glance at him while he admired the work in her Greenhouse from afar.

“You have to blow out the candle!” cheered Amel. Though did his eyebrows raise once Elain told with a slightly stern voice, that he was the one to eat the muffin. “I already ate lots of cake Amel, one more bite and I’ll explode!” joked the seer, but the Illyrians wings only lowered itself down on the brown pillows “I knew it is not good enough…” “It is, Amel. This is all I could ever ask for and I bet it tastes delicious,” Elain rested her cold hands over those of the little Illyrian, cupping the muffin together with him “but you need to eat more than me. You are still growing.” He nodded at that and let the seer blow out the striped candle.

She did not have a wish then, but after Amel devoured the baked good and went to take a bath with her, did he ask her sleepily “What did you wish for?” Elain tugged the blankets around them impossibly closer, a cocoon of warmth, “I can’t tell you; it won’t come true otherwise.” “Pleaseee…” “Alright.” Chuckled Elain at the Illyrian, whose wet black hair stuck out as if it were hedgehog spikes and leaned down to him: “I wished for your Mama and Papa to come home and that you three live in a cute little hut together.” “Without you?” “I’ll come by to visit – verry often.” spoke Elain once she saw his sad blue eyes, that lit up the moment she announced her regular visits.

It made her smile, when Amel cuddled closer into the pillows of the large couch and into her warm side, his arms and wings sleepily drabbed over her while he tried, even in his sleep, to protect her and hold her close to him. Elain could only draw calming circles over his wet hair, as she too pulled his little body closer. The sad awareness of her lie chuckling behind the sofa leans at her.

She knew that Amels parents were to never return. Their broken bodies one of the first she had found and buried, after she decided to come and help those who needed it. Fae of all kind had helped her burry those which did not survive the Hybern attack and had taken her advice on going into the starlight kissed city. Only this little boy stayed.

She had met him the week after she buried the winged female and in rind covered male, the descriptions he made to her sending chills down her spine as she realized that he was the child of those two lovers. An orphan now – though did he not know it, as he eagerly waited for his parents to come home after their grocery shopping and Elain did not have the heart to tell him of his parents passing. The only thing she had told him, was that they were asleep and that for a verry, verry long time – forever-she had told.

But Amel did not understand the meaning of those words and simply waited for his parents, in their house, to wake up and get him back. Elain couldn’t count the times she had asked the boy to come with her anymore. His reason of stay always the same – “Mama and Papa won’t find me, if I’ll leave.” And so, all she could do was visit him, as often as she could and if one considered that her presence at the river estate was barely acknowledged, did she spend almost all her time here. The only ones which knew about her whereabouts were Nuala and Cerridwen, who occasionally send her with a basket ‘into town’ to get something for them, if Feyre ever asked. Though did the basket never come back filled – it was always empty. The smuggled loaves of bread and wheels of cheese always staying at the little hut together with Amel, who had fallen soundly asleep next to her.

His little snores pulling her under too, whilst wind and darkness raged outside and slowly let the fire die down.

A heavy knock on the door was what pulled them awake. Sleep mused and dry did the Illyrian boy and Elain look at each other and waited for another knock, which followed soon. The seer already wanted to go and check the door herself as Amel only hurried past her, to haul the door open again. Letting her poke the dying ember glimmers in the ashes awake.

And then he just stood there at the door, wings dropped and mouth wide in amazement, did the boy not even shiver when coldness cloaked his in rags covered body. “Who is it, Amel?” shouted Elain from the fireplace, as her eyebrows furrowed together. At this time of day no one had any business to attend here. The worry she felt overtaking her once no one answered her. And as she saw the one standing on the other side of the threshold, did she nearly lose the black fire poker in her hands. Shock, delight, and pain all suddenly exploding and chasing around in her heart.

Amel only took her free hand, once he saw her frozen face – widened eyes and a slightly parted lips. “He looks like the one you always describe in my bedtime stories.” Stated his happy voice in a hushed tone, as if he feared the person at the threshold – chunky as a cupboard – was just a ghost. He was certainly not the only one believing that, as Elain herself could not process the picture in front of her.

Azriel stood there, in flesh and blood, with a heavy breath fogging the air as his murky coat and wind mussed mass of dark hair stood black against the stary night. At first glance one could believe he was one with the darkness, but at second glance one saw the broad shoulders, tugged in wings and tousled hair standing darker than the shadows against the sky. A silhouette painted in the depths of a night blooming sky in one of Feyres paintings.

And he was just that, a painting whose face lit it up in a golden hue with surprise once he saw the little Illyrian hauling the door open with his yet dainty fingers, now clutching to the seers hand. His breath halting the moment he saw her -just like hers had flogged itself away in her chest once she saw his eyes again. Dulled and almost entirely hazel, the specks of grey and green which she had spotted over a year ago, nearly gone as they seemed to hide away from pain and hurt.

“Elain.” Tore her his ravenous voice away from his empty eyes. She felt shocked, to say the least as they were always warm and seemed to sing of companionship and appreciation whenever her gaze wandered into them, but now there was nothing – just a murky sea of hazel, empty and without a feeling. “Can I come in?” “Of course!” chirped Amel before she could even lift her tongue for an answer. Sending the boy a stern look -accompanied by a suppressed smile – when he left her delicate hand and placed his little palm against Azriels large one, dragging a stumbling Shadowsinger into the little hut, as they left the seer to close the door.

Elain could only smile and shake her head, once she saw how the two took their seats on the coach, a strong wind- piercing and shivering- flickered through the rotten walls and send the fire dancing, whilst the seer merely shook at the gust. Hazily closing the door after this howling bite reminded her of the gaping opening in the wall.

“Are you really the Shadowsinger?” whispered Amel at the gigantic male by his side, as if he were afraid to accidently summon an ancient creature. “I am.” Azriel inclided his head, “At your service little lord … .” “Amel.” The Shadowsinger send a rare grin to the boy and repeated his name, which set the Illyrian giggling “But I am no Lord!”

“Really? But I thought you had the heart of one.” Mused Elain as she stepped back to the two again, her arms loaden with wood and those delicate shoulders covered in a sheet of wool. Amel watched her with raised eyebrows feed the fireplace. “How do you know one has the heart of a lord?”

“Well, that’s easy.” Smiled the seer to herself once she sat down with the two curious males. Amel a small curious bundle of wings between her and Azriel – watching her with the same curious stare as the Shadowsinger. “A lord is one of a noble kind, though I do not mean the kind of nobility you are born with. I mean a kind of nobility you grow over time, one which is not defined by money or jewels, but by the weight of the heart and one’s decisions.” Whispered her small voice at him and poked the spot above his heart with a teasing finger. “A lord is -for me- not someone born with the claim of a throne or a higher stance in society, only minding his own business and his alone. A Lord is someone who is kind and generous, with a heart as bright and pure as the sun.” And somehow her gaze wandered over the ash black locks on Amels head and into the curious eyes of the Shadowsinger.

Specks of life and colour returning to these irises in green streaks once her words had settled into his heart. A shy smile stretching on her lips after she had spotted the faint blush in his cheeks, under the glowing light of fire.

Amel only hummed at the words. “So does that mean I am a Lord?” “To me, yes!” smiled Elain at the boy and wrapped him into the wool blanket beside him. Afraid that the wind which rattled at the planks and blankets would bite into his warmed body. Tucking him away with a careful hand and slowly pushing him down on the spacious couch. “Come on, Amel, it is time for bed.” “But I don’t wanna go to bed! We have a visitor!” Protested the young boy with an uprising of his wings and voice.

Making the Shadowsinger uncomfortable as he was brought into the argument. “I can go … if you need your rest little boy.” The little Illyrian jumped at that – not on the floor to have a temper tantrum – but to the Shadowsinger. His little fingers holding on tightly to Azriels’ neck as he sat in his lap, “No! Please don’t go! It’s nice to have you around!”

“You are certainly the only one who is thinking that.” Grinned Azriel at his head. Somehow laughter and sadness lacing those uplifted corners. Those twisted ties drawing in the seer so much, that she could not prevent those childish words from slipping; “That is not true. I like your company very much.” Only when his head snapped to her, those eyes widened and brimming with green and grey again, did she hear her own words pounding against her ear and nearly punching her heart out of her chest, as she got lost in the forest in his eyes.

Only catching herself once a last crack of wood screamed in the flames, making the burning ember jump out of the chimney and onto the rotten wooden tiles. It had the seer nearly jumping to her feet – pushing the glowing ember back with the heavy fire poker, as if she were stabbing a chicken.

Or a king for that matter, as suddenly not the gleaming heat of the fire covered her hand, but the warmth of freshly spilled blood. Elain shrieked at the sight, eyes wide and mortified did she throw the iron poker in front of the fireplace. Wiping her ash covered hand at those chiffon layers of sky blue.

Azriel was there the moment her back hit the old couch. Setting Amel on the old cushions and picking up the slightly heated fire poker with a careful, scarred, hand.

He took the space beside her the moment his ears heard the Illyrian boy shuffle to lay down, trying to give them at least the imagination of privacy with his back turned to the two fae. “El, are you alright?”

Her heart jumped at her nickname on his tongue. Rolling off of it so easily, as if he had done it a hundred times. “I am fine.” Croaked this silent voice of hers at him. Making her laugh at her ruined try of steadiness. “It’s fine Az, really. Nothing to be worried about.”

He didn’t answer her.

Hearing the lie a mile away even if he were deaf.

But he gave her time to sort herself out and collect all the silent thoughts she did not share with him. The moment she wanted to, his words flowing into hers as they were to interrupt each other’s sentences; “What are you doing here Azriel?” “I wanted to wish you a happy Birthday.”

They looked at each other then, really and for the first time in weeks. Those brown swirls in the seers’ eyes drawing him in, as if he were a child yearning for chocolate. Whilst the seer wandered into those streaks of green in his irises as if they were a mystical forest, she long wished to discover, but never dared to.

It had them still, yet throwing their heads back as laughs, as sweet as the first flowers in spring bloomed from the seer’s mouth. Whilst those frail petals slithered down Azriels spine, had the rich ravenous sound of his laughter goosebumps emitting on the seer’s skin. Amel merely turned around, peeking at the two adults merely sitting inches away from each other. The Shadowsingers wings slightly extended to Elain’s side as content silence wrapped around them as a warming blanket.

Even after weeks of silence did not change a thing of their companionship.

Even after all this time, after all the mistakes, had nothing changed.

There was a bond, buzzing and glowing, as warm as a hearth between them. But something dimmed this radiant glow.

Though it was no shadow which touched this magnificent bond. Enthralled by this golden glow themselves did they sneak around it like curious snakes, watching and gazing, tracing and tickling.

But neither of the two fae acknowledged this bond, this tether between night and day.

And so Amel saw it upon himself to cut through this thick silence, once no one dared to utter a word, not even a heave of a silent breath. “Elain, I am tired. Can you tell me a story, please?” “Of course!” jumped the seer to answer immediately, as she turned to wrap him up. Snuggling onto the couch close to his fragile body, to prevent him from freezing, and put another blanket atop his frame.

It didn’t take long for the boy to nuzzle into the seers side, pressing his rounded ear next to her left ribcage -listening to the thundering sound of her heart. “Do you want to listen too, Shadowsinger?”

“Please, call me Azriel. And only will I stay if your mother is alright with it.” Elain stiffned at that, barely noticeable -at least for Amel- as the little boy merely answered him “Elain is not my Mama – but she is waiting, together with me, for her to come back.”

Dread immediately filled Azriels guts as he saw the almost invisible shake of her head. He was an orphan. Left in the rubble of Hyberns attack.

He had to chock down a small “I am sorry.” For the boy did not yet know of his parents passing. But even though this was a message as dark as a shadow, did he still feel a spark of light inside this black mist, when he remembered how long ago the attack was and Elain was still here to watch and guid him. “Before you ask, Azriel, I don’t want to go into the city. Mama and Papa won’t know where I am if I leave.” Yawned the boy tiredly, surprising the Shadowsinger ever more, as he seemed to have known his next question.

Elain merely smiled at the boy and caressed his back protectively, whispering to no one in particular “I have tried to convince him for months now to come with me into Velaris, or at least a little hut -not a ruin- but this stubborn Illyrian doesn’t even give me a chance to reason with him.” Her gaze shifted then, from a warm fire to a cold batch of earth “But I am already used to that.”

Azriel didn’t know if she meant the incident on solstice, or if she was talking about her lack of choice in general, but he did not dare to pry any further as the shadows whispered of her uneasiness to him.

Amel seemed almost fast asleep in her arms, lulled in by the beat of her heart -how he would have liked to switch places with the little boy – barely noticing anything around him as he carefully got up from the creaking floor. “I better get –“ “Stay.” Interrupted him Elain before his heavy booted feet could even make one tentative step towards the door.

The Shadowsinger was torn between leaving and staying. The High Lords words,as well as his own ringing in his rounded ears. ‘You are to stay away from her.’ ‘It was a mistake.’

Did these words hunt her just as much as they chased him?

Letting him grief and nearly cry out in anger at a love he was denied being with, as his brother -His High Lord- assumed him to be driven by the need of his lusts. But this was by far the furthest thing from reality. He had long admitted to himself, that the taste of the seer on his tongue would send him to heaven and hell all the same.

But what he carved more than any taste of her, was just the feeling of her. The warmth of her lithe body seeping into him, whenever she would hug him. The sound of her voice giggling at one of his dry jokes – whilst her smile brightened up his world. Her smell a perfume of Jasmin he wished to smell for the rest of eternity.

And driven by all that -his hearts carvings- did he give in to the temptation of her company and settled to rest at the other end of the brown couch. One of the woollen blankets Elain had carried before resting atop his massive frame with slight scratches, but they gave him warmth and something other to concentrate on than the seers smell.

„All right. You settled in, Amel?” “Uhmm.” Hummed his young voice at Elain, sleep already drenching from every little sound. It had the seer giggling, whilst the Illyrian only nuzzled into her. Merely peeking an eye open when he had heard nothing of the silent Shadowsinger. Only to see the picture of darkness at the wrong spot.

Elain was sure, that if Feyre, or any other artist was to capture this moment, it would not be the taunt reality with a shy Shadowsinger trying to hide at the other end of the couch. For anyone else it would be death peering down on his next victims. The shadows behind him seemingly lashing and wiping at those preys, whilst the truth was one of shyness. The shadows not knowing what to do with themselves as their master was fully at ease and their presence of needlessness. But the curiosity they harboured, for the story that was to come, made them stay. Shyly settling down by Azriels wings and shoulders as they waited patient as dogs for the seer to begin.

But apparently was Amel not happy with the arrangements. Huffing a loud puff of air at the seer when he had realized the uncomfortable shyness with which Azriel gazed at them. “Azriel, please come here too – I wanna cuddle with you too!” It had the Shadowsinger go stiff as a board, the calm shadows beside him suddenly twitching alive again. But instead of lashing out to protect this cupboard of a male, did they more seem to gather behind his back. As if trying to push him.

“Traitors!” muttered the Shadowsinger under his breath, making the seer giggle ever the softest at his stern gaze into the black void. Amel hadn’t heard this word, which echoed through the seers pointed ear, but was delighted when he saw the dark male standing and gathering his blanket. The fire beside them dancing and seemingly caressing the stern panels of his face and gigantic wings.

Every other kid would have trembled in fear at him. Afraid that those painful eyes would hide a volcano of rage and violence, but Amel knew it better. And Elain couldn’t help as to smile at herself, with the knowledge that this better knowledge of the boy was her fault – telling him every night a tale of the Shadowsinger, which she herself heard from Nuala and Cerridwen.

“Scoot over.” Ordered Amel with the try to push the seer at the sofa lean. Even though the seating was rather large considered to regular couches, it still was not enough to fit all three next to each other.

Azriel already wanted to see it as a cue to finally go. A sigh of relief, but also exhaustion flooding him, as his heart yearned for the company of the seer. But also was afraid to come too close to her. Hurting her perhaps. He didn’t wanted to do that.

To his relief or unluck, he wasn’t sure, grabbed the seven year old his tainted hand and pushed him into the space next to Elain.

The seer, as well as the Shadowsinger, gazed at each other in a moment of surprise. Their widened eyes searching the company of each other as Azriels wings twitched beneath him, adjusting ever the slightest to his new form of rest -trying to make them some space.

But as it turned out was the only option to let Elain slightly lean up and let the wing pass under her. Cradling this lithe body of hers, while Amel crawled on the males chest and snuggled between the two. His own wings a warm cocoon around him. “Comfortable?” asked Azriel the boy and had his heart leaping in his chest at the bright smile the boy offered him. Hugging him close as if he were not a monster, as if he were not covered in the blood of hundreds and hundreds, but as if he were a male like everyone else. With a heart and a life and a mind which could make generous decisions.

It was the case that he did, but right now, even this moment seemed too innocent to weigh against all the bad decisions he made. Sensing his discomfort snaked the seer an arm around the little Illyrian between them, and let her palm silently rest on his drumming heart. She felt every nervous pump of blood on her skin, yet she merely smiled and tugged the blankets -which were shortly discarded- up to cover all three of them.

The fire still crackling happily in its pit. Whilst those three souls lay in comfort there.

It was the physically closest they had ever been. Even with Amel between them could the seer not say were his heaving chest ended and her calming hand started, connecting them as if he were a vibrant tree sprouting out of her calming earth. Somehow this coaxed a smile out of her and using the situation shamelessly by snuggling even closer.

But it did not like as if Azriel minded, as his scarred hand grabbed a hold of her waist. Steadily keeping her against him.

“Ready for your story?” whispered Elain in the warmth before the fire. “Yes!” declared the boy and too, snuggled closer to the Shadowsinger. In whose chest seemed to bloom a flower of happiness, nurtured by the appreciation, patience and love of those two in his arms.

Elain merely smiled and started a tale which the quiet Shadowsinger was to remember even in the passage of centuries.

“Once upon a time, there lived a princess. She was of utter beauty and kindness, pure and entirely unstained. Something her two sisters wanted to prevent from ever happening, as they searched the truest, kindest and sweetest soul for her sister to marry. Promising her hand to him at a time she had not even met this mysterious man. The bubble of solitude and guarded safety her sisters kept her in, stifling her chances of ever getting to know him before their wedding was to happen. Promising her forever to the hand of a stranger, who did not even own her trust.” Azriel noticed, that during sometime at her telling – had slipped a sting of pain in those normally bright shining eyes. But Azriel assumed to know why this was the case, her fingers starting to rub unconscious circles over his heart – chanting searing circles through his burning skin as his heart thundered and pumped in response at them. At even the softest of flame rings did this beating muscle in his heart not miss a chance to capture this circle.

And then she whispered again -at the night, at Amel, at him or at the fire, he wasn’t sure. “But this marriage was a trap. Not for the lovely sister, but for the poor man -who would spend his entire life in the fear of losing his wife to a so believed demon inside of her. This creature inside of her -so it was told- capturing her and leaving her eyes in a mist of grey whenever he was to talk to her. “

“Her sisters had worried for their beloved, lovely sister ever more with the passing years, as this haze of grey seemingly hunted her day and night. Fearing that this beast might kill her, had they locked her up, far, far into a tower with barred windows. Her entire freedom taken away from her, when her sisters had sent a guard to watch over her.” Elain chuckled, and sneaked a glance at the Shadowsinger, who cradled the tired Illyrian, as if her were worth an entire court. “At first, she believed him to be a statue, one created without emotions displayed on his looming face. But over the time she got to spend with him – she saw it was actually a massive cauldron brewing beneath his bronze skin. Mixing happiness, kindness, gratitude, sadness, anger and so much more into one pot that he just didn’t know how to express them.”

“But over time -even when those hazy moments possessed her- did they grow to know each other. Finding more similarities in the other than it was ever believed of a guard and a princess to have. Her sisters however were blind to the obvious trust between the guard and their sister and kept the engagement to the other man. It was when she first saw the male, so in contrast to the guard who had her trust, that this demon overtook her. Not just her eyes, but also her mouth. Speaking of a riddle which was to occupy the entire Kingdome of the princess for years: ‘The one with the deepest of values, shall be able to set her free – the one of the greatest of powers. The one having fate at her hand, a two-sided blade -one old and one new- wielding at her will. A mist of grey laying ahead of her eyes, whilst the path behind her, shall be paved forever more. The stone to rest, one which she can’t move.’ “

Her eyes glazed over at that – when her voice talked almost sacredly about those prophecies – as if she were in a memory only months away. Absently starting to trace Amels ash black curls with a tentative finger. His deep snore vibrating through the Shadowsingers chest as both watched in trance the rise of his little body. When she realized that Amel had long gone into the depths of sleep, she withdrew her hand, closing her eyes for the rest of slumber. That was until the Shadowsinger asked, a careful edge lacing his voice, “Could you please continue? I wanna know the answer to the riddle.”

Her eyes snapped woken at that, a shy smile stretching her lips, before she used the hand to cradle the felty matt of Amels hair, to caress his lightly stubbled cheek “I assume you already know the answer, Shadowsinger.” “Still. Please.” He wanted to hear her voice just for a little longer. Wanted to enjoy her embrace as long as he could – savouring every searing fingerprint of her on his skin.

Elain did not argue father than that, simply letting her words lull him in again; “Her sisters believed, that the one who had the deepest of value, was the betrothed of their beloved sister. Claiming that her love was his. But to their disappointment had he no clue, no answer with could free the lovely princess from her haze. And so, she stayed locked up, in the tower and murky depths of grey, her hand free to take – as the sisters saw that the man they chose, was a choice for another princess. The riddle, which was spoken, carried near and far. Surprisingly, luring a lot of man into the trance of the cursed princess, so it was said. “

“Her beauty had man forget the oddity ,this curse seemed to be, and made them simply wish to take her hand with the freeing of her haze. And yet, determined they all were, no one had the ability to free her from those murky grey depths. The only soul loyal by her side -unafraid- was the devoted guard by her side. Watching and protecting her like the human she was before. “

“Year went by, beforethe guard got fed up with presenting the princess constantly as if she were an animal in the zoo. A mere attraction, not a living being. The guard had heard the riddle so many times, he himself was able to recite it as if it were his own words, yet it took time too, for him to realize the meanings of the words.”

Elains brown orbs gazed deep into his then, a bright smile seemingly lightening each freckle and trace of colour in her eyes, when she recited the words he once declared “A seer. That was what the guard had told. Freeing the princess from the grey murky depths of future and past with two simple words. Spoken as if they weighed nothing. But the world rose at that day, colour, smells and feelings returning to the princess. The cry of happiness was roaring through the entire castle, as the two sisters wanted to hug their beloved sister, though had she heard nothing of that. Running past her extended arms and down the pedestal on which they kept her. Jumping right into the guards’ arms and clinging to him, as if he were her air.”

“Is that what you would have liked to do?” grinned the Shadowsinger. The tenseness of his shoulders -of his entire being- seemingly vanished into thin air within this stolen moment. Elain blushed a little, but nodded nonetheless – snuggling a bit closer to his warmth and body – whilst his wings drew in tighter and tighter around the three. As if they were the boundary between the world and their peace. “If Lucien wouldn’t have been there -as well as my sisters- I would have done so. I would have weeped into your arms out of joy.” Admitted Elain with crimson cheeks. But Azriel merely pulled her tighter with the hand around her hip.

A silent understanding that he, too, would have liked to change this moment now. But the past is paved and set in stone – no matter how many mistakes one might have done, they could only change the future. And Azriel knew the moment a loud snore left Amels lungs, that he wanted a future where this was not a stolen moment – where this was their life. And one in which this would not be a ruin, but their home.

Their home.

How he liked that sound. Making him feel all fuzzy and warms as he imagined it, not even the cold reality of the story able to catch up to him. He was with Elain in her embrace he could dream – he always did. It should have been a warning- that his mentality had went from cautious and professional to this cotton candy sprinkled mind of happiness and without boundaries – but he would take the consequences for that on another day, in another setting.

“Where did you even know from where I was?” whispered Elain into the dimming light. “I didn’t. The shadows had guided me.” And as if on queue flickered a whisper of darkness over her cheek, caressing her, as if they were a ribbon of silk. Fluttering briefly over the snoring Illyrian between them too.

“They seem to like you and him.” “I like them too.” Smiled the seer. “They are you after all.”

Azriels heart nearly burst at this as blinked away the prickling sensation in his eyes. Never, not in 500 years, had one spoken of him and his shadows like this. Never had he felt those words more than now as he was on an emotionl edge. Torn between his High Lords command and the calming presence of this beloved female. But as she hugged him impossibly closer, he knew that he no longer was torn – that he no longer had to fight against a wish he wanted fulfilled.

Azriel was sure that he wanted Elain, courts and everything be damned, as he only hugged her closer too. She and Amel, right now the only ones which counted to him. And he was ready to die for them – if Lucien or Beron insisted on the blood duel.

“I am sorry I haven’t gotten you a Birthday gift, El.” Exclaimed his strained voice suddenly, when he noticed the seers eyes glaze over with tiredness – believing that she could not answer him anymore.

“It’s alright Az, your company is gift enough.”

And it was in that moment, when silence and sleep rested on the wind’s breath, that he didn’t know if it was the seers Birthday or his. As this was the greatest present he ever received.

The wind sored loudly around them, as a curtain of honey whipped in front of his face -the seer having once again not listened into braiding her hair- clouding his vision on the small hut. “We are almost home!” yelled Amels voice next to the two. His yet delicate wings carrying him carefully on the gusts of wind, as if they were lifting him up into the arms.

Azriel and Elain merely smiled, once they saw the little hut. Hidden away into a garden of wildflowers and trees, as Elain had planted them there. Around their home. Around their secret.

It was yet a story to be told to their family, of how the crow -how Azriel translated Amels name to her- had connected death and the fawn. Letting them soar high into the sky in the arms of each other. Away from responsibilitys and fate.

They knew it would all come to an end eventually -spilling the secret – but until then they had this.

A life full of sunshine, yet covered in the shadows, as they flew further and further to the wooden hut. The sun guiding them their path with a shining smile.

Whilst the Seer and the Shadowsinger could only smile as bright as the rise of a new day, “Yes, Amel, we are almost home!”

__________________________________

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woodolly · 3 years

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p.s i love you

Dead Poets Society Rewrite

Neil Perry x reader

Rated- A (anyone)

Warning- Charlie says sex but that's about it

Words-1139

Chapter 1

Chapter 2- First Day

The boys left the room leaving you, Neil, and Todd. Neil walks over to his desk, picking up the achievement pin that he threw. Todd is busy unpacking, he pulls out a family portrait. The portrait had his mother and father with their arms wrapped around who you assumed was Todds older brother, and a bit farther away stood Todd. You sat on the edge of Neil's bed, trying to think about what your next move should be. Should you comfort Neil? Give him space?

“So what do you think of my father?” Neil asked blankly, glancing over at Todd

“I’ll take him over mine,” Todd response quietly, almost as if it was to himself.

“What?” Neil asked.

“Nothing.” Todd quickly responded. “Todd if your going to make it around here, you've gotta speak up. The meek might inherit the earth but they don't get into Harvard. Know what I mean?” Todd nodded

Neil sat next to you, still holding on to his achievement pin “The bastard!” he shouted, jabbing his thumb with the metal point, drawing blood.

“Neil stop,” you said calmly, taking the pin out of his hand. Neil staring at the blood coming from his thumb. You grabbed a tissue that sat on his desk and cleaned up the small amount of blood that was on his thumb.

“Thank you,” Neil said sincerely, giving you a small smile

--- The first day of class was bright and clear. The junior boys were in and out of the bathroom in record time. Neil found you in the hallway, Todd not being too far behind him. Neil moved his head down giving your cheek a quick kiss before walking with you to chemistry.

“Are you ready for your first day Todd?” you asked the shy boy.

“No,” he stated plainly, looking down at the ground.

Neil's hand brushed yours, causing you to interlock your fingers. Neil could feel his cheeks burning up already. The boy could never understand why such a small gesture could make him turn to putty in your hands. How could a boy that radiated so much confidence not have enough to confess his feelings to you? Entering the Chemistry lab, you saw Knox, Charlie, Cameroon, and Meeks already seated. In the front of the room stood a balding old man, holding a massive textbook. --- After getting assigned loads of homework by multiple teachers. You all arrived at your last class of the day. English. All of you dropped your books on your desk and fell into your seats. The new English teacher was wearing a white button-up with a tie but had no jacket. He stood in the front of the room staring out the window.

You could feel Neil staring at you for what felt like hours though it was only a few seconds. You eventually turned your head to the side to look at him. He gave you a small smile. Keating walked down the aisle between you and Neil making you lose eye contact.

“Oh Captain, My Captain. Who knows where that's from?” Keating asked energetically, he looked around the room, no one raised a hand. “It was written by a poet named Walt Whitman about Abraham Lincoln. In this class, you may refer to me as Mr. Keating or ‘Oh Captain! My Captain!’” Keating stated, walking out the door. Everyone looking around, Neil looked at you, you gave him a shrug, not sure what was going on. “Well we better go with him,” Neil said, leading the class to the back of the room. Neil took your hand in his as you all walked down the hallway into the Honors room. “Can't you two just have sex already, I'm tired of looking at the two of you being all cute,” Charlie suggested, walking in-between you and Neil your hands being pulled apart. “Charlie will you just shut up,” you said, Charlie put his arm around you “Maybe I will. Just for you though doll,” Charlie flirted, letting out a small laugh, you removed Charlie's arm off your shoulder. Neil felt like his heart was about to drop, he knew you wouldn't date Charlie. But what if you change your mind? Did you even like him the same way he liked you?

Neil felt his hand being grabbed again by you. You gave his hand a soft squeeze. The action caused Neil to blush lightly.

The walls of the honor room were scattered with old photos, some dating back to the late 1800s. Shelves that held trophies. “Mister... Pitts. An unfortunate name. Stand up, Mister Pitts.” everyone laughed, while Pitts stood up. “Open your textbook, to page forty and read us the first stanza” Keating stated, while Pitts turned his page

“Gather ye rosebuds while ye may. Old-time is still a flying And this same flower that smiles today Tomorrow will be dying."

“Gather ye rosebuds while ye may.” Keating began “The Latin term for that sentiment is "Carpe Diem." Anyone know what that means?” he asked the class, Meeks instantly raised his hand. “Carpe Diem... seize the day,” Meeks stated

“Very good, Mr....?” Keating waited for Meeks to answer “Meeks.”

“Seize the day while you're young, see that you make use of yours. Why does the poet write these lines?” Keating asked. “Because he's in a hurry?” Charlie questioned jokingly

“Because we're food for worms, lads!” Keating begins, “Because we're only going to experience a limited number of springs, summers, and falls. One day, hard as it is to believe, each and every one of us is going to stop breathing, turn cold, and die! Stand up and peruse the faces of the boys who attended this school sixty or seventy years ago. Don't be timid, go look at them.” Keating concluded

Everyone gets up and walks over to the display cases. Faces of young men stare at us from out of the past.

“They're not that different than any of you, are they? There's hope in their eyes, just like in yours. They believe themselves destined for wonderful things, just like many of you. Well, where are those smiles now, boys? What of that hope?” Everyone stares into the photos fascinated about what Keating is saying. “Did most of them not wait until it was too late before making their lives into even one iota of what they were capable of? In chasing the almighty deity of success did they not squander their boyhood dreams? Most of those gentlemen are fertilizing daffodils! However, if you get very close, boys, you can hear them whisper. Go ahead, lean in. Hear it?”

"Carpe Diem, lads. Seize the day. Make your lives extraordinary." Keating whispers as loud as he can

You, Todd, Neil, Knox, Charlie, Cameron, Meeks, Pitts all stare into the pictures on the wall. All are lost in thought.

#Neil Perry #neil perry x reader #neil perryxreader #neil perry/reader #dead poets society #dead poets society imagines

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sortasirius · 3 years

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Half Yours, Half Mine

AN: *LIGHT SPOILERS for FATWS ep 3* Hello they are very much in love are they not? That pining energy from Bucky is just off the charts in ep 3. This is VERY angsty lmao

Pairing: Steve/Bucky

Words: 1569

One AO3 here

The day Steve gave Bucky the notebook, it was two days before Steve was meant to step on the new quantum tunnel. (Let’s call it what it is, a time machine. Bucky swears he’s living in a sci-fi novel sometimes.) He and Bucky were up late, talking about the things Bucky had missed in the last five years, the time heist, the support group Steve had started, the incredible Italian restaurant in the Upper East Side that Bucky simply had to try, when Steve suddenly had pulled the worn little book out of his pocket and handed it, wordlessly, to Bucky.

“What’s this?” Bucky turned the notebook in his hands, looking up at Steve, whose soft smile was enough to melt anyone, even a super-soldier.

“It’s something I started when I came out of the ice, something to help me…catch up with things. Like food, movies, music, historical events, things I missed when I was under. Things that people suggested, things I saw myself. I want you to have it.”

“Why?” Bucky had tried immediately to put the notebook back in Steve’s hands. He could feel this coming, ever since Tony’s funeral, he could feel Steve pulling away, making subtle, slight preparations for his absence. He had been giving things away: his worn books to Pepper, a simple gold chain to Morgan, a strange little collection of postcards to Bruce, picked up throughout his time on the run, all little pieces of his life, little pieces that, Bucky realized, would be to remember him by. Steve didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to.

“You’re not coming back are you?”

Steve’s face twists just slightly at Bucky’s words, reaching forward and pushing the notebook back towards him, refusing to take it.

“Come on, Buck. You know I don’t belong here-”

“Neither do I, I don’t belong here any more than you do,” Bucky can’t help the slight color of desperation, of anger in his voice. How can Steve even think of leaving him here? Leaving him behind?

“I- I’ve thought about this for a few weeks. I don’t want to leave you, I never want to leave you, but I just, I don’t think I can stay,” Steve is staring at the ground now, the guilt palpable in his eyes, his posture. He knew what his absence would cost the world, would cost the Avengers, would cost Bucky. Did he know how much it would cost Bucky? Did he really know?

Bucky can feel panic rising in his throat, the idea of being left alone in a big, wide world, a world without Steve? How does he tell Steve to stay? How does he tell Steve that he can’t live without him?

“Steve-”

Steve cuts him off before he can even start, like he can read his mind. There were days that Bucky had wondered if maybe he could.

“I know how it seems, that I’m running away. From the world, from you. I’m not Buck, and I don’t want you to think- I just...I saw her, Peggy, when we went to get the stones, and I swear I saw this vision, this future of my life with her, what my life would be. And that’s what I want. Natasha, Tony, they sacrificed everything, and maybe I have too. They told me to get my own life…this is a way I can do it.”

Bucky doesn’t say the words bubbling like acid in his chest, words that he had kept down, hidden, away from everyone since he was sixteen years old. Words that he wanted to say to Steve, things he wanted Steve to know, he way he felt about Steve, the way Steve made him feel when he looked at him for a second too long. Words that would be left forever unsaid except inside Bucky’s head, before his dreams turned to flashes of long-dead nightmares. He had never been a hero, only a coward, and his inability to say these words proved it.

Now was no time to be a hero.

“Okay, Steve. Okay,” is all that comes out of his mouth, and even though he can feel his heart rip into two, the smile that Steve gives him is almost worth it.

“I’m still with you. Always. Til the end of the line,” Steve points to the little book in Bucky’s hands, “I’ll be right there.”

Bucky can’t say anything, and Steve is watching him with what looks like longing in his eyes. Does he want Bucky to beg him to stay? Bucky wants to, he wants to with all his heart, but if this is what’ll make Steve happy…

They lean forward at the same moment, and Bucky tries to let all his feelings, all those unsaid words that were trapped in his throat bleed into the embrace. He’ll never be able to say them, never be able to look Steve in the face and tell him everything, tell him the whole truth, but if he could let the contact with his skin be some kind of reminder, maybe he would learn to accept that that was enough.

Steve is the one to break the embrace, and Bucky can feel the heat of him lingering on his skin, and Bucky clings to the feeling, trying to commit the way Steve held him to memory, placing it in the empty space where the Winter Soldier used to be, letting this memory bloom and sprout like a beautiful garden, filled with forget me nots and daffodils, the perfect mixture of blue and blond. Bucky swears to himself that he’ll tend this garden, feeding it with the memories of Steve, the memories that not even HYDRA could take from him. He and Steve spending all day at the movies, laughing at the commercials and eating too much popcorn. He and Steve getting their apartment together in Brooklyn, sleeping on the floor for three weeks because they couldn’t afford beds. Finding each other again in the middle of a war-torn Europe, Bucky accepting that Steve was suddenly taller than him. These memories would be the water, the sun in the sky to the garden in his mind, the garden of flowers that would be a constant reminder of Steve.

“You’ll be fine, Buck. I believe that.”

“I’d like to believe it too.”

Steve smiles again, reaching out to run his hands through Bucky’s long hair. Bucky closes his eyes at Steve’s touch, leaning into the warmth of his fingers.

“Just take a look at the list if you feel lost,” Steve pulls Bucky in again, hugging him tightly.

“I’ll miss you, Steve,” Bucky blurts out, still holding onto the sleeves of Steve’s jacket with all his might, refusing to put any more space between them. Steve huffs a little laugh, meeting Bucky’s eyes with a smile, with acceptance, with anticipation, with joy.

“I’ll miss you too, Buck. But it’s time for me to go.”

The notebook had become the piece of Steve that Bucky could cling to, that and Steve’s dogtags, which had been folded tenderly in the back with a scribbled note from Steve:

Keep these safe for me. I’ll see you on the other side. Always, S.

Bucky had gotten better now, he only read that note ten times a day instead of fifty, a hundred, a thousand.

He had taken his time, going through the pages of things that Steve had wanted him to see, sometimes imagining that Steve was there with him watching Rocky for the first time, trying Thai food from a restaurant down the block from their old building, or listening to Nevermind. Steve had been right, he was with Bucky in everything he did, every new thing that he tried. His garden of memories continued to bloom, all blue and yellow and gold, maybe with just a hint of green.

Maybe this was why Bucky had put his list to make amends in the same notebook. Maybe, just maybe, Steve would be with him when he spoke to these people who he had so deeply wronged as well. He liked to think it worked, that Steve’s warm hand was on his shoulder as he worked to make amends, even if sometimes he had to work up to it, or made the wrong step (though really, was what he did to that Senator really the wrong step?). Steve’s notebook became their notebook, and it was a living memory of Steve, one that grew like the garden in Bucky’s mind.

Bucky also makes a list, in the very back of the book, next to Steve’s last note to him, of things he wanted to tell Steve.

There was a bluebird outside my window today, you’d have loved it.

I was thinking of buying an old motorcycle and fixing it up, remember when we almost died that summer trying to race our old ones around the block and the brakes gave out?

Thai food is definitely a yes. So is Star Trek. You’d be a gold shirt, I think I might too.

Bucky keeps the back of the book a secret, never writing one of these notes in front of another soul. These were for him and for Steve alone, a reminder that, no matter where in time and space Steve Rogers was, Bucky would always be thinking of him, always growing that garden of blue and blond memories in his mind.

#stucky #my writing #not spn #marvel #mcu #fatws #spoilers

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merlinxmagic · 3 years

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[ep. 16] In the new ship. Please send help. Scroll down for transcript.

It was a false alarm, old sport. I thought it was you, for a second, that you had come up here for me, for me, and for the smallest quark of a moment I felt something like hope. Not quite happy, but hope. Hope burns much brighter than happiness, anyway. There was this sound, by the ship air-duct, the sound of someone arriving, the sound I had only heard twice before, when you had come all that time ago, and when you had left. I’m stupid to think it, you know, old and stupid. No, who am I kidding? I’m too young, I think. I feel as if I have just had my seventh birthday last weekend, but at the same time it is as if I am as old as the universe itself.

When I thought you were coming through that air-duct, I felt that hope. But it was gone as quick as it came, because it was not you that walked through that door. It was one of Master’s bodyguards, not THE bodyguard that we left alone on the Renaissance, but another. The master dislikes them a great deal, and, I have to admit, I do, too. They think I am strange, I guess I don’t care, but at the same time, I do.

I remember what you told me, when we were sitting by the great Earthen sea. I still hear your voice, sweet as honey and daffodils. You told me that you never thought I was strange, not for once second, and I was so old, and so young, and so stupid that I believed you. Perhaps you thought me the strangest thing to ever exist, but saying it would break my strange little heart, and you decided not to be honest to me as I was to you.

[distant chatter in the background]

Have I ever talked much about my friends (no, not friends. contacts) in the training center? Not much, probably. There is Spitfire, who loves the forest, like you. She’s always been here, presence steady as a flame, ready for anyone or anything. There is Blue, who is like me, because she is quiet, but not like me, because her mind is obviously so together, unlike mine, which is a mess of words and stars and explosions and chaos. And there is Infern, who leads us, I guess. Today we were talking, or we are talking, and I just kept wondering if I really should be with them, should even be here. All of the things they’ve been saying, do I even care about them? To be honest, I’ve been feeling it ever since training begun, and there was something to look forward to when I got home. But now I just feel so... far, far, away from all of them, as if I am my own galaxy in itself, and my universe is expanding so fast, and so, so far, and they can’t quite keep up, or I can’t keep up, I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know anything at all.

We don’t know anything at all, really, do we? We don’t, we don’t, we don’t.

#universe city #radio silence #alice oseman #osemanverse #stars #universe #loneliness #mental illness #distance

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pinkhairedlily · 3 years

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You're Mine

Prompt: Healing | A03 link here | Connect with me on Twitter. Happy SS Month everyone! 🌸🍅🥗 @ssskmonth

Sasuke marks his girls the way a snake leaves bites on its victims, two clear puncture marks made with a pen on the wrist for everyone to see, and the victims display them like some kind of token, an act they put on as active participants of his personal exhibition.

So they wonder where the marks are on Haruno Sakura, his new object of affections, the cherry pink-haired girl who hails from a commoner family with no prestigious bloodline history or whatsoever. To be fair, her hair is to die for – long, silky, soft strands that flow like water through fingers. They see him play with them in class even with her hair up in a ponytail – he would twirl the strands in his forefinger, lift them up to his nose, and inhale her scent. And she remains oblivious through all of these. Maybe that’s why he likes chasing her.

She’s different, couldn’t care about his advances, however forward they may be – like the incessant hand holding in PE classes, the extravagant bouquets he places on her desk at the start of every month, the public requests to go home together – and this certain level of unavailability thrills him. They think this is just a game to him.

Maybe there’s no mark because she’ll never be his. After all, she’s always holed up in the library with the silver-haired man, Hatake Kakashi. A heartthrob that could compete with Sasuke if only he spends a little less time with his nose buried in books. Too nerdy with the metal rimmed glasses, too boring, too quiet, and unimpressionable. But the silver and the pink go along well together, a duo one would always see in the hallways, in the cafeteria, at the lockers, and at the gates after Sasuke gets rejected for a ride home.

The competition offers another layer of suspense for the public interest – a side spectatorship apart from their (dull) normal daily lives. The lack of public affection between the silver and pink keeps Sasuke going however. He likes winning after all, and this is just but another challenge to him.

His challenger, on the other hand, plays him like a fiddle. Made aware of his affections for Sakura, he started to vie for them as well, going as far to compete with Sasuke on his playground aka the 100-meter dash and closely winning it by a margin. The man of the school rarely gets frustrated, even more riled up, but Kakashi says something to him when he gets the medal, and a slight scuffle ensues. Broken up when Sakura shows up on the track, a first aid box in her hand. Interestingly, she treats Sasuke’s swollen ankle first – an injury no one took notice of…until now. That says more than something but before the gossip mill could form an elaborate theory, she hooks her arm with Kakashi’s and leads him away. That also says more than something.

The day of the cultural festival arrives, and Sasuke’s class chooses to do a cosplay café. He comes to school dressed like a prince, a hundred roses in his hand which he gives to every visitor that passes by their room. A few spectators report that there’s a bunch of daffodils in a paper bag tied next to his duffel bag. They’re pretty sure the flowers for her.

But she’s nowhere to be found that day. Instead, they see Kakashi holding hands with Rin, a senior, and Sakura’s close childhood friend. They piece the information available to them and ends up with the conclusion that the cherry pink girl is betrayed by the two closest people in her life.

This is good news however for Sasuke, they surmised, but the prince remains unperturbed. By the end of the day, after the school bonfire, a classmate says the paper bag has been emptied and found in the trash can. Someone got rejected. (Or so they thought.)

The chase stops altogether – not only towards Haruno Sakura, but to all the girls. No flirtations, no winks, no suggestive gestures. But Uchiha Sasuke is a smiling, sunshine mess. Whoever is making him happy is doing a good job of also making a loyal dog out of him.

Sakura cuts her hair to her shoulders by spring, and she moves to the seat on the front, away from Sasuke’s twirling fingers. They find him doing the motion albeit in thin air with a soft expression on his face and his eyes straying to the blooming cherry blossoms outside the window. They still find no mark of his on anyone.

When she comes into school with her glorious pink hair grown enough to be pulled up to a ponytail, they find a tomato tattoo on her nape. The summer rolls around and all the boys ditch the long sleeves. That’s when they notice the cherry blossom petal tattooed on Sasuke’s wrist, the skin around each of the identifying marks already healed.

And they realize they’ve been outsmarted with a delayed narrative that’s already months in the running. They confirm this not with gossips, but the ease of Sakura sliding her hand in Sasuke’s and the two meeting Kakashi and Rin at the gates for a double date.

#ssm21 #ssm21d13 #sasusaku #uchiha sasuke #haruno sakura #kakasaku #hatake kakashi #think nevertheless but happy ending

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lys-lilac · 3 years

Text

The Realization of Importance

Part (3/3)

Let’s end it.

A/N: This is to say that all the characters and the main story line belong to Voltage Inc. Only the fictional story is a work of mine, as well the fictional characters, Hana, Touma and Akari. Also this story is based on dream event, because I had this as a dream many days ago. It might be a little different from the usual genre, a little more angsty, so this little girl wants to know your honest opinions about the work. Be honest and do let me know what you think. But, if it feels a little bit dreamy or weird, you can discontinue reading from here.

Part 1 II Part 2

Part 3/3

Hana: ?!

Standing behind me was none other the man I loved the most, Kasumi. But, why is he here? His face is looking as cool as a cucumber. And, is he smiling? I hurriedly get up from my seat.

Hana: Kas- Err, I mean Chief Kasumi! What are you doing here?

Kasumi: Listening to your conversation.

Hana: ...I- Well, I am not MC.

Turning my head where I put the hairpin to his side, I show him my ‘recognition symbol’ or whatever.

Hana: I am Hana, the new resident.

Kasumi: I know that.

Hana: ?

Why? Just as I am trying to focus on my work, why does he drop such lines? What work has he with me? I rack my brains for a possibility.

Hana: Oh, are you here to talk with Touma?

Tucking on my white coat and holding me like a scared child, Touma slowly ducks his head to the side. I knew that Kasumi loved children, like he played pictionary with Sora that time. So I decide to give it a try.

Hana: Touma, he is the head of EICU, Dr. Kasumi. You can talk to him. He really is good person. Oh yeah, we might play pictionary together!

Kasumi: ...

Probably not expecting the response, Kasumi’s eyes go wide. Did I say something wrong? Wait, don’t say me... This event has already happened here already. If that’s the case, I might be in knee deep water right now.

Hana: I thought that Touma might like to draw, since he is good at gardening and sightseeing, so I asked. That’s it.

Kasumi: Touma, I know you can do it. And as she said, we can play pictionary anytime you want. But, I have a request to make.

Touma: What is it?

Kasumi: Can I accompany you to the visit to your garden?

Hana: What?!

Okay. I seriously need to check my mental health now. Am I really in my senses? What in the world did I hear just now?

Hana: But, we shouldn’t trouble you. After all, your schedules might be packed. And what about Dr. MC?

Kasumi: She has a lot of study to do. Besides, I want to see how this resident handles the case.

So it was just as a mentor... I see. Although I would have felt pangs in my heart at this time, I feel relieved, although I don’t know why.

Touma: I would be happy to!

After finishing our drinks, I drop Touma to his bed, and go towards the CSD (Cardiovascular Surgery Department). But, Dr. Kasumi is following me. I was sure that was not the case at first, as both CSD and EICU were in the same direction. But, instead of turning to the opposite side in the fork, he turns in my direction. WHAT IS GOING ON?! Oh god, stop, my heart...

Hana: Dr. Kasumi, I need to ask something. Do you have any work at the CSD? I can help you out with the menial tasks, if you ask.

Kasumi: ...

The silent intimidation! His dark prince cape never slides from him!

Kasumi: I need you to meet me in the outside in the evening. I have something to discuss with you.

...aand, there he goes, not listening to me. And, why the heck is he calling me to join him in the evening? The more I try to clear out my mind, the more it becomes tangled with his words. Guess I have no choice left. Maybe it’s something related to Touma?

Hana: ...Alright.

[Evening: Seimei Medical University Porch]

As I am sitting on the bench after completing the post OP rounds of some patients, a chilled can of coffee hits my cheek.

Kasumi: Here.

Holding two cans of coffee in his hands, he gives me one, and takes a seat beside me. Surprisingly, it’s my favorite flavor, mocha.

Hana: So, what is it that you wanted to talk about?

Kasumi: ...

Gazing at the children playing at a distance, he remains silent.

Hana: Dr. Kasumi, I am not a psychic that I can read your mind by telepathy. You have got to say something.

This time also, the response is nothing. Giving up, I look up at the sky, which is painted with a hue of orange and yellow. Gradually, the Sun sets, leaving a pinkish violet band spread in the horizon.

Hana: Look, Dr. Kasumi, the Belt of Venus! Now, you have to say the reas-

What leaves my mouth leaves me surprised. Clasping my mouth with my hand in order to shut it, I slowly move my fingers around the coffee can.

Kasumi: MC.

Hana: Dr. MC? What happened to her? Is she busy today?

Kasumi: You are MC, right? And that name ‘Hana’ is just a false one. Am I wrong?

Hana: You are getting it all wrong, Dr. Kasumi. Look at this hairpin, I am the new resident, not MC...

Kasumi: And what if I say that the hairpin you are wearing is the one you bought when you went to the zoo with me?

I can’t even dare to say a word. What exactly am I supposed to say? That “I am MC, I don’t know what’s going on here” ? I try to push another excuse.

Hana: This hairpin is common here! I think that Dr. MC may also have one at her home. Look, Dr. Kasumi, you might need some rest as you may be overexerting yourself. I will go and inform Dr. Kyogoku, okay?

As I get up from the bench, a sudden grab of my arm makes me stop.

Hana: ?

Kasumi: At least let me justify why I think of you as the MC.

Why those pure eyes? Was his pull not enough? Those eyes are my weakness, and I can’t resist his words.

Hana: Ok, I will listen to you.

Kasumi: Until yesterday, I was unsure myself that which one of you was my MC. The way you said that you are a new resident, all of us had no choice but to believe it as the truth. But when I saw you talking with Touma, that made me clear of your identity. Because my MC is a little childish, likes to get acquainted with patients, and...

Hana: and?

Kasumi: No wonder where you are, I can always recognize you.

His fingers intertwine with mine, and as I am about to reply, Kyogoku comes from the building.

Kyogoku: Kasumi, we have got hold of her true identity.

Without any delay and without loosening his hand, he drags me with him, and we all leave for the EICU. My mind which had turned to mess after all the things he said, was not working at all, so I stay silent to know the truth.

[Evening: Seimei University EICU]

There was she, Dr. MC. All the other doctors were also there. But, why were people from Metro Police Department standing there? And that to, handcuffing her? What the heck was going on while I was outside? Just as I was thinking, a police speaks up.

Police 1: Finally, this miscreant got caught.

Police 2: We are sorry for all the trouble she caused. We will make sure she gets the ‘reward’ for what she had done.

Police 3: Thank you for the help doctors! No wonder you all are jewels! Now, give us the permission to leave.

What the WHAT?! No one was in shock as me. She, A MISCREANT? So, inso and dreaming were not the reason?

Hosho: I am glad to see our MC back!

Takado: Oh, and how foolish of us to think that the silent impostor was this idiot. Never in life.

Ekuni: She didn’t even falter when we threw jokes on her.

Matsunaga: And here I thought, we are going to get two talented doctors... Although I am happy that you are the only precious girl of the EICU.

Kyogoku: Butthead, now you know who you are right?

{A/N: Now, Hana is the actual MC, so no need to use the fake name, otherwise who knows what will Kasumi think of me... ^^;)

MC: God, can anyone please explain what is going on... I might just pass out from the overdose of information.

Kyogoku: Apparently, she was a die-hard fan of Kasumi, or whatever it may be, and was super jealous of you. So she arranged all of this. Went through a plastic surgery to look exactly like you, changed your documents by adding a false name, just to take your place.

MC: Then, how you all figured it out?

Hosho: It was Kasumi who first told us that something was weird.

Takado: That how the office, which is a place of damn banters, was as silent as the sea. Although it was peaceful, it felt wrong.

Ekuni: She didn’t know her own schedule of scrub ins, and didn’t lash us out.

Matsunaga: And most importantly, I was not satisfied her response when I asked her to join me during breaks.

Kasumi: We all are aware of your behavior and your nature, so it was not long till we figured it out.

Kasumi: MC?

Ha... haha, my life. I will not hesitate to say that it is more intense than what happens in mangas. One can do this much only for jealousy?

MC: Thank god, thank god you all remember me. Here I thought I was in a parallel world and no one recognised me.

The doctors could sometimes lead me to release smoke from my ears out of fury, but nonetheless, they cared for me, and that’s what of value to me the most.

[Some days later: Touma’s garden]

{A/N: Again, a random picture}

Touma’s surgery is a success. On the day of the surgery, Kasumi volunteered to accompany me in it, as his schedule was open for the morning. The good thing is that he can still walk and talk, although now in wheelchair for some days of recovery. Me and Kasumi, to fulfill our promise to Touma, were leaded to Touma’s garden on the day we paid a home visit to him.

Can I say that the place is paradise? Tulips, lilies, hydrangeas, pansies, daffodils and all the varieties are lined in rows. Adjoining to it is the fruit garden, and beside it is the vegetable one. Huh, did I even know how to plant a sapling when I was of his age? Answer: no.

As I was appreciating the beauty sitting on the cool grass, a small flower is tucked into my hair. It is a Syringa Vulgaris. In other words, a small lilac.

Touma: This looks pretty on you.

MC: Oh, thank you Touma.

But, just after that, a flower crown is placed on my head.

Kasumi: And I think this looks even prettier.

MC: ...

My cheeks flare up crimson. Aww, just how cute are these two, adoring me like that! I can just float in the sky out of happiness,

MC: Thank you.

MC: Oh, but I wanted to ask something.

Kasumi: Sure.

MC: If you realized that I was the original piece, then why didn’t you recognize me in the office?

Kasumi: That’s because the other you submitted your reports just before you came. Did you notice that when you were about to submit the papers in your hand, it was not the original but only blank papers?

MC: ...No! Now that I think about it, I was so heartbroken at that time, that I didn’t even glance at it. And probably, she might have done it when I was in post OP rounds, and my documents were all laying on the table. Ah, the headache I felt there might be due to her making me unconscious using chloroform, because I found myself in the closet. God! And here I was thinking that I fainted due to overwork!! That chick, grrr...

Kasumi: Pfft, as expected.

MC: Don’t laugh at me! Well, how did you find the clue then? Even I was confused of my own identity. Didn’t your thoughts waver?

Kasumi: I got the first hint by the hairpin you had. I was pretty sure that it was the same one that you bought when we went to the zoo, and that you always kept it in your bag. But when I asked the other you about this, she just made excuses that she had left it at home. Further, you mentioned about Sora and also exclaimed when the Belt of Venus appeared, so my confirmation was strengthened.

MC: A prodigy you are, aren’t you?

Kasumi: No.

MC: Huh?

Kasumi: No matter which different identity you own, or wherever you may be, I can always recognize you, because you are the most important person to me in my life.

Seeing my blank face, he chuckles and a soft touch lands on my lips, like a feather fluttering on my skin.

MC: The same goes for me too. I can always recognize you anywhere, because you are the one I love the most.

As I see the dandelions dancing in the wind, the flowers, fruits and vegetables bathed with sunlight, and the smile of Kasumi, which I yearn the most, I realize something. That I am important to him and so is Kasumi to me. No matter whatever may come, I will always stay by his side, and support him with all my heart.

END.

{Author’s trivia: I actually woke up just after the scene where Kasumi realizes that she is his MC. So, I just added the after plot, to complete it.}

That’s it! I am telling you, I was myself feeling butterflies when writing the end part. So I am sure, the story will appeal you just like it appealed to me. Pure nature of Kasumi, dipped in honey felt words. But gahh, it felt so dramatic, the police and all... Let me know what you think. If any requests, feel free to drop it in the suggestion bowl. Have a good day ahead, and give your best everyday, just like our dark prince!

~Lys

#romance md #romance md: always on call #rmd #toshiki kasumi #kasumi toshiki #sentaro kyogoku #munechika takado #tetsuya hosho #kaede ekuni #eiichi matsunaga #voltage inc #love 365 #100恋+#100シーンの恋+#hana #touma #akari #fictional work #lys's writings

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haelieana · 3 years

Text

TL : Leah

PR : Xeven_

Chapter 2

"Oh my, Luen, this is......"

"You have nice skin, so I enjoyed doing your makeup and the dress looks good on you. The Duke will surely fall in love again."

"The rumor has spread to the lady's on society that the Duke adores you. I envy you."

I don't know if I'm in a good mood, or if you want to make me feel good. Whoosh, I smiled. On the other hand, I was in tears because I couldn't control my facial expression.

As they were in a fuss, I couldn't understand how the Duke treated me like gold or jade, or like I was going to fly when the wind blew.

Pr: She means that the Duke saw her to be a person that should be treated delicately since weak things (like paper) get caught easily on the wind.

"God blessed us, the weather is wonderful today."

The scent of flowers was applied to my body. Thanks to the maid's deft make-up and my figure in a smooth silk dress wrapped around my body were distinctly different from usual. One maid turned her head up for the last time.

"Luen, we're going to leave now."

"You're going to be busy all day today, so take a break."

"If you need anything, feel free to call us."

When the girls, who chatted and filled the empty air, went out, the room became quieter. Like my complicated inner self.

I could have made a fuss looking at myself in the mirror, but I got depressed thinking about the future.

Sfx : *knock 2×*

-I know it's an excuse, but I haven't been able to hold back my curiosity.

He came in like he was waiting for me to be left alone. When I said ‘come’ in a weak voice, the door opened. I wasn't willing to get close to a man I wish I had just watched from afar.

"I’m blessed by the most beautiful bride in the world."

Yes, today was my wedding day. I want to flee to save my life, and I'm also about to be dragged to the wedding hall by the Duke of Piar.

'Oh my life, what can I do?'

In addition, I am now in a situation where I can live for a few years. Just in case he leads a rebellion.

Flop

Something fell off with a small noise. When I turned my head looking out of the window, there was a bouquet of flowers that were white at his feet. I rolled my eyes and walked to the Duke. It was a hideous white color.

"It's the same as usual, but you're even more beautiful today. It was because of you that the daffodils in the garden bowed their heads."

It was dazzling to wear a tailcoat with dizzyingly long, well-drawn legs. As the smile fell on his normally blunt impression, it became as soft as cotton candy that would melt when touched. Looking at the groom who is more handsome than anyone else in the world, I recalled the moment when he asked to marry me.

What the hell happened then.

**********

"You don't have to call the doctors to check....."

I trembled and managed to bring it up. There might still be a chance to escape. Even if it was not a hundred percent, I wanted to see if there was a little possibility.

Even now, I tried to call a doctor to prove that I was a false pregnancy. His attitude was unusual, I need to be kicked out of the dukes faster.

"Hmm? What are you talking about?"

Just as I was out of the Duke's arms, his sweet voice came as if honey were dripping.

"Confirmation. I don't give you that much faith."

"No, I didn't mean it"

"I can't doubt the fruits of our love, my Luen."

It was frustrating for me to see such a cold-headed, calculating man who made a name for himself like a clumsy insipid.

"There's no way you're lying to me."

Seeing him smiling with a harmless face with the theme of the dark duke made my stomach ache. Why would the bad guy feel guilty about me?

He leads the soldiers to the palace without hesitation and faces Yeoju.

-Don't do this. What's wrong with you all of a sudden?

-I'll take you.....

In the end, he wishes for the queen's happiness and chooses to give up on herself. She can't even tell him how she felt. The Duke was captured alive as it was.

'I'm sorry but I want to live.'

I had to stay away from the duke to do that. If I'll Stay with the duke, I'll die with him.

While I was mesmerized for a moment and got my act together, he began to make a formidable statement.

"I'm sorry about what happened. I was going to tell you after a little more preparation."

After letting me go, the Duke stepped back a few steps and seriously looked up at one knee.

Don't tell me.....?

"Luen."

His eyes were somehow moist. It was somehow strange to see water added to the face that exuded sexiness.

But I can't. No! No matter how handsome you are, this isn't right.

"I've been dreaming of this moment since the day I first saw you."

The Duke took a small box out of his arms, perhaps carrying it all the time to carry it. Inside the softly opened box, was a brilliant shining ring.

My heart sank. That sparkle is never for me.

Why are you here if it's me? What are they thinking about doing this to me, not the original Yeoju?

I wondered if the ridiculous situation would continue.

"Luen."

As close as I stepped back, the Duke came. And as soon as my name came out between his lips, all thoughts disappeared. I couldn't even wriggle as if my limbs were tied to what I couldn't see.

I felt strange for some reason. His eyes were so sweet that I felt possessed. I had to get my act together, but I was constantly persuaded by what he said.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Would you please accept my proposal?"

He held out the ring to me. I saw it closely and it was a ring that I knew. A large diamond shone even more through delicate work. In the original novel, the ring was prepared by the Duke of Piar to present with a desperate confession to Yeoju.

"Ha, haha"

I mean, smiling with a weird face.

There was nothing I could do. Every minute and second went too slowly and the confrontation continued.

'Shall I die now, or live a little longer?'

That is the problem.

I tried my best, but there was no answer. I was brought to this world without knowing the subject, so I thought I would adjust to it, but I can't walk on the flowery path, but I can't believe it's a Death Flag. I felt sorry for my situation, so I shed tears without realizing it.

"Luen."

The Duke came darting up and watched me. The maids say it's necrophilia.

I don't know why you keep hugging me when you give me away.

"Are you that thrilled? Don't shed tears."

"........."

"When you cry, I want to cry even more. So smile."

Soon, an eerie word and a ring were pushed in front of me at the same time. I tried to ignore it, but the pressure was getting stronger little by little. Somehow, it felt like a prey standing in front of a snake flicking its tongue just before it hit its prey.

'Let's move on from this moment on.'

Reluctantly, I reached out slowly and accepted the ring. The Duke quickly faced me in a gentle manner. He grinned as hard as he could, saying I was more beautiful than flowers.

'Things finer than flowers are peacocks.'

The game was over because he was caught up in it.

********

"Father, Shall we start?"

I didn't expect the Duke of Piar to make a sick face. He blinked slowly, perhaps because he felt my stare.

"It's something I've been dreaming about. Please excuse me."

Now there was no energy to refute or think what the hell was wrong with him. I gently placed my hand on the Duke's arm. We'll head to the ceremony. If you hold a ceremony in front of many people, you won't be able to skip it. But it wasn't without a way.

I tried to sigh, but suddenly I felt so quiet that I couldn't even hear the sound of breathing. As I looked up, the Duke of Piar's expression was unusual.

'Did you notice the idea of getting divorced and running away?'

I read other people's thoughts so well that I thought I might be a mind reader, I quickly noticed. His hands flinched to come up suddenly and closed his eyes.

".... My bride"

There was a strangely hot heat in his voice. Likewise, the heat from his hand to me. I was standing breathless because of the sudden act of sweeping my hair behind my ears.

"Wha, what."

A long, straight finger touched my ear. His fingertips kept hovering around my ears and it tickled. I couldn't help but open my body slightly and heard a small laugh above my head. It was clearly a different breath from a while ago.

My heart went up and thumped. What if this tension reaches him? I almost drooled and fell over.

"Are you nervous?"

Without hesitation, he came in nodding his head again. My nose was on his chest, which filled my vision. I also wanted to feel his trembling. He took a breath as I clung to him.

Having been holding me for a long time, he kissed me on the top of the head and said.

"Thank you so much for coming to me. I want to raise our children better than anyone else."

Oh, that's not it! But the protest only lingered in me.

Compelled again to look at my stomach, I picked up a word and spat it out.

"It's a lovely day, isn't it?"

"Even heaven rejoices in our union. Shall we go now?"

I was relieved by the duke who accepted my words without much doubt. I put my hand on his arm again.

"Ah!"

He grabbed my careless hand.

"It's against etiquette, but I want to go hand in hand. Will you allow me?"

His hand, one bigger than mine, wraps around mine. The end of my glove didn't come out in the air as if it wasn't to be seen in the world. My heart trembled strangely.

"Yes, it's okay."

I followed him with heavy steps to keep pace. It was also a sign that my relationship with him began in earnest.

*********

"The virtues of the couple cannot be overemphasized......"

Does everyone talk longer when they stand there? A yawn threatened to come out during the sagging officiant's speech, but I held it in. The high heels made my ankle sore and my head felt heavy because of the jeweled veil, but I couldn't show.

"I, Christian Noah, have a good day ahead of me. Lu........"

The person who keeps saying the same thing in front of me is the emperor, the lord of the original work and the ruler of the empire. The position is the end goal of the duke’s rebellion.

'That's the way it works!'

Suddenly, I rolled my eyes hard at the brilliant idea. It was a novel and ingenious idea, I think, as if lightning had flared up.

In the original book, Yeoju was a maid of the Imperial Palace. A princess of the fallen Kingdom of Lauren, she sneaked into the palace for revenge. And soon she got acquainted with the Duke of Piar.

Watching her but also wanting to protect her, somehow, the Duke fell in love with her. Eventually, Yeoju falls in love with the emperor.

'Yeoju must be somewhere.'

At this point, Yeoju would be trying to approach the emperor with a sword for revenge. Of course, he would have come here to officiate with Emperor Napsin.

A little earlier than the original, Yeoju. I had to let her meet the Duke of Piar.

'Then he'll fall in love on his own. That's the flow of the original.'

I was planning to live as a duchess and cheer for the love of the duke and the female lead. After that, it was pleasant to think of the day when I left after finishing my false marriage. It became more refreshing as the emperor's officiant seemed to be coming to an end.

"Lastly, let me ask you if there is anyone who opposes the marriage of these two people God has allowed."

Even I, the person involved, don't approve of marriage, but who allowed it?

'I'm against this marriage.'

I was sarcastic inside.

"I'm against this marriage!"

A roaring voice rang out.

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timeforelfnonsense · 3 years

Text

Lost and Found

Astarion x Dafni

Rating: T

Hurt/Comfort

TW for depression mention

Ao3

I’ve been working on this bad boy for a month and it’s done at last!

An important note: There is some reference to the Lolth Sworn drow in this and I feel the need to clear the air and state that I have some issues with the way WotC characterizes the drow as inherently evil. My house rules are that none of the races are inherently evil because the broad strokes in the source material as problematic af. So while the followers of Lolth might be evil I want to make it clear that doesn't equal all drow are bad. Dafni holds all varieties of elves in tender regard. As an eladrin of the fey wilds and a follower of Corellon she understands that fluid and changing nature of all living things. Life is messy and people do not fit into boxes, very few folks are all bad or all god. Not every elf worships the Seldarine and that’s ok. A fundamental part of Corellon is freedom and choice therefore it would be foolish to insist her path is the only right one. Her issue is with Lolth not the drow as a whole.

The Underdark was a horrid and forsaken place. A shudder ran down Dafni’s spine as she rubbed away the gooseflesh cropping up across her arms. Lolth’s influence hung heavy in the stale air. She would have to step lightly. A cleric of Corellon would be a great prize to the followers of the Spider Queen. She missed the warm sun on her face, the feeling of grass beneath her bare feet. She could feel herself wilting under the oppressive darkness that surrounded them.

Anxiety was a strange and forging feeling. The majority of her 160 years had been spent embodying the playful delight of spring. Perhaps it was on account of her relative youth. Or, maybe it was the influence of Corellon Larethian, whose wild and wonderful influence she had felt all her life. He had looked out for her. Cared for her as a father would his child. Truly, Corellon felt as much a parent to her as her mother, Thesmia did. A meek half-smile tugged at the corner of her lips. He had given her a reason to leave home when the wanderlust became far too much for her to contain. If she was to flourish as both an elf and a divine servant, Dafni would need to truly know herself beyond being Thesmia’s shadow. Absentmindedly her fingers reached for the familiar crescent moon that hung from her neck.

Her feet skidded to a halt, her trembling hand pulled away empty. Her blood turned to ice. An agonizing dagger of guilt pierced her heart and she felt as though the ground beneath her would open up and swallow her whole. Part of her wished that it would. She had carried the holy symbol since she was a young girl. Though she knew in her soul it had been her’s even before that. It had served as her connection not just to her god, but her heritage and primal spirit- The very essence of her being.

“I lost it.” Her voice was less than a whisper, stunned and distant. Tears began to well up in her eyes. The world around her was growing colder by the second. “My amulet is gone.” Her breath began to come out in heaves and she began to sob in earnest. “It- It must have gotten lost when the minotaur tossed me!”

Her sharp cry stopped her traveling companions in their tracks. Each of their faces dressed in varying degrees of confusion and concern. Gale began to speak but his words were drowned out but the low ringing in her ears. A dizzy, sickening feeling bloomed in her gut and the edges of her vision began to blur as the darkness she had so feared gripped her soul.

They had doubled back to the old Selûnite fort. The others were still there setting up a temporary camp. Shadowheart hadn’t been able to find anything physically wrong with her aside from the normal bumps and scrapes that were to be expected on an active adventurer.

Astarion felt truly helpless for the first time since he’d escaped Cazador’s clutches. It had been an hour and Dafni had yet to wake. He clasped her hand in his. A soft blue had slowly been spreading over her sage-green skin, creeping its way from the tips of her fingers to the crown of her head. Her locks were shifting at the root from rosy pink to a frosty teal. The flowers that wove through her loose ponytail had all weathered into dust.

He squeezed her hand, “Come on Daffodil…”

Gale had been fairly positive that this was, to some extent normal for the eladrin of the Feywilds. Something about a book he’d read by some notable wizard? Truth be told Astarion hadn’t been paying much attention. He was too busy staring down Lae’zel, who’s paranoia filled gaze had been locked on Dafni’s sleeping form from the moment they’d returned.

He should have been annoyed at her. The loss of some silly costume jewelry had caused her to swoon like a high born lady. He knew she was made of stronger stuff than that. Her little spell had put them all behind and left them without a healer the whole trek back to the fort. Yet, try as he might Astarion couldn’t seem to conjure up the ire he held for those too weak to survive hardship on their own.

He groaned, letting his head hit the wall behind him with a soft thunk. There it was again- That damn sentimentality! By the Hells, he was a vampire, not a nursemaid! What had gotten into him?

“You should rest.” Wyll placed a hand on his shoulder, “I’ll keep an eye on her for a bit.”

His eyes went narrow, a low growl rumbling in his chest. The idea of leaving her while she was vulnerable made his blood boil.

I’ll watch your back and you watch mine…

Her promise echoed through his thoughts. Dafni had held her end of the bargain with unwavering resolve. If he left now it would feel too much like betraying the one person he’d allowed even a fragment of trust in the past two centuries.

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t an appropriate reaction.” He muttered while he whisked away an icy tear from her cheek. “I’m just a bit... Out of sorts.”

Wyll nodded, taking a seat on the dusty floor beside him, “Hey, she’s tough. She’ll pull through, whatever this is.” The warlock gave him an almost smug look, “You really care for her don’t you?”

“I hardly see how that’s any of your concern.” He sneered with a wave of his hand, “Besides, my concern is simply a matter of pragmatism. Our little band of misfits can’t afford to lose our best healer-” Astarion hesitated for a moment before adding, “Don’t tell Shadowheart I said that. We need not add my body to the pile- Should things go poorly.”

“If I promise not to sell you out will you take a break?”

For the first time since she had fainted, he noticed the scratchy dryness in his throat. Astarion scowled, there was little in the way of appetizing food that he had seen but he would just have to make due. He was loathed to leave her side but Wyll was a good man, a better one than him in truth. He would keep her safe.

“What’s this? The legendary Blade of the Frontiers, stooping to common blackmail.” He tried to keep his tone flat but he couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips, “Fine, I’ll take a break. I’m a bit parched anyway. I suppose I’ll try to track something palatable down here. Unless…”

He arched an eyebrow towards Wyll who moved away with an overstated scoot.

“Not a chance, now go!”

Cold.

A crushing, all-consuming chill wrapped its arms around her spirit. Spring had left her. Now she stood alone in the isolating melancholy of winter. She reached out for the familiar warmth of The Protector but here- In this cursed place his influence felt far and foreign. If only she had her holy amulet. It could have served as a compass leading her back to Corellon’s embrace. She would simply have to press on. She had put them behind already and there was no time for sentiment. She wouldn’t be able to cast spells until she found a replacement and the chances of a spare symbol of her god in the Underdark were laughable. Dafni tried to sniff back the tears pricking at the edges of her eyes but it was no use. They rolled down her baby blue cheeks freezing before they could fall to the ground. She glanced up at Astarion, who walked a few paces ahead. While Gale and Wyll had spent the better part of a day coddling her, he had remained distant.

Maybe he didn’t want her like this? Her sadness threatened to consume anyone near her and he had enough grief of his own. He had admitted once that he enjoyed having her near. Whispered in her ear that she was sunlight and happiness made flesh as he took her in a flower patch of her own creation.

The feeling of a gentle hand pulled her from her thoughts. Gale offered her a small smile before speaking, “Are you all right?”

“Oh-” She sniffed, whipping away another frozen tear, “I’ll be alright. I just don’t feel much like myself right now.”

Gale nodded in response, “Yes, I can see that. Perhaps we shouldn’t have brought you here. The Underdark does seem quite at conflict with the very core of your being.”

A mournful laugh escaped her aching chest, “I don’t think we’d have had any better luck with that shadow curse above ground. No, my sorrow isn’t a good enough reason to risk the rest of the group’s safety.” She brought an icy hand to Gale's cheek, causing him to shiver, “I appreciate your concern but really I’ll be alright. We eladrin are ruled by our emotions, a shift of season was inevitable at some point or another. It’s unfortunate for the rest of you it had to be winter. Things are dire enough without my sorrowful presence bringing you all down with me. Perhaps it would be best for all of you to keep your distance.”

She sighed, her eyes falling on Astarion, who lingered just on the edge of the bitter cold her sadness created. While it pained her to say it, she knew he was right to keep away. The others should do the same if they were wise. Gale gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“He’s a funny one, Astarion.” Gale mused, “Wyll told me he had to resort to extortion to pry him from your side while you were out. Yet, today he acts as if you have the plague.”

A small snort of laughter broke past her tears, “Extortion?”

“I believe comments were made comparing Shadowheart’s healing abilities to your own. Wyll offended his silence in exchange for Astarion taking a break.”

“That’s not fair to her.” Dafni sniffed, “She’s not a life cleric, she does her best.”

“You have a good heart, Dafni.” Gale said giving her arm a squeeze, “My point is I think he cares about you, in his own odd way. At the very least he’s far more pleasant when you are around”

“You really think so?”

“I do,” Gale assured, “he’d have to be the biggest fool in Faerûn not to see how wonderful you are.”

Dafni felt a bit of warmth return to her heart. Not enough to thaw her sorrows but it was a start. Gale’s words helped her sort through the chaos of her mind as they had so many times before. He was a loyal and kind friend, as was Wyll. Shadowheart too despite her evasive and secretive nature. Even Lae’zel had warmed to her as best she was able despite their differences. There was a solace to be found in the support of her peers. She wasn’t so alone after all.

The sound of her laugh hit Astartion like a battering ram. She seemed to be in slightly better spirits since arriving in the Myconid Circle. She floated about the fungus folk with an easy familiarity. It seemed being among the vibrant plants and creatures of grotto had offered her some sense of normalcy. He looked over his shoulder to see what had coaxed a giggle from her (no matter how pitiful and melancholy it sounded). A sharp twinge of jealousy ran down his spine as he watched Dafni stroke Gale’s cheek with a somber smile.

He bit the feeling back. It was better for them both if he kept his distance. Gentle kindness was hardly his strong suit. Gods, he was a disaster. How many times had she offered him comfort even when he spurned her? She had given so freely to him, her kindness, the warmth of her bed, the very blood in her veins. And there he was relying on someone else to comfort his lover.

Dafni was a resilient little thing. So optimistic and sweet it made his teeth hurt. It was disorienting to see her so morose. He had learned the boundaries of her emotional aura rather quickly. He had noticed an unfamiliar warm feeling that first night at camp. He found himself lingering near her as often as he could after that. Savoring the tender happiness that radiated from off of her. She had told him it was simply part of her nature. A charming quirk he’d grown to enjoy a great deal. But now he could feel her heavy sorrow as if it were his own and he longed to make her hurt go away.

Damn sentimentality.

He had his own worries. He didn’t need to take on hers as well. She didn’t need him to coddle her. And more importantly, he most certainly was not beholden to her contentment for his own survival despite his halfwit heart’s insistence to the contrary. She was making him soft. It was ridiculous! He was far too old to be fretting over her like a lovelorn sprat.

It must be the tadpole. Her compassion must have wormed its way into his brain somehow. That was the only logical explanation.

He needed to clear his head and get some distance between them so he could feel more himself. He wandered aimlessly about the grotto as he attempted to show away any feelings of softhearted sympathy but it was no use. He rubbed his temples and let out a frustrated huff. He should never have taken that first taste of her. She’d become an irresistible craving from that moment on. It wasn’t just her blood, but every aspect of her that called to him. Inviting him to take refuge in her affections. He could feel himself lowering his guard a little bit more each day despite his efforts to keep her at arm's length. She’d flash him that beguiling little grin, her topaz eyes brimming over with admiration and he would find himself tempted to let her just another inch closer. He’d known she was dangerous from the moment he clapped eyes on her in the wreckage of the crash. He’d prepared himself for a stake to the heart but the infatuation she had inspired in him was infinitely more frightening and possible just as deadly.

He made his way to the alcove where the Society of Brilliance had set up shop. The strange hobgoblin had mentioned something to the party about being a collector of magical items and oddities. Walking had failed to rid him of his frustrations perhaps shopping would.

A glimmer caught his eye as he approached the cluttered stall. There, on the table was a familiar silver amulet. He was going to get it back for her and pray the gesture was enough to curb his need to see her happy. He could swipe it easily enough but he didn’t want to draw trouble to Dafni if she was spotted wearing it. No, charm and a dash of intimidation would be his best shot.

“Excuse me,” He smiled wide allowing for a slight flash of his fangs, “I was hoping you would be willing to part with that necklace.”

“A vampire interested in the acquisition of a holy symbol?”

“Yes, it’s very ironic.” Astarion rolled his eyes. “Now, how much do you want for the damn thing?”

“Well, first time for everything.” the hobgoblin shrugged, “You have a good eye, this is very unique. It’s forged from mithral and inlaId with sylvan moonstones. The holy symbol of Corellon is more commonly depicted as an eight-pointed star these days rather than the crescent moon. Meaning this item is very old indeed! It was brought in just yesterday. I would be hesitant to sell it but my research does require more funding. How does 900 gold sound?”

“I hate to be the one to tell you but ‘very old’ is a relative term when it comes to items of elvish origin.” He kept his tone flat and unimpressed, “Long-lived people do tend to hold onto things.”

“Ah, but you’ll find this is more than your average antique! Judging by the craftsmanship I would say it dates back to the time of the primal elves.”

Shit.

Of course, her necklace had much more than sentimental value. He had hoped for a quick haggle but it seemed he was going to have to work for it. He really didn’t have that much coin on him, nor was he inclined to spend it on something that was not rightfully the hobgoblin’s to sell. He raffled through his mind searching for a thinly veiled threat or convincing argument to lower the price until the perfect mixture of the two dawned on him.

Astarion let out a droll hum as he checked his nails with casual disinterest. He spoke in a low, blasé voice, “You said before you weren’t much for combat? Don’t you think it’s risky, carrying around a holy item of Corellon in the den of the Spider Queen? It would be such a shame if something were to happen to you at the hands of a zealot. Really I’m doing you a favor by purchasing it. I’ve crossed swords with the Lolth sworn before they are merciless and skilled fighters almost as dangerous and bloodthirsty as vampires.”

He let a wicked bark of laughter. A bemused expression flickering across his face. He could smell the fear stirring in the timid merchant. It would seem he hadn’t lost his edge after all.

Blurg swallowed hard before mustering a response, “ Ah- I hadn’t thought about that...”

Dafni sat cross-legged on the ramparts of the fort fletching a new batch of arrows. She’d need more to compensate for her lack of magic for the time being. She’d spent the whole trek back to their camp scanning the ground for her necklace but it had all been for not. She’d just have to accept the fact it was gone no matter how much it broke her heart.

“There you are, darling. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

The sound of Astarion’s voice caused her to jump, tossing her arrow down with a start. Dafni clutched her chest shooting him a sharp look. He only laughed, his infuriating gorgeous face fixed in a grin that reminded her of a satyr who stumbled upon a river of bathing nymphs. He dipped to his knees placing a hungry kiss on her scowling lips. He couldn’t be serious. All-day she had been desperate for his attention and he was completely uninterested but now that he had an itch to scratch he was searching up and down for her. Unbelievable! She shouldn't have been surprised. It wasn’t as if he’d ever promised her his undying love and devotion. Still, she had thought him tactful enough not to proposition her after the hell she’d been through that day.

“I’m not really in the mood right now.” She scolded, “You’ll just have to entertain yourself tonight, you egotistical lecher!”

“That- Isn’t why I sought you out. But, if you truly don’t want my company I’ll leave you be.” He shrugged his tone flippant despite the flash of vulnerability in his ruby eyes.

“I- I’m sorry that was really mean and uncalled for. Please stay.”

Stupid impulsive girl.

She slumped forwards, hiding her face in her knees. She could feel the icy tears threatening to spill over for the hundredth time that day. He’d come to check on her and she’d cut him down because of her own insecurity. The bitterness had gotten the better of her and she had unwittingly discouraged his attempt at compassion.

“If you think the accusation of being a rake is the most heinous insult that’s been hurled at me I’m afraid you’ve missed the mark by quite a lot.”

He sat down beside her, placing a hesitant hand on her back. She could sense his uncertainty. He was nervous and clearly out of his depth but he was trying. His cautious fingertips moved slowly across the expanse of her back, tracing nebulas shapes and patterns as she drew short, shallow breaths. She couldn’t bear to look at him. She just knew he was staring at her with the same wide, gentle eyes he had when she’d offered her neck to him that night in the woods. If she saw him like that the dam would break and she’d be an utter mess.

“I still shouldn’t have said it.” Her voice came out shaky and quiet as she peeked over the top of her knees at him.

“I think I’ll find it in my heart to forgive you.” He leaned in close, whispering in her ear. “I have something for you. Now, stand up and close your eyes.”

She arched a questioning brow but compiled, hopping to her feet. He pushed her ponytail to one side. His touch lingered on her jumping pulse causing a shiver to run down her spine. A warm chuckle falling from his lips in response. The cool feeling of metal draped across her throat, an otherworldly comfort hummed all around her as the delicate weight of a pendant fell against her chest.

“Where did you find it!!” Dafni gasped, “I thought I had lost it forever! You can’t fathom how much this means to me.”

“It’s a gift, to repay you for all the ones you’ve given me.”

It probably seemed a small thing to him but he’d returned a missing piece of herself. Words felt woefully inadequate to express her gratitude. She threw her arms around his neck, sending him staggering back a bit. She hardly noticed. She stood on her tiptoes placing gentle kisses all over him. First over the bridge of his nose and then his cheeks and down his neck. Her fingers laced through his soft curls tugging him close, her lips brushed against his. Astarion’s hands fell to her soft waist, his mouth ever so slightly parting for hers. Dafni sighed, running her tongue along the warm seam of his lip earning her a satisfied purr. His hand ventured to the small of her back gently coaxing her closer. She took in a deep breath, the dizzying blend of leather and patchouli making her weak at the knee. She could have stayed like that forever, pressed safe and content against his solid chest. The feeling was big and terrifying but magical and perfect all at once.

Drat...

She was falling in love with him.

#elf writes #bg3 early access #bg3 oc #bg3 #Wyll #shadowheart #gale #wyll and astarion are besties you can't change my mind #astarion #dafni of gwynneth

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leah-halliwell92 · 4 years

Text

Happy Birthday Freddie

Summary: Just something short I wanted to write.

Mom and Granny had been telling me the same thing for years now.

“He’d have doted on you as if you were his own,” mom said quickly followed by granny with, “Especially with that no good father of yours Mercy.”

I rolled my eyes as I kept on walking to where mom had told me about for as long as I could remember. I felt my heart skip beats the closer I got to this special place, especially considering what it meant to mom. He’d been close to mom for years and became the support she needed after my dad left us even when he got sick. I remember uncle Jim being an ever present fixture in my life. Supporting what my grandfather believed to be a pipe dream of becoming a singer. How he backed me fully when he introduced me to Uncles Bri and Rog and through them the enormous family I have now.

I remember the devastation that came with his passing, how raw and numb I felt knowing I’d lost my biggest support. But I kept going, I had to beg uncle Bri not to put a word in for me unless it was truly necessary to do so. I wanted to at least get noticed on my own. And I did, I got my big break and then only then did I agree that it was finally time for a collaborative project with my uncles.

Now a week before said project is due to start, I found myself here...to tell that one uncle I always wished I had that I'd made it. I was a champion in my own right and I was going to ride this as long as I could. I saw the almost ethereally tall tree and gasped at the sheer height of it. It was no wonder mom and uncle Fred loved this place. It’s isolated without feeling empty or desolate. I sat at the base in a naturally shaped space carved out by the roots of the tree and settled in. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply feeling both jittery and stupid for what I was about to do.

“Hi,” I began just going for it, “I know you probably don’t know me but my mom said you were the best man in her life and has been saying so for all of mine. If it wasn’t for the photos and uncle Jim I’d have never believed mom and gran knew you as personally as I know uncles Bri and Rog. Phoebe likes to tell me stories of you too! Of how funny you were and all the stunts you pulled. But most importantly, they told me of your spirit, your heart and kindness, of how you were with friends and family, and I can’t help but think that I missed out on one hell of an uncle.”

You stopped and dabbed away at the tear that fell before clearing your throat and continuing, “Is it horrible of me for wishing you were here? Uncle Jim used to say that it was and wasn’t at the same time. He used to say that things happened for a reason and that that reason is often not known by anyone. I didn’t understand then but I seemed to as I grew older and he got sicker.”

You gave a watery chuckle at all those conversations.

“I’d always say I didn’t care and that the one who got you sick should get his ass handed to him for depriving me of my other uncle, of taking away my uncle’s brother and uncle Jim’s husband. I was so angry and sad and lonely because I felt alone in what I wanted to do,” I stopped for a moment and took several deep breaths. I can’t break now, I needed him to know.

“Uncle Jim told me once that mom, him and you would have been the best set of parents anyone could ask for. Grandpa got so angry for calling uncle Jim ‘Dad’ once despite my gran and mom having no problem with it and the pride in their eyes. How could I not? He raised me, he was the only dad I had,” you said, “Anyway, I hadn't come here to make anyone sad. I came here because well because I wanted to feel close to you in a way. And coming here seemed to be the closest and most obvious place considering how mom feels about it. And uncle Bri says that he talks to you a lot too. I also figured that your birthday would be an obvious day to do it too. So...instead of singing happy birthday I’m going to do the next best thing.”

I wiped my tears away and stood clearing my throat once I was on my feet.

“Tonight, I'm gonna have myself a real good time I feel alive and the world I'll turn it inside out, yeah And floating around in ecstasy So don't stop me now don't stop me 'Cause I'm having a good time, having a good time

I'm a shooting star, leaping through the sky Like a tiger defying the laws of gravity I'm a racing car, passing by like Lady Godiva I'm gonna go, go, go

There's no stopping meI'm burnin' through the sky, yeah Two hundred degrees That's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit I'm traveling at the speed of light I wanna make a supersonic man out of you

Don't stop me now, I'm having such a good time I'm having a ball Don't stop me now If you wanna have a good time, just give me a call Don't stop me now ('cause I'm having a good time) Don't stop me now (yes, I'm havin' a good time) I don't want to stop at all...”

I breathed a sigh of relief as a weighted seemed to lift and an unexpected warmth bloomed. As I walked out, I swore I heard humming but chucked it on it being the wind through the trees. I passed by the florist and picked up some yellow roses for the vase at home and some lunch feeling so much lighter than I did earlier.

Walking to the door passed the gate of my home I found a cat hiding behind the flower pot of daffodils mom insisted on keeping around. He looked spooked and cold so I decided to get him inside warm and fed.

The rest of the day was spent nursing this kitty back to health before having to go to Uncle Bri’s to work. The cat seemed adamant to sleep on the mantle above the hearth where a picture of uncle Jim stood. I found odd but not unlikely, granny always said to be open to all sorts of possibilities growing up.

I grinned knowingly at the cat and put the roses in the vase that stood beside Uncle Jim’s photograph. The sparkle in his eye was unmistakeable and strangely familiar, as if he knew something I didn’t. I walked up to him and pet him behind his ears.

“I guess tomorrow we’re going to the vet then huh?” I asked a smirk on my face, “I guess a name tag will be good too...I’ve always been fond of the name Freddie.”

00//00//00

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#freddie mercury #happy birthday freddie

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themurphyzone · 4 years

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Nova Ch 4

AN: Just in time for the A!countdown! Looking forward to those sneak peeks next month!

Ch 4: Extraterrestrial

New Selenian Date 3015.4.21

Though our voyage through space was more volatile than I expected, we’ve successfully approached Terra’s exosphere. Under other circumstances, it would be cause for celebration, but…

Well, Snowball has only spoken to me for essentials during the past few days. Usually so he can update me while he raids the pantry for maza or to catch up on sleep.

Our argument has only served as a reminder that we’re not…as united in our mutual goal as much I want to believe.

It must the length of the journey. Access to only four rooms in a one week period can give anyone a serious case of cabin fever. He’ll get better once we land on Terra’s surface, I’m sure.

Signing off for now, the Brain.

o-o-o-o-o

Was it really April 21? Pinky hurried to the Mickey Mouse calendar pinned to the wall next to his cage. He really loved that picture of Mickey giving flowers to a blushing Minnie. They really were the perfect couple!

Pinky imitated Mickey’s pose, dropping down on one knee as if he was offering a bouquet of pretty daffodils…wait, no those were lilies. He rubbed his head, confused by the yellow flowers in the picture. Maybe it was the type with the really long name.

What was it again? Ah, yes! A lovely bouquet of Chris-and-his-moms for Minnie!

Egad, the picture was so pretty that he’d forgotten about the reminder he’d penciled in the box for April 21!

“Granny Smith at 9 pm?” Pinky tilted his head, trying to make sense of what he’d written. He didn’t know any grannies that well, nor did he know any Smiths. Besides, Pharfignewton was leaving the ranch tonight at 9 pm, and he was going to see her off before she was off to the races. “Poit! Oh yeah, the apple! An apple a day keeps the vets away!”

Pharfignewton needed the energy for the journey too. Kentucky was a long way from California. About nine inches according to his placemat of the United States.

Before he left, he needed to leave a response for his space pen pal. But they weren’t exactly using pens. Maybe space radio pals was better.

Pinky went back to the Walkman. It made a bunch of crackling noises, like the Brain hadn’t turned his equipment off yet.

“Hi, the Brain!” Pinky grinned. The was such a funny first name. “Glad you could make it to Earth! Or Terra! Whatever you wanna call it! Wherever you land, I hope you and Snowball enjoy yourselves. Definitely try strawberry cheesecake sometime. It’s delicious!”

The static continued.

“Anyway, Pharfignewton’s leaving for the Kentucky Derby tonight, so I can’t chat for long. Maybe tomorrow? I’ll spend twice as much time talking to you tomorrow! Fig’s been practicing super extra hard. She’s gonna win the Derby and get that Triple Crown! That’s her dream, you know! Dreams are a wish your heart makes, zort! Cinderella said so!”

Pinky put his hand over the Walkman’s speaker. “Your dream is taking over Terra, and mine is being surrounded by cheese from around the world! Or maybe that’s just my stomach. I can never tell for sure.”

The clock chimed eight, its little pendulum swinging to and fro in a dizzying pattern.

He had to say goodbye now.

And say goodbye again later.

“Alright…well, I’ll let you go. I bet you have some important Conquesowhatsit things to do. Bye, the Brain. Glad you could make it to Terra. You and Snowball are gonna love it. Ooh, there I go again. Bye for real this time.” Pinky slowly turned the dial down, past tinny classical and pop music stations, until the Walkman was off.

Dreams were always nice, even if Pharfignewton and the Brain had to travel far away to make them come true. Pinky’s parents were probably making their own dream of eating gourmet food pellets real as well. Sis didn’t have one yet. She was still torn between professional hairdressing and getting a cooking show on Food Network, but she was young and had plenty of time to grow up.

Now that he thought about it, maybe Sis was right. He didn’t have to decide on a dream for himself yet. Well, surrounding himself with provolone, cheddar, mozzarella, camembert, and all the other yummy cheeses was still a wonderful dream for now.

“A world of cheeses, deliciously made for you and me…” Pinky sang, the air conditioner providing a nice background instrumental as he went to the breakroom to fetch Pharfignewton’s apple.

o-o-o-o-o

Carting the Granny Smith apple to the ranch took more time than Pinky imagined. Running on his wheel along with those upper body strength VHS tapes helped him for most of the trek, but there’d still been one scary moment where he’d leaned back too far to see the pretty full moon. Luckily, the apple wasn’t too bruised from tumbling downhill.

By the time Pinky arrived, Pharfignewton was already in her horse trailer. Her owner sat on a nearby bench, his brow furrowed as his thumbs tapped rapidly on his cell phone. A white pick-up truck sat in front of the trailer, though the latch to connect the vehicles hadn’t been hooked yet.

The door to Pharfignewton’s trailer was wide open, the ramp still on the ground. Delays were good. It meant he could hold off on saying goodbye a little longer.

“Fig, I got you an apple! A sweet and healthy Granny Smith!” Pinky exclaimed as he ran up the ramp. Before he could get to the top, Pharfignewton bent down and grasped the apple in her teeth, nearly chomping down on Pinky’s hands as she lifted her head. Pinky’s feet left the ground, and he gripped the apple with both hands, almost sliding off the smooth surface.

He couldn’t resist a tiny nibble. Pharfignewton wouldn’t mind.

Pinky climbed onto her muzzle just as the apple was crunched into mush. Pharfignewton whinnied in delight, her eyes shut from sheer happiness. He stroked the fur between her eyes and hummed Camptown Races because it was her favorite song. She always got excited to race when she heard it.

Pharfignewton’s hooves clopped against the floor rhythmically, her head bobbing up and down.

“-gonna run all night! Gonna run all day!” Pinky sang, grabbing her soft mane and hauling himself up. He clung to her ears for balance. “I’ll bet my money here on Fig, cause she’s gonna win this May!”

Pharfignewton neighed, her tail raised proudly.

Her owner looked up from his phone. His bushy beard quivered as he chuckled and waved at her. A van pulled up to the curb, the window sliding down to reveal a man in a funny white cowboy hat. The owner shouted and pointed to the newcomer’s hat.

“What a fashion icon, Fig! Rodeo style hats at the Kentucky Derby. Why didn’t I think of that?” Pinky asked. “Egad, I need to make my own hat for the Derby! A derby hat! With fancy ribbons and dandelions and those little beads on sombreros!”

Cowboy Man clapped the owner on the shoulder as he climbed out of his van, the owner playfully shoving him in return. The back doors of the van were opened, and they started loading the pile of heavy feed bags and horse care equipment into the hollowed out space, trading good-natured jabs while they worked.

Pinky glanced at the starry night sky, scratching the back of Pharfignewton’s ear. “I almost forgot. The Brain made it to Terra. He said so in his message tonight. Told him he should try strawberry cheesecake. I don’t know if they have that in space.”

Pharfignewton snorted.

“Oh, you and your homemade apple strudel,” Pinky grinned. “Tell you what. Win the Triple Crown and I’ll bake the most scrumptious, most mouthwateringest apple strudel you’ve had in your life! Oh wait, no, how ‘bout I just bake it when you come back? Whenever that will be. Maybe soon?”

However long she’d be gone, Pinky hoped she’d call or write or keep in touch some other way. Well, sending a postcard might be a little tricky with hooves. How was she ever gonna apply the stamps?

Pharfignewton neighed, her front hooves knocking against the floor in worry.

“I’ll be okay, Fig. I can wait ‘til August. There’s lots of fun things to do in the summer. Like playing water polo, air hockey, capture the flag...”

Except those games all needed two players.

And while Monopoly game pieces and dominoes made for great substitutes when he couldn’t round up the checkers and marbles, it just wouldn’t be the same without Pharfignewton.

Pinky’s tail started to cramp.

He hadn’t realized he’d wrung it between his hands so hard. It wasn’t the fun sort of pain either.

Outside, the men finished loading their supplies. The van doors were shut, and Pharfignewton’s trailer was hitched to the truck.

Their boots loudly thumped against the ground with every step.

Pinky slid down Pharfignewton’s long muzzle, his feet resting against the back of her nostrils. He gripped her face and looked at those gorgeous blue eyes. They were the same shade as his turquoise crayon. He wanted to remember that.

Pinky rested his jaw on Pharfignewton’s fur, trying to keep the tiny quaver out of his voice. “Well…guess this is it, huh?” he murmured. “You have a good trip now. You’re the best racehorse I’ve ever met. Course I don’t know any other racehorses, but you’re gonna win the Derby, Fig. I know you will. Just keep in touch, ‘kay?”

She knickered softly, her breath stirring Pinky’s fur as she lowered him to the ground outside her trailer. Her breath smelled just like applesauce. She carefully rubbed the underside of her jaw against Pinky’s head, nuzzling away tears that made his vision a little blurry, then slowly raised herself to her majestic height.

“Poit. Really, Fig.” Pinky tilted his head back so the tears just pooled in his eyes instead of trailing down his cheeks. “You’ve got a dream ahead of you.”

Pharfignewton stomped her hoof.

But Pinky shook his head. True, he could go with her, but who was gonna keep his cage clean and his wheel oiled if he wasn’t around? Besides, Pharfignewton would have so many new horse friends. She was gonna be a celebrity by association.

Pinky wiped a tear away with his tail. “I don’t wanna distract you or anything. Meet someone new! Who knows? You might even be fast friends!”

Then Cowboy Man and the owner walked past, too engrossed in their conversation to notice Pinky. Pharfignewton craned her neck, trying to see above Cowboy Man while he folded the ramp. Before she could reply, her owner gently shooed her further into the trailer while Cowboy Man finished up.

Once the trailer door was shut and locked, the owner and Cowboy Man took some time to stroke Pharfignewton’s face. The window bars were wide enough to allow almost her entire muzzle through.

They promised good things for her, win or lose. She’d be eating her fill of apples and carrots for sure.

She’d be happy out there, running like the wind to her heart’s content.

Ten minutes later, Cowboy Man drove away in his supply van. Pharfignewton’s owner started up the truck.

Pinky quickly climbed up a fencepost and waved to Pharfignewton, wishing he’d brought along a handkerchief to blow his nose into or flutter in the air like a proper movie goodbye.

Pharfignewton stretched her neck as far as she could.

“Bye! Adios! Sayonara!” Pinky called, cupping his hands as the truck slowly inched onto the side road’s pavement. The trailer turned slightly with the movement, and Pinky quickly hopped to a fencepost within Pharfignewton’s line of sight.

She looked happy enough to get the show on the road, but her whinnies were still worried.

He had to cheer her up! She couldn’t travel to Kentucky with that frowny face!

“Camptown ladies! Sing this song! Narf!” Pinky panted, taking only a moment to catch his breath, the song choppy as he ran the length of the fence. But even with the truck’s slow crawl, he couldn’t keep up, and the truck disappeared over the hill, pulling the trailer and Pharfignewton along with it.

He didn’t slow down in time. Pinky stumbled over the last fencepost and fell into the springy grass below. The thud knocked his breath away for just a moment, but he shook it off quickly.

It was nothing really.

“Camptown racetrack’s fi-five thousand miles away…”

Pharfignewton shouldn’t worry.

He had the small, boxy TV that the lab couldn’t afford to upgrade to a flat screen. The NBC channel always showed the Derby.

And it was enough for him.

o-o-o-o-o

Had the stars always been that far away? They seemed much lonelier than usual.

Pinky tilted his head as far as he could, taking in the navy sky above. There was no moon and no way to spot the Brain’s old home tonight. He was probably somewhere on Earth by now.

Paris was nice at this time of year. Maybe the Brain would get all the cheese and baguettes he could eat. The city of light and love was absolutely splendid and heavenly. Pinky had never been there, but the landscape seemed so pretty at night in Ratatouille. Parisian rodents must be excellent chefs. Pinky would have to find one someday.

If only he could walk into a giant cabinet that would magically transport him to a riverboat cruise on the Seine. He’d only gotten a mouthful of cobweb the last time he’d tried that.

Oh dear.

Pinky twirled in place, taking in the enormous apartment complex to his left and the grassy hillside across the street, both of which he didn’t recognize.

“Narf! Silly me.” Pinky bonked his fist against his noggin, leaving a slight ache behind. “One of these days, I’ll definitely remember that ol’ left turn on Albuquerque Street!”

Well, the only thing he had to do was retrace his steps.

But he didn’t have sidewalk chalk or a pencil.

Pinky scratched his head. This was a lot harder than he thought. He was outside, so he couldn’t exactly follow the left wall of the maze until he got un-lost.

His stomach growled, and he had a sudden craving for between-twilight-and-midnight food pellets.

“Hush now, tummy. You’ll get your food pellets as soon as I find the lab again,” Pinky said, patting his growling belly.

A bowl of smoked food pellets seasoned with paprika and rosemary sounded good right about now. With a side of smoked cheddar too!

Pinky laughed. “You’ve really got a craving for smoked food, tummy! Can’t blame you there. Those smoked chicken wings on Food Network were absolutely mouthwatering yesterday. I’m so hungry I can smell those food pellets!”

And the food pellets smelled delicious indeed.

Pinky took a deep whiff, standing on his tippy-toes to drink it all in.

Until the scent changed and it smelled more oily than the yummy sort of smoke.

Pinky’s nose wrinkled. A faint plume of smoke rose from behind the grassy hill, but it was still a little early in the year for anyone to hold a campfire sing-along with s’mores.

There didn’t seem to be a fire. Or slightly burnt marshmallows for that matter.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Pinky crossed the street at the crosswalk because he was a good pedestrian and not a jaywalker. That was just silly. He was a mouse, not a blue jay.

He ran to the top of the hill and perched on a tree root, heels rocking back and forth for a moment until he found his balance. Then his jaw dropped at the sight of a gray and silver futuristic-y UFO just beyond the hill’s base. It had to be the size of two cages combined, maybe a little more.

He wasn’t really good at judging size, but the UFO thingy was ginormous.

Dirt piled high around its battered surface, like it plowed right into the ground at Pharfignewton-like speeds. Smoke trailed from two long cylinders that arched above its back, though there were no flames.

At least Smokey the Bear wouldn’t have to worry about any wildfires.

Pinky approached the wreckage, circling it twice out of sheer fascination. He didn’t see any string though. No wonder the UFO crashed. It didn’t have any string to hold it up.

“Hello, Mr. Alien!” Pinky shouted, hoping his voice carried through the metal to whoever was inside. He leaned against the UFO with both hands, placing all his body weight on his tiptoes. It felt great. He hadn’t stretched his shoulders like this in a while. All his focus had been going to strengthening his thighs recently. “I just wanted to let you know that your UFO string is missing! But it’s okay! I have an extra long ball of yarn back at the lab! Will that do?”

There was no response, though Pinky heard a plip-plop of dripping water when he pressed his ear against the UFO.

Suddenly, the metal hissed and shifted under his palms.

“Narf!” Pinky yelped as he pitched forward into the opening. His jaw thwacked against the floor, and he giggled at the tingly sensations that shot to the top of his head.

Propping himself onto his elbows, Pinky found himself in a room that was just as big on the inside as it seemed on the outside. Except everything seemed a little smashed up. Broken computers tilted against one wall, the screens cracked and displaying a random string of numbers and letters.

Orange soda dripped from an open panel to his left, forming a bubbly puddle on the floor. Pinky almost drank it, but figured it was a terrible idea because of the little metal bits mixed in. Orange soda went with pizza, not metal.

Pinky stood up and dusted himself off, then walked over to what seemed to be a smashed-up bedframe. There was an upturned mattress and a crumpled white blanket next to it. When he tried to turn them over and arrange them into a less messy position, he found they were rather scratchy and definitely uncomfortable for sleeping in. Whoever used this bed must’ve woken up every morning with a backache the size of Alaska.

As he tucked the last corner of the blanket into the mattress, several tiny blue things slipped out from the folds and bounced off his foot. When Pinky glanced down, he found there were a lot of tiny blue things scattered throughout the room.

He picked one up out of curiosity.

No, it wasn’t a thing. More like a tiny blue star. He touched it with his tongue, a sweet flavor taking over his taste buds entirely. It really packed a wallop. His tongue hadn’t felt this tingly since the time he’d eaten two entire packs of lemonheads! He popped several more tiny stars into his mouth, hugging himself from sheer bliss.

For a moment, it seemed like there was another voice agreeing with him on how fantastically delicious these tiny stars were.

Then it cut into a low groan, which didn’t sound like someone enjoying a snack at all. Pinky quickly swallowed the tiny stars and listened for the source of the noise.

“Narf! Hello?” Pinky called. “Are you an alien ghost? Or a ghost alien, Mr. Alien?”

Another groan. Maybe Mr. Alien didn’t know how to play Twenty Questions.

One of the computers shifted and crashed onto its side, a blue screen flickering in and out of existence. Parts of the splintered bedframe laid among the mess. A small, black-gloved hand poked out from among the tangled wires before falling limp again.

Pinky poked the hand.

It twitched.

“Awful hard to sleep under all those wires, don’t you think?” Pinky asked. “I mean, it would be so electric-y under there! Unless you’re an android ghost alien! Electric sheep only works for androids, I think. The rest of us count woolly, fluffy sheep.”

The mass of wires trembled, the hand closing around Pinky’s wrist. Though it was probably meant to be a tight grasp, it wasn’t a very good hold. A single movement could shake off the alien’s hand.

But Pinky stayed still. Something didn’t seem quite right.

The alien lifted his head, a pair of antennae with bouncy red orbs perking slightly.

Antennae was a good name now that he thought about it.

“N-no’all?” Antennae murmured, the wires slipping off his large, chubby head. His bleary pink eyes stared through Pinky with desperate hope. Soot stained his messy fur with varying shades of gray, his pointed ears drooping and floppy.

“Poit. Do you not speak English?” Pinky asked. Antennae continued to stare, not seeming to understand. “I could get my language book from the lab. It’s got Spanish, French, Sea Lion, and Legalese! I’m learning a lot! Maybe it’s got your language too?”

Then Pinky snapped his fingers. Why hadn’t he thought of this sooner? “Wait, no! Maybe kissing would be much faster? That way my English flows into your mouth and voicebox! Is that how it works? I’m pretty sure that’s how it works…”

Antennae’s grip tightened, his lower half writhing in the wires until he shook himself free. From the neck down, he wore a sleek black bodysuit with red highlights that really made the color of his antennae and tail orbs pop.

Egad, he was tiny. Even Antennae’s antennae barely rose above Pinky’s chin.

Something green and golden glinted in the hand that wasn’t holding onto Pinky. Antennae stumbled as he got to his feet, wincing as he tried to put his weight on his heels. His eyes widened in panic, and he quickly let go Pinky, breathing rapidly as he wrapped both hands around the weapon’s handle.

Balancing on his toes, he shakily pointed the weapon at Pinky. He was trying to shove the red bulb into Pinky’s nose, which was a little rude to be honest, but couldn’t do much more than a light tap.

“Are you okay?” Pinky asked, lifting his head so the bulb wasn’t smushing his nose. “Soot’s not really good for your complexion. Gives you all sorts of pimples and zits. That’s what Dr. Oz says, anyway.”

There were several clicks as Antennae repeatedly pulled a switch on the handle, but nothing happened. It clearly wasn’t working the way he expected. He growled in frustration, lowering his weapon and opening a compartment along the top. Then his eyes flicked to the puddle of orange soda on the floor and back to Pinky.

For the first time, Antennae noticed all the tiny blue stars that littered the ground. He whipped around in surprise, staring since he still didn’t understand, but the sudden movement made him lose his balance. Pinky caught him by the arm before he fell flat on his face.

The weapon slipped out of his grip, clattering to the floor. He cried out and swung his crooked tail into Pinky’s side.

“Zort!” Pinky yelped, more from the literal shock he’d received, than actual pain. His fur stood on end, like he’d just rubbed a balloon against it. When he pressed it down again, several tingling tickles lingered on his hand, making him giggle.

When he looked up, Antennae had limped over to the damaged remains of a shelf. But even walking across the room was too much, and he collapsed again.

The bodysuit had rips along the heels, exposing several painful looking cuts. Pinky couldn’t blame him for trying to stay on his tiptoes, even if it was a very awkward way to walk.

Antennae needed help. Pinky would have to carry him to the lab.

Pinky followed. He knelt and picked up Antennae, who weighed only slightly more than the small batteries Pinky liked to use as weights, since dumbbells were unfortunately too large for him. Antennae loosely held a baggie of the tiny stars close to his chest. There were several ripped baggies surrounding them. This seemed to be the only one that remained whole.

Cradling his head and back, Pinky set the baggie on top of Antennae’s chest, making sure the baggie was sandwiched between them before he set off.

Antennae’s head lolled against Pinky’s neck. The antennae orbs lit up with tiny sparks for just a moment, though Pinky didn’t get another burst of static. They faded back to a normal red within a few seconds.

He seemed…almost relaxed. At least his face wasn’t scrunched anymore.

As Pinky exited the UFO with his bundle, something bonked into the back of his head.

“Ouch!” Pinky nearly dropped Antennae and baggie in surprise. A tiny camera with a spinning propellor zipped into the night sky, recovering from its collision course quickly.

Some sort of alien tech too otherworldly for a regular genetically altered Earth mouse to understand? Pinky longed to ask, but he didn’t want to disturb Antennae.

Besides, he looked adorably pudgy while he slept.

Antennae made a small noise in the back of his throat, but he didn’t seem to be waking up anytime soon.

The camera didn’t matter as much. Not when he just discovered that aliens snored.

Pinky set off for the lab, determined to get the directions right this time.

o-o-o-o-o

Good thing the dark, narrow alley filled with dirty cardboard boxes had been there! Pinky never would’ve known it was a shortcut to the lab if it hadn’t been for that stray cat. It was a miracle that Antennae hadn’t woken up once, or that the baggie survived the chase without any rips or spilling tiny stars.

The cat had given up the chase, deciding that whatever was in the dumpster would be more of a yummy meal.

Really, Pinky didn’t imagine he’d taste too good. He tried to lick his elbow a few times and all he got was a mouthful of fur.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to try to climb up to the mail slot. The door was slightly ajar, just enough for him to squeeze past, even with Antennae’s chubby head.

Pinky shifted his hold to one arm, then grabbed the handle of the nearest drawer to pull them up to the counter. He had to set the baggie down, but Pinky could easily grab it once Antennae was settled comfortably in the cage.

It took a few unsuccessful tries of hauling himself up while holding onto Antennae before he realized it wasn’t going to work.

“Psst, Antennae,” Pinky hummed, gently shaking the alien’s shoulder. It would be a lot easier if Antennae clung to his back. “Wakey-wakey…”

Antennae’s face scrunched again, then he yawned and nuzzled into Pinky’s chest instead.

He looked so peaceful. It would go against Pinky’s little shoulder angel to wake him up now. What had he been thinking?

After a few minutes of searching through bottom drawers, Pinky found a soft kitchen sponge that hadn’t been removed from its packaging yet. It would make a perfect bed. Pinky pulled it out of the package, carefully maneuvering it out of the drawer while trying not to jostle Antennae too much.

Another drawer had several white, fluffy hand towels. They seemed clean enough, so Pinky slung two towels over his free shoulder and climbed out.

He laid one of the towels on the floor, then pushed the sponge on top. Cold feet weren’t fun in the morning nor in show business. Then he laid Antennae on the sponge and covered him with the second towel.

Antennae’s hand clung to Pinky’s fur, so Pinky loosened the grip and tucked the wayward hand under the towel.

“You’ll be alright,” Pinky whispered, stretching out his sore arms. Maybe he’d carried Antennae for a bit too long. But Pinky’s arms would be ready for more wheel-running tomorrow.

Now that both of his hands were free, Pinky grabbed a bandage roll which had been lying near a Bunsen burner. He’d have to thank Mr. Bunsen for letting him borrow these bandages later.

Pinky carefully removed the socks – maybe they were more shoes? Oh, well. He removed the shoe-socks from Antennae’s feet and laid them on the towel-rug. Since Antennae hadn’t been on his feet since the UFO, the cuts seemed to be healing just fine.

Pinky carefully bandaged the heels and folded the towel-blanket over Antennae’s feet once he was finished. Then he brought the baggie of tiny stars over and placed them next to the shoe-socks.

He climbed up to the counter briefly to wash his hands, humming Happy Birthday as he lathered with the honey-scented soap.

“Thank you, Silver’s Anatomy,” Pinky said to the TV remote, which teetered over the edge of the VCR. He turned to Mr. Button, still lying on his straw bed in the cage. “Sorry, Mr. Button. I’m sleeping elsewhere tonight. Here, you can have Nicholas so you won’t be lonely. Try not to keep him up too late, okay?”

He rolled Nicholas the Nickel into the cage and settled him near Mr. Button. They seemed happy. Mr. Button would no doubt be gossiping about the ballpoint pens again.

Pinky yawned and went back to the floor. It had been an eventful day, and he was very tired.

The towel-rug seemed very inviting…

Pinky buried his face into the towel fluff. Antennae had been twitching throughout Pinky’s counter business, but he stilled again once Pinky curled up.

Pinky fell asleep, dreaming of cheese and Pharfignewton and a deep, faraway voice. It was a lovely dream, except the voice couldn’t join Pinky and Pharfignewton in their little cheese and apple picnic. It seemed unwilling. Pinky made sure to save a few slices of cheddar and provolone for him. Maybe he’d take it afterward.

o-o-o-o-o

When the sunlight hit his eyes, Pinky leapt with joy. Early wheel runs were the best! So were mid-morning runs, and noon runs, and evening runs!

Except he couldn’t move. He could still wiggle his fingers and toes, but his hands were tied behind his back, purple yarn binding his ankles as well. His entire tail was still free though. He swished his tail just to be sure.

He shimmied over to the drawer and pressed his back against it, managing to sit up. Though he wanted to run on his wheel, being tied up was a fun game too.

Antennae wasn’t on the sponge bed though. Where was he? He was missing out!

Pinky wondered if he should just untie himself and find Antennae. The knots didn’t seem that hard. Though it was hard to tell for sure if it was a slipknot or an overhand knot. He really should’ve paid attention in knot-tying class.

Five minutes later, Antennae stomped over in his ripped shoe-socks, though little strips of bandage poked out.

Pinky smiled. If Antennae was stomping, his feet must be healing fast. And then he’d be okay again.

However, Antennae didn’t seem to think so.

“Wipe that ridiculous expression from your face, Terran,” Antennae scowled, his foot tapping impatiently. “Hand over all the information you know. I want answers, and I want them now.”

AN note: I’d like to give credit to @pluto-art for her wonderful drawing of Brain as a cute little alien. With the way she posed him, I knew I wanted to incorporate that somewhere and this chapter seemed like a good place to do it! I meant to credit her last chapter for the blaster idea but I forgot so I’m rectifying that now.

Fig’s off to the races! Literally.

After the wringer I stuck him through last chapter, Brain seriously needed some cuddles. He’s a little touch-starved. Also, he’s a bad guest. Don’t tie your friend up, Brain. That’s just rude.

#patb nova #pinky and the brain #a!countdown #patb fanfiction

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