#Blue Helix Exchange | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shady-scripter · 1 year ago

Text

Whumptober Day22

(Glass shard)

In order for any of this to make any real sense, you might wanna check out this post

The Golden Gems are the boys btw(it’s referring to their Shards of Courage)

New divider made by @firefly-graphics

The sun fell over the horizon hours ago, the sky being overtaken by the darkness of night. Yet, the volley of flaming arrows lit up the sky.

It was a surprise attack, the Golden Gems unsheathed their weapons quickly, taking a defensive stance. The monsters pooled in from over a hill. The army of them looked to be five hundred and too many. They were terribly outnumbered. You could even say that they were out planned.

Fierce commanded the others while Mask got them ready, unsheathing the Biggoron sword and his shield materialized from his gem. The others followed the Fierce half’s directions.

Another volley of arrows flew through the sky, each landing in a tree and setting it ablaze. They felt Fierce’s eye open, but saw nothing out of it.

Wild shot his own arrows, hoping to hold them back just a little longer. Legend assisted the attack, taking out his own bow and making a few arrows materialize out of his purple gem.

Sky sent down a skyward strike, a beam of light following the slash of the blade. It killed some monsters, but the black stain among the other monsters put a glare on Time’s face.

Of course their dark counterpart would lead such a large army. How lucky did they expect to be in the Champion’s Hyrule?

“Old Man!” Wild yelled, trying to overpower the crackling of the fire. Time considered the choices. Fierce said that they’d be better off running and making sure that everyone was safe. Mask said that they should fight, that this hoard will only get larger if they left it alone and ran.

Time turned to Wild, both of the gems, Fierce and Mask reaching an agreement. “Forward!” The other gems went, war cries following them into the heat of battle.

Time threw his shield like a boomerang, decapitating three monsters on his way up the hill. Twilight had an idea similar, throwing his gale boomerang.

Mask caught their shield and Fierce swung their sword. It was like clockwork for them. They’ve fought together for years.

They swung once again at an enemy, but everything froze. They realized what happened.

They locked eyes with their dark counterpart, time in stasis around them. They knew what would happen. At least, Mask did. He’d dealt with this before.

The Shadow decided to look like them this time. Probably for old time’s sake. No words were exchanged, the two fusions eyed each other for another ten seconds or so.

The Shadow had a sly smirk pulled onto his face. Time moved, the Shadow mirrored that move. It seemed that they were also mirroring movements today too.

Mask scoffed, “What do you want?”

“I want to see someone shatter. It’s been far too long, hasn’t it? That we’ve shattered someone?”

“Shattering isn’t some game,” Mask and Fierce said in unison.

“Wouldn’t you know?” Shadow dashed at them, time around them unfroze at their command.

They reached for Fierce’s eye and the double helix sword he used to wield appeared in their hand. They dropped the Biggoron sword, deciding to swing the Fierce Blade.

Their sword clashed with their dark counterpart for what felt like eons, their opponent seeming not to tire even a bit.

Shoulder, thigh, hip. It had been injured at best. Either by the Shadow or a boko who wanted to get a hit in. The boys did the same to the Shadow, jumping in briefly to get their own hit in.

Wind decided that it was his turn to get his own hit in. He sliced through another blue bokoblin before he turned into a spin attack to cut the Shadow. The thing blocked the boy’s advance and kicked him hard enough to knock him into a tree.

Mask and Fierce cried the boy’s name when he wouldn’t get up. They dropped their guard and tried to run to him. They were grabbed by the back of their shirt and shoved into the dirt face first.

Mask screamed, the gem of his nose took most of the force. For a second, Fierce’s heart dropped. He knew what the Shadow was trying to do. Fierce used Time’s trembling hands to brace himself on the ground, Mask’s cries echoing in his brain.

“C’mon! Just shatter already!” Fierce couldn’t- no- he wouldn’t let that happen. Mask was not going to shatter while they were fused.

Time was turned on his back, Fierce raised their arms over their nose. He prayed that Mask hadn’t cracked.

“Someone get there!” They heard the Captain yell, worry laced into every word he spoke.

“I’m trying!” The Skyloftian shouted back.

“There’s too many of them!” Twilight groaned, panic in his own words.

That was when a boot met Time’s nose. An audible crack rang through the battlefield. Fierce paused.

“Mask…?”

No answer.

“Mask!”

“I-“ Fierce heard the smaller gem’s voice cut off and then a groan. “Cra-cked…” Fierce heard a static echo in their head.

Mask, his boy, his sapphire companion that he’s been with, the one he’s fought with for years, is cracked.

Shadow went for another stomp. Time didn’t have the luxury of time to move.

It hit his nose once more. This time, there was nothing, only the victorious laugh the Shadow spat out.

“How refreshing!” It stepped away from Time.

Time didn’t move.

“Mask! Please! Tell me you didn’t-“ Fierce couldn’t feel the coolness of the sapphire that graced his face. When he reached up to make sure that his companion was okay, he only brought back shards of royal blue. The royal blue of Mask’s gem.

Fierce found himself staring, the rest of the battlefield noise faded in the back. He heard their- no- his chest pound violently.

Time used to be the two of them, but now it was just Fierce. Mask was gone, right?

Fierce sat up and held the shattered bits of Mask.

“Hylia no!” Warriors knelt by Fierce’s side, picking at the shards. Out of all the friends the obsidian had lost, he never wanted to lose his little brother…

Fierce stared at the shattered bits in silence. Soon, the others started to crowd around.

Wind, with bandages around his head, decided to speak. “Well, at least you’re not fully shattered?”

Wild tried to help, “Yeah! I’m sure the Smithy could make you a shield just like your old one!”

“I would be happy to, of course!” Four smiled at Wild.

“Enough you idiots!” Warriors stood up, eyeing the three with a vicious glare. “Have you never seen a fusion in your lives?!”

“Captain…”

“No gem in the history of history has ever been made with two fucking gems!”

“Captain!”

Warriors balled up his fists. Sky hugged him, pushing the Captain’s head onto his own shoulder.

Fierce looked back down at the fragments. He felt his eyes start to water. But gems didn’t cry. Gems couldn’t cry. So why was his face wet and why, why, why?!

Time’s body shone white. When the white faded, it was just Fierce. Not even the green of Mask’s stupid hat remained.

Fierce’s breath caught in his throat, the shock setting in.

Mask was gone. Mask was shattered.

—

#linked universe au #lu au #gem au #I guess it could sort of be called #steven unvierse au #but not really #linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe time #lu time #linked universe mask #lu mask #linked universe fierce #lu fierce deity #the shady lad writes #angst #but only if you understand what’s happening

9 notes · View notes

niigata-division · 1 year ago

Text

“To forget the dead would be akin to killing them a second time.”

Introduction

Lyall Shiba, also known as Corvus in rap battles, is a homicide detective for the Niigata Police Department and is considered one of their best despite his age. A once famous model and actor, everything changed for Lyall when he had a run-in with “The Sweetheart Killer” and became the only one to ever survive him. Now, after discovering that the person who attempted to kill him is participating in the D.R.B, Lyall has convinced his boss, Seiji Tsukimoto, to let him join his team.

Lyall is a tall man in his early 20s with a lean figure and pale skin. He has slightly wavy black hair that stops at the base of his neck and right swept bangs covering his forehead. His eyes are bright turquoise and are hidden behind a pair of rectangular glasses.

He usually wears a black button-up shirt with matching dress pants, a dark blue vest, a matching tie, and black boots. For accessories, he wears a black belt with a silver buckle, a chain with a crescent moon dangling from the belt with his police badge situated on the opposite side, an assortment of rings on his hands, multiple piercings in his ears, a silver lion clip on his tie, a silver and black triple moon pin on his vest and a silver and black watch.

Outside of work, Lyall dresses completely differently. He wears a black long-sleeved lace shirt with pleated cuffs, black leather jeans, a black corset, and black calf boots with heels. For accessories, he wears a necklace with a silver ankh hanging from it, a black lace choker, several silver rings on both hands, and multiple silver piercings across his face and ears. His lion clip is also now moved to his shirt collar. He also exchanges his glasses for contacts and wears heavy black eyeshadow and matching lipstick.

Name Meanings

Shiba (志波) - Willful Wave

Lyall - “Wolf”

Aliases

Pretty Boy, Handsome, Heartbreaker, etc.

“Japan’s Former It Boy”

Rookie, Kid, Newbie, etc. - Seiji

Uncle - Yaeka & Sara

“Ly-chan”

Biographical Info

Gender - Male

Age - 24

Birthday - January 21st

Ethnicity - Half Japanese, Half Canadian

Hair Color - Black (Dyed)

Eye Color - Turquoise

Height - 192cm / 6’3

Weight - 170lbs / 77kg

Star Sign - Aquarius

Piercings - Lobes, Helix, Industrial, Tragus, Conch, Bellybutton, Eyebrow, Snake Bites, Labret, Nostril, Septum, Tongue, Nipples, Prince Albert

Markings - Multiple stab wounds across his chest and abdomen, Scar running down his sternum, Multiple track marks on both his arms, The phases of the moon down his spine, A raven on his left shoulder, a death tarot card on his right forearm, the Egyptian god Anubis on his right thigh, Eye of Horus on his left ankle

Family

Father

Mother

Twin Sister

Pet Owl

Voiced By - BewhY (Rapping)

Fun Facts

MC Name - Corvus

Occupation - Homicide Detective

Division - Niigata

Team - Valor Guard

Position - 2nd Member

Favorite Food - Brown Maple Syrup

Least Favorite Food - Oysters

Likes - Literature, Poetry, The Occult, Egyptian Mythology

Dislikes - Touya Kisaragi, Drugs, His Chest Pains, His fangirls bothering him during work

Hypnosis Microphone

Lyall’s Microphone takes the form of a metallic black stand with silver swirls engraved on it, sitting where the mic should be is a dark blue crystal crescent moon with a silver wing sprouting from the side. In the middle of the crescent is a piezoelectric-style mic.

His Speaker takes the shape of a gold and black statue of the Egyptian god Anubis. In their left hand is a golden spear, while in their right they’re holding a set of golden scales in front of him. Both sides of the scales have a circular speaker on them with one side of the scales higher than the other.

His rap ability, Cursed Bond, allows him to be bonded with his opponent, and if he is knocked out, his opponent is forcibly knocked out along with him.

Lyall’s rap centers about how we should honor the dead and that we should strive to never forget them. He raps about how he’ll never rest until he can give closure to the families whose loved ones have been brutally murdered. He also raps about the occult often making reference to imagery related to death.

Personality

Lyall is known to be quite flirtatious and confident, with many falling for his charms and a smooth way of talking. Well aware of his good looks, Lyall is not above using them to get information out of people. His quick wit and sharp tongue often leave everyone in stitches, and he loves to keep them on their toes with his teasing and surprising antics. He is also quite intelligent, using his unmatched intuition and sharp observation to see through everybody, a skill he uses to his advantage.

Lyall is extremely obsessed determined to solve his cases, going as far as to twist and even straight-up break laws at times. He is under of the opinion, that why should it matter as long as he can provide some sort of closure to the families of his victims. Even if it means getting in trouble with his supervisors. Lyall also is also quite empathetic and often thinks of other people's feelings, and, in some cases, he has been known to conceal facts to spare people from being scarred by the ugly truth.

However, underneath his charming smile, Lyall suffers from extreme guilt. Even now, Lyall doesn't understand why he of all people survived the Sweetheart Killer. It eats at him, with Lyall in the past even going as far as abusing drugs to ignore how he felt. Now, after learning that Touya Kisaragi has been allowed to roam free, Lyall can't help but feel something new. Revenge. Lyall can feel it festering within him. He can't help but want vengeance against the person who tried to kill him and who killed so many others, even if it means throwing everything else in his life away.

Background

In a separate post coming soon.

Trivia

Lyall has a fondness for poetry and, in particular, for William Blake.

Lyall has a pet Eurasian owl named Isis. He found her as an abandoned chick and nursed her back to health.

Lyall is quite fond of the occult and has several items connected to it in his house.

Lyall is fluent in Japanese, English, and French.

Lyall is a pagan and is an active practitioner of witchcraft.

Lyall occasionally suffers severe pain from his scars but refuses to take medication for it.

Lyall used to suffer from a pretty bad drug addiction, but he's been sober for a few years. He completely avoids painkillers now, even if it means being in agonizing pain.

As of October 9th, 2024, Lyall has been in an official relationship with both Kaoru Shinozaki of Edogawa and Joey Kurusu of Kanazawa.

#hypnosis microphone #hypnosis mic #hypmic #hypmic oc #hypnosis mic oc #niigata division #valor guard #lyall shiba #character bio

10 notes · View notes

realityhelixcreates · 1 year ago

Text

Puzzles, Prince, Narci, and Nash don't need glasses at all.

Swag and Unswag are slightly nearsighted. They can get by well enough without their glasses, but they both just prefer wearing them. Saves on headaches and they both like the aesthetics.

Arkham's glasses have hidden bifocals and blue light coating, since he looks at screens a Lot.

YJ doesn't strictly need his glasses. They aren't prescription, but color correction lenses, as YJ is red-green color blind. Specifically, he has protonomaly, which means he doesn't have enough red cones in his eyes. He can see some greens, but they are muted, and basically all reds and oranges just look brown to him. He cannot perceive pink, and his purples are very limited. His glasses increase color contrast so that he can tell reds and oranges apart. They still look brown, but like different browns.

Detective wears little round pince nez for reading.

Helix is nearly blind without her glasses. She made a deal to give up most of her sight in exchange for the ability to speak and understand non-Earth based languages. Her glasses are enchanted to return most of that sight to her, but she is dependent on them.

#shards of the nexus #character shards

3 notes · View notes

mutar-in-lucertola · 2 years ago

Text

On Confinement, BY TORRIN A. GREATHOUSE

I sit across the table from my partner in the atrium of the psychiatric holding facility

our hands churched into our laps. We are not allowed to touch. The air between us thick as Perspex.

They tell me all the ways this place resembles a prison.

•

Everything a sterile white so clean it could almost disinfect a memory.

•

In 1787, Jeremy Bentham conceived of what would become the most common prison design:

the panopticon.

Intended to control prisoners through the illusion that they are always under surveillance.

•

My partner tells their therapist they are afraid of taking their own life,

that they balanced on a building’s edge, & three officers escort them from the room.

•

The first cop who ever handcuffed me [was my father] left me bound till my fingers blued.

On the days when I can’t remember his face, he becomes the scent of vodka & zip ties the sound of cuffs & a bottle petaling into blades.

•

At the booking office they remove my glasses & the guards blur into a procession of fathers.

•

I bring my partner clothes & pads when the hospital decides to hold them longer,

shove each shirt that could mark them as queer back inside the closet & shut it [like a mouth].

•

The word faggot scrawls across the jail guard’s lips like graffiti.

•

When I visit my partner they insist on staying inside

the sky above the patio cordoned off with chicken wire.

•

I plead my sentence down in exchange for: my face, my prints, my DNA & ten years probation.

When I see a cop, I fear even my breath criminal

& when my therapist asks me if I’m suicidal I lie.

Perhaps both are a kind of surveillance.

•

Tear gas floods the street, sharpens water to a blade hidden in the orbit of my eye.

& just like this, a squad car remakes my sadness a weapon.

If my partner snaps cuffs around my wrists

[& I asked for this]

have they also weaponized my desire?

•

A woman in the facility tells my partner: I know what you are. Says: Sinner. Says: Anti-christ.

My partner goads her on, babbles in false tongues & is confined to their room for safety.

•

Once, a cop dragged me into an alley & beat me like he knew exactly what I was.

What does it say if sometimes when I ask my partner to hit me

I expect his fist tightened in their throat, his voice bruising their tongue? •

I am arrested & placed [in the men’s jail] in solitary confinement.

They tell me this is protective custody. That they couldn’t afford the lawsuit if I were killed. In this way, they tell me I am a woman

only when I am no longer breathing.

•

The origin of the word prison is the Latin prehendere — to take.

It follows, then, that to take your life is to prison the body beneath dirt.

•

[Historically, suicide is a criminal act].

•

Balanced on a building’s edge, I imagine some permutation of this moment

where to fail at death would be a breach

of my probation.

•

We both weep for the first time

upon release

when we see the sky.

Pale blue

sliced through

with a single helix

of razor wire & bordered

in sterile white.

#On Confinement #torrin a greathouse #American poetry

5 notes · View notes

irrfahrer · 2 years ago

Note

canvas: Does your OC have any scars, piercings, tattoos, or other markings? Do they display or cover them up at all?

Ziv has three helix-piercings in each ear in which she had put cooper rings. While she likes them aesthetically, it is also a clear sign for people to notice that she is definitive not a animal or a non-sentient pet and that she is person enough to actually invest in clearly noticeable (as on the highest part of her body that are her ears) Bodyart. On her left ear she wears an earring that had been given to her by Malkhaz as a token, after they said their goodbyes. Malkhaz kept the other earring. The earring is not especially expensive. The bohème piece with turquoise-stones and cooper metal might be more expensive than the cooper rings but is eventually nothing but fashion-jewelery. It is important who gave the earring to her.

When she was around 18 years old she had a Septum-piercing but after she had fled the crimelords rangs in which she had started to work in in exchange for a cortosis-vambrace, she took it out because after she had been held like a pet with no way to escape her situation, she did not liked the implications that the septumpiercing was similar to the nosering of cattle used to control them. In the Verse outside of Starwars, she also had the Septum-Piercing during her days studying to make her degree, but as soon as she was confronted with the fact that the convoy she had been given to had put her into debt to them for the costs of raising her, educating her and taking care of her medical needs, Ziv also took the septum out, feeling much too trapped mentally to show it in her face.

Ziv has a navelpiercing with cooper metal in form of a open flower and an blue stone in the center. This has no implications beside the fact that Ziv likes bodyart as a expression of her individuality and she likes jewelery. While the Piercings on her ears are constantly visible, her navelpiercing is usually under clothes for the simple reason that Ziv also uses clothes to express herself as an individual and usually those clothes cover up her stomach. However depending on the area she is in (as in, the temperature of that area), Zivs regulary walks around just with a utility-belt as clothes or topless, so the piercing is occasionally visible. Zivs definition of nakedness is because of the pelt different. She has three nipplepiercings along her mammary ridge of her left side, yet this has no artistic reason= when she had been fourteen and her group of AgriCorps Adepts happned to have a free evening in a starharbour they went through the nightlife. One of them as a mamalian humanoid got his two nipples pierced to proof how tough they are and Ziv, who was and still is extremly ambitious, combative and has a crude humor, used the chance to outdo said other Adept by getting studs along her left side in all three nipples (she has six, so she had free chosing. Beeing a mammal of a r-selected species with litters of up to six pups means one needs more than two.). She regretted it the next morning because it hurted for weeks and it will still hurt when she is hit against the mammary ridge ( especially on the left side due to the piercings, just because she has no visible fat-breasttissue outside of pregnancy does not mean that she will not keel over and cuss like a sailor when she is hit in the underlying mammary glands.Because she definitive will cuss like a sailor in that scenario.). Lovers who had asked for the reason for the piercings usually find Zivs reason hilarious and the Tynnan, still remembering the aches and the fact she had spend days with icepacks and also just icepieces under her tunic along her left side, is still sour about it. Having the young girl with melting icepacks under her tunic on one side might had caused a lot of mocking and jokes, resulting in Ziv beeing especially sour about the topic. That she does not care especially much about this part of bodyart on her body is shown in that the piercings she uses are nothing but simple cooper metalstuds to avoid dirt getting into the holes, in contrast to her polished earrings or navelpiercing. Its not like the studs are often visible at all, because of Zivs cloth and especially because of her pelt. Accordingly this detail about Ziv is only known by lovers who had had their hands on her and the Tynnan is a little hurt in her pride everytime she has to tell the story about her beeing a very dumb teenager and having piercings because she wanted to show off how hardcore she is to other very dumb teenagers.

Due to her pelt Ziv has no tattoos, however she usually lets the symbol for "healer" shaved in the outer layer of her fur on her chest when she is on Planets where the literacy is not so high and she still needs show to people that they can come to her for help and support in medical matters. The symbol usually needs around eight weeks to grow out completly and that is usually the signal for Ziv to change locations to another planet.

In her inquisitor AU, Ziv has none of the piercings beside the septumpiercing for obvious reasons.

#ziv loves bodyart #but she had also been a very stupid teenager #but i think that story gives her more character xD #headcanon #thanks for the ask!#irrfahrer #Ziv Odiz' Zee #changing her piercings through her life just sems ralistic (like the septumpiercing)#I am always telling my students: go for it colour your hair and get earpiercings etc #but make sure to learn to makeup them over for photographs when you leave school and applicate for jobs #I mean my studnts are at best 11 years old so #all I do is getting overly excited when one has green hair and make them beam when complimenting it

3 notes · View notes

lunaevangeline · 3 years ago

Text

Helix Nebula

written for Arisa ❤ @kurooikawakaashiwaizumisgf (I know you're currently on hiatus but I hope you're happy to see this when you come back)

warning: none, just fluff

I write this based on a beautiful photo taken by ESO (European Southern Observatory) + credit for the photo description

"What are you looking at, Love?"

You've been drawn to see the picture in front of you; blue and brown color nebulae, outgassing to the outer space. It's mesmerizing to see the remnant of a star corpse, the end of life but at the same time will become a new beginning.

You were on your date with your boyfriend, Akaashi Keiji, strolled around the downtown and bumped into an outdoor exhibition of space photos. The exhibition includes various photographs of astronomical objects, celestial events, and night sky areas taken from all over the world.

You read the caption: "This color-composite image of the Helix Nebula (NGC 7293) was taken at the La Silla observatory in Chile. The blue-green glow in the center of the Helix comes from oxygen atoms shining under the effects of the intense ultraviolet radiation of the 120,000 degree Celsius central star and the hot gas. Further out from the star and beyond the ring of knots, the red color from hydrogen and nitrogen is more prominent. A careful look at the central part of this object reveals not only the knots but also many remote galaxies seen right through the thinly spread glowing gas."

"Eye of God huh? Interesting," Akaashi murmurs, reading the title of the image.

"Yeah, beautiful isn't it?" you smiled, catching his presence from your peripheral vision.

"You seem to love this picture."

Your boyfriend is observant, he pays attention to how you've been spending 5 minutes longer on this particular image compared to the rest.

You ponder, "There's something intriguing about this picture, I'm not sure what it is."

He takes a few moments to admire your side profile. His hand reaches for your cold hand, allowing the heat exchange process. There's another cold wind that blows in the transition from winter to spring.

"Hey, wanna grab a cup of coffee?" Akaashi offers.

"Sure!" you smile giddily at him, swinging your hand with his back and forth like a child.

It was a long week with exhausting deadlines and work, but you manage to spend a refreshing weekend with him. After staying for an hour at the cafe, the two of you decide to head back to your apartment, watching your favorite Netflix series.

You nestle on his chest, his hand playing with your hair - caressing your crown. He doesn't pay much attention to the TV anymore, his senses are preoccupied with all aspects of you; hearing the echo of your laughter, feeling the touch of your hair and your cotton fabric, and smelling the floral scent of your fresh shampoo.

Everything was so peaceful that he didn't realize the effects of the caffeine wouldn't last long for him to stay awake.

You notice how your boyfriend movement has been less on the half of the ongoing episode. You look up, only to meet a pair of closed eyes. Then you place your ear next to his chest, his heart beats slowly. Closing your eyes, you hear the shooting melody - he has fallen asleep.

Watching Keiji asleep is one of your favorite moments because you don't experience much of it. You don't live in the same apartment unit and his work demands make him sleep deprived.

You trace the soft skin under his eye, there's a hint of darkness on it. But he's still pretty with fluffy black locks framing his face and his facial features in perfect ratio.

Carefully, you caressed his cheek that usually turned rosy when you give him a surprise peck. You plant a soft kiss on his cheek, smiling to yourself, before moving to his nose. Your movement makes him scrunch it a little bit.

You chuckle to yourself and with a hand still cupping his cheek, you plant a kiss on his lips - which surprisingly gets him to kiss you back. His hands pull you closer lazily until you break the kiss.

"Keiji? since when you're awake?" you pout.

His eyes flutter open as he let out a raspy chuckle, "On half of your way stealing a kiss."

Sleepiness still lingering on his tone, you almost forgot your boyfriend is a light sleeper.

"What time is it?" he asked.

You shift your gaze to your wall clock only to look back into his blue orbs.

"It's 18.30." He hums in response.

In silence, you take a more careful look at his blue eyes. It's shone by your ceiling light, unraveling the detailed structure of his iris.

His iris resembles the miniature of the galaxy, with a black hole in its center. You can see stars sparkle in them every time he gazes at you. It also resembles the gaseous nebulae, an attempt to hide his true feeling only for you to find out.

"Blue from oxygen atoms shining under effects of the intense ultraviolet radiation," you suddenly remember one line of the image description.

"Eye of God," you murmur. Now you know why you were so captivated by the image.

He chuckles lightly, "Still can't get over from the space exhibition?"

He cups your cheek and plants a kiss on your jaw.

"I can't," you smiled at the fluttering feeling.

He pulls you to another kiss, velvety and soft-touch grazing your lips. Then you rest your forehead against his, your shadow allows you to stare into the darkness of his blue orbs.

Your boyfriend has been watching you. Silently, since the first time he saw you at the high school volleyball game - as one of his friend's best friends. He has been watching you until he mustered up all the courage to ask you out.

He always watches over you; over the peak moment of your history, over the worst moment of life. He knows when you need a hug and he knows when you avert to tell him something that may worry him. He also knows how you love him with the same endearing look in your eyes.

Perhaps, Akaashi is the extension of God's eye to watch over you or the eye of God itself.

"Keiji, your eyes are so beautiful."

He chuckles sweetly with pink-tinted cheeks, saying thank you and praising that you're much more beautiful.

With those eyes, you've been drowned and you've been lost, but moreover, you've been loved by them.

masterlist

taglist: @hyeque @passionateuchiha @crystal-lilac @ohtobiors @pklm10 @sabyss @miya-dynasty @oikawas-milk-bread @wolffmaiden @wayenn @justheretoaskandread @simp4ren @filledasaf @momochimo @simpforerenn @biderwoman

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyū!!#hq imagines #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu akaashi #akaashi keiji #akaashi keji x you #akaashi keji x reader #akaashi x you #akaashi x reader #akaashi fluff #akaashi drabble #akaashi fic #akaashi imagine

129 notes · View notes

millllenniawrites · 4 years ago

Text

warmth (Poe Dameron x Reader)

words: 5.6k yes it is the longest thing on this blog shush

summary: The Resistance’s victory celebration quickly turns sour when their trusted Commander, Poe Dameron, recognizes a toxin in the air. This favourite doctor is the only one he trusts with the information he has. You’re the only one you trust to look after him.

warnings: smut (this is 18+ people); afab!reader; porn with plot; sex pollen so that automatically makes it dubcon; doctor!reader; swearing, drugs, dirty talk, Poe Dameron is so whiny when he’s horny holy fuck; bondage; oral (f receiving); unprotected sex (wrap it up folks); pet names (good girl, honey, sweetheart, baby); this relies on Poe’s spice runner past (the one I use in Helix, not the gross canon one) but it’s not directly dealt with and it’s super vague

a/n: I was trying to find a place to feature Kade Sol who is my baby sunshine light of my life from the Helix series and I snuck him in here! also this was a worldbuilding writing exercise that somehow turned into the filthiest smut I’ve ever written so there’s that

As the last First Order ship disappeared from the sky, a victory cry sounded through the Resistance fighters. Poe Dameron landed on the tarmac of Cida’s Travel Station, popping the hood of his X-Wing. He grinned, watching the rest of Black and Blue squadron land around him, all hopping out of their ships and rejoicing on the deck.

They didn’t lose anyone in the air today. That alone was cause for celebration.

It had been three weeks of trying to break the First Order’s blockade on the Cida system. King Caran had graciously accepted the help of the Resistance, backed by the New Republic’s ships, and allowed them to set up a temporary base on Cida Prime. In exchange for liberating their system, His Majesty had granted the Resistance usage of their hyperspace lanes, which would cut the transport time from the Hosnian system to D’Qar in half. An easy trade, if anyone had bothered to ask Poe.

Which no one did, these days. But he was doing his best.

Kade, his captain, shook him from his thoughts as he called from the ground, “The King is asking for you, Dameron.”

He dropped out of his ship, quickly hugging Kade, grateful as always to have his best friend by his side, before jogging into the command centre of the makeshift air base, where King Caran and Admiral Ackbar were waiting.

“Commander Dameron,” the King’s booming voice sounded through the small room as Poe entered.

Poe bowed low, nearly folding himself completely in half. “Your Majesty.”

A pair of Cidan guards’ in navy uniforms flanked him as he trailed behind the King and Ackbar. Poe found himself tuning out the negotiations, agreeing with Ackbar on instinct as the two men spoke. They took more twists and turns than Poe could count. He began marking various basins, leaking different coloured smoke as landmarks, in case he needed to find his way out.

Not that he thought the King wasn’t deserving of their trust. This was a war. He just wasn’t going to risk it.

As they entered what appeared to be the King’s office, Poe felt almost out of place. Like he was floating, a gentle burning feeling in his gut the only thing grounding him.

In a turn of events Poe was not expecting, he found himself missing you.

He loved Kade. Of course, he loved Kade. His second. His partner in crime. But the flight home was sure to be a boring one without you.

It wasn’t tradition, necessarily. But each time the two of you had taken a mission together, it had been a resounding success. And on your way home, he’d celebrated between your legs.

And you’d taken care of him after, like the good girl he knew you were.

The burning moved lower, a sweet smell settling in his nose. One Poe recognized, from a time before the New Republic Navy.

Fuck.

Voice panicked, “King Caran,” Poe stood, realizing he had interrupted the King. Breathing heavily, he scanned the room, eyes locking on a small stone in the corner. It sat on a warming plate, small tendrils of yellow smoke disappearing into the air.

Caran laughed, following Poe’s gaze. “You know your therapies, my boy.” The man seemed… pleased. Proud. “A gift, from us to you.”

“With all due respect, your Majesty,” Poe coughed, a phantom of the sensation he had only felt once before aching deep in his lungs. “Most organisms outside of the Cidan’s can’t handle Stiima the way your graciousness can.”

“My apologies, my friend. We thought that it would help to calm things. For negotiations, of course.” Caran met Ackbar’s eyes, anxiety evident. “Please understand it is simply the way we celebrate such a great success as we have seen today.”

“I understand, your Majesty.” Ackbar side-eyed Poe, concern evident. “Are you alright, Commander?”

The ringing in Poe’s ears drowned out the last of their conversation. The next thing he knew, he was back on the tarmac, shouting, “Kade. Get everyone in the air. Now.”

He beelined for his shuttle, locking himself in the cockpit. Hand clenching as he felt himself relax into the passenger seat, the pain of his nails digging into his palm grounding him.

“Poe, you good?” Kade banged on the door.

He didn’t answer, focusing on the

Kade finally got the door open. “Poe, what the fuck?”

“Fly.” Poe said through gritted teeth. “I need you to fly.”

So Kade did.

They didn’t dock to the main carrier, flying above it. They would wait until it jumped to hyperspace before they followed.

Poe watched as fighter after fighter flew into the large ship. Ears filled with cotton, he barely heard Ackbar’s order over the comms for anyone in a shuttle to stay away from the ship.

Code Orange.

Quarantine protocol.

Poe couldn’t stop his mind from going back to you. The last time you were on mission together. The way your mouth felt.

Your eyes.

The innocent way you would smile, naked and spread out under him…

“Poe?” Kade asked, sitting forward in his seat. “Are you alright?”

Poe hit a comm button on his dash, connecting him directly to command.

“Commander Dameron, are you alright?” A young man’s voice came through his headset.

“I need you to connect me to med.”

“Is someone—”

“Connect me to med, officer. I need to speak with the doctor.”

You opened the hull door of Poe Dameron’s shuttle, a small case of bacta and other various medications tucked under your arm. Coughing into your mask as you entered the dark ship, you quickly located the panel to seal the door behind you, saluting the mech on the ground that would lock you in after the door eased shut.

The convoy had landed hours ago. The medic team had been slowly working through shuttles, administering antidotes to those that could take them.

It wasn’t poison. You’d ruled that out early. But the obvious effects of dehydration were evident. Poe seemed to know what it was, from the way he sounded in the recording Ackbar had passed off to med, but no one else was familiar with the symptoms everyone seemed to be presenting.

Looking around, you stayed still for a moment, letting your eyes adjust to the dark. You had been in his shuttle before; you knew you were in the cargo bay, and if you followed the wall to your right, you would find the ladder that would lead you to the cockpit. Your mission. The plan. Assessing Poe and Captain Kade Sol’s symptoms.

But if you went to the left and pushed the thin black curtain aside, you would find the small closet that served as his bed on long missions.

Your bed, when you joined him.

It was hard not to smile, remembering the long nights in hyperspace with the famous Commander. The way his curls tangled around your fingers. How his stubble felt against the inside of your thighs…

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you shook your head with a small embarrassed laugh and began to work your way to the ladder.

Even with the grey cloth pulled tight across your mouth and nose, you could still smell the musk of the air, heavy in your lungs. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it had a true weight to it, like slightly overripe fruit or warm spices, much worse than the three shuttles you had cleared before this. The rungs of the ladder were warm like the air, slick with moisture, a telltale sign that Poe and Kade had done as asked. There had been no air circulating in the ship since they landed. If any of the airborne toxins had gotten into the ship, it wouldn’t have had the chance to escape outside.

You smiled as your hands brushed their oxygen canisters, hearing the slow leak of fluid. Always thorough, Dameron…

Your hands grazed the small railing that guarded the catwalk to the cockpit as you made your way down to the sealed door.

“Commander Dameron? Captain Sol?” you called, hoping they could hear you through the dense metal. “It’s Doctor--”

The hiss of the door caused you to jump and you stepped back, taking in the form of the Captain. The large man nearly filled the doorway, dark clothes making it difficult to see him in the blackness of the ship. “I know who you are. Command came through a little while ago.” His voice as gruff as always, but he said it with a smile. “I’ve had no symptoms, but I figure you still need to check me out?”

“Yes, Captain.” You nod, “If you wouldn’t mind going back into the cockpit for me…”

He grumbled something you couldn’t make out but did what you asked, sitting in the only passenger seat in the small room, empty save for them.

“Where’s Commander Dameron?” you asked as you knelt in beside Kade, fingers on his wrist.

You ran through the basics of your training as he talked.

“Poe didn’t get so lucky. Got hit worse than most people, from what we’ve heard. He was in the King’s office. Said something about a… diffuser?” When you nodded, he seemed to relax. “That’s why he made the call. Asked me to lock him up until a medic got here. He was specifically asking for you, so I guess we got lucky.”

You were grateful for the dark, hiding the way you flushed. “Guess so.” Unable to hide the warmth in your voice, you gave Kade a small smile. “There isn’t a brig on this ship. Where—"

“His quarters. Stun cuffs magnetized to the wall.” He seemed almost embarrassed, ducking his head. “I’m not sure what’s wrong with him, exactly. Just that he hasn’t really stopped making noise since about twenty minutes after we landed.”

You hesitated. Generally careful about the information you give out to patients, you weren’t sure it would be appropriate to explain, but Kade and Poe were a package deal. Rarely did you see one without the other. They’d been joined at the hip since long before they had defected to the Resistance together.

“It’s a potent aphrodisiac.” You murmured, standing behind him and tilting his head to check for discolouration on his neck, “Most people got hit with… well, let’s call it Level 1 symptoms. Loose tongue. Unable to really control what they’re saying, or at least not thinking it through. Level 2 are action: making choices you wouldn’t ordinarily make. The… aphrodisiac part. If you get to level two, we’ve found they wear off in about three hours. No antidote needed. Just fluids and rest, after it all. But you’ve been in here almost a whole day…” and Poe’s condition hadn’t improved.

“Which means what? He’s at level 3?”

There wasn’t a level 3.

Coming around in front of Kade, you nodded slowly. “Was he complaining of… pain?” you flinched as you said the word, knowing the man had no idea what you were truly asking.

“Right before he asked me to gag him. He had moments he was lucid… basically told me to leave him locked up, no matter what he said.”

There was only one other person that had said the drug hurt, and she had been fine for a few hours now.

Kade chewed idly on his bottom lip, seemingly lost in thought. “Not easy being locked in while your best friend is raving like a madman.”

“The gag was a good call. He’ll thank you once he’s back to himself.” You tried for another smile. “You seem okay. Vitals are normal. Rosa is just outside. I’ll let her know that she can open the door. She’ll give you a mask and escort you to showers, and then back to your quarters. They’ll send a medical droid to check you out fully before you’re allowed to intermix with the base. Just in case.”

“Thank you, doc.” Kade stood, heading out the door to the rest of the shuttle. “Poe is—”

“I know.” You nodded, not really thinking through your words. “Closet. Curtain.”

Kade paused, turning to look at you for a moment. His eyebrow twitched, just slightly, before he dropped down the ladder. You appreciated that he hadn’t said anything, having a sneaking suspicion that he didn’t know you only off your medical reputation.

Your excursions with Poe were a relative secret, not wanting command to restrict you going on missions together because of your… you weren’t really sure what to call it. Enough people had stories about him that you knew you weren’t exclusive, but being with him was different. It had always been different.

Though you supposed all the people he took to bed could say the same thing.

You pushed the heavy curtain aside.

He was laid back on his cot, only one of his boots on. Poe struggled against his cuffs, attached to the wall above his head, and whined through the gag in his mouth. The bed squeaked and shook. It was a significantly less pleasant sound when you were standing there, not on top of him…

You shook your head quickly, a reminder that you were working, before you knelt on the ground next to Poe’s head. His eyes widened as he focused on you. Reaching for the fabric cutting into his cheeks, your fingertips grazed his jaw. “I’m gonna remove this, okay?” you murmured before eased the gag out of his mouth, letting the loop of dark cloth hanging around his neck.

“Sweetheart…” he whined the moment his mouth was free to move, his voice cracking around the dryness of his throat. You set your med case on the floor and opened it quickly, digging through bandages and bacta patches before finding what you needed. You lifted a small canteen to his lips, letting the water trickle into his mouth. He coughed, spluttering a little before he was tilting his head away, gasping, “Please, sweetheart. I need…”

You shushed him gently, swiping a cloth over his lips. Trying to distract him, you softened your voice, “You got everyone out before it could get bad, Poe. Everyone else is safe.”

He turned his head to look up at the ceiling, seeming to relax a little. Your eyes found his throat. Watching him breathe, swallow, reminded you of the way his skin tasted…

Fuck.

You coughed again into your mask, murmuring, “I’ll be right back.” and ignoring the way Poe whined as you let the curtain fall behind you.

Once you were a few steps away from him, you could breathe a little easier. The air was hot, fucking scalding through your mask, and you tilted your head back a bit to force yourself to breathe deeply. Slowly. Calmingly.

You reached up, touching the pad of the in-ear to firmly press it into your head, “Rosa? You copy?”

The woman’s high voice came through, louder than before. Her voice seemed to be directed straight into your skull. “Everything alright in there, doc?”

“Everything’s fine. Commander Dameron has symptoms we haven’t seen before and I think I’m contaminated. It’s not bad. I can work through it. But I’m going to take my comm out just in case.” You really didn’t need command hearing your unfiltered thoughts.

She grumbled, “Maker. You sure you’re alright?” You swore you could almost see the way her eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, Rosa. I’m good. Level 1 or less. Just make sure those doors stay locked until we come off it. Don’t open them for anyone. Even the General.”

She turned on the link long enough that you heard her laugh before she said, “Sounds good. If we need you, we’ll come through the cockpit.” A brief pause, “Stay safe, doc.”

“You too, Rosa.”

Pulling the plastic out of your ear, you double checked that you had it turned it off before returning to Poe’s side.

He relaxed the moment you were back in view, hips stilling on the bed. You tried not to stare at the obvious tent in his pants.

His eyes seemed to focus better than before, saying quietly, “I heard you. Talking to Rosa. You shouldn’t have touched me.”

He was right. It was probably your proximity to him that did it. But you had to do your job. That was your only priority, of course. Of course…

“Like I’ve ever been good at keeping my hands to myself with you around.” You froze as the words slipped past your lips, unable to stop them.

He didn’t seem bothered by the sudden accidental honesty, but his eyes glazed over again, trailing over you. “I miss your hands…” he groaned, biting his lip and sending a wave of heat through you.

“Careful, or I’m gonna put that gag back in.” Voice sounding forced even to your own ears, you sat down on the floor, your back resting against the bed.

He mumbled something you couldn’t quite understand, until he repeated himself. “Take yours off. The… the mask. If you’ve got it…”

He was right. If you’d already been exposed, there wasn’t any point in keeping it on. It was hot. There was no one in there but you. You weren’t hurting anyone. You could take the mask off. It would be fine. You—

“Sweetheart…” Poe groaned, rattling the cuffs.

You ripped the mask off your face, tossing it near your medical kit.

“G-good. Can you… can you please take my arms down, honey?” he tugged at the cuffs again. If you had turned to look at him, you would have seen the desperation you knew was painted across his features. “It hurts.”

His whine sent a pang of guilt through you. “Why did you know what the drug was?” you asked, hoping it would distract him.

“It’s used in party drugs. The way it burns… it’s not like anything else I’ve ever—” He shifted, trying to get more comfortable, despite the way his pants were twisted around his legs from hours of struggling. The fabric stuck against him and pulled, and he moaned, guttural and sweet and chipping away at the wall of self-control you had haphazardly built against him.

“Poe,” Meant to be chastising, the word landed somewhere in the realm of yearning and breathless.

“Anything, sweetheart. Please.” Rolling his head back and forth on the bedroll under his head, he sounded close to tears as he whined, “I think my dick is going to fall off if you don’t touch it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, helping to break the cloud of arousal circling your head. “I don’t think that’s a medically sound diagnosis, Commander.”

“Say that again…” he breathed.

“Medically—”

“No.”

Your sharp intake of breath was the only sound in the shuttle.

“Commander?”

He tilted his head back, groaning, “You say my title and I can’t stop thinking about being inside you.”

“It’s just the drugs.”

“You know it’s not just the drugs.” You could have sworn it was a growl with the way the low sound of his voice tore through you. “I need you to touch me, honey.”

“Will you stop talking if I do?”

“Come lay with me and give me one hand back. Then I’ll stop talking.”

Negotiating meant he was lucid, if only partially.

“I thought you said it makes it worse if I touch you.” You squeezed your eyes shut, like that could block out the image that his soft gasps conjured in your mind.

“It’ll get worse before it gets better.”

“Always got a fucking answer for everything…” You grumbled, but it worked. Carefully, you eased yourself up off the floor and onto his small cot and leaned over him. One ring of the cuffs released with the click of a few buttons.

After freeing the gag from around his neck and tossing it to the floor, Poe’s free hand immediately reached for you, gripping your thigh. Even though the thick fabric of your pants, you could feel how warm he was. “Sweetheart…”

“You said you’d stop talking.”

“Lay down. Lay down and I’ll stop talking.”

You had agreed to it. And when his fingers dug into your thigh and the wave of relief washed over you at his touch, you weren’t about to argue.

So you laid down, back to him, letting his free hand roam up and down your side. Under your shirt. Down under the top of your pants that he didn’t bother to undo. There wasn’t any focus to his movements. Where he touched you, you relaxed, and as his touch moved on, your skin burned.

You didn’t notice the high-pitched whine leaving your parted lips until Poe’s hand came to rest on your throat.

“Does it hurt?” He traced from your jaw to your collarbone, over and over, putting just enough pressure on your neck that you were gasping.

“N-no… Are you…? Does it hurt for you?”

“This is better. You being close makes it better.”

“It’s just warm.” That was the only way to describe it. It was like he had set you on fire. Everywhere he had touched ached.

He groaned, breath hot against your ear as he rutted his hips against you. “Let me help, sweetheart…” No amount of squirming was going to make the heat go away and you couldn’t figure out how he could be so slow about all of this. “I can make you feel good. I can make it go away. Please…” His fingers trailed across the exposed skin of your stomach, soothing the burning feeling that wracked your body.

You gripped his wrist, bringing his hand up under the hem of your shirt, needing his cooling touch. Arching your back, your ass grazed him and you groaned together.

“Please sweetheart.” he begged, voice low and sending vibrations through your back where he pressed against you. “Let my other hand down. I promise I’ll make it worth it.” He rattled the cuff still glued to the wall for good measure.

He didn’t have to ask you twice. Rolling over, you shoved him onto his back and swung a leg over his hips. Grinding down as you reached over him, you released his hands, leaving the cuffs on the wall, up and out of the way. He was quick to flip you onto your back, hand cradling the back of your head as his lips met your neck.

“Pretty girl…” Poe murmured as his hand tangled in your hair, wrenching your head back to expose your neck. “Such a pretty girl for me… so fucking sweet…”

“Poe… Poe, please.” The whine left you before you could fully decide what you were begging for. Just more. More of him. His hands on your body. His lips on your skin.

The heaviness of the air weighed you to the cot, your knees down to the thin mattress as he slotted himself between your legs – still fully clothed – and you fell apart in his arms. Gasping into his mouth, body convulsing, you could barely move with the way he was positioned above you. You couldn’t open your eyes. You could barely breathe with the way every small movement sent searing heat straight to your core.

“Fuck.” His dark eyes focused on your heaving chest. “Do that again.”

He fought with the ties on your pants, tearing the sides as he forced them down your legs, taking your underwear with them.

It was all you could do to keep from screaming as he sunk two fingers into you.

Each movement of his fingers battled the heat coursing through you and let you come back to yourself, if only for a moment. His other hand splayed out on your stomach to keep you still. He pushed your shirt up and you ripped it over your head.

Your head spun as you realized he was still completely clothed.

Leaning down, he sunk his teeth into the inside of your thigh. Where you expected pain, pleasure ran down your legs. Following his trail of bite marks with soft kisses, up closer to where you needed him, he blew softly on your folds and you cried out, bucking off the cot.

You could hear the squeaking of the bed as you squirmed. Each laboured breath Poe took as he nestled himself between your trembling legs. The rasp in his voice as he murmured, “...wettest fucking cunt I’ve ever seen...” before he lowered his face to meet the apex of your thighs.

His mouth on you didn’t offer the relief you were so desperately searching for. It somehow made it worse, every swipe of his tongue followed by a trail of fire.

You pushed at his head but he barely responded. “Poe… Poe please… I need your cock…”

He hummed lightly against you, his tongue working you slowly, like you weren’t threatening to burn up underneath him.

Finally, you grabbed onto a handful of his curls and pulled.

He only looked up in mild annoyance. Gripping your wrist tight, he forced your hand to the cot. “I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you.” Though the words were soft, his tone was gruff.

Poe slowed his soft circles on your clit and you whined again, pushing up into his mouth. “Stay still.” He mumbled against you.

Each of his motions were so methodical, you could have sworn you were the only one dealing with symptoms. Until he glanced up at you with his almost-black eyes.

You stopped breathing.

You weren’t afraid. You could never be afraid of Poe. But you’d never seen him so unhinged. Like he was going to jump, and you were coming with him.

He snatched up both your wrists, leaning over you. Tipping your head back, you tried to kiss him but he moved further, up above your head.

In one quick motion, he locked both your hands in the cuffs on the wall.

“I need it. Please. I need--” He didn’t finish the sentence, hooking his hands under your knees and spreading you out for him. His tongue found your clit again and you couldn’t hear your own scream over the rush of blood in your head.

He’d always been accommodating. He took constructive criticism well and was determined to get you off, no matter what he had to relearn, when the two of you had fucked before.

Now, he took each of those little pieces and, like he’d been given the code to your body, he took you apart.

Every stroke of his tongue would have seemed planned if not for the way he moaned into your skin, the way he grinded his hips into the cot beneath him. You gave up fighting against the cuffs, instead focusing on rolling your hips against his face.

He held still, letting you move the way you wanted. Letting you use his tongue. Guiding your hips. It wasn’t until he set you down and you opened your eyes that you realized that he was dripping with you.

His chin glistened as he sat up and yanked his shirt over his head. His eyes didn't leave yours as he undid his pants, shucking them off and tossing them somewhere with his shirt. You didn't care. You didn’t care where his clothes were or where yours had disappeared to.

“My-- the cuffs. Poe, I need to touch you…”

Your hands were in his hair the moment he released you, pulling his mouth to yours. He tasted of you, and the heaviness in the air, and the familiarity of him that you’d grown so intoxicated by.

Ordinarily, he’d tease you. Just like this, your legs spread for him. He’d drag the head of his cock over you until you stopped threatening him, until you melted and became putty in his hands and your begging became wordless.

But he didn’t have the patience. You could see it in his face. He angled his hips, sliding into you slowly.

With this, there was relief. But it came as quick as it went and you were again whining under him, your cunt clenched tight around him.

He pushed deeper, his face tucked into your neck. “Relax, baby. Relax. You’re so-- so fucking…”

You didn’t know how he was going so slow. You didn’t know how he managed to stop, only halfway inside you.

All you knew was that you needed him.

You pulled his hips into yours. After two orgasms, there was no resistance. He bottomed out, gasping into your mouth. “Pretty girl…”

“Fu… Fuck me. Poe please please fuck me--” You pulled at his shoulders, his hair, grinding up into him as much as you could with him fully on top of you. “It hurts. Please…”

Whatever well of self control he’d been drawing from seemed to have dried up. Snapping his hips into yours, he kissed you.

His tongue dominated your mouth, not giving you space to breathe. Or think. Or do anything other than take what he was giving you. Your nails dug into his upper arms, leaving little crescent moons behind. His soft gasps of encouragement had you writhing beneath him.

“Perfect little… You take me so well, honey. Like you were fucking made for me…”

His words alone threatened to take you over the edge.

The burning came to a throbbing head in your core and you arched up into him, trying to pull him closer. Deeper. Anything to quell the fire inside you.

“Poe… Commander… P-please let me cum…” You weren’t in control of your words anymore. You weren’t in control of anything. “I need you.”

You wrapped your legs more tightly around him and his hips stuttered but he wasn’t stopping. Not for fucking anything.

“Let me feel you, pretty girl.” He growled against your neck.

And you unraveled.

The relief washed over you in waves as you lay beneath him. Between each peak, you could hear your own panting, feel the way your body fluttered around him.

You floated in the bliss.

Vaguely, you felt yourself roll over. Something cold dug into your side, but you couldn’t figure out how to move. Or figure out how to want to.

Your chest was still heaving as he traced along your ribs. A warm body came flush with your back. Fire trailed his dancing fingers.

“Sweetheart…” A soft moan at your ear. Breath, warm on your neck, sending a ripple through you. He pressed his hips forward, his hard cock sliding against your ass. “I need more. Please?”

You shifted your aching hips back towards him. “Please.”

You weren’t sure how long passed before you returned to normal – sated and thoroughly exhausted, but normal. Your skin no longer burned at the gentlest of touches. You could stand to look at him, to draw over the planes of his chest as he laid beside you without feeling the unyielding need for his cock inside you.

Your fingertips traced gently over the straining cords of muscle in his neck and he shuddered.

“You bit me.” He finally whispered.

You dissolved into a fit of giggles, curled up against his side. His arm wrapped around you, pulling you onto his chest.

“I’m sorry.” You laughed against his neck, kissing over the hickies you’d left behind.

“Don’t be. It was hot.”

“Where’d I bite you?” You propped yourself up on an elbow, looking down at him.

He tapped his upper arm, right underneath a series of bite marks. Ducking your head, you kissed over them, murmuring soft ‘I’m sorry’s between pecks.

“It’s okay. Really.” He tapped under your chin and you met his gaze. “Was that okay? We’ve never used cuffs or anything before and I’m really sorry--”

You kissed him to cut him off. “I’m okay. I trust you. You know that, right?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he rolled on top of you, an intensity in his eyes that would have scared you if you didn’t know him.

“I’m glad it was you.” Forehead pressed to yours, you shuddered as his soft breaths fanned across your lips. “I was hoping it would be you.”

Your breath caught. Gently, you brushed away the curls that fell in his face, tilting your face up and bringing your lips to his again.

He mumbled between kisses, “Can I take you for dinner?” You were too stunned to say anything, letting him kiss your bottom lip gently. He lingered at the corners of your mouth, leaving light kisses behind. “Hm? Will you let me take you out, sweetheart?”

“On a date?”

“If you don’t want it to be a date, it can just be a thank-you dinner--”

“It can be a date. Can it be a date?”

Giggling against your mouth, he said, “It can. I’d like it to be.”

“We should probably get out of this shuttle first.”

“Maybe put some clothes on before that?”

“Maybe.” Your nose brushed his. “Maybe I’d like to kiss you first.”

“Maybe I’ll let you.”

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron x female reader #poe dameron smut

679 notes · View notes

bamboo72498 · 2 years ago

Text

Find The Word Tag

This is my first time playing this game, so sorry if I do it wrong. Tagged by : @mrsmungus

Tagging: @thefifthmarauder @justlovely @bunysliper @bwayfan25 (and anyone else who wants to play!)

My words to find: shake, lost, never, past, rain Your words: blue, going, smile, ate, sleep

Shake- found in my Christmas gift exchange story for our ER discord

“I have no idea,” Kerry agrees with a shake of her head. Henry looked so much like Sandy it was scary.

Lost- found in an upcoming FLM chapter featuring a meet cute between Austin and Christine

“Sorry. I was finishing up a lab; I guess I lost track of time,” Christine replies remorseful.

Never- found in the next chapter of my Bones winter challenge

“If you can do it, so can it,” Christine says, puffing out she chest. She was scared but would never let Michael know that.

Past- found in another upcoming FLM chapter where Danielle meets Ashley’s family

The street was lined with cars and a group of boys playing catch with a football moved to the side as they drive past looking for a parking spot. “Are all those people at your grandma’s?”

Rain- this one was so hard to find! It’s not from a WIP, as this chapter has been posted, but I still like it. From chapter 4 of ‘Double Helix’

November 25th arrives cold and rainy, and, after their traditional birthday breakfast of cinnamon rolls and hot chocolate, and seeing their dad off to work with lots of extra kisses, Carol bundles her four-year-olds in coats and hats and mittens and takes them to finally meet their sister in person.

#writing #tag game #castle fanfiction #er fanfiction

1 note · View note

billiejs · 4 years ago

Note

Julie and Luke been best friends since childhood and now older and puberty hit there afraid to admit feelings for each other unroll they get paired for a project together.

I hope you’re not lactose intolerant because this is the cheesiest thing I’ve ever written (based on an experiment I did in high school).

Julie/Luke, alive!AU, best friends to more than best friends, extreme fluff, 1,1k

More than (bio)chemistry

Julie met Luke when she was six and he was seven, at the after school ROCK BAND! program her mom had enlisted her in. She remembers that meeting well because he almost drove her away from the program before it could even begin: she was shy and the idea of sharing a room with a dozen other kids didn’t do much to put her at ease. The moment she’d walked into the room she had to run for cover behind the bass drum of the drum set, because a boy no taller than 3’5″ in a Jedi t-shirt was swinging an electric guitar around laughing like a maniac, shouting about wanting to be called Jimi Helix or something like that.

Ten years later, Julie knows that although Luke might have outgrown the Star Wars outfit, he’s still as excitable and unruly as that first day in ROCK BAND! when he’d ended up tripping over the amp cable and knocking out his two front teeth in the process.

And despite having been his best friend for ten years, Luke still terrifies her sometimes. Especially when he smiles at her after she helps him figure out a chord progression for a song they’re writing. Especially when they’re entranced by each other while harmonizing a duet and Julie knows, from the bottom of her heart, that nothing in the world matters to her more than Luke at that moment. He makes her feel vulnerable, he makes her feel powerful, he makes her want him. And that’s the scariest part of it all, because Luke isn’t just her best friend, he’s also her bandmate and songwriting partner. Luke is the embodiment of all the things she likes the most about her life, and Julie has no qualms keeping her feelings hidden if it means protecting what they already have. Julie doesn’t blame herself, though. There’s only so many love songs you can write and perform with a cute guy before you inevitably start falling for him.

On a much less romantic note, Luke is also going to make her fail Biochemistry.

“Stop it Luke, are you out of your mind?” Julie hisses, taking the boy’s hand in hers to stop him from messing with the Bunsen burner on their lab table.

“Relax, Jules,” a lazy grin spreads over his face and Luke runs his thumb along the veins in Julie’s right wrist. “I’ve done this already.”

Julie jerks her hand away when she realizes she’s been holding her breath for several seconds.

“You mean you’ve failed this already,” she points out. Luke shrugs noncommittally and rests his cheek on the cold lab table, watching her upside down.

“Who cares about school anyway?” He makes a show of yawning right when the teacher is looking at them and God, Julie is going to murder him.

“Come on, this experiment is kind of cool,” she murmurs, because they’ve had this argument a million times already and she hates the sad face Luke makes when they disagree.

Luke glances at the two test tubes in front of them, where white filaments of their DNA are clogging up in what looks like white little blobs.

“Exciting,” he replies, his tone heavy with sarcasm. “There’s only one reason I’m in this class anyway.”

Julie glances around the room, a weight in her stomach. She’s always wondered if the obvious crush that Martha, second row and pretty blue eyes, has on Luke is requited. She’s not sure she wants to find out.

“What is it?” She mutters anyway. Luke blinks at her and his cheeks get inexplicably pink for a second.

“It’s because you’re in it.” He says. Julie’s breath hitches in her throat. It’s not like they’re lacking quality time outside of school, because they spend almost every afternoon with Alex and Reggie in her garage. She feels the same goosebumps that have traveled over her skin a minute earlier, when Luke had traced the lines on her wrist with his thumb. She lets herself picture it for a moment - her and Luke, together. Luke knowing that when she sings “I never knew a love so real, we're heaven on earth” she’s not just stepping into the shoes of her songwriting alter-ego. She means every single word.

Julie racks her mind in search of an answer, but before she can find the right words, Mr. Adams slaps a little box in front of them, shattering the moment.

“Patterson, try not to ruin Molina’s GPA this year, will you?” The short, balding teacher adjusts his glasses on his nose to send a nasty look Luke’s way. Unbothered, Luke waits until he has his back to them, then makes a face at him. Julie stifles a snicker.

“Let’s see what shape it is, this time.” Luke opens the box and his expression softens. He empties the contents in his hand and shows it to Julie: it’s two little plastic hearts, transparent in color and empty on the inside. They’re supposed to put their DNA fragments inside once they’ve finished with the experiment - they even had to pay five dollars for those plastic charms.

“Cute,” Julie laughs, her breath short for some reason. Following the teacher’s instructions, she takes the permanent marker Luke hands her and signs her initials on one of the two tiny hearts.

Luke is toying with his, a strange pondering expression on his face.

Julie waits for him to snap out of it until she can’t take it anymore.

“What?” She says. The experiment is almost finished. Both of their DNAs are tiny white blobs swirling slowly inside the test tubes, almost perfectly aligned.

“I was thinking…” Luke clears his voice, and doesn’t look her in the eyes, “I was thinking, it would be cute to exchange them, wouldn’t it?”

Julie blinks, not sure she’s following.

“What?”

“I mean, the charms. The DNAs. We exchange them.”

“So… you put my DNA inside yours and I put yours inside mine?”

“Yeah,” Luke finally looks at her and his face is bright red, but his trademark cheeky smile is back. “So you always have a piece of me inside your heart.”

Julie stares, mouth hanging open, until Luke’s face begins to fall.

“Sorry, it’s a stupid idea, I don’t even know why I said that…”

He begins to shuffle away from Julie and she acts on instinct: she grabs Luke’s hand and exchanges the little plastic hearts, then proceeds to use the pipette to gently suck her DNA from the test tube and into the charm marked with the letters LP. She seals it and gives it back to Luke, who looks at her as if he’s never really seen her before.

“Just for the record,” Julie says, speaking before she starts doubting herself, “I don’t need a piece of your DNA inside a plastic charm to hold you in my heart, Luke. You’ve pretty much lived there rent-free for the last ten years.”

____________________________________________ Thank you for reading! Click here (x) for more cheesy silliness. ❤️👻❤️

#Jatp #Julie and the phantoms #jatp minific #juke #jukebox #my fics #juke fanfic

76 notes · View notes

neostriatum · 4 years ago

Text

All we are, and all we have...

[AO3] [Dreamwidth]

Title taken from these photos (archived version here) in one of photographer @rabbitinthemeadow's series. All Mando'a translated at the end.

Maul inhaled.

This was unusual, given his certainty that this time he had died. It had not quite been the death he had been craving, but it had been an honourable one at the hands of his arch-enemy, and the peace it had granted weighed heavily in his hearts despite their absurd insistence at beating.

Exhaling, he stretched his senses out into the Force. It was the surest way to place himself, and the thrum of the living against his mind was enough confirmation for him.

So. Alive again. And not even on Dathomir.

The walls of the palatial bedroom were obscenely Kryze’s, still holding the decorations and gilding he hadn’t the presence of mind to change early on in his reign. The confirmation laid bitterly on his tongue, and abruptly he was fed up with the idea of living on a planet he had already spent roughly twenty years on the first time.

The Force was a strange beast, and the idea that it could punish him by undoing so much of his life as he had breathed his last sounded about right. But- and he clenched the ridiculously expensive sheets in his grasp, but-

Light seeped into his skin, a thready but still present brush of warmth against his skin and senses. It reminded him of Kenobi, the gentle reassurance of peace as he died. It was almost cruel, how comforting the memory was, especially now that the destruction of the Jedi hadn’t happened yet.

His comm chirped, fracturing the euphoria of the revelation at hand. Maul clapped a hand to his mouth, not sure whether he was restraining a laugh or a sob. The Light was fracturing his resolve to the Sith, and all he could feel was relieved.

Forcing himself to steady, he pulled the comm to him, answering with a brusque, “Maul.”

Hope. What a strange feeling.

It was difficult, trying to undermine the goals Sidious had so deeply impressed on him that they were etched into his bones. But no longer did the man’s edicts reverberate in his lungs with every breath he took, filled instead were they with an unrestricted buoyancy that threatened to make him hover at the slightest provocation.

Was this how a Jedi felt? It baffled him, but also explained the way they seemed to flutter through the Force, a marvel of nature instead of a tragedy shaking the ground beneath their feet.

Meditation was at once easier and excruciating. The Force had always been a soul-sucking entropy, to be treaded carefully and yet bent to one’s will. But these shards of light burned, forcing growth in the holes in his soul that had been scraped raw where Sidious had laid claim. Where a grave once stood now blossomed a garden, and beauty caught his eye more often than grief as he accepted the Light making itself comfortable.

His thoughts strayed often, his deaths compounding and overlaid. Many times did he force himself to put his comm away, to restrain the urge to howl in the direction of Obi-Wan Kenobi and bring the entirety of the man’s formidable army upon Mandalore’s heads.

Perhaps, Maul pondered, it would provide suitable vengeance for Kenobi. To conquer the world of his once-lover and reassert balance sorely lacking in this galaxy.

The thought clung to his mind, a thorn catching on cloth, and it unraveled the loose plan. Kenobi - despite his once harshly-denied ties to the Dark - was not the type to exact his rage upon the world, no matter how deeply routed the ditch of grief ran in his heart.

No, only hope would attract hope. And Maul, with his own hearts still thudding painfully at the still-burning loss of his brother, knew Kenobi now better than the man himself did.

With a smirk, Maul gestured one of his soldiers close. There was a trap to be laid, and he knew just the bait.

Obi-Wan stared in bewilderment at the missive tied to the trooper in front of him. It was, to put it politely, unhinged chaos.

The trooper wasn’t even one of his - he had checked. And then handed the very long roster of the entire Third Systems Army to Cody to double-check. And then, on Anakin’s insistence, to R2.

“Well, Lieutenant,” He sighed apologetically, “It does indeed look like just a spot of bad luck.”

“If it helps, sir, I’ve got a clean bill of health.” Smoke offered, still looking a bit pole-axed to be in the same room as him and Cody, but faring rather well, all things considered.

Cody sighed even deeper than him, which had the expected impact of Smoke straightening his back to parade-perfect straightness. His commander waved the trooper back to at ease, pressing a thumb to his temple in an attempt to relieve the burgeoning migraine from this shit-show of a situation.

“Healthy except for a shaved head.” The commander commented, and wasn’t that the crux of it. No injuries, nor signs of surgery, though that was no guarantee given Smoke’s… transit time, and that in itself was a bundle of issues.

The good lieutenant shrugged, and, well- that did seem to be that. Only a lingering sign of sedation, but then being sent through the absurdly mundane postal system in an admittedly well-equipped box did carry that sort of assumption.

Helix, moving aside the privacy screens to perform another check on the trooper, patted them on the back, “Think about it this way, vod. You were important enough to be mailed first-class.”

Cody gave up all pretenses at maintaining an authoritative façade and groaned, “Usen’ye, vod.”

The medic made a wry, rude gesture back, chuckling. Helix clicked a few things on his datapad, and gestured to the trooper, “You’re good to go, vod. I’m recommending to put you on light duties in case anything crops up, but everything seems to be in order.”

“Oya!” Smoke grinned, looking forward to their unintentional vacation. Hopping off the cot, they grabbed their helmet and left, a bounce in their step.

“Well at least someone’s enjoying this,” Helix shook his head. He glanced at their Jedi, who was still scrutinizing the honest-to-gods paper that had come with Lieutenant Smoke, “What’s on that thing, anyway, General?”

Obi-Wan startled, smoothing his beard absently. “Oh, some sort of message,” He surmised, “I think someone’s asking for help.”

Cody grunted at that, sidling up to the general to peer over his shoulder. The message itself was in Mando’a, written neatly and precisely. “It is paper, though.” He said, “Are you able to-” “Check it for signatures?” Obi-Wan hummed, already switching the paper to one hand so he could remove the glove from his other. With glove sufficiently bitten and removed, the man mumbled, “Not quite as well as Quinlan.”

The two clones exchanged an amused look at the man’s single-minded intensity for a new discovery. It was dropped as quickly as the glove from their shocked general, a strangled gasp mingling with the dull thud of Obi-Wan’s glove as his hand laid as if riveted to the paper.

“General,” Cody said, tone stiff and demanding information.

Obi-Wan shook his head once, muttering the message out loud, a lilting cant to the words as he absorbed the new information. “K'olar, Kenobi. Jorhaa be mirjahaal.”

The intervening few moments were tense, and Cody wondered whether he should tap out an alert as a preemptive measure when his general’s gaze snapped to his. The blue eyes seemed to glow, something physically impossible for the man’s species and yet perfectly understandable for the scope of his mythological status.

It drew that familiar stirring of faith forth, and Cody nodding in acknowledgement. Whatever the General saw, he approved of, for he nodded back, seeming to fold himself back into his mortal form.

“Gentleman, I have a call to make.” Obi-Wan announced, “I believe we’re going to Mandalore.”

This lure of hope was maddening, tugging at his spirit in a fluctuating jerk of attention. Maul took to pacing more, which in turn drew the attention of Kyr'tsad and the few New Mandalorians that lingered in Kryze’s court.

“Alor.” Bo Katan interrupted him while he prowled in search of some way to release all of this damnably energy. Sparring had ceased to entertain him days ago, the thorough victories and the sheer fact that his rage was no longer reliable fuel.

Brave warrior that she was, the Kryze sister merely stared placidly back at his scowl. “Who is it, precisely, that we are expecting? There are rumors growing, and it would be better to quell the dissent.”

He exhaled sharply, feeling the burning warmth of the Light sinking deeper with the action. “Haatyc or'arue jate'shya ori'sol aru'ike nuhaatyc,” He chided her, a distant part of him relishing her shock at his smooth handling of this system’s language. “We are heading into a war, Kryze. And I have invited a powerful ally to bring us all to glory again.”

It was interesting, how stark the hope was that flooded his senses. And pleasing - for Maul was right. Hope brings hope, and only shall it grow when given room.

He felt the insistent tendrils of Light settling in his own hearts, and smirked at joyful look that greeted him.

Obi-Wan felt it difficult to meditate. He sighed, glancing in the direction of his desk, where that damnable paper was carefully stowed away.

The Force was an insistent swell, burgeoning with ultimately welcome but distinctly unhelpful feelings like joy and anticipation. He appreciated the encouragement to rest his worries, but feeling the remnants of Maul’s Force signature was only ever going to be unsettling.

Should he trust the sincerity ringing forth from Maul’s message? It wasn’t something that could be easily faked, but then specialists in Force artefacts like Quinlan were too far away for a quick consultation, and whatever was brewing now on Mandalore, it needed immediate attention.

Anakin was worried, and that in turn set himself on edge, dredging up the feeling of Satine’s cooling body in his arms and how much it had hurt to breathe through the fracturing of his heart.

And now, exactly like last time, Maul was at the center of it. But now, only Maul was at the center of it.

That in itself was a quandary, for Maul had become so prevalently obsessed with him since their first fight on Naboo. Not that Obi-Wan could say much, for a twin flame burned in his own spirit at the mere thought of the other man. Grief at lost opportunities, yes, but now he had to contend with an overture of… what?

Peace? Was that what Maul truly wanted, now? The Force seemed insistent that it was no lie, and the Force had never led him astray, no matter how confusing the path.

He inhaled, loosing his spirit into the currents of the Force once more. One tone stayed with him, and it was the consistent feeling of hope.

Whatever it was, it would be alright. Obi-Wan had to trust that.

Entering the Mandalore system was nerve-wracking on its own, their only steering the stark thread of faith beating along with Obi-Wan’s heart. With Cody at his right hand, and Anakin at his left, he managed to feel unmoored from the reality of how quickly access was granted to the Negotiator as they made their way to the capital planet.

His troops seemed to sense that they were about to escort their general into some battle they couldn’t accompany, and the Force surged with the echo of their prayers as they worked in calm, professional tandem. Obi-Wan found that his heart had room to swell in pride, listening to their manda as they passed checkpoint after checkpoint.

Eventually, though, all good things must come to an end, and he regretfully withdrew from the jatne manda his troopers unintentionally enveloped him in. He inhaled, steeling himself for the upcoming meeting.

“Olarom at Manda’yaim.” Echoed through the Bridge from Mandalore’s flight control.

Obi-Wan nodded in acknowledgement, clapping a hand to Anakin’s shoulder with a smile at the press of well-wishing from his old padawan. He met his commander’s eye, watching the man draw himself up in anticipation.

“You have the bridge, Commander,” He ordered, knowing that the Negotiator and everyone on it was in the safest hands they could possible be.

“K'oyacyi, General.” Cody assured him. The Force bolstered his commander’s sentiments, and Obi-Wan found himself smiling.

“I will, Commander.”

Although their assigned diplomatic partner was… unusual, Obi-Wan had still insisted on peacetime protocol rather than the loose-handed play at reconnaissance and body-guarding the 212th had become accustomed to during their general’s usual diplomacy. It had brought sour looks to even the High Council when they had convened at his request, but if Obi-Wan was going to throw all of his faith into the Force’s will, then he was going to follow its pull to the letter.

And with that notion in hand, he arrived with only a complimentary guard and his lightsaber as bodily protection, armor shed and cloak donned. It almost made him nostalgic for the first time he and his master had arrived, guileless but with heightened awareness.

The trip to Sundari was mostly quiet, and it felt good to practice his Mando’a with those who had grown up through the same Mandalorian turmoil as he had, a common ground by which to foster good relations with the guards accompanying him. The variety of dialects was pleasing, and the stories fulfilling.

It made him miss with distinct fervor his own troopers, the camaraderie so similar it was at once dissociative and yet yaim’la. The guards were attempting to be polite to their Alor’s guest, but curiosity was a trait every sentient shared, and so Obi-Wan whiled away the time between his shuttle’s designated landing spot and the palace by sharing tales of home and the front lines, cultivating rapport in the manner he had learned as a Padawan.

The flutter of hope settled warmly across his shoulders with each smile and laugh, Mando’a settling on his tongue as if it had never left from that year traversing the system with Qui-Gon and Satine.

(Maybe Anakin did have a point about that year here.)

New friends tentatively made, they traversed the corridors to deliver Obi-Wan to a very familiar room. Bo Katan Kryze lounged in front of the closed doors, a moue twisting her features despite the curiosity burning in her eyes.

“Kenobi.” “Lady Kryze.”

She scoffed, but stood aside with a nod of her head that still managed a respectful tilt. He nodded to her, feeling the mantle of the Force’s direction settle in his bones.

It was time to see what Maul wanted.

For all his planning and treading the edges of Sidious’ intimidating scope of influence, Maul still couldn’t help the stutter of his breath as Obi-Wan Kenobi walked through the doors of this room exactly as he had hoped.

He had abandoned the idea of the throne room as soon as it had occurred to him and his overeager advisors. They were meant to meet on equal grounds, and this antiquated room with its oblong table, seats of the same height, and walls illustrated by tapestries of famous monarchs past would make its mark.

The impression was certainly gathered by Kenobi, curiosity flitting across his face as he recognized that this was neither throne room nor the one more popular for meetings with advisors. He gestured for the other to sit across from him, taking his own seat.

In lieu of speaking, Kenobi instead pulled the missive out of his pocket, sliding it across the table with a flick of his fingers until it sat in the middle, slouching in his chair.

“Tion gar vercopaan par ... me'jorbe?” The Jedi drawled in askance, “Jorhaa'ir be mirjahaal?”

Maul ticked a brow upwards, catching how loaded the tension was between them. He leaned back himself, matching Kenobi’s posture. “Elek. Haatyc or'arue jate'shya ori'sol aru'ike nuhaatyc.”

And that irrevocably caught Kenobi’s attention, a considering frown and nudging at his shields the other’s reply. Maul lowered some of them, where the Light was the most enduring, and felt the ripple of stupor from Kenobi at the revelation. The Force bounded between both of them, a thought-quick upending of expectations.

Kenobi broke his gaze, glancing around the room before twirling a finger. He nodded, flicking his wrist in dismissal.

The Jedi leaned forward, “Sidious.”

Maul leaned with him, “Is Palpatine.”

Kenobi made a punched-out sound, not questioning the answer as he tugged at his beard. The Force was an insistent undulation over his senses, now, the familiar press of the Jedi’s signature settled against his own as the other man thought.

It reminded him of the last time he had died, weariness eclipsed by the Light and Kenobi’s own spirit as he was sent off. The sensation coaxed him to close his eyes, mellowed by the reassurance that Kenobi was taking significant part in the future.

He drifted in the Force for a while, buoyed by the Light surrounding and binding him. It was calm, a gentle warmth while he waited for his next directive.

Peaceful.

And interrupted by a firm hand on his shoulder, somnolence shaken from him with determination by Kenobi himself.

“Maul. Maul.” The Jedi called to him, looking altogether too relieved for an accidental meditation. “I was about to call for your guards. Are you alright?”

He gusted out a sigh, ascribing the trembling in his hand as he grabbed Kenobi’s to weariness. While the Force still sung to him, a clarion call of peace that rung in his ears, Kenobi’s presence pressed more forcefully upon him, a rousing direction to bring his senses to bear.

“I’m fine, Kenobi.” He muttered, sitting up and ignoring the way the other helped him do so. The nudge the Force made to speak the truth, however, wasn’t so ignored, “It is no easy thing to change alliances in the Force, Jedi. Not for a Sith.”

The searching, concerned look he bore as gracefully as he could, pulling the paper on the table toward them both. Maul read the words he wrote once more, turning to hand it to Kenobi.

“I can bend Mandalore to my will, Kenobi.” He said, firmly twisting his words together with his memories of the Jedi Purge, “But it will be more difficult to bend your army to yours. We have a common enemy, and I will help you with this.”

“Because they will not listen to me?” Kenobi questioned, frowning.

“Because their will is not their own,” Maul corrected, withdrawing the control chip from a pocket, holding it up and watching the pieces come together on the other’s face, “This is in every clone’s brain. It is Sidious’ doing.”

The lash of Dark intention was unnerving, not only from its originator, but also how aberrantly different it was from the Light he had grown accustomed to. It sat bitterly on his mind, but heartened him at the resolve this Jedi tempered himself into before his own eyes, how similar it was to their last meeting on Tatooine.

It was that blend, that knife-edge Kenobi strode, that spoke hope to his senses. And it made him smile, bouncing that emotion back at the Jedi before him, something real and earnest that drew a sigh and tentative smile from Kenobi.

“You removed one.” Kenobi stated, a cunning light in his eyes. “How do we remove the rest?”

Maul grinned, “Very carefully.”

Mando'a Translations

Usen'ye, vod - Piss off, mate

Oya - Many meanings: literally *Let's hunt!* and also *Stay alive!*, but also *Hoorah!*, *Go you!*, *Cheers!* Always positive and triumphant.

K'olar, Kenobi. Jorhaa be mirjahaal. - Come, Kenobi. Speak of peace. -- mirjahal - peace of mind, *healing*, general term for emotional well-being especially after a trauma or bereavement

Kyr'tsad - Death Watch (lit. Death Society) - breakaway Mandalorian sect

Alor - leader, chief, *officer*, constable, boss

Haatyc or'arue jate'shya ori'sol aru'ike nuhaatyc - Better one big enemy that you can see than many small ones that you can't. (Mandalorian proverb.)

manda - the collective soul or heaven - the state of being Mandalorian in mind, body and spirit - also supreme, overarching, guardian-like

jatne manda - good mood - a complex sense of being at one with your clan and life

Olarom at Manda’yaim - Welcome to Mandalore

K'oyacyi - 1. *Cheers!* 2. Can also mean: *Hang in there* or 3. *Come back safely.* Literally, a command; *Stay alive!*

yaim'la - comfortable, familiar, sense of *at home*. Can also mean local to the speaker.

Tion gar vercopaan par... me'jorbe? - You wish for... what reason?

Jorhaa’ir be mirjahaal? - To speak for peace (of mind)? -- mirjahal - peace of mind, *healing*, general term for emotional well-being especially after a trauma or bereavement

Elek - yes

#star wars #darth maul #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #clone troopers #bo katan kryze #my story

15 notes · View notes

my-happy-little-bean · 3 years ago

Text

The Bookkeeper – Chapter 7

Chapter 7: The Dispossessed

pairings: logan/patton (logicality), roman/virgil (prinxiety) words: 3399 chapter warnings: mild swearing, arguments chapter summary: with one sunrise comes a sunset.

[read on ao3] [masterlist]

< previous chapter

—

For the next couple of days, Logan felt like he was walking on clouds.

He glowed pretty much anywhere he went, leaving a dainty trail of blue magic dust behind each step. It felt as though the stars themselves were following him.

Since the night of the movie, Logan and Patton have been inseparable. Each day was a new adventure that not only Logan embarked on, but Patton as well. Together, they pieced together the fragments of Logan’s question — not to the point where he was able to write about any of it (everything he came up with was too annoyingly optimistic with not enough patched holes to make something interesting), but really, he had little time to write much nowadays.

Patton consumed his vision at almost any given moment. When he turned to grab a book off a shelf, Patton was already doing it for him. When he rolled over to the middle of the bed after a restful night, Patton was there, softly snoring beside him. When he blinked, there was Patton, alongside the feeling of blossoming flowers in his stomach.

And he found himself mere weeks before the university conference, but he couldn’t care less. All that mattered was that he was filled with a feeling — one of butterflies and light and the kind of magic that would flicker in a child’s eye, except now it’s right in front of him.

On one of the afternoons in particular, Logan found himself flipping in and out of Virgil Aries’ book, idly writing and, soon after, crossing out any progress he made. He wasn’t necessarily stuck—he had many avenues to go down—but he was swarming with so much new knowledge, he didn’t quite know where to start.

He levitated another book across the room with ease and brought it to him, just as the door opened.

“Heya, Lo!” Patton beamed. Logan felt his shoulders relax as he set the book aside.

“Hello, dear.” He walked over to Patton and kissed his cheek. “How are you?”

“Excited to see you!” Patton giggled. “What are you working on?"

Logan’s eyes lit up as he pointed to a few books on the counter, and lifted all of them into the air in a flurry of blue dust. Patton’s eyes went wide with awe as Logan let them circle around their heads, flawlessly flipping through each one and explaining the many ideas he had scrawled on sticky notes, which poked out of each book.

Halfway through his ramble, he heard someone clearing his throat behind one of the books. He frowned, swiping his hand downwards in the air and letting the book dip down in motion.

Behind the floating book was Roman, arms crossed with a slight frown. Logan smiled sheepishly.

“Ah! Roman, you’re up.” He quickly made a brushing gesture with his hands, and the books scattered back onto the shelves. “I hope I didn’t wake you, heh.”

“I just rearranged the books yesterday,” Roman grumbled, but shook his head. “And you didn’t wake me, I sleep as soundly as Aurora herself.”

Patton laughed, waving at Roman. “Hi!”

Roman narrowed his eyes at Patton and gave him a tired, but present, smile.

“Ah, Patton! Hello!” He let out a small yawn. “Just the person I woke up for.”

Patton tilted his head. Even Logan frowned, equally confused. Roman stared at both of them, deadpanned, and sighed.

“It’s book nook day, remember? You said last week that you’d rather have it today…?”

“Oh!” Patton looked at Logan with a frown. “Oh, shoot, I’m so sorry. I totally forgot about the book nook. I know we had–”

“Do you guys have plans?” Roman cut in, face twisted with disappointment. Logan concealed his wince.

“No, no, we can always postpone.”

Patton’s frown deepened.

“Are you sure? You’ve been looking forward to this opening ever since we booked tickets…”

“Janus can give us their own tour at a later time.” Logan took Patton’s hand into his own and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Besides, we may still be able to catch the opening depending on how long you are in the book nook with Roman.”

“Oh, not long at all!” Patton said, perking back up. Logan grimaced. Roman was steaming red, even without his magic.

“I sincerely don’t want to interrupt.”

Logan opened his mouth to protest before Patton’s eyes widened.

“Hey! I have a nifty idea.” He turned on his heel to face Logan. “How about you come with us?”

A beat of silence. Logan let the idea, and its implications, settle into his chest. It’s been...years, and it felt even longer than that. The last book nook he had been in...goodness, he didn’t even know what it was, but he knew it was his grandfather’s choice, because his grandfather was still around.

Even Roman, all hard feelings aside, gave Logan a worried look.

“I– I’m sure Logan has other things to do, Patton. Right, Lo? Don’t you have any writing to catch up on–”

“No,” Logan blurted out. Roman and Patton exchanged glances. Logan straightened himself up, clearing his throat and smiling at Patton. “I...I would love to join you both.”

Patton broke into a wide grin. Logan then looked at Roman, almost searching his face for any semblance of approval. Instead, he was met with a tight, almost bitter smile.

“That settles it!” Roman clapped his hands together. “Time for an extra special adventure, then! I would never have expected it to be like this, but...well, here we are…”

Roman flew past bookshelves and searched for possible books. As he did so, Logan felt Patton’s hand find his own.

“Hey,” Patton murmured. “Are you okay? I’m sorry for kinda jumping the gun a bit there, heh.”

“No, I’m...I’m fine.”

Patton frowned. “You don’t really have to come with us– I mean, I’d be thrilled, but obviously if you’re not comfortable…”

“No, no.” Logan brought Patton’s hand to his lips in a soft kiss. “I will be okay with you.”

Patton nodded, gently resting his head against Logan’s shoulder. Roman levitated a few books onto the front counter.

“Okay, so we have a few options here.” He juggled each book in the air over his head as he described them. “We got swash-buckling adventures, architectural wonders– ooh, this one’s in a series of books detailing the adventures a guy who solves moral dilemmas in his living room and is helped by the physical manifestations of his personality– it’s lacked new installments as of late, but it’s still fun...”

“Ah! Wait a moment.” Logan reached over Roman’s head and grabbed one of the books hovering in the air. He brought it closer to the eye's view and smiled. “How about this one?”

Roman flew to rest on Logan’s shoulder, reading the title aloud.

“Le Guin’s The Dispossessed. ” He glared at Logan. “Really? Kinda old, isn’t it?”

“I suppose, though I remember my grandfather reading this one to me sometimes.” Logan turned the cover to read the synopsis. “ ‘An ambiguous utopia’...”

“It sounds cool!” Patton said, grabbing Logan’s arm and pulling himself closer to Logan’s side. He scanned the synopsis alongside Logan. “All about the future and different planets and stuff– I don’t know if we’ve visited a sci-fi book before!”

“Hmm, fine. I don’t know what I expected from Sir Geeks-A-Lot, but whatever!”

Roman motioned for Logan to set the book open on the counter. He floated off of Logan’s shoulder and went to kneel on the pages, pressing his hands on the words below him. Roman looked down. His hands were starting to glow red, but ended up flickering in and out.

“Come on… ”

“Everything okay?” Patton asked. Logan looked over at Roman in keen curiosity, but Roman waved him off.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Roman kept his stare glued to the page, muttering to himself, “Maybe I just need a running start…”

He cleared his throat.

“ ‘ It was the most beautiful view Shevek had ever seen’, ” Roman read aloud. “ ‘ The tenderness and vitality of the colours, the mixture of rectilinear human design and powerful, profligate natural contours’... ”

Words slowly began to lift into the air and weaved themselves in Roman’s faded, but pulsing, red magic. Logan, almost instinctively, held close to Patton, whose eyes were fixated on the swirling words around them. In the corner of Logan’s vision, he swore he saw a skyline.

“ ‘The variety and harmony of the elements gave an impression of complex wholeness as he had never seen, except, perhaps, foreshadowed on a small scale in certain serene and thoughtful human faces’. ”

Roman squeezed his eyes shut and finished his excerpt: “ ‘ This is what a world is supposed to look like’.”

And when Logan blinked, he was no longer in his shop.

Instead, he found himself standing on a hill overlooking a city skyline, double helixes of what he assumed were roads suspended in the air and circling some spires. A rising sun peeked through the tall building; and a faded, but ever present, moon eclipsed the sky, larger than life and persistent in the morning glow.

But this city was miles away from where he were. The grassy hill beneath his feet was lush and soft, and swayed gently in the wind. He looked behind him and saw a glimpse of a forest that lined his vision, which was filtered in warm colours; a stark contrast from any city he had ever visited.

And it was here , all of it. Logan reached his hand out and there it was: air from a different world. He was really here, in the middle of someone’s mind and creation. He was here.

“Wow,” Patton breathed out beside him. “This is so cool.”

“Le Guin has been known for her world building, grand and sprawling with rich imagery,” Roman hummed. He flopped on the book and exhaled slowly. “She was quite brilliant. Subverted a lot of typical speculative fiction tropes, especially for her time.” Roman smiled. “And she made these really good muffins…”

Roman’s words were drowned out by Logan’s mind as he turned around slowly in his place, capturing each landmark in his mind. It was all real. He was really in Urras– Le Guin’s interplanetary utopia– and he was really in her book.

“Lo?” Patton placed his hand on his shoulder. Logan jolted upon contact. “You’ve been quiet for a while...are you...okay?”

“I’m...I…” Logan took a deep breath and faced Patton with a shaky smile. In the distance, he swore he could hear the voice of his grandfather lingering in the air and continuing where Roman left off.

“I’m here,” he finally said. “I’m really here.”

“ Duh .” Roman laughed from where he laid on the book. “I told you, you’ve been missing out.” He smiled smugly. “Still think there’s nothing in books, Specs?”

Logan shook his head, not answering Roman as he sat down on the grass beside the laid out book. Patton joined him, watching the sun rise over the horizon.

“I can’t believe it was real,” Logan whispered. It was an illogical thing to say– of course book nooks were real– but he hadn’t been truly immersed in one for so long. Their existence barely flickered in the back of his mind.

“Just enjoy the view,” Roman murmured from beside him. For a moment, Logan thought Roman sounded almost proud – whether in himself or Logan, he couldn’t quite tell.

They sat there in relative silence for a few moments, only interrupted by Logan conjuring up a sketchpad and a pencil for Patton when inspiration had struck him. But he relished in the quiet, in the whispering winds that carried a story Logan now knew better. He rested his head on Patton’s shoulder and soaked in the company, feeling an absence that was buried deep in his chest become full.

“And what have you been up to these past few days?” Patton asked, snapping Logan out of his stupor. He hadn’t even realized that Patton and Roman were talking.

He looked down to see Roman fiddling with his thumbs.

“Nothing much.” Roman averted his glance from both of them. “I’ve just...done a bit of soul-searching, I guess you can say.”

Logan furrowed his brow, but said nothing. Patton obliviously nodded along.

“Right! That sounds fun!”

“Yeah, heh. Gotta have something else to do other than cleaning the book nooks.” Roman sighed wistfully. “It’s not a bad gig though. Plus, if someone doesn’t visit them for too long, they start to get a bit grey, heh.”

“Grey?” Patton tilted his head. Logan decidedly tuned into the conversation, intrigued.

“Not exactly,” Roman said. “They just...well, they lose their soul.”

Patton gaped. “They what?! ”

“I don’t know if you ever mentioned this before,” Logan said, looking at Roman. Beside him, Patton mumbled a whole list of books he vowed to visit.

Roman shrugged. “You never asked. Besides, it rarely happens. Reading the book is usually good enough, but visiting its nook kind of gives its soul a bit more of a kick.”

“So all books have a soul?” Patton asked, leaning forward. Roman nodded.

“Yup! Stories are people, and people are stories — and souls keep both alive.” Roman smiled softly, looking up at the skyline. “There are multiple parts that make up a soul, which is why you’re able to open different kinds of book nooks in one book. Some books have souls with fragments of knowledge, fragments of adventure and exploration; there are even some books with a soul so powerful that it could breathe life into its author.”

“ Wow ,” Patton awed. “So...souls are real.”

“Of course they are, padré!” Roman flew off Patton’s shoulder and hovered in the air in front of him and Logan. He pressed his hands together until they glowed red and pulled them apart, revealing a lively scene of books opening and letting out pencils and scrolls, airplanes and a solar system, hearts breaking and forming and pulsing with light.

“A good book has a soul that even those who are blind to magic can sense,” Roman continued, balancing each image in the air before they fizzled out. Roman pressed his hands together. “All I do is enhance them so they become physical manifestations. That’s why I usually only bring out landscapes. There’s very few books that have a soul of life. Not to say most books are bad, it’s just that it takes a lot of passion. And for myself, it takes a lot of energy. So I don’t get to do it very often, heh.”

Logan perked up. “Is that the aforementioned ‘powerful soul’ then? Passion?”

Roman nodded. “Mhm. An author can usually write one in their whole lifetime, and sometimes not even that.”

Logan’s mind raced, the new knowledge buzzing in his veins like a flame running down a sparkler.

A visit a day before the nook goes grey.

A soul so powerful that it could breathe life into its author.

Books that have a soul of life.

Passion . You need passion; you need revolutionary, blow-the-people’s-minds-in-ten-years passion. You need someone who has spent all their life wondering and wondering, and then you can–

The gears in Logan’s head stopped turning with a loud click! Logan’s eyes widened.

“So you can bring back Virgil Aries.”

A beat of silence.

(A building falls in the distance. No one sees this, but it does, Roman knows it does, it does with a crash and it kills the budding life beneath it, it crashes against xylophone ribcages and reverbreates the sound of a heart shattering again, Roman fucking swore he’d never let his heart drop this far again but it does, it does with a rattling clang, it does with the force of the storms that passed over the home he died in, he died, he died without knowing– he died and came back knowing, but he can’t go back, he just can’t .)

“What are you talking about?” Patton stared at Logan with wide eyes as Logan stood up, pacing back and forth across the hill.

“I…” Roman blinked, falling to the ground in a clumsier way than usual. For the first time in a long time, Roman looked lost for words.

“I mean, it makes sense, doesn’t it?” Logan continued. “I read Virgil Aries’ book everyday– sure, I don’t ever visit its book nook, sure, but that shouldn’t matter because Virgil Aries’ book is rich with his passion– it was his life’s work.”

“It wasn’t his–”

“Do you know what this means, Patton?” Logan ignored Roman and instead outstretched his hand towards Patton, who took it and hesitantly stood up alongside him. “It means that we can ask him questions — questions that maybe he never got to answer in his life– Patton , I could know everything. ”

“Love, I don’t think–”

Logan pulled away from Patton and knelt on the ground in front of Roman.

“Roman, please , we have to try.”

“I– I can’t just do this for some speech , Logan–”

“This goes beyond just ‘some speech’, Roman. I– I could publish this, I could finish Virgil Aries’ work– with his permission of course, just– just imagine what we could learn from him if we just had a moment of his time. ”

Logan felt himself vibrate with energy, catching a glimpse of his hands glowing blue in the reflection of Roman’s irises. Roman stumbled back, almost horrified, and turned away from Logan, shaking his head.

“The world can do without a couple of sad saps running around and placing seeds of doubt in people who are just trying to get by,” Roman said, bitterness dripping from his voice.

Logan gritted his teeth.

“Okay, Roman. Say nothing happens to my work. Say it goes nowhere. What if I just want to talk to him? Is that really so important to admit? What if I just want to talk to the person who built the foundation of my thinking. If you have the resources and energy you need to do this for me, why can’t you?”

“It’s more complicated than that, Logan–”

Patton reached out for Logan. “Lo, I think you should just–”

“I don’t understand, Roman.” A flash of blue darted across his vision. “All you do is open books and– and I don’t know, clean them?! I don’t understand how you can’t just do this one thing– just one thing for me–”

“I do a lot for you!” Roman snapped. Logan froze.

Behind Roman, Logan swore a piece of the sky fell down onto earth.

“I do a lot for you, Logan,” Roman hissed again. Logan heard the ground crack beneath him. “I force myself to sit down and listen to you go on and on about a question that goes against the very foundation of my being, yet I support you. I support you through and through, even if I know you know the answer. And I force myself to watch you use some– some stupid philosopher to guide your every purpose in such a small, short life– you don’t even know this person, how could you let them run your fucking life?!”

And suddenly, Logan heard the sound of buildings crashing. He tore his gaze off Roman to see the skyline crumble from miles away, then turned around on his heel to see the forests sinking down into the earth. He felt Patton grab his arm with a yelp, and then in the blink of an eye–

…

Logan jolted forward, crashing into a display table and falling onto the ground. Books tumbled down around him, crashing like the pieces of the sky that once filled his vision.

“Lo? Logan, oh my gosh, are you–”

Logan blinked, rubbing his head and adjusting his glasses. Replacing the skyline were shelves, and he was on wooden floors, not grassy hills.

He was back in the shop, and everything was gone , just like that.

He looked up and saw the blurry image of Patton sticking out his hand towards Logan. He shakily took it and pulled himself up.

“Where did– what–”

Before Logan could finish, his eyes landed on the shelves behind the front counter. In one second, he saw a blur of red move behind the wooden shelves. He swore the red glared back at him. And in the next second, it was gone.

—

next chapter >

#TS Storytime 2021 #gabbie writes things #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #logicality #prinxiety #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logan/patton #roman/virgil #logic/morality #creativity/anxiety

5 notes · View notes

sxfterhearts · 5 years ago

Text

20. [9:40 am]

28A… 29A… Ah, 30A! You thought to yourself as your eyes glanced over the seat numbers slightly above your line of sight, your feet finally coming to a stop beside your reserved seat.

Much to your dismay, it was a window seat, facing in the opposite direction of the train’s movements. It was also one of the few face-to-face seats on the entire KTX train, with a table between the two pairs of seats which were facing each other.

You groaned internally. As much as you liked having a proper surface for writing or doodling in your journal, you didn’t like sharing. You much preferred having your own privacy while glancing out the windows, watching the greenery and the countryside pass by in a colourful blur, with soft tunes to accompany you on your journey. It’s fine, you reminded yourself, trying to stay positive, it’s only two hours, no big deal…

You hauled your backpack over your head and into the overhead compartment with practiced movements. Pulling out your travel necessities, which included your fully-charged phone, a pair of wireless earphones, a large, ice-cold Americano and your trusty journal, you settled into your seat for the rest of the morning. A part of you wished that the seat in front of you wouldn’t be occupied, while another part of you contemplated whether it was better to just try and fall asleep for the remainder of the train ride to Gangneung.

You quickly dismissed the latter thought, as the scenery throughout the train ride was too good to miss. You could deal with a couple of awkward silences and accidental glances with the unlucky stranger who reserved the seat opposite yours. Besides, it was your first time visiting your parents in two months – you weren’t going to let anything sour your mood.

The last-minute trip to Gangneung, your hometown, was planned just two days ago, as you were graciously granted two days of paid leave by your manager. After finally submitting the last tax return for your clients, your manager had treated the entire team to a congratulatory dinner and gave everyone a few days of leave to make up for the never-ending client meetings and late nights spent slaving away at the office desk during the tax busy season. You were overwhelmed with joy once your manager announced the news, pulling her usually stoic self into a tight embrace under the yellow glow of the pojangmacha, a tent bar selling alcohol and street food, due to the heightened levels of alcohol within your system.

Giggling to yourself at the memory, you reached out for your phone and typed a message to your mother to inform her that you were about to depart Seoul. It was a message that she read and replied immediately with her usual “Be careful, dear, and have a safe journey.”, which you missed dearly during the busy season. On off-periods, you would make the effort to visit your parents once a fortnight. You moved to Seoul for university a few years back and found a job in the bustling city, leaving your parents and the family’s bicycle store behind in the coastal neighbourhood. Sometime in your early twenties, your father experienced a mild health scare and had to close the store during his month-long recovery. This made you realise that as the years went by, your parents were not getting any younger. With that in mind, you tried to clear your hectic schedule to spend as much time with your parents as possible.

“This is the 10:01am number 811 KTX train bound for Gangneung. The train will be departing shortly.”

The familiar female voice flooded the carriages of the train and distracted you from your thoughts. The seat in front of you was still unoccupied. You held on to the tiny glimmer of hope that it would remain that way for the rest of the journey, despite knowing very well that the summer holidays were approaching, turning Gangneung into an ideal weekend getaway for tourists and locals alike. The prospect of spending the next few days basking in the summer sunshine, helping out at the bicycle store and frolicking in the sea excited you to no end. After long hours cooped up in the office, you were looking forward to spending your break in the great outdoors.

“28… 29… 30, 31! Here it is, Mark, 31A and 31B. Dibs the window seat!” A cheerful voice spoke in English, pulling you out of your delightful daydream. Before you could turn your head to face its owner, a bright streak of reflected rainbow dancing across the table caught your eye.

“Okay, Bella,” A deep chuckle originated from the man standing beside your seat. “Wait a sec, pass me your bag, honey.”

Your eyes traced the source of the deep timbre notes of the American-sounding voice. What you found was a man, dressed in an oversized white shirt and black ripped jeans, who was placing the girl’s pink Barbie bag into the overhead compartment. Even though he was wearing a cap, you could make out his cherubic features and the gentle smile he directed towards the girl.

The thought that he was a bit too young to have a daughter crossed your mind for a split second, but you quickly shook it off to return the little girl’s excited smile with a polite wave. She was wearing a cute pink dress and looked to be about six or seven years old. The pair got comfortable in their seats, just as the announcement informed the passengers the doors were closing.

The man sitting diagonally opposite of you took off his cap to reveal a head of blonde hair. He met your gaze, and you watched as a surprised look flashed across his face. As the two of you exchanged polite greetings, you couldn’t shake off the thought that you had seen him somewhere before.

A phone chirped, signalling an incoming call. It was a call for him. He answered it, and you looked out the window to give him some privacy and not seem too nosy. You wracked your brain for answers. Did he work at the café I frequented? Or was it the Chinese restaurant that I ordered takeaways from? No… You mused silently. Maybe he’s the cashier at the convenience store near the apartment… But that doesn’t seem right either. Wait, is he-?

“Bell, your Mummy wants to speak to you.”

“Yes, Mummy! Mark said…”

You drowned out the rest of the conversation to refocus your thinking. You sneaked another glance at the man in question, only to find half of his face covered by his laptop screen as he tapped away furiously. It seems like it’s him… You adjusted your position several times to get a better look at his face without seeming too suspicious. Blonde hair and shiny helix piercing, it must be him.

The person you were referring to was someone you’ve only ever seen from afar. There was usually a safe distance between you two on your morning subway ride to the office, with him leaning casually against a pole and you standing steadily in the middle of the crowd. The closest you’ve been to him was when you were running late, and you happened to share the elevator with a blonde-haired man from the eighth floor of your apartment. He always had the top button of his crisp button-up undone, a tie hanging haphazardly over one shoulder and his headphones sitting snugly atop his blonde head, while munching on a piece of burnt toast. You had never encountered this strange gentleman until mid-May, so you assumed that he had recently moved into the floor below you. The two of you never exchanged words either, as he was always busy shoving down his breakfast, but you would always bow politely to each other. Unbeknownst to him, you were intrigued. Not many office workers were brave enough to sport such a striking hair colour, and you had to admit, it suited him perfectly.

You just never expected him to have a child.

“Mark!” The girl, Bella, whined while grabbing his hand. Your ears were still getting accustomed to hearing English after so long. The last time you were surrounded by native speakers was during your six-month-long secondment to the New York branch of your company. “Do my hair, pretty please! I want two braids.”

The man, Mark, sighed in fake annoyance, playfully poking her cheeks. “Yes, Your Highness. Hand over your other hair tie.” A part of you wasn’t used to how the girl didn’t address him with honorifics, but you busied yourself with your phone, pretending that you weren’t eavesdropping on their conversation.

“I thought you took them for me when we left your house.” She huffed, clearly unsatisfied.

“Nope, I only have one with me.”

Your fingers reached for the simple, black hair tie around your wrist. “Here, you can borrow mine.” Smiling, you handed it over to Bella, who accepted it with a grateful smile.

Mark leaned down to whisper in her ear, unable to hide the surprised smile on his face. “Thank the pretty eonnie in Korean.”

“Thank you, eonnie!” Bella chirped, so excited that she was practically bouncing in her seat.

“You’re most welcome.” You said in perfect English, intrigued at Mark’s earlier interaction with the girl.

He proceeded to divide her hair into two even halves, combing her dark locks with long, thin fingers. Expertly, Mark separated the first half into three parts and began to braid. He stuck out his tongue cutely in concentration, trying his best to not mess up.

“Don’t move so much, Bell.” He scolded lightly when the girl pulled out her colouring book and painted the sky a light shade of blue with large strokes of her coloured pencil.

“You’re pretty good at this. Mark, right?” You commented.

“Yeah, guess it comes with practice. I’m Mark, by the way. We never got to introduce each other properly. Your name is…?”

“Y/N.”

“Ah yes, Y/N. It suits you well. Always so prim and proper in your blazer and kitten heels. I must seem like a fool to you, with my tie undone and all.”

You laughed at his self-deprecating humour. This man is funny, and he can braid hair. His wife sure is a lucky woman, you thought. “No, not at all. Where do you work?”

Light conversation regarding your respective careers ensued. You found out that he was also working at a company close to yours, which explained the frequent encounters on the train. He moved in about a month ago from another side of the city because of his new job. When the conversation about work dwindled, you shifted the topic to the girl.

“How old is she?”

Mark secured the first braid with your hair tie, smiling to himself, satisfied. “Bella, how old are you?”

“I’m six, Mark! How could you forget?” The girl sat up from her position to shoot daggers with her eyes at him.

“I’m sorry, kiddo. Come, turn to the other side so I can finish this up.” He moved her to sit facing the window instead and starting on the second braid. “She’s six,” Mark turned to you and answered with a sheepish expression. Before you started to wonder what kind of father would forget his daughter’s age, he continued, “Bella doesn’t visit very often.”

Your eyebrows quirked upwards in response. Does that mean he was… divorced?

Mark saw your confused expression and hastened to add, “She’s my niece.” You let out a breath that you didn’t even realise you were holding. “My sister and her family came over from LA to visit me.”

It all made sense to you now. “Right…”

“Her parents wanted some alone time so I’m taking her to Gangneung for a day trip cos she wants to visit Jumunjin beach and take some pictures.” He paused, and went on to mouth, “She loves BTS.”

“The bus stop near the beach? The one on their album cover?” You wondered, knowing exactly which photo spot he was referring to. “It’s about a bit of a drive from my parent’s bicycle shop. I took a couple of days off to visit them.”

“You’ve seen the bus stop? That’s so cool!” Bella’s ears perked up.

“Sit still, honey.” Mark reminded sternly as he got closer to the end of the braid.

You nodded eagerly. “Yup! They’ve got a map of a BTS bus route with their album names as the bus stops.”

“Don’t encourage her, Y/N…” Mark groaned as he tied the second braid. He inspected his handiwork and seemed very proud of himself.

“Well, I have a suggestion,” You started carefully. “How about this? I can be your local tour guide for Gangneung today. I can show you the best photo spots, the most popular places to get your daily coffee fix and even get you a discount for bike rentals so you can cycle around the beach and the lake!”

The two of them nodded eagerly at your proposition.

It was a long, eventful day. The three of you had visited a hanok café, took way too many pictures at the Jumunjin bus stop and breakwater where they filmed Goblin, dipped your toes in Gyeongpo Beach and cycled around Gyeongpo lake. Your parents had immediately taken a liking to your new friend Mark and his cute niece, even insisting on packing them a container full of kimbap and banana milk for their journey back to Seoul.

“Thank you so, so much for today, Y/N.” Mark whispered as the three of you sat at the train station, waiting for their train. Bella had already dozed off with her head on Mark’s lap. It was an adorable sight. “We both had a lot of fun.”

“Not a problem at all. I enjoyed showing you around and visiting touristy places. I got to see my hometown in a different light.” You faced him, giving him a sincere smile.

He returned you with an equally bright smile that showed off his cute, pointy canines. “Let me take you out for dinner or something. You know, to make it up to you.” Mark’s ears began to heat up and were painted in a faint tinge of red. “Let’s exchange numbers.”

“Sure!” You replied. Was he asking me out on a date? You wondered. “I’ve been craving sticky barbecue ribs since I left the States.”

“I know a good place. How about next Saturday night?”

“I’m free.”

“Great, it’s a date.”

80 notes · View notes