#Leaf House Cloud AU

[dark-elf-writes]

Anyway Leaf House Cloud down the line:

Cloud, through his exposure to mako and an incredibly poorly timed attack that puts him on Hojo’s radar, gets essentially blackmailed into becoming a shinra employee. The only thing that can be done really is decide where he’s going to go.

And Tseng, who has been trying to get Cloud to join his department almost immediately after meeting him, makes an offer that will both satisfy the higher ups that Cloud is “contained” and keep him out of Hojo’s hands as a test subject. Cloud becomes a Turk in “deep cover” in the Slums where he essentially keeps living the life he was already living in exchange for being Aerith’s Shinra approved bodyguard. The only catch is when certain jobs come up that would need his specific expertise Cloud can’t really refuse them since he goes on so few missions.

And unfortunately one of those missions is Nibelheim.

Things still go bad but with the advantage of cloud being already partially enhanced he wakes up pretty much when Zack does (though is in pretty bad shape for all he is moving) and through some general Turk paranoia and mako addled thoughts making him check literally every inch of the building for further threats he finds Vincent who in a mix of Turk Loyalty and the desire to put Hojo’s head on a stick agrees to come with them back to Midgar. (It goes against everything he once stood for to let a fellow Turk still half out of their mind with mako poisoning and years of trauma go off with only an equally mako poisoned and traumatized soldier as back up.)

And honestly three enhanced individuals against an army goes a lot better than one.

Which means eventually two ex Turks and an ex soldier walk into a bar and become eco terrorists and Shinra weeps.

[theonewiththefanfics]

A Life Worth Living (one-shot)

Synopsis: As sickness creeps closer in taking her life, Y/N has come to make her final amends. Though the Astarion she fell for no longer exists, even the cold clutch of absolute power can't match true love.

This is sort of an AU! because in truth, Ascended Astarion would not give a single shit if you've left him at this point, sorry :D I just had to get this out of my head

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x fem!Reader; Astarion x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: talks of sickness (not specified), dying, death, swearing etc. Minimally edited :)

Word count: 5115

The day was much like any other in Baldur’s Gate – sunny without even a single wispy cloud in the sky, yet the Ancunin palace rose above all the rest like a beast in the night, drowning the houses in menacing shadows.

Matches, Y/N thought, to the person living inside.

Wrought iron gate surrounded the grounds, thorny rose vines looping through, while beautiful blooms opened towards the slowly moving star above.

This could’ve been her home, had she not said no. She shuddered to think what her life would’ve been like.

That had been almost five years ago. So much had changed during that time. It didn’t even feel like just half a decade had passed, it felt more like a century since Y/N had left Astarion. But she couldn’t stay with him. Not after he’d Ascended, completing the ritual he’d killed Cazador for, and became what he had always hated – a version of Cazador himself.

Her hand had barely touched the handle of the gates before it swung open on its own accord. Y/N shouldn’t be surprised by it, not with how much magic she’d seen and experienced during her travels, but still, such small things made their impact. Whether it was an invitation inside, or a trap only time would tell.

She didn’t have much of it, which is why she was there in the first place. Had that cursed sickness not been slowly taking over her body, eating away at it, cell by cell, Y/N would have dragged this final meeting with Astarion as far in the future as she could, but there were still friends she wanted to visit, places to see, no matter how limited her life had become.

With thinly veiled amazement, because she didn’t want to marvel at what surely was slave work, she walked down the gravel path towards the large double doors of the mansion, looking at the meticulously groomed gardens. Not even a single leaf was out of place. A bittersweet smile tugged at her lips. Where once she would’ve believed Astarion to be the one to care for these plants, now Y/N knew in her heart, he’d never stoop so low as to even get on one knee to prune a rose. Such a thing was below him nowadays. Let alone sleeping next to her on a bedroll.

When she stood face to face with the large carved oak doors, her heart picked up its rhythm. She couldn’t help it, as years of memories, of love won and lost, rushed through her mind. Slowly, she raised her hand to knock.

It took about half a minute for the doors to open, an unfamiliar face staring back at her.

A vampire spawn, eyes red and glowing, looking at her with a cocked head.

“Can I help you?” he asked, giving her an appraising glance.

 Y/N let out a breath. “I’m here to see Astarion.”

“Master Ancunin is not taking any visitors. Not without a previous notice,” he said it almost with a sneer, but she just gave him a smile.

“Tell him an old friend has stopped by. From the times before.”

The vampire looked ready to scoff and throw the door closed in her face, but stopped as he was closing it, a recollection of something flashing across his features. Whether he recognised her as a hero of Baldur’s Gate, or maybe he recognised her from a story Astarion might’ve told didn’t matter, because whatever it was, hopefully would grant her this one meeting.

With that though, Y/N was left to wait outside, pretty much twiddling her thumbs. Astarion probably wouldn’t take it too kindly if she went and took a bloom, though it used to be something he did for her. He used to do so much for her…

About five minutes later, the same spawn appeared, opening the door and motioning for her to enter.

“Master Ancunin will be with you shortly.”

And once again, she was left awing at the hallway, this time completely alone. She guessed no one saw her as a threat, despite the fact she had felled many enemies, including the Absolute. But oh well. At least she didn’t have to awkwardly stand with a guard or something, trying to figure out what small talk to fill the silence with. This gave her a chance to have a look at her surroundings.

A grand staircase, looping up to both sides, stood in front of her, while the palace spiralled away to the right and left. The entrance itself was almost like a ballroom, and she was sure, Astarion had at least one, if not more. What would those look like? What would a ball itself in the Ancunin residence look like? Would there be dancing and singing? Would people be laughing?

She couldn’t imagine it. Not with how he had degraded her after Ascending, telling her to kneel, telling her he’d turn her into a spawn, not because he wanted to spend the rest of their eternities together, but because of the control he now wished to exert over her.

A vision of herself, a blood-red gown, her eyes matching the velvet he’d no doubt dress her in, flashed across her mind. And a beautiful pearl necklace cinched tightly, two large bite marks across the slant of the skin. A collar disguised as gems to tether her to him. One large gilded cage to keep her in.

“Well, well, well… if it isn’t my darling, crawling back home.”

Astarion stood at the top of the staircase landing, bringing Y/N out of her pondering.

He was a vision, as he always had been, but now, were vulnerability and love had shone in his eyes, only wry amusement and cruelty were left in their place.

His steps echoed across the empty house as he made his way down, not taking his gaze away from her. Y/N could imagine how she looked to him – covered in dirt and dust from weeks of traveling, eyes hollowed by dark circles and hair a complete mess, skin cracked around her lips, its colour dull. Compared to his meticulously coifed locks, the intricate frock and trousers, and even his gem-covered boots, she was a disaster.

Despite the pain in her heart, Y/N managed a smile. “You look good, Astarion.”

He scoffed, coming to stand before her. “Of course, I look good. I always did. You just didn’t appreciate it. Have you come back to beg? I do like a bit of grovelling. Though after what you did, there might be more you have to do than just plead for me to take you back.”

She chuckled, shaking her head and looped her arm through his elbow, undoubtedly surprising him, as she took charge and led them to the left, no idea where the hallway was going to bring her to, otherwise she might start crying. “Tell me everything Astarion. I want to know how you’ve faired these past five years.”

Her nonchalance, her whole attitude had completely stunned him, something Y/N didn’t think she was capable of, but maybe it was good. Without having knocked him off balance a bit, he might’ve just turned her away, but she needed this conversation. This closure before the sickness took her.

Together they walked inside what turned out to be a dining room. Did he even need one? He didn’t eat human food, even though he was Ascended now, and could enjoy the tastes.

“I have to say,” he started, “I did not expect to see you again.”

Y/N sighed, looking at the paintings hung along the walls, at the gleaming chandeliers above. “Believe me, I did not expect to come either.”

“Then why are you here? If not to apologise for what you did, why bother wasting my time?”

The words stung, but she wasn’t going to tell him the real reason. It wouldn’t matter to him anyway. He told her he wished she died screaming, and though that might still be a possibility, it was more likely she would simply go to sleep one night and never wake up. “Because, although I do not believe I have anything to apologise for, I did wish to make amends. Life for us mortals, is so short… and the thought of living the rest of mine, without at least having tried, seemed… wrong.”

Astarion scoffed, but she could feel him tightening his elbow, as if he didn’t want her hand to slip from the crook it rested in. “I will not apologise for my decisions.”

“I am not asking you to,” Y/N said. “I simply wish for us to become friends once more. If only for the sake of sentimentality.”

“Sentiment,” Astarion sneered. “But what else can I expect from such a creature as a human.”

Y/N let out an amused huff, pressing down the real impact it left on her heart. He knew right where to cut, because when they’d been together during the tadpole adventure, she’d laid her soul bare to him. Told him all about her fears and hopes, how much of a hopeless romantic she was, so now, to tell her it was foolish to try and rekindle if only a friendship, was stupid… but she hadn’t expected more from this version of Astarion.

He’d already given much more time than she’d expected. Half of her had thought when the spawn would tell him who was at the door, he would take the chance and fulfil his words by killing her himself.

Absolute power corrupts absolutely. It’s what she’d told him when she’d tried to talk him out of the ritual. How he would be condemning seven thousand other lives. But he hadn’t cared. Astarion had believed he deserved the power, deserved to complete what Cazador couldn’t. Y/N couldn’t stand by and watch, nor would her conscience allow her to be by his side.

And so she’d left. Because there was nothing left of the man she’d fallen in love with. For these five years after, she’d avoided Baldur’s Gate, hearing from whispers and gossip how he’d risen in the ranks of politics and society, how brutal he could be to his servants and those who stood in his way, almost reminding her of when he’d talked about his Magistrate days, only amped to a hundred. A new, sickening Cazador at the helm.

“But how have you been, darling?” Astarion almost sounded bored as they moved into what passed for a living room in this palace, Y/N assumed. “What shenanigans have you caused?”

And so she told him. As a servant spawn brought a tea-set laying out two cups, though Astarion didn’t even pick his up, Y/N recounted how she’d gone all across the Sword Coast, had travelled over the seas and seen knew lands. How she’d done the things he’d promised they would do together.

“Sounds rather… dull,” he commented, lounging on the seat. “But I suppose to such simple minds and hearts as yours, it’s all very exciting and enthralling.”

She wanted to snap at him, remind how half of the ideas she’d completed, had been his, but instead, Y/N just took a deep breath. “Have you finally gotten everything you wanted, Astarion?” she asked instead. “Are you finally happy?”

That had been the true question plaguing her mind these past years.

He turned to look at her, eyes blazing. “I have power, status, people bow to my every whim. What more could I possibly want?”

“Then I’m happy for you,” she said, setting down her half-drunk tea. “Even if it means nothing to you anymore, I am happy you’ve finally gotten what you wished.”

An awkward silence settled between the two, and Y/N took it as her cue to wrap things up. “I best take my leave.”

“And where will you possibly go?” he sneered, but stood up alongside her, making their way back to the grand oak doors.

“Karlach and I are meeting up at a local tavern. And then we’re all going to the get together at Wyll’s. You would know that, had you come to the party Wither’s invited us all to.”

“And waste my time?” he scoffed. “No thanks. This conversation has done enough of that.”

By now they were at the doors, and Y/N turned around, taking in her final fill of the vampire. No doubt this would be the last time she ever saw him. “I hope you have a good life, Astarion. You deserve it. Despite how things went down between us, I do wish all the best for you.”

Slowly, she leaned up and pressed a kiss against his cheek. It was cold, but not as cold as she had been used to. No doubt he used every opportunity to lazy out in the sun, or feed on someone.

Just as she was about to exit, he grabbed her by the wrist, his hold tight and not something she’d be able to break out of.

Astarion’s scarlet eyes narrowed in on her, pulling her closer to him.

Y/N’s heart spiked. Was he really still that hurt, he would finally cash in on that revenge? She knew she would never be able to hurt him. No matter what, that romantic heart of hers would betray her.

He snapped her to his chest, her breath hitching in her lungs, as he leaned down by her neck and inhaled. Her frame was ramrod straight, not daring to move a muscle. When he finally moved back, anger and something else raged in his eyes. Was it… fear?

“Now, my dear, tell me the real reason you came here.”

“I -,”

“And don’t lie,” he hissed. “Because I can smell it on you. In your blood.”

“Smell what?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Death.” And Y/N had to be hallucinating, because she was sure she heard his voice crack. “Sickness and death runs through your veins. It’s – it’s like acid.”

“What’s it matter, Astarion? What would any of it change?”

“It would chan-,” but he stopped himself.

Y/N leaned a bit closer, her Y/E/C eyes narrowed, trying to decipher what she was seeing on that stony face, but pulled back, shaking her head. “Maybe you will finally get your wish and I will die screaming.”

By the look on his face, she understood Astarion did not appreciate the comment. “You dare enter my home, under the pretences of lies and deceit,” but his vile words didn’t match what she could see brewing underneath – despair. If only she was still naïve enough to believe he felt anything else but contempt for her. “I deserve to know the truth.”

“But you do know it.” Y/N shrugged. “So I’m going to ask you once again – what does the knowledge that I am dying, change? I would still die someday. Whether it is in a week or in half a century, I would still die. What’s it matter?”

“Had you not been stupid, and accepted my offer of becoming a spawn, you wouldn’t be in this mess,” Astarion spit, but didn’t release his grip.

“I did not come here to ask you to change me.” She placed her hand against where his heart should be beating, yet everything was still under her fingers. “I am not afraid of death. I am not happy its coming for me so quickly, but I would rather have my life end now, than live as a spawn.”

Hurt crossed his face. “Would living with me really be so repulsive to you?”

“Living as your slave would.” Y/N lifted her chin. “We would not be equals. You would never see me as the person I am, but rather as a thing to own. And I, for one, thought you would be the first person to understand why I would never choose such an option.”

This was not how she wanted them to part, but it seemed like it would once again leave them as enemies.

She pulled away from Astarion, and this time he let her.

“I hope one day you do understand my choices. Because as much as I disagree with yours, I have always accepted and understood them. Live Astarion, if only for yourself.”

Sunlight greeted her, as she opened the door, but she didn’t manage to put a single foot outside, when the vampire grabbed her by the nape of the neck, pulling her back in and slamming the door shut.

“I am sorry my dear, but that simply won’t do.”

Fear didn’t even get a chance to rush through her veins when everything went black.

It was a while before Y/N finally came to, but when she did, she was laid on a plush bed, body covered in a duvet, head resting against the softest pillow in the universe, and the sky outside was the violet of the setting day.

Horror struck her as her memories came to her – of Astarion pressing his palm against her nose and mouth, preventing her from breathing. Of how unconsciousness took over, while his red eyes glared at her fading form. But worse – the conversation they’d had right before that, about refusing to become a spawn.

Did he really hate her that much, he’d turn her against her will?

But instead of Astarion sitting in the room she found…

“Gale?” Y/N’s brow furrowed as she raised herself to her forearms on the mattress. “What are you doing here?”

“Ah, you’re awake.” The wizard stood with a smile, walking to sit beside her. “How are you feeling?” He pressed a palm against her forehead, checking the temperature, and hummed when he deemed it to be normal.

“Fine,” she mumbled. “But again – what are you doing here?”

“Astarion called.”

“Astarion?” Y/N was befuddled. She would’ve assumed Gale would be the last person ever he would contact, well, last except for her. Especially if he’d turned her into a spawn. No doubt would their friends come to battle if they heard such a thing. And yet Gale seemed perfectly content in the vampire’s castle.

“He sent such a panicked message, I portaled here as quickly as the Weave would allow and-,”

Gale was stopped mid-sentence as the door clicked open.

But the man standing in the doorway wasn’t the Astarion she’d known before, the man she had fallen head over heels in love with, or even the Ascended Astarion she’d spoken to that day. No. This Astarion had eyes as bright green as freshly grown grass, cheeks red and full of life and the blunt incisors of a human, hope and shame shining in his irises.

She whipped her head to Gale. “What in the name of all the Hells did you two do?”

“We saved your life,” the now ex-vampire entered the room, his movements slow as if Y/N was a deer he would startle if he did anything quicker than the pace of a snail. “And I paid the price for it.”

She swallowed hard. “And what exactly was the price?”

“My immortality.”

Now, Y/N assumed she’d been cured as she was inclined to believe not only because of Astarion’s transformation, but because Gale so meticulously was counting her breaths and heartbeat, but that confession almost did take her out, the shock of it all.

She threw a wary glance at the wizard. “So – so I’m not a spawn?”

“No,” Astarion shook his head. “But I don’t blame you for believing I would do such a… vile thing.”

Heavy silence settled in the room when she finally turned to look at him. “But I thought you had everything you ever wanted.”

“I did so too,” he nodded. “But when I smelled it, that – that sickness in your blood… I guess it is true what they say – love is the most powerful magic of all. Because the thought of you dying – it did something to my head… my heart. I could not let that happen.”

Y/N surveyed him, the new person standing before her. “You gave up everything for me. All the power… everything…”

“I won’t lie – I almost gave into the temptation, I almost did bite you. But these past five years were… miserable. And the thought of living the rest of eternity with the knowledge you hated me before you died… it wasn’t something I could do. Even with all the power in the world, the one weakness I have never been able to rid myself of is you.”

Neither noticed Gale clear his throat and motion towards the door, and neither noticed how it shut behind the wizard, leaving them on their own.

She watched as Astarion crossed the room, and sat himself down at the very foot of the bed, eyes locked onto the fingers in his lap. He was still as graceful as ever, but no longer was there this predatory supernatural sense to it. Now he was more a ballet dancer, than a stalking panther.

“So what happens now?”

“Now,” he sighed. “Now I don’t know. I didn’t really think further than Gale performing the ritual and hoping it would be enough.”

“Am I… immortal now?”

“No,” Astarion shook his head, and his smile was so warm, it almost knocked her back down to the bed. “You’re as human, as human can be. Only healthy now. Hopefully with many a decade before you yet to be lived.”

“And you?” she had to address the elephant in the room. “What exactly are you now?”

“I,” he sighed and looked at the wall. No, not the wall, but a large mirror, his eyes boring into the ones of his reflection. “I am what I was before Cazador. As common as a high elf can be.”

“I just don’t understand,” Y/N said. “I don’t get why you would do such a thing. Seven thousand spawn died for you to gain all that power, for you to prove you could complete what Cazador couldn’t. How could you just throw it all away?”

Astarion sighed, standing up and moving to the other side of the room where a large open door stood, leading out to a balcony. He leaned against the railing, and Y/N finally got out of the bed.

She could feel the strength having returned to her muscles. No longer did they ache, no longer did her bones scream, no longer did she feel tired and weak. A new zeal of life had filled her, and she couldn’t get why Astarion had given it all up for her to – what? Live maybe just a couple of more decades?

Together they leaned on the marble railing, overlooking the lush gardens, the flowers now a duller colour, but still as beautiful in moonlight, as they were in the sun.

“For five years I imagined what I would do if you showed up on my doorstep,” Astarion started. “There were times I imagined taking you and putting you in chains, dragging you to a dungeon and inflicting unspeakable pain, because that’s how it felt when you left. I wanted to do nothing but hurt you. And then I imagined how you would have come to your senses, how you would come and beg me to turn you into a spawn, finally realising your place was always beside me.”

He looked at her. “But then you did turn up. And all I could do was barely hold it together and not kiss you then and there. When you said you were dying, but that it would be a better life than with me, something… something cracked. Whether it was my sense coming back to me, the part of my brain that made good decisions being released from a prison of power, I don’t know.” Astarion chuckled. “But the only thing running through my head was – the one person that has always loved you selflessly, is dying. And you’re a pathetic coward that can’t do anything to stop it.”

“When Gale told me there was a way to heal you, but it would cost me, somehow I didn’t even pause to think. I just told him to do it. If the price for you being able to live a fulfilled life was having my power, my immortality stripped away, he could’ve for all I cared, spilled all my blood and let me bleed dry. As long as it meant you were here – living and breathing.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s what you would’ve done. And I couldn’t be bested by a dying woman. Would turn you into a full martyr, and I couldn’t have someone outshining me like that.”

Y/N wiped at her eyes and cleared her throat, letting out a choked back laugh. “What was the ritual?”

“Apparently Gale had been looking at certain transfers of power for a while.” Astarion shrugged. “When I contacted him, I didn’t even have anything specific in mind, I just knew he would probably be the best at figuring out what, if anything, could be done. Of course, had the answer been negative, it would not have ended well for our dear wizard, but you understand my point.”

“Well, I am glad Gale is still in one piece.” Y/N looked at him as she slowly covered his palm with hers. Astarion’s breath hitched, when she intertwined their fingers. “And I am grateful to the both of you for what you did. But I will forever be in debted to you.”

“No,” Astarion shook his head, tightening his hold, as if terrified she’d slip away like sand. “There is no debt to be repaid. Actually, I think I should be the one thanking you. For showing up. For even thinking I was worth enough to say goodbye to, but I have to ask… Were you ever going to tell? Had I not smelled it on you, would you have ever told anyone? Because when I told Gale, he was so stunned, I almost thought he would join you and pass out.”

“No,” Y/N shook her head. “By the time I decided I had to see you at least once more before I… well, you know… I’d already met all of our friends individually. I had thought of asking Shadowheart if there was a spell maybe, but ultimately, no.”

“Why would you keep something like that to yourself?”

“I didn’t feel like burdening the others.” She shrugged her shoulders. “We’ve all gone through so much darkness, have so much else to worry about, I didn’t want to add more to that.”

“Surely you know those idiots would ride blindfolded into battle for you.”

“I do. But it’s not like I would want that. Besides… if those were to be my last days, I wanted them to be filled with joy and fun things. Not with Halsin worrying if such excitement was healthy for me, or Lae’Zel scolding me for certain decisions. And let’s not even mention Karlach who’d cross the world searching for a cure that might not even exist.”

“And you left me for last…”

Y/N bit down hard on her lip. “Because it took everything in me to get over the hurt. Get over what you did and said. Because I was terrified you would slam the door in my face if I showed up.”

A tear rolled down his own cheek, as he bit the inside of it. “A fair assumption. And maybe if you’d come earlier, I would have. But… deep down I knew, I would have done everything to try and make you stay. Even through the haze of that power… my heart has always been yours. And still is. If you will have it.”

The words coming out of her mouth hurt, but they had to be said, despite how ardently she wished to say yes and return to how things were. But she knew she couldn’t neither of them could. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Astarion.” She could see him visibly shrink down, tears now unabated as they flowed like rivers from his eye. He wanted to pull away, but she didn’t let him, holding onto his hand tighter, running a soothing thumb over his hand, so warm and alive under her touch, it made her sigh.

 “You’ve just regained yourself.” Y/N tried to give what was an endearing smile, but was probably more a grimace.  “You’ve just become an elf again… there is so much you need to grasp and realise… I don’t think a relationship is what would be good right now.”

Two green eyes met her Y/E/C ones. Gods, the colour was so gorgeous, she felt like drowning in his gaze. “The only thing I was ever sure of in my life was you. Even as an Ascended bastard. And then I blew it. Absolutely smashed my chance to pieces like an idiot, but… if you’ll allow it. I would like another try. If only at being someone worthy to stand by your side.”

Y/N felt her lips quirk up. “Would it be overtly presumptuous of me to think, that by the end of it, you would wish to be more than friends?”

“If I am only allowed to be your friends, I will fall to my knees before you and beg for the chance. But no longer will I lie and say my true intentions aren’t to hopefully, one day, get on one knee, and wish for a shared life.”

She had not seen such a version of Astarion, so candid and vulnerable, since leaving him. And for him to be so open, made some resolve in her melt a bit. “We can try. Slowly.”

It was like a boulder had rolled off Astarion’s chest, his whole body visibly shuddering in relief, before he tentatively, as if waiting for her rejection, weaved a hand around her waist.

She rested her head against his shoulder, revelling in the feeling of him pressing his cheek to the top of it. And when he tilted her chin up, a hopeful gaze in his eyes as it slipped to her lips, she didn’t stop him when he pressed his mouth to hers.

It was like surfacing for a breath after years of being pulled down in an abyss, something Y/N never thought she’d be able to do again. And that kiss – it was filled with so much love, she didn’t need oxygen to breathe.

There was still a world of hurt between then, a universe of making up to be done, but they had time. They had all the time they wanted or could need.

“To a new start, my love.” She muttered against his lips, and the smile Astarion gave her was more brilliant than the moon and stars shining in the sky combined.

“And to a life worth living.”

The next kiss they shared sure as hells was.

Tags:

Astarion tags: @spacebarbarianweird @omggiannarosa @poisonquinzell @iffazu @alisoncdariel

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstrange

A/N: My tags are always open

Please don't repost onto other platforms! That is called plaigarism :)

I also had an idea of writing this from Astarion's POV, so if that is something of interest, do let me know :)

[itsonlydana]

hello! I see you have requests open...(?) for the hobbit/lotr, and I was wondering if I could request a modern!thranduil x reader fanfiction? the reader is some sort of barista/baker/other thing, and Thranduil is obviously all rich and shit and comes in once, is enamoured by shy, flustered reader and then becomes a regular? obviously, they end up together in the end. thank you!

Lattes and Love | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader 👑

it's a rainy monday, perfect for a meet-cute with the new, handsome and rich customer that you totally don't embaress yourself in front of

tags/warnings: coffeeshop!au, fluff

word count: 2,7k

an: oh, this was such a good request! Thoroughly loved writing it :)

+ masterlist + rules + 🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

"Falling for customers strictly forbidden!" was the non-negotiable rule for anyone who found themselves working at the loveliest café in Laketown; 'Beans & Leafs'.

Despite being written out on a wooden board behind the counter and in the kitchen, this rule was obviously ignored by more than half of the employees; the others were either happily coupled up, had no interest in romance, or had such an unhealthy work-life balance that this didn't matter anyway.

You, on the other hand, a longtime single and die-hard lover of romance novels, were one of the employees who couldn't go a month without an over-the-counter crush, serving coffees and teas as well as heart eyes and shy blushes.

You had perfected your craft of pouring coffee while thinking of scenarios where, instead of getting a tip, the handsome brunette with the gentle smile would wait until the end of your shift and invite you out for not coffee, but a drink, perhaps.

These fantasies did no one any harm; you would even go as far as to debate that the love you pledged for the customers was an ingredient that fitted exquisitely into the crushed beans and steamed milk.

There had never been any complaints, so there was no reason whatsoever why your boss, Bard, flung his arm out and pointed at the sign when the doorbell chimed one rainy Monday morning.

The weather had been particularly awful the entire weekend, clouds hanging low and leaving you to barricade yourself into your apartment, and when you'd left the house this morning, paddling away on your bike and avoiding muddy puddles as well as you could, the skies were still gray and gloomy. Inside the café the warm lamps tried their best to fight against the pale sunlight that fell through rain-streaked windows, coloring everything in washed-out watercolors.

When you followed the length of Bard's hand however it was as if the sun broke through, even if it was only for the few seconds you stared at the man who just entered the shop and stepped into the small line of customers.

He was breathtakingly gorgeous, right up the alley of models you saw in fashion magazines with his sharp cheekbones and the pair of high-waisted jeans that hugged his waist perfectly. Even his long black coat seemed like it was tailored for his broad shoulders and he looked, by all means, expensive.

"Eyes, Darlin', eyes."

It was only when Bard gently nudged his hip against yours as he passed you from behind and tapped one finger against the sign again, that you bewilderedly realized that hadn't been a direction to the customer's eyes – oh boy, they were twinkling like starlight – but rather a command to advert yours.

"Stop bossing me around," you groaned quietly, glad for the jazz music that played from speakers over your head and the chatter of the few other customers that had found their way into the 'Beans & Leafs'.

"I am your boss. I have every right to command you 'round," Bard said, knocking his knuckles against the sign, "And a rule 's a rule. Doesn't matter if you're the best worker I've got 'round here."

You stuck your tongue out at him of the corner of your mouth under the pretense that it was nothing but concentration over the milk you were pouring into a cup for the customer in front of you.

"You're so annoying," you said as you turned your back on the counter to grab a new cup. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

The question was directed at Bard but it's not his warm voice that answers your teasingly snappy question, but a deeper one without the familiar drip of Bard's accent:

"Yes, actually, so I would appreciate my latte with three shots of espresso for takeaway please."

You immediately flew around, hot shame bubbling up straight into your cheeks as you squealed, "Oh shit– I mean, shit, sorry!"

Of course. Of course, the 6ft beauty was the next in line, casually resting one arm on the counter and scrutinizing you with those captivating bright eyes that, now that he stared at you and there wasn't anything between you except the bar and miles of shame, did look exactly like starlight. This was so unprofessional and it didn't help that you were frozen on the spot.

You heard Bard's rough laughter, saw him shaking his head in not-so-quiet disbelief out of your peripheral vision and it only fueled the blush that took over your whole face. "I'm so sorry," you apologized and lowered your chin to look away from the customer and down to the coffee machine instead.

Flaming red cheeks reflected in the silver metal greeted you as you let the machine take over for the espresso – arabica beans from Brasille, rich, sweet and slightly nutty, and, if brewed correctly, which you always managed, would leave a lingering taste reminiscent of dark chocolate. "Whole milk, oat, almond, or soy?" you asked, swallowing the lump of embarrassment that was lodged in your throat.

"Oat, please."

You nodded and fell into the rhythm that you were used to, that, despite the hope the ground would tear up and swallow you completly, comes like second nature. "I just want to let you know that I truly wasn't talking to you," you started and foamed up the milk, hiding behind the steam.

The customer huffed out an amused laugh. "No? You're only that cheeky to your employer?"

Great, now he thought you were an employee who didn't respect her higher-ups. "No no! It's a joke," you cringed at the nervous chuckle you laughed, "Nothing serious, just joking. He knows I would never disrespect him, he's a good boss, one of the best actually! And–" you heard your rambling and wanted to close your eyes at the next blink and never open them again, "– and I should probably stop talking now."

Bard passed you again, patting one hand fatherly on your shoulder though this helped barely because the slight touch immediately zipped straight through your spine. In what could only be described as unfortunate timing your arm flinched forward, breaking the carefully concentrated pouring of steamed milk into the paper cup, and to your horror you watched as the foam parted through the coffee.

And created the perfect heart.

You gave yourself a second to breathe, to stare down into the paper cup and this was totally fine; you made latte art all the time and most of your favorite customers got a heart one day or another. And even if you didn't know the man at all and already made a fool out of yourself, other coffee places did this as well.

It's just coffee.

But it was never just coffee with all the love you poured into it, wasn't it?

So you steeled yourself, ignored the churning of your stomach, and plastered on a flustered smile. "Here's your coffee, Sir." The heart cheekily smiled right back, foam bobbing on top and this was definitely a moment you would be thinking about, maybe even use as an opportunity to reevaluate the importance of Bard's stupid sign. "Cash or card?"

He already pulled out a sleek wallet, manicured nails and long fingers pushed a neat $20 over to you. He wore a smirk, the corners of his mouth turned so far up that white teeth showed and dimples buried themselves into his cheeks. "Cash. I suspect the tips go straight to–" one finger lifted and pointed straight forward, "you?"

"Me," you repeated and quickly shook your head, "I mean yes, they go to me."

"Good," he chuckled, "wouldn't want anyone else to share what you earned rightfully, don't we? Keep the change."

"But Sir!" you protested because this tip was ludicrously big for a latte; more than double the amount of what he had paid for the drink on its own without the free show of you being a complete fool.

The man arched an eyebrow though it carried nothing but curiosity instead of the superiority that it would communicate by an older, more stuffy guy.

You busied your hands, cleaned the frother, and emptied the remaining ground coffee into the trash before you ran a rag over the machine, or otherwise, the probability of ruining your nailbeds was much too high. "The coffee's maybe not to your liking – what if you absolutely hate it?"

"Then I will simply order another one another time," he replied and the hope that sprung up inside your chest, another time– another visit, he would come back– bounced around your ribcage and threatened to burst right through.

Your throat clicked as you swallowed, looking up from the dark brown coffee that filled the next mug, coffee black, arabica beans imported from Peru, fruity and perfect for the cappuccino order, up to the man, this stunning beautiful man who tipped like he could throw away money and not notice the amount missing, the epitome of all what you've dreamed about and exceeding those standards the longer he stood around.

You grabbed the opportunity, damned the sign because why the hell should anyone be forbidden to fall in love with him and bit down on your lower lip, smiling softy.

"Could I get your name?"

"I already have my coffee," he said amused and the heat was back in your cheeks. "But it's Thranduil. Nice to meet you," Thranduil's starlight eyes dropped to the name-pin buttoned to your apron and flittered back up, warm and deep voice wrapping around your name in a manner that was close to too overwhelming. "Now, let's try this drink, shall we?"

Completely entranced by his soft-looking lips that twitched back into a smile at the sight of the heart, eyes locking on yours again as he lifted the cup, you watched him take a sip.

A soft hum.

Long lashes fluttering shut against the apple of his cheek.

Yep, there was no way back from this. By the end of your shift, you would probably bike home and dream about this moment, when Thranduil opened his eyes again and you were still staring, caught despite the line forming behind him, other customers held up by Bard, this wonderful man you would never ask anything of him ever again, and Thranduil competed in the new game of who would look away first.

"Sweet," his voice was still deep, coated by a warmness that only satisfactory coffee would bring, and you swore you tasted the chocolate on your tongue as you bit down on it.

The way your eyes scanned the work area to check if you had accidentally poured sugar into his coffee, he didn't order any, right? – and while the oak milk carried some sweetness with it, it wasn't much but what if– were a clear message of slight panic, nervousness of having gotten his order wrong and Thranduil quickly deescalated the deep frown forming in your eyebrows.

"Ah, don't worry. I wasn't talking about the coffee," Thranduil said, and, lifting the cup to his lips, he winked at you over the rim.

He left you like that, mouth hanging slightly open while your mind ran the calculation of whether or not he had flirted with you.

You spent the rest of the day in a haze, only managing the midday and afternoon rush with the memory of Thranduil whom you swore, you saw rushing past the window of the shop in the evening, long hair flying in the wind at his quick steps and if your mind didn't play tricks on you, his head turned when he passed you, eyes finding yours in a second that quietened down all the sounds.

The next day, he came in again, a phone pressed to his ear and an apologetic voiceless: "So sorry," when the call was seemingly important enough for him to take his latte, foam-heart included, and dashed back outside, leaving you another hefty tip but no further interaction.

You sighed.

For good measure, you even glared at the sign.

Thranduil stopped by on his way to work every morning from Monday, Thursday and Friday, ordering his latte until it waited for him at exactly 7:45, the heart inside the coffee wandering onto the takeaway cup when you started scribbling his name onto it, first on the dot of the 'i' and then, later, when you were brave enough, next to the name.

It was a hurdle, more than often you had the sharpie pressed into the paper, blacking out from sheer panic that seeped through you like the dark ink that ended up either a smiley or a flower or full stop.

Thranduil would come in, sweep you off your feet by simply smiling or smirking at the new doodle on his coffee, steaming hot as soon as the bell announced his arrival, and leave. Never without tipping you enough for you to buy a new bike at the end of the first month of him visiting the 'Beans & Leafs'.

On Saturdays, Thranduil came in and settled his tall body into one of the window tables, entirely oblivious to all the ogling he got from passersby as well as customers, they stared all the same at his beauty and the weekend always got better because his sole focus was on you.

On Saturdays, he got his coffee, a Cappuccino served in dark blue mugs that complimented his white-blond hair and the rosé of his lips that savored every last drop, and he started asking you for your opinions on the breakfast options.

The first time he did it, long legs crossed over each other and his head propped up on his hands listening intently, you rambled on the entirety of the menu, babbling on and on and on:

"We got wonderful apple rose tarts, that truly look like roses, and rhubarb pie or a lemon shortcake – that one goes perfectly with the chocolaty taste of the coffee beans! And we have croissants, banana bread, and a cheese Danish!"

"Mhmm, all of those sound ama–" Thranduil started but was interrupted by your nervous continuing chatter:

"And of course, you could have a chicken and avocado sandwich, if you want something more savory. Or our chefs make a mean bacon and egg one with arugula and a blueberry vinaigrette?" you asked and threw a quick look to Thranduil who hid his amused smile that lit up his whole face behind his fingers. "Oh, or are you a vegetarian? Then I would recommend the olive, tomato and hummus bagel, but maybe you don't like olives. For that, we have a walnut quiche–"

"Yes, I am vegetarian–"

The smile bloomed past the, noticeably large, hands, the corner of his mouth curling up while his eyebrows furrowed in the concentration of keeping still, watching you in awe as your breath held on far longer than his ability to remain calm and it was only a matter of time until you were done.

Your eyes landed on the dimples, the soft crow feet next to his eyes, and low on oxygen you finally managed to detangle yourself from the menu that you had previously, in preparation for this moment, had carefully written down on your notesblock, the page now crinkled at the edges and most of the ink smeared under the hard press of your thumbs.

"Great! Do you want me to repeat the vegetarian options?"

Thranduil ordered all of your recommendations.

Not all at once, it wasn't past you to bring out dozens of plates at his request but Thranduil kept to two cups of coffee and worked his way through the display of cakes, pies, breads, rolls and sandwiches, always prepared by you.

You served him his first coffee with a heart in his mug and a plate for him to eat and after rushing through the next hour, eyes locking across the room now and again whenever you looked up from the coffee machine and he from his plate, you would bring him his second cup, carrying the heart-coffee and another one for you to sip on during your break, legs brushing against each other under the small table.

It was there, at this table, that Thranduil asked you out, not two months after the first interaction.

It was also at this table that he kissed you for the first time, tasting like love, lattes and a bit of chocolate.

©itsonlydana 2024, character art by MiracleAna on Devianart

[twst-drabbles]

Ace, Deuce, Epel, Jack, Ortho, and Sebek 4

Summary: You brought out an RC truck since you really didn’t want to carry all of these pets on your shoulders when you go grocery shopping.

(I have chosen House Pet AU because we all love cute shenanigans, right?)

You almost fell face-down on the floor upon all your youngest pets grabbing onto your shoes. You were lucky to have near the door. You caught yourself on the knob.

“Really guys?” You hissed out at Ace, Deuce, Epel, Jack, Ortho and Sebek, who all had their grubby little mittens on different parts of your shoe, pulling back with incredible effort. “I could’ve knocked myself out!”

Ortho was the first to let go, but he zipped right onto your calf and clung to it with all his might. He blasted flames right out his feet and tried pulling you deeper into the house, copying what he saw in a movie.

It didn’t do much. You were simply too heavy of a human and he too small.

You lifted your foot, taking everyone with you, and tried to shake them off. None of them let go.

“You all really want to come with me, huh?”

They all collectively barked.

Can’t even be left alone to do your groceries.

“Fine fine, but I’m not carrying you. I’m bringing the RC toy.”

Deuce vibrated for a moment before springing back into a back-flip. Even started spinning on his feet as he clapped and cheered. Epel got down with more grace, trotted over to Deuce, and started clapping his own hands too.

They really love that thing huh? Sebek was just staring at them, sock in his mouth as they cheered. Ace was sighing against your ankle, shaking his head. And Jack had since let go of your leg to linger in front of the door, eager to get out already.

Ortho was still trying to Astro Boy your leg. Cute. You caught him when he tuckered himself out and floated slowly to the ground, like a leaf in autumn.

“Let’s get you all settled.”

You dug through the shed where you kept all your old things and found the truck. Deuce and Epel climbed in first, though they did fight with each other over who gets to control the remote.

You just nudged it perfectly in the middle between them and they got the message. Epel presses the buttons, Deuce controls the direction.

Ace climbed into the passengers seat, carrying a ripped piece of paper with scribbles on it that you think is supposed to be a map. Ortho settled himself into the trunk of the truck, and Sebek and Jack took the backseat.

You have a really fancy RC truck. So fancy, in fact, that it had it's own working seatbelts. Of which Jack put on and helped Sebek put on as well. It’s not made to be fast, it’s more aimed for novelty, to stuff your dolls and figures in and make it look like they’re all going on vacation. Idia has since hoarded that collection.

“Alright, let’s go.”

As soon as you opened the gate, the RC truck beamed right past you in a cloud of dust, wheels loudly whirring in the distance.

Squinting, you saw the truck was alight in a unnatural blue.

Ortho melded with the truck. Of course he did.

“Don’t break it Ortho!”

Those things are expensive.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

By His Command 1

Summary: you arrive at your new household to serve. (Handmaid AU)

Warning: this series will contain violence, dystopian aspects, rape and noncon, blood, coercion, possible pregnancy and other dark elements. Please read these warnings and beware.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

Note: you're screaming at me, why are you starting another AU and I got my fingers in my ears like na nana boo noo.

Oh and there may be more commanders to come...

Anyway, thoughts and prayers welcome for my lost soul. Also feedback and comments if you dont mind. Maybe a reblog. 💕💕💕💕

You watch the cloud of your breath in the cold air. The grey sky stretches endlessly on, as flat as anything else in this pallid world. A white blur trims the edge of your vision, that every present brim, a facsimile of a halo. You are not a fallen angel but a disgraced sinner, sentenced to penance, fated to serve another's salvation.

You clasp your hands together, red gloves chafing roughly, wool scratching your raw skin. You look down at the scarlet ripples, the endless crimson that marks you for exactly what you are. You pull at a stray thread and let it fall away.

You raise your head and stare at the opaque screen that separates you from the man in black. The guardian drives on across the fields paled by an early frost, dried grasses wilted beneath the premature winter. You take another frigid breath and lean forward, hovering your hand before the small vent in the door. Nothing.

You sit back. You know better than to complain. There is no one for you to complain to. No one who cares. You are not a person with feelings and thoughts. You are a vessel, to be filled and emptied over and over. You repress a shudder and keep your welling eyes aimed out the tinted window.

You dip your head and hide beneath the broad brim of your white bonnet. You clutch your hands tight and wade through the mounting panic in your chest. The women who left the centre didn't often come back, and when they did, it was never pleasant. Still, you would give anything to go back. There you know what the worst and the best is.

You don't know much of what awaits you, only that it floods you with dread. A commander and his wife, but what else? Will he be cruel? Will she hate you? Will you be able to do what you were trained to?

You part your hands and bring them up your arms, hugging yourself. You can't remember the last time anyone held you. The last time anyone dared touch you. Even when you laid screaming before the other handmaids, hands bloody, back welted, no one dared come near you, no one thought to comfort you.

The SUV turns and you force your eyelids apart. You sniffle and wipe your nose with the coarse wool glove. There is a low stone fence that trails the long winding road towards a tall gate. The tires slow as your heart piques and you choke on terror.

At a halt, you hear the man's voice in the front seat, through the barrier that divides you. For order, for chasteness, for your debasement. You are not worthy. You are emblazoned as a blasphemer.

The car rolls on, jerking you back against the seat. A slow draw that brings into view shedding hedges, stone benches, a fountain, a lawn that expands before you. You watch the birds flutter, marveling at their peace, and a leaf drifts down in a calm path to the ground. A serenity that so starkly counterbalances the chaos blooming in your chest.

You veer around the curved arm of the driveway and once more stop. The engine rolls over and quiets. The front door opens and you flinch. Steps tramp and come around, a shadow awaiting you on the otherside as the locks slide back.

The guardian opens the door and you grab the red valise on your feet. You turn your legs over the side of the seat and step out, heels clacking off the hard stone. The man steps back, gripping the strap of his gun.

"Go," he nods his chin in the direction of the house.

You look over at the grand facades, stone and mortar in a centurion style, rooves high and looming, a balcony with a naked trellis below. You gulp and march forward, grasping the round handle of your bag with both hands. The man trails you, keeping you on course as his steps echo your own.

You get to the first step and raise your foot, setting in on the stope edge. The front door opens and steals your attention from the hem of your skirt. You look up as a Martha emerges in her green smock and apron. Her faces is blotchy and her grimace is deepset.

"Come, OfLloyd," she beckons you with a curt wave, "we must prepare for the Commander's return."

[hungryforjay]

𓆙 nrk || harry potter au

𓆙 not gryffindor slander i am a gryffindor myself🫡 first dialogue tags are ib a writing prompt || word count uhh short

˗ˏˋ 𓅰 ˎˊ˗

The witching hour approached quickly. The clouds were sparse and the sky was dark, save for the few stars that twinkled alongside the moon. The weeping willow swayed and the wind whispered through the leaves, flittered through the grass, swept the strands of your bangs and lifted them off your forehead. It nipped at your skin and tickled your calves, your robe doing little to cover your skin.

Riki lies next to you half asleep, eyelids fluttering like the wind.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Riki mumbles, startling you out of your trance fixed on the thestrals lurking by, “The shit your sister says?”

You watched a fallen leaf twirl onto a dirt bed.

“Does anyone feel good about the shit our siblings say?”

He shifted onto his elbow, his palm hoisting up his head. Riki looked very serious for once, more than you’ve ever seen him before.

“It should bother you. Everyone knows the stigma surrounding Slytherins is old news. You’re not evil. Do you know that?”

You rolled your eyes, leaning farther back on your hands to look up at the sky. It was the same conversation over and over again. Of how your perfect prefect sister, an insufferable Gryffindor, acted like you didn’t exist because you were sorted into Slytherin. And that was four years ago.

“Do you know that?”

Riki scrunched his face, fingers gripping the grass below him. “What?”

“You keep bringing it up so much, I’m starting to think you’re repeating it as a reminder to yourself.”

Scoffing, Riki ripped the weeds of grass from under his hands and rested his head on the dirt bed behind. He chuckled.

“Maybe I have to, y’know? Seeing as you aren’t doing anything to shift the narrative.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re just letting her going around spreadin’ shit about us. Nobody wants to be around us. Not even our own house, we’re outsiders in a place we’re supposed to call home.”

His eyes avoided yours, opting to stare at the moon that colored his pupils white.

“I’m not obligated to do shit Riki. They can think whatever they want. They-“

“They think we’re Death Eaters! That’s not something one can just think—about Y/n. They think we’re murderers…and I dunno about you, but I’m not okay with being labeled as a fuckin’ murderer. I’m a Slytherin. Not, and I repeat, not, a murderer.”

You stare wide eyed as he rested his head back on the bed of grass, shutting his eyes with a harsh sigh.

“Why do you think we’re out here, Y/n? We can’t even get a sliver of peace in our own fuckin’ dorm.” Riki muttered with and like the wind, soft and sharp.

It’s been a long time since you’ve cared about anything real. The last time you tried you ended up defeated against the triumph of your sister. But looking at Riki’s scrunched face, his frustration peaking through from the tremble in his lip had reminded you that he was real, his feelings were real.

Letting her win means losing Riki.

Riki, the only person who stuck beside you the moment you were sorted.

A low huff grumbled in the distance, pulling your attention off Riki. Two thestrals knocked their chins against each other, huffing and whining, playfulness reminding you of the relationship you shared with the boy ignoring you to your right.

“Let’s get her back.”

Riki cracked open an eye at the sound of your voice, eyebrow arched in question. “Get her back?”

You raised your eyebrows in response, heartbeat reaching your ears in anticipation of his answer. He pushed his upper body up with the heart of his palm, a sly grin creeping up the corners of his mouth.

He reached out a hand and you slapped yours in his, shyly grinning back.

“Slick the slytherin you are—Welcome back Y/n.”

[rambleonwaywardson]

Clegan Astronaut AU - Part 10

Masterpost Read on AO3

AU Summary: the boys as modern day NASA astronauts. Taking place in 2025, Bucky is about to head to the moon as mission commander of Artemis III while Buck is CAPCOM at NASA. Established relationship (obnoxiously in love).

Author's Note: Since some of you were interested in exactly how accurate some of this is, fyi the experiments Curt and Bucky implement here, LEAF and LDA, are real experiment proposals that have been selected to fly on Artemis III. Not much info is available on them though, so much of their installation processes are made up by yours truly.

---

November 18, mission day 12 Ridge near Shackleton Crater, Artemis 3 Landing Site

It’s raining. 

At least, Bucky imagines it is. He imagines that there’s dark clouds rolling in overhead, pops of electricity jumping across them, flashing through the sky. He imagines he can hear thunder rumbling, a breeze ruffling through his hair the same way it did on launch day, when he stood outside and stared at the sky, no one to say goodbye to. He imagines big, fat drops of rain hitting his face, splattering on the tip of his nose and streaking down his cheeks. 

He can almost smell it, the damp earth scent of a hurricane mixing with the salty air blowing in from the gulf. Home. He can almost feel it, just out of reach.

Bucky opens his eyes. He has half a mind to close them again when faced with the reality that it is not, in fact, raining. But he sighs, deciding he can’t really complain, even if he misses something so simple as weather. The lunar horizon is a decent trade-off. He just kind of wishes it wasn’t so still all the time. It reminds him of survival training in the desert, when the only movement was the heat radiating up from the ground, creating a teasing mirage to goad his dehydrated brain. Except here, there’s not an atmosphere to do even that.

It’s their third full day on the lunar surface.

“Is it raining in Houston, Benny?”

There’s a brief pause. “Is that… some sort of code, or…?” 

Bucky thinks for a moment, and then realizes that his words did, in fact, sound similar to ‘are the flowers blooming in Houston,’ a coded transmission from Apollo 13. That’s what Commander Jim Lovell said in order to ask Ken Mattingly, on CAPCOM, if he’d contracted the measles, exposure to which had caused Mattingly to be scrubbed from 13 at the last minute.

“No,” Bucky clarifies. “Just wanna know if it’s raining.”

There’s another brief silence while, Bucky assumes, Benny asks if anyone knows the weather outside of their windowless Mission Control room. He doesn’t bother to ask Bucky why he wants to know. All the CAPCOMs have quickly figured out it’s easier just to answer whatever bullshit question the astronauts ask. “No. It’s colder than usual, though. Only 46 degrees now.”

Bucky’s satisfied with that answer, and he’s not really sure why. He imagines Gale, who at this moment is probably just waking up in their home on the bay. Since it’s cold, he’ll be bundled in flannel pants and Bucky’s Yankees sweatshirt, which is just the slightest bit too big for him and hangs off his frame in a way that makes Bucky want to wrap him up tight in his arms. He might even have a throw blanket pulled around his shoulders as he wanders groggily through the house. Bucky doesn’t know how that man doesn’t overheat, but he knows all too well that Gale’s hands are always freezing. Bucky usually takes it upon himself to warm them up.

Two huskies are probably trailing at Gale’s heels. Bucky hopes they keep his hands warm.

He wonders if that’s a weird thing to think about. He decides it’s not. He mindlessly grabs at the wedding ring dangling from his neck, only to remember that he’s in an EVA suit. His ring is in Starship.

“Quit whatever the fuck you’re doin’ and help me out over here, Bucky.” 

Bucky blinks and tries to turn his head to look at Curt, and then remembers that that doesn’t work in the suit either. He awkwardly turns his whole body before bounding several steps towards his crewmate, who is standing beside their rover. That’s the only way to move on the moon, bounding. Bucky used to mimic the movement as a kid, pretending to be Neil Armstrong in his backyard. But he’s learned in the past few days that it’s actually, literally, the only way to get anywhere in these bulky suits with almost no gravity to hold them down. Especially while they’re still early on in the EVA. The pressure in the suit is almost as high as it goes and inhibits their range of motion.

“What’s up?” Bucky stops in front of the open, unpressurized rover. They may be the first Artemis crew members on the moon, but as far as transportation goes, they drew the short straw. Starting with Artemis 4, surface crews will have a fully pressurized rover for long-distance drives. Bucky and Curt get basically the same piece of shit (sorry, NASA) that Apollo got, but bigger and supposedly less shoddy.

That last qualification has yet to be proven. Curt drops to his knees by the front left wheel. “Hold the damn tire while I replace the lug nuts.”

Bucky joins him on the ground and holds the tire in place. During their EVA yesterday, they took the rover on its inaugural drive, and that damn wheel is already causing them problems. But hey, at least they have the equivalent of a truck bed for hauling things.

Except, you need functioning wheels to haul things.

He grumbles about it the whole time, but Curt manages to get the wheel secured, though he’s still suspicious of it. “Well, good as we’re gonna get.”

Bucky stands back and stares at the wheel, agreeing that it’s still not quite right. But whatever it is is beyond what they can fix at the moment. So Bucky steps onto the rover, turns it on, and drives it forward. Curt takes a couple of bounding steps to catch up, jumps on beside Bucky, and they get on their way. It’s drivable, so they’ll take it.

–

“Oh shit. Fuck. Shit.” Bucky tries to reverse the rover, then tries to go forward again. Reverse, forward, reverse, forward. “Fuck.”

“Shit?” Rosie’s voice buzzes in Bucky’s ear. He and Alex are well on their way into deep space, approaching the furthest point in their orbit. 

“Why the fuck are you here? Don’t ya have observations or somethin’ you could be doin'?”

“This is so much more interesting.”

Bucky has gotten the front left wheel of the rover stuck between two rocks. They’re not even very big rocks, so it’s embarrassing in that same kind of way as when you get your hand into a small space but then can’t get it back out.

It’s also the same wheel that he and Curt just fixed. Curt looks on, judgmentally. “If you break that wheel again I’ll murder you with a hammer.”

Brutal. Bucky’s mouth moves on autopilot, like a parrot repeating something unhelpful, as he conducts a pathetic million-point turn, shifting the angle of the tire by mere degrees every time he changes gears. “If iron can kill a star it sure as hell can kill you.”

There’s a pretty lengthy silence as Bucky continues his sad attempt at getting out of this predicament. Personally, he’s thinking about how, at this point, it would be faster to walk to their destination. Everyone else, however, is still hung up on his little proverb.

“What the hell does that mean?” Alex finally asks. Oh great, he’s here, too. Witnessing Bucky’s failure.

“It’s something Buck says,” Benny offers helpfully. “Something about stars dying when they start fusing iron.”

There’s a chorus of understanding hums that rise and then trail off as everyone realizes that it still doesn’t really make sense. 

Alex: “Is that… a threat?”

Curt: “Can it be a threat if no one knows what he’s sayin’?”

Rosie: “Kinda makes it more of a threat, doesn’t it?”

Alex: “I don’t usually know what Buck is sayin’.”

Curt: “That’s just cause he don’t say much.”

Alex: “Or he’s too smart for us.” The others make noises of agreement. Major Gale Cleven. Mr. High school valedictorian, graduated summa cum laude with a degree in aerospace engineering and a minor in physics. Whatever.

Bucky: “Got it!”

The rover lurches forward, nearly throwing Curt, completely unprepared, off the side. He reaches out at the last second to grab Bucky’s arm, and for a moment it seems like they both might take a dirt bath on the moon, but Bucky holds tight to the steering wheel and keeps them both on their feet as he drives triumphantly into the distance.

They’re heading in a straight line towards the sun on the horizon, and in Bucky’s mind they’re cruising at high speed like Thelma and Louise (though, ideally, not off a cliff). In reality, they’re bumping along pretty slowly towards a little greenhouse that’s going to house their little plants for their cute little moon experiment.

Bucky parks the rover outside of the greenhouse. They spent much of the day yesterday setting it up, flipping NASA’s assembly directions this way and that as they tried to make sense of them like a piece of IKEA furniture. It’s kind of laughable, how such an unassuming little structure can look so damn out of place. It’s not even pressurized, having to do nothing but stay standing and block some of the solar radiation. It reminds Bucky of the Wizard of Oz, as if a tornado just picked a greenhouse up off the Earth’s surface and deposited it in the middle of the moonscape, where it sticks out like a sore thumb. 

He steps down off the rover and walks around the back, where their first experimental payload is sitting on the bed. “LEAF” is printed across it in huge letters, and underneath, “Lunar Effects on Agricultural Flora.” 

Curt meets Bucky at the back of the rover and pulls down the little cart they’d brought with them. Together, they heave LEAF off the bed and onto the cart and wheel it, inelegantly and with a lot of swearing, to the door of the greenhouse.

“Okay, you go in, I’ll cover you.” Curt steps aside and presses his back to the greenhouse wall, holding his hands together in front of him in what Bucky assumes is supposed to be an approximation of a handgun. The effect is lost with the EVA gloves. 

Bucky glares at him – though that effect is also lost through an EVA helmet – as he opens the door and struggles to drag the cart over the threshold. “You’re an idiot.”

“I’m your idiot.”

Benny chuckles over coms. “Don’t let Buck hear you say that.”

“Buck ain’t here,” Curt says.

There’s a crackle, and then a warm, tired drawl. “Buck’s right here.” Bucky’s got no idea what time it is – that’ll happen when the sun stays basically in the same spot all day – but Mission Control must be in the middle of a shift change. 

Curt: “Shit, our cover’s blown.” He lowers his hands and steps away from the wall. 

Bucky: “Hey babe.”

Gale: “I’m watching you, Curt… Hi, John.” John smiles. It’s not darling or babe, but he grudgingly accepts Gale’s insistence on trying to speak professionally on shift. Even if Bucky refuses to do so.

Curt: “Actually, you’re only listenin’ to me.”

Benny: “That’s my cue to leave, boys. Have fun with your plants.”

Curt: “I will, thank you very much.”

Curt finally decides he’s had enough of watching Bucky struggle on his own and grabs onto the back of the cart, giving it a good shove that sends it the rest of the way into the greenhouse, narrowly avoiding knocking Bucky on his ass.

Curt: “Hey, Buck, wanna know what else I’ll have fun with?”

Gale: “No.”

Curt: “Bein’ Bucky’s big spoon since you ain’t here.”

Bucky: “Buck’s the little spoon. So that means you gotta be my little spoon.”

Silence.

Bucky wonders how hard Gale is blushing, and how many people just turned to stare at him in Mission Control. He wonders how many of them will start calling him Little Spoon, at least for the day. He feels a little bad. But only a little. Everyone’s always told him that he doesn’t have a filter, so it isn’t his fault that Gale married him anyways. 

Gale: “I want you to know, the only reason I’m not gonna give you both the silent treatment is because it’s my job to keep you alive.”

It’s a good thing Bucky won’t be home for dinner tonight, or any night in the near future, because he’s pretty sure Gale “everything you say is being transcribed” Cleven would give him the silent treatment for embarrassing him like that.

Gale: “Get to work, boys.”

Bucky’s not sure exactly how LEAF works, but they’ve been tasked with it anyways. It’s a little space-age terrarium straight out of a sci-fi movie that’s being housed within the greenhouse structure. Inside is an enclosed growth chamber, in which a few different crop species that Bucky has quite frankly never heard of are supposed to grow hydroponically. The chamber protects them from the lunar environment, allowing NASA to study the effects of space radiation and partial gravity on plant growth and stress.

Bucky and Curt have been instructed to give the seeds inside LEAF water and nutrients through some elaborate external insertion mechanism as well as monitor their progress every day. By the end of the week, they’ll hopefully be able to harvest some of the faster-growing plants.

Once LEAF is in place, Curt sets to work ripping strips of duct tape off the roll he keeps strapped to his EVA suit. He sticks them on the glass above each crop species and labels them: Duckweed, Field Mustard, and Thale-Cress. Bucky is setting up the cameras and sensors they were instructed to deploy around it. Gale is grudgingly forced to speak to them – and act nice about it – so he can relay instructions on what the fuck they’re supposed to do. 

“Is it working now?” Bucky asks. He’s spent far too long trying to get this one specific camera in front of the growth chamber to record.

“No,” Gale answers. “Did you turn it on?”

“Yes I fuckin’ turned it on.” Bucky crouches in front of the camera and gets as close to it as his helmet will allow. “Wait. wait wait wait.” He presses another button. “Okay now it’s on.”

Gale stays quiet for a moment, presumably waiting for video feed to pop up in Mission Control. “We see it now, Bucky.”

“Alright,” Curt says. “Let’s grow some moon plants!”

–

Thankfully, Gale doesn’t follow through with his threat of the silent treatment even after he finishes his shift and hands the console over to Helen. Thirty minutes after leaving Mission Control, he’s tucked into a small room at Johnson Space Center that they’ve designated “the Family Room,” where NASA has a direct two-way audio/video line set up for Artemis astronauts to talk to their family members, even on the moon. His tie is loose, top buttons undone, and his hair gel has given up. Exhausted, he takes a sip of his coffee. His… fourth? Fifth? Of the day? Maybe? 

Bucky has told him time and again that if he drank alcohol the same way he drinks coffee, he wouldn’t be sober a day in his life.

With Curt off in another corner of the lander, headphones on as he watches a movie downloaded on his NASA-issued computer, Bucky is in his commander’s seat. He’s looking back at Gale through the webcam on his own computer, for once able to talk to each other with some semblance of privacy. And they can see each other.

When the video call first connected, the first words out of Bucky’s mouth were that Gale looked like shit. Gale glared at him until Bucky rolled his eyes and gave him a more appropriate greeting. Then, and only then, did Gale drop the iciness and take the opportunity to talk to his husband.

“So you know how in The Martian they say once you grow crops somewhere you’ve colonized it?” Gale’s not entirely sure what part of their present conversation – about their elderly neighbor, Mrs. Mason’s suspected torrid affair – caused Bucky to ask this question.

To be honest, though, the ability, as CAPCOM, to disregard the why of an astronaut’s question and simply follow up without a second thought, is a trained skill. And Bucky has always been the only training Gale needs. “Pretty sure that’s not just from The Martian.”

Bucky narrows his eyes and shrugs. “Okay. But yeah?”

Gale nods. “Okay.”

“Are we colonizing the moon?”

“No.”

Bucky eyes Gale suspiciously and leans closer to the camera. “Why?”

Gale sighs and leans back in his chair, thinking about it for a moment. “Shouldn’t the plants be in the lunar soil to call it colonized? Yours are growing hydroponically above the surface. And they haven’t grown yet.”

“Are you just sayin’ that cause you’re still mad at me?” Bucky knew he wouldn’t escape his ‘little spoon’ comment unscathed.

Gale lifts his coffee cup and takes a sip to hide his smile. 

They sit in a familiar and comfortable silence for a moment before Bucky runs a hand through his hair and leans back. “I wish you could see this, Buck. I wish you were here with me.”

“I’m with you,” Gale reminds him.

“You know what I mean.”

Bucky glances out the window of Starship, and he looks so wistful and beautiful. His eyes are wide with love and wonder, at the beautiful alien world around him on one side of the camera and at the wonderful man that keeps his world turning on the other. He looks excited with a child-like awe, just like he looked on the station. Just like he looks every time he flies a plane. Just like he looked so often in college when Gale was still falling in love with him bit by bit. And just like he looked on their wedding day. That same wild wanderlust and love for the universe that has always blown Gale away. 

When Bucky looks at him again, Gale says, “Tell me about it.” He’s been right there with the crew almost every step of the way. He knows the mission plan inside and out. He’s seen the footage they’ve taken and he’s heard their reactions to almost every milestone. But he wants to hear it from Bucky. Not from Mission Commander Major John Egan.  

Bucky grins at him. “It’s like a dream, Buck. Like… nothing I’ve ever seen. It’s better than I thought it would be.”

“Even the whole being stuck in a space capsule and you die if you leave it without a suit thing?”

Bucky shrugs. “If I had to die, the moon isn’t a bad place to do it.”

He knows he made a mistake the moment the words are out of his mouth, and he’s not usually one to admit that. But he watches Gale deflate, his brow crinkle as he works his jaw and looks away from the camera. “Don’t say that,” Gale whispers at the same time that Bucky raises his hand and says “Sorry, not the time.”

Bucky knows that Gale is a little scared, no matter how much he tries to hide it from everyone else. He won’t say it out loud, and he would hate it if Bucky did. So Bucky doesn’t. He’d be afraid, too, if the roles were switched. And one day they will be. Gale gives a curt nod to his apology, and they don’t speak of it again.  

“The sun is always so low in the sky,” Bucky says instead. “Like you’re always waitin’ for it to rise but it never does. The shadows are something out of a nightmare, I swear to God. They’re huge and fuckin’ dark. We use flashlights to walk through them. You know that.” He tells Gale every detail he can think of about what it’s like on the moon. The way the shadows streak the landscape like spilled ink. The way the soil feels under his boots, sinking and crunching at the same time like the sharpest grains of sand. The way Earth looks so small and unassuming, how peaceful it seems even though they know it’s anything but, a little blue oasis in the middle of a dark universe. He tells Gale that he looks at that planet in the lunar sky every night before he sleeps, and he thinks about him. Gale was right, after all. He is sappy. At least about his husband. 

He tells him about the parts of the EVAs that Gale missed, when Benny was CAPCOM instead. He talks about the rover breaking not even a full day into its life cycle, the tire somehow coming clean off when it got caught on a rock and causing Bucky to tumble into the dirt (“I’m fine! Gale, I’m fine. Benny would’ve told you if I wasn’t fine”). He talks about the strange rock formation that he and Curt found yesterday morning – several giant boulders stacked on top of one another in a way that doesn’t look a) natural, or b) balanced. Then they start discussing the other experimental payloads that Curt and Bucky are scheduled to install in the coming days, but they quickly agree that talking shop can wait until they’re actually working.

When Gale yawns and rubs his eyes, looking distractedly off to the side, Bucky frowns. “Hey, doll, look at me.” Gale blinks and then does as he’s told, lazily tilting his head and raising his eyebrow in a way that says ‘happy?’ Bucky wants to reach through the screen and brush back the loose strands of hair that have fallen over his forehead. “You’d tell me if you weren’t okay, right?”

Gale huffs and nods, allowing the smallest smile. “Yeah, darlin’. I’d tell you. Just tired as hell.” 

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart.”

As their call comes to an end, they spend a minute or two simply staring at each other, taking each other in. Neither of them know when, or if, they’ll be able to schedule another call like this during the mission. 

“Stay safe out there,” Gale finally says. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Bucky wants to say ‘don’t count on it,’ flash a shit-eating grin, like they used to before either of them did anything remotely dangerous. It’s their little morbid joke. Their way of dealing with the uncertainty and worry without having to think too much about it.

But he knows this time is different. This mission isn’t like the others, and there’s no use pretending it is. Looking at Gale, seeing how exhausted he is and knowing how tirelessly he’s working on the ground, how much sleep he’s probably losing between his job and worrying about Bucky… hell, Bucky can’t bring himself to say it. He doesn’t want to risk making his husband’s face fall again today.

So instead, he says a quiet, “I miss you.” It makes the corner of Gale’s mouth pull up in a sweet little smile, and Bucky thinks he did something right.

Gale presses his fingers to the corner of the camera. “I love you.”

“Talk to you tomorrow, angel.”

–

When Gale gets home that evening, he grabs the mail out of their mailbox. Flipping through the various advertisements and envelopes, he stops short at the front door. Tucked into the middle is a piece of paper with unfamiliar, messy handwriting scrawled across it.

“Praying the queer dies on the moon.” 

Gale stares down at the message, then glances up and down their quiet, friendly neighborhood street. They’ve lived here for a few years now, since before Gale’s ISS mission. They’ve gotten to know their neighbors well. Other than Benny, who lives at the end of the road, it’s mostly a collection of young families – many of which are associated with the space center in some way – and retirees who have never been anything but kind to Gale and John. Everyone has always been very neighborly, and Gale would go so far as to call most of them friends. They have dinners together, throw a block party here and there, do the usual neighborly favors for one another. Hell, Gale’s even babysat for some of the families from time to time. John taught a couple of the kids how to ride a bike.

Certainly, none of them have ever expressed something like this, and Gale doesn’t believe for a moment that this message came from anyone around here. He has half a mind to go next door and ask Mrs. Mason if she saw anyone stick this in his mailbox. Aside from the fact that Gale is fairly certain the widow is having an affair with a much younger married man, she’s always looked out for him and John. She also takes it upon herself to play neighborhood watch and always seems to know everything about everyone on their street. If anyone saw this happen, it’s her. But he doesn’t want to worry her, and he certainly doesn’t want her telling their other neighbors about it.

He’s done a decent job of avoiding the worst comments on social media, mostly because he barely goes on social media unless Marge tells him he needs to keep up his online presence. He knows the naysayers are still out there, though. And now it’s crossed the digital line. 

If we’re lucky, the fag…

Disgusted, Gale grits his teeth, crumples the paper, and tosses it straight into the recycle bin with the rest of the junk mail. He takes a breath and tries to push down the anger. Then he walks into his house, the one he shares with his wonderful, brave husband, and he laughs as the dogs rush to greet him.

–

November 19

It’s close to 3am in Houston. Benny’s desk is littered with empty coffee cups, gum wrappers, and an empty takeout container from what he supposes is technically lunch. Meals don’t make as much sense when your work schedule is from midnight to 8am. Nothing makes as much sense when your work schedule is from midnight to 8am. He finds it funny: he used to eat tacos at 3am when he was in college, but that was a product of burning the candle at both ends rather than working the night shift. Night shift for NASA Mission Control.

Except, it’s not technically night shift either, because according to GMT, the time zone that Mission Control and the crew operate on, it’s actually nearing 8am. Which is a far less acceptable time for eating tacos.

The crew has been awake for two hours now. This morning’s wake-up alarm on Starship was Hot To Go by Chappell Roan. No one has admitted to choosing that song yet, but most people are betting on Curt. Benny, however, thinks it was all Bucky. He has to admit, there are few things funnier at 1am than a room full of extensively trained, highly professional, and terribly exhausted flight controllers in business clothes singing “H-O-T-T-O-G-O, You can take me hot to go” over and over.

“Missing the wife, Egan?” Benny asked once Bucky had shut off the alarm. There was quiet snickering from the flight controllers behind him. Bucky didn’t dignify that with a response.

Gale really doesn’t know what he’s missing with these wake-up calls. 

While Rosie and Alex are nearing apolune, the point in their orbit farthest from the moon, Bucky and Curt are now out on the lunar surface once again. They’re just about 15 minutes into their morning EVA, which is scheduled for 5 hours. Their first stop is checking in on LEAF.

Bucky: “Is that…”

Curt: “Yes.”

Bucky: “Hi there.”

The flight controllers look at the video feed in awe. 

Inside the growth chamber, two little seedlings have sprouted, tiny green leaves reaching up towards the sunlight. No matter how small, there’s something about seeing life take root in an environment designed to take life away that feels extraordinary. 

–

40 minutes in, and Curt and Bucky have driven the rover further out from Starship than they’ve gone thus far. That busted wheel is holding, but they’ve brought a repair kit with them, not liking the way it rattles here and there over the uneven terrain. “Ain’t no Triple A on the moon,” Curt had said as he tossed the kit into the rover. Then he looked at Bucky a little too pointedly. “But don’t think for a second that this is permission to do somethin’ stupid.” 

Either way, they made it to the other side of the connecting ridge next to Shackleton, and the rover is still intact. They’re surveying the surface, trying to hash out where they should install their second of three scientific instruments. The Lunar Dielectric Analyzer (LDA) is meant to use electric currents in the soil to detect the presence of water ice below the surface. The astronauts are also collecting soil samples for the geologists back home, dumping dusty regolith into bags and labeling them with their coordinates.

In the pitch black shadow of the connecting ridge, they have to work by flashlight. They were instructed to check a variety of sites, both light and dark, but they’re starting with the ones that receive less sunlight, since they’re colder and more likely to have the right conditions for ice to exist. Shackleton itself was identified by scientists as having ice deposits, making the ridge an ideal mission site. However, short of rappelling into the crater, which they will not be doing, this is the closest they can get to those known deposits at the moment. Bucky is closer to the crater, up on an incline with the rover, while Curt is further down, about 60 or 70 yards away.

“Note,” Bucky says. “Site B, sharp gray dust that won’t get the fuck off my gloves.”

“Hey, that’s what I have at site C!” Curt exclaims. He pops up in the distance, shining his flashlight up towards Bucky. Bucky shines his back, and Curt waves.

Bucky: “Houston, site B doesn’t seem any more promising than A, and I don’t like this incline. Thinkin’ we should stick to flatter surfaces.”

Benny: “Roger. We will eliminate site B as an option.”

Bucky: “Okay, I’m gonna head back down to Curt.”

Bucky steps up onto the rover and turns it on, waiting for the headlights to flicker to life. Then he eases into drive, and starts to slowly descend the slope. 

–

Benny sips on his coffee and jots down a few notes about the LDA candidate sites. They’ll have to make a decision in the next hour or so in order to stay on track with the EVA schedule. But with the issues they’ve been having with the rover, he doesn’t want to rush them along too much.

“Bucky, how’s that rover wheel doin’?”

“Seems fine,” Bucky replies, but Benny doesn’t like the hint of uncertainty coming through. “Still seems off, but goin’ smoother than it was.”

“I’ll check it when you get down here,” Curt says. “Might just need tightened again.”

Benny makes a note for Red Shift that they’ll have to build in time to troubleshoot that wheel a little better during the afternoon EVA. He relays the thought to Red Bowman, the Blue Shift flight director. He agrees.

“Alright Bucky,” Benny says. “We’ll get you guys some time to work on that wheel this afternoon. For now just take it easy and-”

“Fuck!” 

“Bucky?”

Benny hears Bucky’s breath catch, followed by a few aggravated grunts, and then silence.

What the fuck just happened?

“Bucky?” Benny glances around the room. Red and several of the other flight controllers are doing the same, many looking right at him. He blinks and looks at his console. His own heart rate is creeping up. “John? John, do you copy?”

Nothing.

He pushes his chair back and gets to his feet. He doesn’t know why, but he can’t stand sitting down all of a sudden. He tries to keep his voice steady as he watches the seconds tick by on the mission clock. “John, come in John.”

“Flight?” Smokey, the Blue Shift flight surgeon, looks first to Red, and then to Benny. All three of them are on their feet, forming a triangle that stretches across Mission Control as they stare at each other in alarm. The rest of the room is silent.

Smokey looks down at his console. “Major Egan’s vitals are all over the place. His suit pressure-”

Benny is suddenly aware of a very faint beeping noise coming in over Bucky’s coms. A suit alarm.

He’s very worried, just for a moment, that he might pass out.

–

From where he’s kneeling in the darkness of the ridge, Curt can hardly see anything. Since the moon has no atmosphere for sound to travel through, he also can’t hear anything other than the voices over coms. He scrambles to his feet the moment he hears Bucky yell “Fuck.” One word, but the tone in which it’s said is all too familiar to Curt, a fellow pilot. It’s a tone that’s, all at once, as horrified as it is resigned. The moment you know you’re going down and there’s essentially nothing you can do about it.

His flashlight beam barely goes far enough for him to make anything out for certain, but he can see glinting metal flashing through the darkness. Its pattern isn’t consistent enough to be the rover easing down the slope like it’s supposed to.

He squints, watching it for a few more seconds, before he says “Oh god.” The rover is tumbling end over end down the slope, and part of him can’t help but think how wrong it is that there’s no crashing sounds, no sound of metal banging and bending. It’s just quiet. Like a silent movie. Benny’s in his ear, trying to get John to respond, and Curt realizes that, wherever John is, he can’t respond. John’s not going to respond. And he knows he needs to tell Mission Control what he’s seeing, but there’s not enough room in his brain for that. All he can think is run. 

So he fucking runs. 

His boots slip and slide in the regolith as he takes awkward, bounding steps up the slope, too much effort for not enough gain. His suit is still stiff, keeping him from bending his joints enough to run, but he has to. He has to. 

Smokey must note that his heart rate is spiking, because Benny’s saying “Curt, are you okay? You’re using too much oxygen.”

“I’m not concerned about my fuckin’ oxygen,” he growls. The slope is getting steeper, and he starts stumbling over his own feet after about 20 yards. The beam of his flashlight is shaking uncontrollably, but he can see the metal of the rover somewhere ahead, reflecting the light. It’s finally come to a stop, about 15 more yards away.

He hears Benny ask, “Curt, do you have visual?”

“Uh huh.” That’s all he gives them, trudging on even as the loose dust and rock under his feet falls away, making it near impossible to get anywhere. He’s practically running in place like a damn cartoon. He slips and goes down on his knees, catching himself with his hands. His flashlight tumbles away and he lunges to grab it before he gets himself lost in the darkness. “Fuck fuck fuck.” 

He rips a piece of duct tape off the roll looped to his EVA suit and uses it to secure the flashlight to his shoulder. He adds a few more pieces over top, ensuring it’ll stay, and then he drags himself to his feet again. He’s breathing too hard. He knows with sudden clarity that if he doesn’t get himself under control, he won’t have enough oxygen to get back, just like Benny said. And if he can’t get back, he can’t save John.

He takes one more deep breath and then forces himself to calm down.

Benny is still saying John’s name. 

When Curt finally makes it to the rover, though, he knows there isn’t going to be an answer. All there is is a quiet beeping noise buzzing around Curt’s brain like a fly. 

The rover is on its side but, somehow, miraculously, still on, headlights shining into the shadowed unknown. That stupid left wheel is laying flat on the ground right beside it. All of the materials they’d packed, including the LDA payload and the repair kit, are scattered across the slope, and Bucky…

Bucky is lying on the ground, face up and half under the rover. When Curt gets to him, he drops to his knees and puts one hand on Bucky’s shoulder. With the other hand, he rips the duct taped flashlight off his suit and shines it on his commander’s face. “Bucky?” he whispers, even though he knows it’s useless. 

Bucky’s eyes are closed, and Curt can’t tell if he’s breathing or not. He realizes that the quiet, incessant beeping he’s hearing over coms is an alarm from Bucky’s EVA suit. In the glow of the flashlight, he sees something dark glistening inside Bucky’s helmet, above and behind his head. After a second, he realizes that it’s blood, seeping through his com cap. It's smeared across his forehead, too, trailing down his temple.

For all the oxygen he was using before, Curt can barely breathe, now. “Benny?”

“Is he awake, Curt?” 

Curt freezes, trying to sort through that question. Is he awake means he’s not dead. Houston still has his vitals. He’s not dead. 

Curt swallows and clenches his jaw. “Benny, we have a big, big problem.”

–

Alive. He’s alive. He’s alive.

For how much longer?

Benny is forced to remain calm, something he’s familiar with as a pilot. It’s just, usually, as a pilot, your crew members aren’t on another planetary body hundreds of thousands of miles away.

But he works through it anyway. Work the problem. Work the fucking problem.

He guides Curt through getting the rover righted, through pulling Bucky’s unconscious body away from the wreckage, through tracking down the repair kit, through reattaching the wheel. He’ll barely remember any of this by tomorrow. He barely remembers any of it now. 

He looks at Red across the room as a horrible, urgent thought strikes him right in the chest. “We have to tell Gale before Red Shift comes in.”

Usually, when an astronaut gets hurt on the moon, they wait until the situation is under control to contact the family. It’s just, usually, when there’s an astronaut involved, the family members aren’t scheduled to come in for a Mission Control shift in two hours.

Red's eyes lock on him, and Benny sees them widen almost imperceptibly. He nods. They both know: it has to be Benny. There’s no other choice. Red turns to the nearest flight controller and grabs them by the arm. “Get Helen here. Now.”

–

It’s raining. 

Fat, heavy drops pounding on the roof of the house in Nassau Bay. Pops of electricity flash through the sky, jumping from cloud to cloud, and the smell of damp Earth mixes with the salty air blowing in from the Gulf. 

But none of these are what wake Gale Cleven. 

It’s not even the dogs, with their wet noses and hopeful eyes and insistent whines. Instead, it’s a gentle hand shaking his shoulder. John?  

No, not John. Can’t be John. 

“Buck, wake up.” The voice is calm and low and yet… sad. There’s only two other people with a key to this house. One of them is Marge, and the other… shouldn’t be here either. 

Gale opens his eyes and stares out the window into the eerie, rainy night. Slowly, he turns his head to squint at Benny in the dim light of his bedside lamp. “Benny? Why…? Am I-” 

Why are you here? Am I late? Did I oversleep? That’s not like myself. It’s still dark outside.

These are all thoughts that don’t make it out of his mouth, stuck in the quicksand of his brain as he groggily turns his head and looks at the clock on the bedside table. It’s only 5am. He wasn’t even planning to get up until 5:30.

He stares blankly at the time for a few solid seconds, trying to understand, before his entire world comes to a screeching halt. If Benny’s here… 

Benny would’ve told you if I wasn’t okay. 

Gale’s heart starts pounding before he feels like it drops clear out of his chest, nausea rising to take its place. His lungs stop taking in air, and his hands scramble at the bedsheets as he tries to sit up straight.

No. 

Benny’s hand slides off Gale’s shoulder in his panicked movement, and the disappearance of that warm, comforting touch is another shock to Gale’s system. He’s untethered. A feeling of loss swells through him as he looks up at his friend. 

Benny is looking down at the floor, though, avoiding eye contact. He isn’t saying anything.

The room spins.

No. 

When Benny looks up again, Gale is staring back at him with the widest, most horror-stricken eyes, sitting there, looking exhausted and confused and wrecked and frightened, gripping too hard at the fabric of the old Yankees sweatshirt that Benny knows doesn't smell like Bucky anymore. Benny’s own heart breaks into pieces. He wants to fall apart right there and then, but he can’t. It's his job not to. Instead, he sits there calmly on the edge of the bed, puts his hand back on Gale’s shoulder, and he realizes that there’s a faint trembling there.

He takes a deep breath as he looks Gale in the eye. 

“No,” Gale whispers. He shakes his head. His breath starts coming back in slow and shallow spurts, like his body is trying to boycott oxygen until he knows that his other half is still breathing, too. “Is- Is he-”

Talk to you tomorrow, angel.

If we’re lucky the fag will die up there.

Praying the queer dies on the moon.

I love you.

If I had to die, the moon isn’t a bad place to do it. 

Don’t count on it don’t count on it don’t count on it... 

“He’s alive.”

Gale makes a terrible noise somewhere between a gasp and a sob, his heart and lungs going back to work in fast-forward as he bows his head, clutching it in his hands.

Benny swallows. “But it’s bad, Buck. It’s bad.”

…

…

Part 11

[where-dreamers-go]

"Summer Dreams And Warm Emotions" Dick Grayson x Reader

(A/N: Welcome to Part 6 for the soulmate au series for 60s Robin! Just in time for the middle of summer. This goes through the pair’s summer vacation while Reader is staying at the beach outside of Gotham City. These two have a lot on their minds while away from school and each other. They’re teenagers, so I wonder what’s on their mind? Or who?

Honestly, I’ve had notes ready, but started writing after I got back into reading books for fun.

Warnings: Some angst. Reader has social anxiety? Fluff. Use of (Y/N). Using the older name of: starfish instead of sea star.(If I left it in there.) Food selection made.

Word Count: 10,127 words)

<- Previous

~~~

Salty air of an early afternoon breeze welcomed you through an open window, cleansing the bedroom you were to share with your good friend Charlotte.

What a start of summer vacation! No dark cloud in the sky nor unsavory sights in the house.

I’d prefer my bed, but this isn’t bad at all.

A long way from Gotham City, you were given clarity and space from others’ loud opinions. Even if those with the loudest preferences traveled with you; the change in scenery preoccupied their thoughts.

Two months of sand, fun, sleep, an no street lights shining in at night, you thought happily as you unpacked your plush Sir Hopps. You had debated with yourself whether or not to bring your small blue and trusted companion along for the trip. There remained a sliver of guilt at considering leaving without him.

Your plush was dear to you. Why stop bringing Sir Hopps along when you had always done so?

The strange duality of change and sameness followed you from Gotham City. An air of familiarity with a scheduled vacation carried spots of reminders of what you left behind. Who you left in the city, with scarcely a well-worded farewell, to ponder on growing relations.

It’s like nothing happened, but . . . I know who’s emotions I feel every day now.

The thoughts, knowledge of your soulmate, made you smile unabashedly. You truly happy to know him. Grateful even. Dick Grayson was a friend you held dear to your heart; a hidden gem you were surprised to find.

Parting from him still played in your mind since you left his tight embrace.

It’s almost like a strange dream. You thought, watching the palm leafs sway outside. Hopefully I won’t have to remind myself it’s real. From school days to beach days.

Stretching your limbs relieved some discomfort from the car ride. Long hours of listening to the radio and conversing excessively was finally behind you. A summer of whatever you pleased lay ahead; restricted to the beach of course. You were a teenager not a bird.

From down the hall, you heard Charlotte’s mother announce gleefully how she was to walk down the beach, eager to see it.

Pushing your luggage to the end of the bed, you quickly changed into sandals. You were not yet ready for a swim, but you definitely wanted to see how the area may have changed.

“You coming?” Charlotte appeared at the door, all ready changed into her swimwear.

“Yeah.” You snatched a hat and left Sir Hopps to test out the bed.

Outdoors, a warm summer day surrounded you. A mixture of various tree species decorated the area around the beach house. Tall grass gave way to well-worn paths; an easy marker to find a popular location.

Happily thrilled to not be at work, Charlotte’s mother led the way over a short wooden bridge. A functional decoration your guardian had made fun of in the past for its lack of grandeur.

Thankfully, for the bridge’s sake, your guardian had volunteered to sort food into the kitchen. Likely an excuse to do it themselves or make a call to reassure someone of all of your arrival. Perhaps all of the above.

Ahead of you, Charlotte gasped, “People are surfing.”

Softly shuffling through the sand, you gazed into the distance and beheld more blue water in sight than people.

“Do you see them?” Charlotte asked and hurried closer to the shoreline.

Uh, you thought as a splash caught your attention.

“Were they far left of the rocks?” You asked, unsure.

“They were right there.” She urged, stopping before she reached the wet sand.

“I’m sure there will be plenty of time to watch surfers, volleyball players, and the like. We have all summer.” Her mother pointed out with a calm air.

Charlotte does not get the majority of her personality from her mom. You smiled at the thought.

She kicked at the sand and resumed her inspection as someone paddled through the water.

Well, you thought, at least the surfer is okay. Your sandals made prints atop of the sand as you headed to the right. The tide doesn’t look high right now.

Not far from sight of your friend, you ventured to the tide pools. A decent sized area with dark rocky surfaces trapping water and hopefully home to some sea creatures. A curious and always surprising spot to visit.

Cautious near slippery rocks and unseen animals, you got a closer look. An enclosed, wondrous little world was there to greet you. Tiny fish dodge any would-be dangers and a starfish clung to the side of a rock. Natural beauty free to see.

A light breeze returned to tickle your skin with fresh air.

You smiled again. You could almost laugh with the emotions overtaking your being. All positive with feeling more free to discover, go your own pace, touch the world, make any expression, and feel alive. The vacation had it all laid out before you. Any day of the week.

A slight flip of warm emotion, familiar, made itself known in your chest.

Lifting your gaze up, you smiled towards the horizon.

I wish Dick could see this place, you thought, hoping he knew you were happy. He could even meet Charlotte. That’d be entertaining.

Your thoughts veered back to when you parted ways for the summer break. All mixed emotions and words; you kind of wished you had told Dick more.

Told him, what? You sighed.

Some emotions were nameless and descriptions proved difficult in your mind. Being young meant your future held many learning opportunities. Perhaps experiencing more would aid you in recognizing feelings.

No matter how new and complex your emotions, you knew your soulmate was on your side.

✧ ✧ ✧

Back inside the stately Wayne Manor, Dick Grayson sat on the end corner of his bed. Calm, thoughtful, and slightly restless. He couldn’t concentrate in the living room or even Bruce’s private study.

Routines remained upheld even when the young ward would rather talk to you than memorize another Latin verb.

Dick Grayson’s mind was busy. No book or old toy plane in his room could gain his attention. An unfinished puzzle sat atop of a wooden board in a corner of his bedroom, a firm reminder of who he was missing those early summer days.

The familiar warmth of your voice that made him smile, how your hand fit comfortably with his own when you needed each other, your stories that grabbed his full attention, and hugs he never wanted to end were all cherished memories while you were away on a beach vacation. Without school days, it became difficult to think of anything else with his free time besides Robin duties and a soulmate’s bond.

Too bad that storm showed up, Dick thought. I don’t know what else we would’ve talked about, but it still would’ve been nice. He glanced down at your essay beside him on his bed. I wonder if they’d be nervous if I read their essay—while they were here.

Dick smiled at the mental image of you sitting in his room while eagerly awaiting his review of your end of year paper.

Exhaling quietly, he leaned back on his hands.

No homework or studying. We didn’t get much of that. He thought back to the day you two went out for milkshakes and how he drove you both back to the manor. We had to ask Bruce what we could do. Shaking his head with a smile, he remembered his first outing with you. I don’t think I’d ever had so much fun at a baseball game. Gosh, we barely knew each other then. His face warmed at the thought. At least it’s not all work. We can even have fun in a library!

Again, Dick pictured you in his room. All curious to his belongings and keepsakes. Questions on the tip of your tongue and a thin sweater the prettiest shade of ocean blue.

But his soulmate was not there. Not even a phone call to hear your voice. No number to memorize and a call to tell you that he hoped you were having fun.

Imagining you having a bright grin at some beach, somewhere, could almost mask how much he truly missed being with you.

It didn’t always work, especially for a teenager with growing feelings for his soulmate.

What a predicament.

A sliver of cold covered his fingertips.

Being alone made Dick Grayson greatly aware of himself. His breathing and even the feel of his socks were more noticeable. It was quiet, no distractions except for his own mind. His own excited curiosity of what his soulmate could be doing and what could be.

Dick no longer had a nameless shape of a person in mind, he knew you.

They could be doing anything right now, he thought while pulling at the corner of your essay papers. Maybe not anything like singing in front of a crowd or causing trouble.

He sighed.

I could be doing something besides sitting here.

Of course there was the obvious: to read your paper.

The youth had been looking forward to reading your paper since you offered. It had sat in his bedroom for days. Yet he wondered if he should wait, to keep it for a later time; like a surprise treat from you.

He couldn’t talk to you or see you during the summer. Your essay was the closest thing to hearing from you. Waiting to read it on a day he particularly missed you could prove to be helpful in the long run.

That all left Dick with two questions:

What was he going to do the rest of the afternoon?

And, how was he going to react when he saw you after summer break?

Heck, Dick thought with a slight twist in his stomach and heat to his cheeks. I hope I don’t kiss them in front of Aunt Harriet.

✧ ✧ ✧

Dawn had long since casted its blue-pink dewey glow over the horizon and trees. The earth’s temperature rising and creatures starting their day.

Without a need to rush, you sat down at the dining table with your breakfast.

“Dolphins!” Exclaimed your guardian from the front windows.

“Where?” Charlotte’s voice traveled from one of the bathrooms.

“They’re jumping!”

You chuckled into your breakfast as the excited chatter went throughout the beach house.

Again, you had no reason to run around. You had slept in well passed mid morning and did not regret a minute. You needed sleep.

To start a day relatively slow was almost abnormal for you, a teenager with school and social responsibilities.

It’s definitely a vacation, you thought with a smirk. And no social event for miles. You sat back and stretched your legs. Miles and miles away.

No anxiety with that any time soon.

If there was one time of year both you and your guardian looked forward to it was leaving the city to enjoy a mostly quiet beach. Sure, Gotham City had a beach, but it was incredibly popular by locals and tourists alike. Vacation meant relaxing. Relaxing to its fullest meant time away from the everyday rush.

No work. No projects. Not a morning full of traffic.

“(Y/N),” your guardian walked into the room, wiping their sunglasses with a cloth. “Did you want to see the dolphins?”

“Not right now.”

“They’ll swim away.”

“It’s okay. They might make a surprise return later.” You smiled playfully. “Never know.”

“Never know,” they repeated. “Any plans today? You remembered to bring a book?”

“I did. Uh… I think I’m going to look for different animals today. Maybe even a stingray when the tide goes out later.”

“All right, but don’t get too close.”

You shook your head immediately.

No way am I touching wildlife!

Knowing you understood, your guardian grabbed their beach bag from a chair and said, “I’m going to join Lauren. If you’re the last one out, can you grab the key?”

“Will do.”

“Remember to put on the sun lotion.”

“I will.”

“And please lock the door.” They added as they neared the front door.

“Okay.” You answered. “Where’d you leave the key?”

✧ ✧ ✧

A beautiful summer morning in the Wayne Manor. Most of the occupants were sitting around the coffee table, each reading, enjoying their time.

Only Dick Grayson read from an original work by someone he knew. Handwritten with purpose and knowledge of how the papers were to be held by his hands. A copy made specifically for him.

Seven sheets of paper, handwriting on both sides, held his curiosity. Edgar Allan Poe: Dark Masterpieces, a descriptive essay written by you. A short journey of three of Poe’s works and how each made you feel.

An interesting read for someone who could sense and feel your emotions. Having words help decipher your feelings was a definite bonus.

Is the poem not suppose to be creepy? Dick wondered as he read on to another page; your descriptions of The Raven making the youth question what he thought of the famous poem.

Each paragraph drew him in. Your words annotated the poems’ stories of grief, love, and reality. The works of Evening Star and A Dream Within A Dream were new to Dick, yet the familiarity of your words helped form images with understandings wrapped within your detailed emotions written so clearly.

Learning more of you in each sentence surprised Dick.

I sure didn’t think an essay would let me know how (Y/N) thinks. What they think about these topics anyway. Dick swallowed and shifted in his seat.

The initial expectation of reading your essay was to see Poe’s work through a different lens. Your writing in front of him gave him much more and Dick wasn’t sure he had been properly prepared. Between the talks of struggling with grief, love for something warm, and how people perceive reality—Dick knew he had to sit for a good while to think everything over.

I guess everyone has some sort of painful memories and thinks deep on what life means, Dick thought with a dip of cold in his chest, even (Y/N).

Surely, there was nothing to be worried about. It was all about life, the uncomfortable parts.

The Evening Star still confuses me though. Sure it’s warmer than the moon…but… Am I missing a metaphor or something?

Running his fingers along the margins, a soft glow of warmth bloomed high in his chest. Your words on the poem made Dick wonder with a glimmer of hope. For your words were a reaction to the poem as well as a glimpse into your heart: To love someone more than another, happily and in full acknowledgment, with their bright light of being must be a great shameless joy, familiar or otherwise. Perhaps that is what people seek and imagine with thoughts of their soulmate.

The mention of soulmate—your mention—had him tucking into the couch to cover his smile and whatever happy expression he wore. No logical reason had Dick react in such a way. No other words made him feel happier amidst the essay.

What complex emotions to have for an excitable youth. What a smile to have while thinking of one of his favorite people. His soulmate was quite a person indeed.

✧ ✧ ✧

Air rushed passed your ears and soft sand kicked up behind you. Ahead lay a partially full parking lot.

“Hurry!” Charlotte panted from about three paces behind you.

“We can make it!” You pushed yourself to run faster across hot sand.

“I can’t see it!”

“Come on.”

Reaching the edge of the beach, you vaulted yourself over a short concrete wall. A burning texture rubbed onto your bare hand.

“Whoa.” Your feet hit the heated pavement of the parking lot and motivation to move struck you. You took off towards the exit by the street in the distance where a familiar jingle rang out.

Late afternoon sun evaporated most of the standing water from the long thunderstorm that had washed the area for hours. Each step felt hotter than the last. Yet you two pushed onward.

There was a mission in place.

“I can still hear it.” Charlotte said from the other side of a truck as you two progressed. Waves of blonde hair billowed behind her.

Thank goodness, you thought, focusing on your breathing. Coins shook within the small zipper bag in your grasp.

Your feet struck the sidewalk and the path lead you closer to victory. Only half a block to go.

A familiar jingle of a song grew louder. Sunlight reflected off of its source, speakers set atop of a white ice cream truck. The brilliantly mobile store of limited frozen delights.

Sides pinching and feet burning, Charlotte and yourself made it to the end of a relatively short line for frozen sweet treats.

Less than fifteen people in total within a line at a beach was not bad at all. Unless the truck had a low supply of your favorites.

“What…was that?” Charlotte huffed, “Three blocks?”

“Felt like,” you coughed, “a little more.”

But we made it. Ha ha!

You were proud of you both. That truck could had taken off if no one eager was around. If you two had merely walked you would surely had missed the opportunity. Neither of you would had heard the song if you two weren’t outside looking at the effect the thunderstorm had on the beach.

The hard part was over and treats were hidden only about ten feet away.

Beside you, Charlotte smiled, “Are you going to tell Dick?”

Frowning with every ounce of bewilderment, you asked simply, “What?”

“About what we did.”

“Running to catch the ice cream truck?”

“No. How you leapt over the wall.” She clarified. “Didn’t you say he’s an expert in rope climbing at his school?”

“I didn’t say ‘expert’.”

“Sure.”

Her playful words held back a fraction of her underlying thoughts; how you spoke of your soulmate so graciously and complimentary.

“But he might be impressed by our athletic prowl-ness.” She nudged your arm with her right one. “He can hear how exciting you can be. You’re not all studying and books.”

You shook your head without a quick response. It never was easy to have one when a conversation came unexpectedly.

The two of you took two steps forward.

“I’m serious.” She stated more softly. “Show him how fun you can be. He knows how smart you are. From what you’ve told me Dick is one heck of an observant guy. Emotions are one thing, I know, but…”

You two shuffled closer to the truck.

“But maybe you can help him see there’s more out there than fancy dinners and school.”

You chuckled. Oh, he knows, you thought.

“And I don’t mean secretly meeting at the library.”

“Oh, no,” you laughed. “No running between shelves?”

“Not one. He’s your soulmate. Go out.”

Smile disappearing, you turned to your friend. You were met by an air of stubbornness.

“Out as friends.” You said clearly.

Charlotte gave you a hard look. “Fine.” She conceded. “We should get to meet him before you two catch feelings anyway. It’s our duty.”

“Our duty?” You repeated.

“As your friends, we hold the right, duty, and obligation to meet and give judgement to your soulmate. It’s required.”

“It’s in the friend contract?” Your smile slowly reappeared, egged on by your friend’s deep, genuine care.

“Always has been. Right after sharing fries.”

Smiles and laughter passed between you both up until you reached the open service window of the ice cream truck.

Finally.

Purchasing two treats each came easily for everyone involved. The two adults back in the beach house would surely be pleased with their surprise favorites.

After thanking the vendor, Charlotte and yourself started the walk back to the beach house.

One Fudge Stix for her and one Strawberry Shortcake for you. A sweet refresh to get you both through more walking.

Balancing a pouch of change and an Italian Ice in one hand and your treat in the other, you glanced up to the sky. Grey clouds dispersing to reveal more of the grey-blue sky.

Earlier in the day, the sky was bright as you all had gone swimming between looking for dolphins, stingray, and fish. It wasn’t until later that all of you ran indoors before a large thunderstorm reached the shoreline and drenched the area. You had spent those hours reading on the cool floor indoors.

The tile will feel real good now, you thought. I think I’ve had enough physical exercise today.

Laughing internally, you remembered a phone call you had with Dick weeks ago about running. True to your word, you ran after dessert. Perhaps not cookies in an oven, but ice cream that could had been driven away had given you a lot of motivation to move quickly.

“Sorry I bought the last Fudge Stix,” Charlotte said before taking another bite.

“It’s fine.” You managed to reply with your senses fully absorbing strawberry. “They didn’t have any cones either.”

It’s getting later, so, we’re lucky there were any left, you thought. Still bright out though. Oh! And the storm could have brought a bunch of shells and shark teeth. You passed through the emptying parking lot and considered the time. I could still look tomorrow. But I better focus on this ice cream.

You didn’t want it to drip and waste the wonderful taste. With that in mind, you still had to deliver the frozen surprises before it melted completely. An Italian Ice and an Ice Pop ready for the others.

✧ ✧ ✧

In Gotham City, among the moving traffic and popular buildings, Dick Grayson sat in the back of the car with both Bruce Wayne and his Aunt Harriet.

Conversation had settled and with the ever loyal Alfred behind the steering wheel, Dick looked out the window. The quiet and steady hum of the vehicle pushed the youth’s thoughts to be louder.

I should ask (Y/N) if they’d like to stay for dinner, Dick thought and pictured you at a table. Aunt Harriet wouldn’t say no to that. But what would we eat? I don’t know what (Y/N)’s favorite meal is. They like desserts. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t.

Streetlights casted a faint glow even as the sun continued setting. Light reflected off the city’s many windows.

Gosh, there’s still so much we don’t know about each other. Like, is there a class they don’t like? Where’s the furthest they’ve traveled? Is there an event they wouldn’t mind going to?

Sitting quietly, Dick considered the car’s current destination. Dinner, not a special occasion or celebration.

That could be an option, he thought, all of us out to dinner. One day.

The youth’s stomach growled.

At least he didn’t have to wait until that one day to eat.

✧ ✧ ✧

A light breeze came in from the beach, an added ingredient to relaxation with the slow sway of the couch swing.

You could fall asleep that way. Still digesting dinner, relaxing beside Charlotte, and enjoying the view. After another day of fun, it was nice. What vacation should feel like.

The horizon spill further into blues as the golden hues disappeared. Each sunset later than the last. Days grew longer as night shortened in the summer. Vacation, like most days, seemed to speed by more every year. So finding space to sit and absorb the moment as it happened was precious. Even more so when you were able to share it with a friend.

Charlotte was someone you had known prior to becoming a teenager. Ever since you two had sat next to one another in a science class, you had been as close as Chip and Dale.

Students who struggle to read a teacher’s handwriting stick together. That was the shared motto for a couple of years.

As of late, the motto was: sleep is gold.

And goodness was it ever! Maybe even better than gold. Sleep was definitely needed and, to you, preferable.

I feel like I can do much more during the day now, you thought. Almost forgot what it felt like to not be busy and tired. Thank goodness for breaks. Thank goodness for a bed!

You smiled to yourself.

Still using her leg to softly move the couch swing, Charlotte inquired in a hushed voice, “How did you know for certain—absolutely—that Dick Grayson was your soulmate? Minus anyone telling you?” Her gaze was fixed on the sunset.

“Umm. Beside a gut feeling…I guess it was between reactions that couldn’t be coincidence and kind of just knowing.”

“Just knowing?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Like how you know you like something or know you’re in the right place. It’s weird, I guess, but not any weirder than feeling someone else’s emotions.”

“Would it be strange if someone only felt their own emotions?”

“I don’t think so. Some people—”

“Elliot.”

“—can’t tell what most emotions are anyway.” You turned to look at your friend. “Did he say something?”

Charlotte shook her head. “Not to me. Lucy said he was borrowing one of her psychology books.”

A reactive frown formed on your face.

“I know,” she replied. “Not mathematics or architecture? Who knows, maybe you and Dick Grayson got him thinking.”

“Maybe.”

Both of you silently considered the possibility of your mutual friend’s new interest.

It would be neat if Elliot did research soulmates in any capacity, you thought. We could all learn something new.

✧ ✧ ✧

A summer night in the quiet, stately Wayne Manor and all was peaceful.

The Batcave remained dark and the manor’s lights were off. Everything was still.

Young Dick Grayson laid in his bed, awake and thinking of anything but sleep. Preoccupied by events that did and did not happen.

Earlier in the night before his drink of warm milk, as his aunt encouraged, and dental routine, the household had been stargazing. Bruce’s telescope had much use.

Out there, he found himself really wishing you were with him. Between listening to Bruce and gazing at the celestial bodies, Dick imagined what you’d say and do. He pictured you staying warm by his side. Just being happy. Two of you together and studying the night sky.

Dick Grayson smiled and rolled to his side. What a day, he thought. His mind was occupied by curious thoughts once more. From what the night could had looked like to next call on the Batphone to what his soulmate could be doing.

(Y/N) is probably asleep all ready. He tucked his hands underneath his pillow. The soulmate bond within him felt calm from your side.

It was odd for Dick to fully comprehend the situation alongside his feelings. He knew where you were and that you were fine. Yet, unfortunately for him, he wouldn’t hear from you. Not too unlike when you were punished unfairly for not attending a lunch. Even so, it would be the longest without hearing from you by far.

But they’re more than okay. They’re happy and haven’t been nervous at all. Not that I’ve noticed.

His smile grew picturing you at a beach house your guardian described to his Aunt Harriet. Perhaps you had also looked up into the starry night. Maybe you thought of him while taking a walk along the sand. Perhaps late at night you wondered if he read your essay or if he traveled to Gotham’s beach.

Does (Y/N) think of me often?

Inside, Dick felt sparks of delight in his chest.

Dick’s imagination surged on.

A warm, blue sky afternoon set the scene.

Dick, dressed in his swim trunks and shirt, crept across the white beach towards you. Your attention held by flying seagulls.

“Enjoying the view?” Dick asked with a growing smirk.

You pivoted on the sand with wide eyes and a beaming grin.

Like magnets, you two were instantly embracing and holding on for the longest time.

“You’re here!” You exclaimed, pulling away slightly. “How are you?”

“I’m fine.” Then with a small laugh, he asked, “Are you all right?”

The two of you shared a joyous laugh.

Your eyes quickly downcast as you without a doubt sensed his many feelings for you.

Would you be able to decipher them all?

Images slowed and Dick’s imagination ran off the sleepier he became.

Contently, you held his right hand.

Your lips pressed against his cheek. You kissed his other cheek.

Once more you kissed his face and whispered his name.

Fading images dispersed completely as Dick fell asleep with a faint smile on his face.

✧ ✧ ✧

Morning in the Wayne Manor brought warm sunlight into the rooms of the stately home. Birds chirped outdoors and the appearance of the sky hinted at a beautiful summer day.

Dick Grayson surely saw it as one.

The youthful ward had a bounce in his step since hopping out of bed. His mood was not unusual and therefore not questioned.

Hopefully not, Dick thought from his seat in Bruce’s private study. His mind replayed his dream again as he flipped pages in his Latin binder.

The familiar and partially restricted study of the millionaire Bruce Wayne should had been empty. A person who should not know the location of the Batcave should not be near its entrance.

You and Dick had been in there at night instead of keeping Aunt Harriet company.

Trying to keep quiet was difficult when books and papers were everywhere. He didn’t know why. Searching through the mess, Dick tried finding your essay to show you he still had it, that he read it.

It wasn’t until you walked passed him, did he realize you two shouldn’t be in there without Bruce.

Well, he could be.

Forgetting his first intentions, Dick grabbed your hand and held on tightly. He tried to pull you closer.

You were not to be there. Too close to the bust on the desk.

The thought of you in there, close to his secret, was alarming. He was thankful that part was a dream.

The dream version of you was much too interested in the bust for Dick’s liking.

Dick tried steering you away.

Until you turned and your open palm rested on his chest. His anxiousness forgotten. He found himself running his free hand up and down your arm slowly.

Dick sighed into the open binder.

The dream had ended before he could press his lips to your cheek.

I’m surprised I haven’t dreamed of them much before, Dick thought.

“Dick?” Bruce Wayne’s voice broke through his ward’s inner most thoughts.

“What is it, Bruce?”

“I had asked you a question about the current Latin verbs you have been studying.” Bruce eyed him thoughtfully.

“Oh. I’m sorry, Bruce. I was…remembering something.”

“Perhaps you’re distracted by romantic thoughts.”

Dick didn’t reply. Blue eyes downcast to his notes as his cheeks warmed.

Beep Beep

A call on the Batphone!

I have to really focus today, he thought as he rushed to Bruce’s side. I can’t let Bruce down.

✧ ✧ ✧

Summer vacation at the beach continued on. Hot days and warm night for you.

Cool air of the bathroom was something to hang on to before heading into the morning light.

Changing into your swim attire, you had a short time to yourself and a sense of peace while everyone had their own schedule. No work or school. Time for your thoughts to wander

Even miles away and days a part, you too had a dream featuring your soulmate.

Your first?

In complete privacy, you smiled.

The dream had been short, but delightfully cute.

You had been sitting on the ottoman in the Wayne Manor and looking through an encyclopedia when Dick sat behind you. Resting his chin on your right shoulder, he asked if you’d wanted to go somewhere.

After pondering over the sweetness of the dream, you couldn’t remember where he said.

But that doesn’t really matter. It was a dream. I don’t need to go anywhere, you thought. But it was cute. Peaceful. Better than those school nightmares.

Better indeed.

After sorting your belongings in your side of the room and leaving Sir Hopps to guard the room, you headed out to the water with Charlotte.

“OH. It’s always so cold,” Charlotte exclaimed as she stepped ankle-deep into the water.

“Better than it being hot. Just go and we’ll get used to it.” You shuffled further into the small waves faster.

“We did that yesterday and you fell in.”

“I was fine.” You turned your head to look at her only a moment before rushing passed the breaking waves.

“Good! I might still look into being First Aid certified.”

“Good.” You were far enough out to float comfortably. “Then Willa won’t think it’s strange for me to carry around bandages.”

“It’s a little strange,” she said as she soon joined you, “but only because we’ve needed them. That’s why I didn’t pack any.”

You laughed.

She’s never packed bandages!

“Watch out,” Charlotte started with a smirk, “I’ll tell Grayson about your bag of bandages.”

You laughed harder.

“And when I see him, I’ll tell him how you love The Monkees.”

“Oh, no,” you giggled, unafraid.

Floating about in the undulating water, your laughter settled as Charlotte started humming a theme song.

Between listening to the sound of the waves, your friends’s humming, and the breeze, you were being lulled into relaxation. Nothing too loud to disturb you.

The world around you appeared calm.

Waves carried you and your hidden worries away.

You closed your eyes, fingers skimming the water. Smooth. It reminded you of how dream you had fixed your soulmate’s hair after he approached you with such gentleness.

“Now, I have to ask…,” Charlotte treaded water closer to you. “What’s Dick Grayson like as a soulmate?”

“A person?” You looked over at her and caught her playful expression. “He’s a good friend. I’ve told you that before.”

“I saw that little smile. You thinking about him?”

“I think of other things.” You defended.

“Except about thirty seconds ago.”

You flicked water at her.

“That’s true, but that wasn’t your thinking-of-cute-animals smile.”

“… That raises questions.” You blinked at her. “But…um… What was I even going to ask?”

Looking around, your gaze surveyed the beach line.

Goodness, what’s it with her questions? Dick’s personality, soulmates, and repeating questions—

“Why is it that you want me to admit feelings for him?”

Charlotte no doubt knew which him.

“Because you’ve been getting defensive lately.”

“It’s like you’re asking the same questions. You, Lucy, Nathaniel… You’ll meet Dick eventually, yah know.”

Quiet settled between you both. Two pairs of eyes staring at the other.

This really is about if I have a crush on Dick or not, you thought sourly. Exhaling slowly, you swam a little closer to shore and glanced at the puffy clouds. I don’t think I’m ready to fully answer that question.

✧ ✧ ✧

One beautiful Wednesday morning in Gotham City, curious shoppers roamed a hat salon.

Harriet Cooper stood thoughtfully as an employee displayed a new decorative hat.

“Oh, I just don’t know.” Aunt Harriet said as she checked herself wearing the hat in a small mirror.

“I believe the blue one had suited you better,” said Bruce kindly.

Aunt Harriet considered it silently.

All the while the employee excused themselves to fetch the other hat again.

The hats are all so different, thought Dick. I don’t see how she can pick one.

Standing quietly and patiently, Dick Grayson viewed the salon as decently busy.

Suddenly, a teenager no older than him walked up to him with a smile.

“Hi,” said the teenage boy with light brown hair and a bright shirt. “Dick Grayson, right?”

“I am.”

Who is he? Dick thought as he held out his hand.

“I’m Nathaniel. (Y/N)’s friend.”

Surprise and delight came from hearing a familiar name.

Holy coincidence.

“Hi. How are you?”

The two shook hands enthusiastically.

“Fine.” Nathaniel answered. “It’s good to put a face to the name in person. (Y/N) has spoken highly of you.”

“Oh.” Dick smiled. “Likewise. (Y/N) has said how you want to be a movie director.”

He laughed, “Or critic, whichever gets me closer to watching more movies and how they’re made.”

Dick found his soulmate’s friend easy to talk to. He definitely didn’t expect to cross paths with one of your friends by chance.

A hand touched his shoulder. Bruce Wayne.

“Aunt Harriet, Bruce,” said Dick, “this is Nathaniel. One of (Y/N)’s friends from school.”

“It is so good to meet you.” Aunt Harriet smiled sweetly and genuinely.

“Likewise ma’am.”

Stepping forward, Bruce shook hands briefly with your friend and said, “It’s nice to meet you, Nathaniel. May I ask which movies you’re interested in?”

“Yes, sir.” He nodded. “Mainly documentaries, mysteries, and historical fiction. Anything that has the audience thinking during the film and after.” Nathaniel glanced over to another part of the store for a second then said to Dick, “You’re welcome to join our group to the movies. We usually go watch something before the start of school. Catch up and all.”

“That’d be fun. Thank you.” Dick grinned.

“We’ll both have to tell (Y/N) I invited you.”

“Right.”

He looked to the side again and gestured with a hand. “I’m picking out a hat for my mom. Her birthday’s soon and I have to hide it.” Nathaniel chuckled. “It was nice meeting each of you.”

“You too.”

With a nod, your friend walked back to another smiling employee.

“What a sweet young man,” Aunt Harriet stated.

Before anyone could reply, the well-dressed employee took their chance to step in with a blue hat from earlier.

The movies. Dick thought with growing excitement. Would all of their friends be there? And—GOSH—I didn’t expect to meet (Y/N)’s friends soon. Well…one of them right now. He rubbed his hands together. (Y/N) and I really should talk about it. They are (Y/N)’s friends after all.

A swirling feeling in his gut continued as he considered a future meeting with your friends.

✧ ✧ ✧

“There’s sand here too.” Charlotte pointed to the edge of the hallway.

“Didn’t we just sweep?” You asked, tip-toeing around the small sandy path and entering the bedroom.

“Yes, but you’ve seen my shoes. It’ll be weeks before I get all the sand out of them to—I swear he didn’t have that book before.”

Huh?

You glanced over to see Charlotte pointing at Sir Hopps. Your small blue plush bunny had the Prince Caspian book beside him.

Smiling and heading to your luggage, you decided not to reply.

Charlotte gathered a set of fresh clothes and headed out to the bathroom down the hall.

I can do it now, you thought.

Slipping out a bright, loose leaf paper as quietly as you could, you settled yourself on the floor between the wall and your bed. Time to yourself. A quiet secluded spot to attempt working through developing thoughts and feelings.

You twirled a pen between your fingers.

Being more around Charlotte and talking a little about your soulmate made you wonder a few things. All right, a lot of things were on your mind and thankfully writing them out helped you at least keep track of where your thoughts were headed.

Crush or no crush, he’s my friend. Just a little different. You thought as you scribbled down a question.

What made Dick Grayson different than your other friends?

An important question to revisit.

Sure, you could sense each other’s emotions, but you knew your friends well enough to know how they felt most times. Observation and all. Maybe it was his large capacity for empathy.

He cares so much! Even for those he would never know. And helpful. You thought briefly of his secret life. Kind of almost unbelievable at this point. It’s a lot to comprehend and I don’t think he’ll ever bring it up.

It was probably for the best.

All of that in his heart and weight on Dick’s shoulders. You admired that about him. He acted out of selfless compassion.

He’s always working on improving. At this point, I really don’t think he goes to spend time with his own friends at school. You couldn’t help but to frown a bit at that. Robin duties?

Exhaling, you focused on your emotions. Nothing too out there. Thinking of your soulmate as also being Robin the Boy Wonder felt like a fictional story. That’s as comfortable as you could get with the fact.

None of my other friends have drastically different activities in school versus at home. Not that I know of.

You elected not to write down any secrets that were not our own. Just in case.

Even with your private writings, you would not risk it. Not him, you could not handle ruining a part of Dick’s life. You would never dare to even leave a mark.

People need him. And Dick always puts others first. Heck, he helped me before we officially met! You thought, leaning back against the bed. We know each other now. Mostly study habits and little things like after school activities.

But you wanted to know more. There was nothing odd about wanting to share more interests with Dick. Nothing strange about hugging your soulmate more than friends you’ve had for years.

Being soulmates is…like being connected more. A quick glance out the window and the trees looked to be swaying slowly. Another calm summer day. Just a couple of weeks left of vacation.

Once you were back home in Gotham City, you weren’t sure what you and Dick would be up to later in the year. A new school year and holiday seasons were on their way.

“Oh,” you said quietly. Pen and paper set aside.

Would we be together during certain holidays? Or are we not close enough for that? I’m not sure how this works. My guardian might like it. Charlotte and Willa have come over during winter break once. We exchange gifts—OH!

Snatching up the pen, you wrote quickly: When is Dick Grayson’s birthday?

I don’t think I’ve missed it. I hope I didn’t. Aunt Harriet would’ve said something. What would I even get him? You were mentally drawing a blank. I have time. Hopefully. I guess I’ll have to ask. If I can hold his hand in public, I can ask him when his birthday is. No big deal.

Despite your thoughts, your stomach still fluttered.

A small worry about finding a perfect birthday gift couldn’t be all bad. You wanted to get him something he’d like; of course. Something that’d make him happy. To smile.

For Dick to smile like when you slid into Aunt Harriet’s car. To see him grin as that time you made a silly face. Or even the joy he had shared while you told a story side by side at a baseball game.

Your mind flickered back to the car ride back home when his knuckles went from red to white and his eyebrows knitted together.

You swallowed as a heaviness settled over your heart.

He really didn’t want me to go yet, did he?

Memories of resting your head against his and trying to keep emotions in check for both your sakes could almost be felt. Reliving it tightened your throat.

I guess I mean a lot to him.

It was hardly a guess. Caring and respecting the other was mutual. To holding hands tightly to holding discreetly, there was something left unsaid. A warmth you were growing familiar with.

Dick acted upon it more.

You weren’t sure how to react or view your surprise to Dick’s kiss on your cheek and his sweet smile. It was different. New from him.

How it was specifically different and why?

You had no idea where to start. But the heat that rose to your neck and fluttering in your chest hinted at something still developing under each smile. Would you write that down too?

✧ ✧ ✧

Back in the stately Wayne Manor, Dick Grayson sat in the living room with a binder of Latin on his lap.

Sights on paper and mind busying itself with internal images, Dick might as well set his studying aside for the day. He had been brushing up on a few words. Honest, he was.

Until one word switched his train of thoughts and he was able to remember more of another dream he had of his soulmate.

A less frantic dream. One where he was attempting to take you to his room, to show you, but Dick had trouble finding the right door. Confusing as it was, he mainly held your hand to make sure you were still there. Dick didn’t want to lose you, even in the manor. Throughout it all, dream-you kept reassuring him everything was fine.

A light comforting warmth settled in his chest. To his annoyance, the fumbling feeling of embarrassment joined in.

I must think of (Y/N) so much that I’m dreaming about them. Dick figured that was far better than any bad dream about large clams, forgetting homework, or being trapped.

Fingers clenching and relaxing alternately, Dick didn’t bother looking at his notes anymore.

“Is everything all right, Dick?” Bruce asked as he set down a textbook.

The youth sighed, “I guess.”

“You guess?”

“It’s… I was thinking about (Y/N)—I was studying, I promise,” he reassured Bruce. “This sounds ridiculous, but I was thinking of how I think of (Y/N). Well, how often. Some times it feels like a lot.”

“It’s normal to think of others, but you have to be mindful not to let your romantic imagination distract you.”

Dick nodded solemnly.

“You’re soulmates and you each have responsibilities.”

“I know, but we don’t have any examples of people like us together.” Dick spoke more passionately. “No one to look to. Heck, I never thought much of it when I was a little kid. Now… Well some times I barely notice their emotions and other times…”

“It’s overwhelming.”

“Yeah and I think when we’re together it’s easier to feel or it’s more noticeable. I dunno.” He shook his head and leaned further into the couch. “What are soulmates supposed to do?”

“Be authentic to yourselves.”

“But why do we feel each other’s emotions? Is there a reason? We can help each other, in our own ways.” Dick exhaled and lightly hit the armrest. “But I’ve worried about them too with nothing I can do.���

Bruce was quiet for a moment, contemplating.

Dick Grayson didn’t know what else to say. Too many questions repeating in his mind. A sharp contrast to the silence of the room.

“(Y/N) and yourself have an opportunity to learn what many of us can only theorize or hope to experience. The two of you will be future examples for soulmates who find one another.”

Mixed emotions in the youth settled as an understanding was accepted.

Blue eyes looked to Bruce.

“I still wish there was a book about soulmates.”

Bruce chuckled, “There are, but I’m afraid they won’t answer your specific questions.”

“Darn it.”

Bruce rose an eyebrow and added, “You could write a book yourself.”

And write what?

✧ ✧ ✧

Waves were perfect and picturesque. Rolling onto the shore in a soothing rhythm.

The ideal sounds to listen to as opposed to Charlotte and her older cousin talking to some boys with surfboards.

You weren’t quite in the mood to socialize a great deal with strangers. Added the your friend’s eagerness seemed almost forced. So, instead, you took to walking the shoreline barefoot.

Smiling, you watched as the water slowly moved in to tickle your feet. In another second or two, the sand beneath you softened.

I could easily sink into the sand, you thought. Like a little crab. Minus the claws.

You glanced further up the beach to where your guardian and Charlotte’s mom Lauren sat under an umbrella. No doubt they were still switching stations on the portable radio. The pair had been having just as much fun as you and Charlotte.

Thankfully it was that sort of vacation and not a stressful schedule filled one. At least it wasn’t boring either.

Dick would’ve loved seeing all the birds yesterday. Probably would’ve debated whether or not one was a flamingo… Charlotte thought it might’ve been a crane.

Laughter caught your attention. A sudden mixture voiced by the small group that included your friend down the beach. They all seemed friendly together.

A faint coolness filled your stomach and limbs.

Should you had joined them? You weren’t about to ask your guardian that.

Dick would talk with them.

You sighed.

Oh, well, you thought and continued your walk. I don’t want to intrude on their surfing anyway. The waves are —

A large jolt of surprise hit you like a wall. You barely got a breath in before waves of panic and worry also flooded through your soulmate bond.

Your own spiky anxiety surfaced.

Looking around you quickly, you shuffled across the sand away from the water. You needed to be alone. Out of direct sight from others.

There was a soft thump as you sat upon dry sand. Distanced enough from others, you were a little more free to focus on your breathing than worry about keeping a neutral expression.

You could keep calm for your soulmate. You knew that. It had been done before.

Images in your mind filled with red, green, and yellow of a familiar suit.

You can do this, you thought, but not solely for yourself.

On the beach, unbothered by anyone, you sat for some time thinking of happier thoughts.

Sitting side by side with a smiling Dick Grayson, close and secure. Both of you holding hands while birds flew by.

He’ll be okay. You told yourself repetitively. He’ll be okay.

✧ ✧ ✧

Late evening, back and safe in the Batcave, the caped crusaders exited the Batmobile. Both were relieved to have escaped and foiled Egghead’s plans.

Stretching his arms, Robin announced tiredly, “Boy, did I work up an appetite.”

“I’m sure Aunt Harriet will have a nutritious meal ready.”

“Mmm.”

Robin had no idea which dinner was to be shared up in the manor, but he knew without a doubt he’d clear his plate. Or bowl, depending on the meal.

After sorting everything in the Batcave, lights off and put away, the duo went up the Batpoles.

A long day of crime fighting left Dick Grayson in need of rest too. Not just food was on his mind.

All right, the teenager was thinking of his soulmate again.

Could you blame the excitable youth?

It wasn’t as if he was the only one.

“Gracious me,” said Aunt Harriet at the dining table, “today must have been the warmest yet. I could hardly stay in the garden to tend to the flowers.”

“Yeah. The sun was hot enough to fry an egg.” Dick announced over a plate. “Or the hair off my head.”

“What?”

His aunt’s perplexed expression made Dick realize his slight slip in words.

“Oh. Well we could all imagine the great temperatures at a desert in Arizona or the beaches in Florida.” Bruce Wayne changed the direction of the conversation.

“Oh. A trip to the beach would have been so refreshing today. Too bad you boys had to attend that meeting.”

“Our responsibilities do come first.”

“Well,” she tilted her head in thought with a soft smile, “I am glad that (Y/N) at least gets to enjoy the sun properly. Oh, but imagine the sunsets they’ve seen on the beach. The sound of the waves.”

Does (Y/N) watch sunsets? Dick wondered to himself.

“I’m sure (Y/N) has many opportunities,” Bruce said before looking to his young ward. “It’s nearly the end of July.”

The youth’s eyes widened and he exclaimed, “Holy time clock. (Y/N) could be back next week.”

“Or earlier.”

For Dick Grayson, both excited and eager, counting down the days until your return started then at dinner. The mere mention of the end of your beach vacation gave him hope for a summer together. Even a short one.

Summer holiday from school appeared long on a calendar, but days went by fast enough. Some times in a blur of other events.

Days without hearing from you and seeing you gave an eerie sense that Dick made everything up in his mind. Everything was as it had been.

But he knew that wasn’t the case; you were real. You were his friend and Dick cared about you deeply. He had protected you from Penguin’s goons before he knew your name! He had held your hand to reassure you everything would be fine on numerous occasions. Dick had helped sneak you out of a library. Overwhelmed, he had kissed your cheek. And he missed you.

Dick wanted to hear you laugh again and sit so close to you that he would surely be scolded by his aunt.

They could be back in Gotham any day. Dick thought joyfully and ate the rest of his dinner in gusto.

✧ ✧ ✧

I forgot how loud my family can be, you thought as you walked down to the beach.

Later into the morning, Charlotte and yourself found yourselves listening to all sorts of gossip from your two cousins. The pair had managed to drive out to the beach to stay the night.

The beach house was more crowded and filled with laughter than ever. Hugs had been shared most of the morning.

You hadn’t seen your two cousins in months; around the last birthday of an older relation.

A day of relatives roaming the rented home. You and Charlotte were thankful her older cousin had gone days prior for the sake of sleeping arrangements.

“I couldn’t sleep hearing those trees move at night,” exclaimed your tallest cousin in blue. “Doesn’t it sound like an animal?”

“We’re sleeping,” replied Charlotte. “How should we know?”

Smiling, the four of you crossed the wooden bridge in no time.

“The beach is much quieter than a big city like Gotham, I’m sure.” Said your second cousin, wearing one of the biggest hats you had ever seen.

“It’s different noises.” You shrugged.

Pulling briefly on their blue shirt, your cousin looked over their shoulder.

No adult guardians in sight.

Your shoulders tensed, knowing general conversations were off the table.

“All right,” they said grinning. “We’ve been dying to ask for weeks. Did you really find your soulmate!”

Two sets of eyes tried boring into your soul with their intensity. Waiting for your answer wasn’t something they could handle for long.

“Yeah.” You answered as simply as possible. Letting a small smile form wasn’t the end of the world.

“And you just ran into each other?”

“Not literally…”

“But you knew somehow?” Asked your cousin who adjusted their hat.

“It was kind of weird, but yeah.”

“Wow, (Y/N) has a millionaire as a soulmate. What are the odds?”

You frowned.

Meanwhile, Charlotte bursted out laughing. Her hand holding onto your shoulder for balance.

Dick…a millionaire? Well some information didn’t travel to everyone.

“Someone said he was.”

“He’s a ward to the millionaire Bruce Wayne,” you clarified.

“Your guardian must love that.”

You held in a reply.

Abruptly ending her laughter, Charlotte replied firmly, “At least (Y/N) won’t be completely bored when going to the higher social events in Gotham City. They have their soulmate now too.”

Yeah, you agreed silently.

Over the sandy beach, the four of you stood in an odd circle. Grouped together, but not on the same page.

The tallest of your cousins squinted at you and asked, “You’re not left alone with him, are you?”

“What? No…” You glanced between your family, attempting to get a read on their emotions.

Why would they ask that? You wondered, Dick’s my friend.

“That’s good.” They nodded, satisfied.

“But… Why did you ask that? We’re not dropped off in the woods alone or anything.”

“You’re both teenagers.”

“So? We’re friends not complete strangers.”

“Still.”

If you were confused before, you were bewildered and lost right then.

“He’s nice and a caring person,” you insisted.

Your cousins regarded each other silently.

Teenagers. Alone? Are they serious right now?

Heat radiated from your jaw and chest as it quickly expanded over your fists.

Voice seconds from cracking, you declared, “He’s not a bad person and just because we’re soulmates doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”

“We didn’t say that.” The cousin holding their hat said immediately.

Charlotte stepped forward, alarmingly calm. “He’s a millionaire’s ward who spends most of his time learning random things like Latin and world geography. (Y/N) and Dick put school before anything else. They’re the perfect study partners. Someone would have to kick them and give an hour lecture before those two would even consider going for a drive alone.”

Again, your cousins exchanged looks.

You felt no closer to knowing what was going on in their brains. Yet you were grateful for Charlotte’s help.

Your increasing heart beat didn’t help your train of thought.

“Wait. You’re not secretly dating him? Your soulmate.”

“No.” You gestured widely and asked sharply, “Why is that the first thing people go to? There are other things. Like…just living more comfortably with someone who actually knows how you feel. Someone to be honest with, without pressure of trying to figure out if you unintentionally made someone mad or if they had a bad day.” Chest heaving, your words stopped.

“Sorry.”

And just like that the conversation was dropped.

You were relieved it was over. Questions and assumptions could go so far before they hit a nerve.

A walk around the beach soon ended as well. The group of teenagers headed back indoors to take a break from sunlight and awkward chatter.

Door partially shut, you sat beside Sir Hopps on the edge of the bed. From there you could hear the others singing along to an Elvis movie.

You weren’t in the mood. Earlier you would had been, but not after the short interrogation from your cousins. A sour turn on the day.

Again, you had turned to writing. Your notes formatted into a letter for Dick Grayson full of details you wanted to tell him. Even with the letters addressed to your soulmate, you were the only one who knew of the letters’ existence. For that, you were satisfied. This one would join the others hidden in your bedroom back home.

Writing letters helped sort some thoughts. Your cousins’ choice of words among them. It annoyingly repeated in your mind.

You figured there were an amount of people, you didn’t know how many, who thought soulmates were immediately romantic.

How fast did people want to go? You shouldn’t force anything. You frowned while glancing at the wall. Is that why people really talked about me and Dick more? Because we’re young? Because teenagers are known for sports, school, loud music, and late night dates?

If you were home, you would had resulted in screaming into your pillow as a last resort to get out the day’s frustrations.

Okay. Breathe, you thought. Uncomfortable heat had already returned to your hands. It’s just odd. That’s all. People are just being weird for thinking two people who know nothing of one another should run off to an empty room and kiss. This isn’t a movie!

You blinked and twirled the pen around.

What movies have they been watching? You weren’t quite sure you actually wanted to know.

Squeals came form the living room. Happy movie watchers.

Mind trained on calming yourself, you thought, a soulmate is a stranger when first meeting and only then an acquaintance after that. A trusted acquaintance hopefully for most. Emotions give everything away. Unless someone can’t tell the difference between them all, I guess.

Logical words for a rightly emotional teenager. Much was already on your shoulders.

Being a teenager came with many changes, challenges, and lessons. Navigating what people thought about you and your soulmate added questions to your still developing mind. Doubts was something you didn’t want.

Some times it was too much. People’s opinions and unsolicited advice were striking even if they were spoken evenly.

Must it always be what others think? You wondered as you folded the paper into your luggage. They’re not me and they don’t know Dick. Some don’t know their soulmate. You glanced over to Sir Hopps, quiet and reserved. Why do they speak the loudest about us and how we should be? Always other people…

You placed your hand over your heart. A steady rhythm felt under your open palm.

What does being soulmates mean to me?

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~

Part 7 -> "

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[readyforthegarden]

Eternal - Part Twelve

A vampire!gvf multi-part dark romance AU (Josh Kiszka x reader, GVF x reader)

Masterlist

Warnings: 18+ Only Minors DNI. smut (fingering f!receiving, penetrative sex, slight rough sex), angst, mentions of blood, death, vampirism.

A/N: hi 🫣 i just want to say thank you to everyone who still reads this fic and enjoys it, and the people who have checked in on it's progress (or lack thereof). i got really into my head about this fic and every kind word means a lot to me, really and truly. please enjoy this installment!

WC: 4188

Fall was beginning to take a hold of the world, the trees around the manor beginning to lose their bright summer greens in favor of maroons and oranges. Normally the first signs of fall had you tripping over yourself with excitement, cooler weather, cute sweaters, apple cider and sugary cinnamon donuts all within an arm's reach. But now, all it reminded you of was everything you missed. Would you get to experience the sun warming you on a chilly October day in your future? Or would you spend centuries pretending the moon's rays were just as good?

You had been curled up on a couch, looking out a window in one of the sitting rooms on the main floor, watching a steady rain shower pelt the grounds. It had been nearly a full week of rain, and you were growing tired of it. The gray skies gave enough cover for the vampires of the manor to feel at ease moving about with the curtains opened, but they still stood out of the way in case the clouds broke. 

“Hey,” looking up, you saw Danny standing in the doorway. 

“Hi,” you hadn’t spoken to him about the new ‘arrangement’ between yourself and the Kiszkas. In fact, you weren’t sure how to. Were you supposed to come right out and tell him you were potentially going to sleep with everyone in the house but him? How would he react to that? And worse, if you told him you fought for him to be added, how would he react then? Danny was a good man, immortal or not, and good men were never typically the ones that were attracted to you. 

“I made a few sandwiches for lunch, if you wanna join me?” Danny smiled sheepishly at you. It made you feel guilty, how you had started to avoid him to spare the awkward topic if it came up. His smile was so hopeful, you couldn’t find it within yourself to say no.

You walked with him to the kitchen, the back of his hand gently grazing yours on the short walk to the kitchen. Taking a seat on one of the stools at the counter, Danny went to the fridge and retrieved a platter of sandwiches he made. They were covered in plastic wrap and looked like they were perfect for a picnic. 

“You’ve been distant the past week,” Danny murmured softly, setting the platter down in front of you and removing the wrap. You shrugged in response, not knowing what to say. “Listen, if you’re acting weird around me because of the little agreement you have with the Kiszka’s, it’s okay.” Your eyes snapped up to Danny’s. He gave you a half-smile before grabbing some paper plates from a cupboard and placing one in front of you. 

“How did you…”

“I’m still Sam’s best friend, even after all these centuries.” Danny winked. “But I’m not judging you for it. I want you to know that.” your shoulders relaxed at his words, more tension than you had realized you’d had releasing from them. 

“It wasn’t…it wasn’t just that I was afraid of you judging me..” you took half of a sandwich off the platter, setting it in your plate. You fixated on the leaf of lettuce hanging over the edge of the bread, taking your nail and ripping it. 

“What else was bothering you?” Embarrassment swelled in your chest, heat rising through your body and prickling your cheeks and ears. 

“That you weren’t a part of it.” you whispered. You didn’t see the expression on Danny’s face. The shock at your admittance, the wave of satisfaction as he realized you felt what he felt too, and the anger that pressed his lips into a thin line for it to all be swept away as quickly as it came. 

“I’m sure there’s a good reason,” Danny cleared his throat. There was a sense of dejection in his voice, and it cracked your heart. You sighed, picking at the crust of your sandwich. “The Kiszka’s always have their reasons.” 

“Josh just said it was a boundary he wasn’t willing to negotiate.” you mumbled, finally looking up at Danny. He stared at you across the counter before moving around it, coming to your side and turning you on the stool. 

You felt a finger under your chin, turning your head up, locking eyes with Danny. His eyes were darting all over your face, lingering on your slightly parted lips. Heart beating wildly, you felt your neck crane in assistance, your movement to meet him halfway beckoning him closer. Eyes shut, his lips met yours tenderly, waiting for a response. When your lips moved against his, he took your face in his hands, cradling you gently and deepened the kiss, his tongue gently and slowly lapping against your own. You could feel as the kiss slowed again, his reluctance to pull away, and yet he did, opening his eyes and gazing down at you with an unreadable expression.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while now,” he murmured. “Thank you,”

“No one’s ever thanked me for a kiss before.” you chuckled quietly, feeling the need to whisper in this secret moment. “You’re welcome?” Danny let out a soft laugh through his nose, bending down and pecking your lips before letting go of you completely.

“This is between us, okay?” you nodded, crossing your heart. In all honesty, you were glad to have this secret with Danny. It filled you with a small giddiness, the feeling of having done something naughty that felt so good making you want to giggle. 

He moved around the counter and just in time. The kitchen doors swung open, and Jake sauntered in. There was a glimmer in his eye you hadn’t seen before as he looked at you, then Danny, then the plate of food between you two. 

“Sandwiches?!” He reached over the counter, grabbing one and taking a large bite. “There’s something about these dreary rainy days that makes you want the comfort of a good sandwich, isn’t there?” 

“I guess?” You chuckled under your breath, finally picking up your half and biting the corner off. 

“Isn’t Danny a wonderful chef?” Jake continued, leaning his elbows on the counter. “I taught him almost everything he knows about food.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm,” Jake took another bite of his sandwich. “Danny, Sam is looking for you. Something about moving his bed to the other side of the room.”

“Again?” Danny grumbled. He gave you a soft smile before leaving the kitchen, his sandwich on his plate, barely touched.  It was quiet, just the sounds of you and Jake chewing before he took a sharp inhale through his nose and looked at you. 

“What did Josh tell you last night?” your forehead crinkled, looking at Jake in confusion. He spoke without looking at you, playing uninterested in anything but the salami on his sandwich. 

“What-“

“I saw you and Danny.” Jake sniffed. “Kissing in a communal kitchen is risky.” 

“Jake,” 

“If I tell Josh, it’s bad for everyone.” Jake shook his head. “But especially you and Danny.” 

“What is Josh’s deal with Danny? Hmm?!” Jake finished off his sandwich, licking some mayo from his finger. 

“That is not my story to tell, darlin’” pushing back from the counter, you jumped off the stool, beginning to storm past him to find out what the real reason was. 

Jake put a hand on your arm, stopping you from passing. Looking at him, his face was stern, if not a bit worried. 

“I won’t tell him what I saw,” Jake told you, his voice quiet. “But I will warn you. You’ve gotten away with a lot most people would have been drained dry for. Do not test my brother this way. For yours and Danny’s sake.” 

“It’s nothing,” 

“Your heartbeat says otherwise.” Jake bit back. “And if Josh fed on you recently he has felt it. I would come up with an alibi, and quickly.” Jake’s eyes flickered with an old anger you hadn’t seen before, one that, for the first time since meeting him, scared you. 

Jake let go of your arm, swiping another sandwich from the platter and moving around you to exit. 

“It was just a kiss,” you whispered. “It won’t happen again.” Jake looked at you over his shoulder, almost pityingly. 

“If you value your life, I hope not.”

Danny didn’t try to kiss you again after that moment in the kitchen. Whether he’d gotten a talking to from Jake himself, he didn’t say. But the two of you worked together on the chores, letting the tension die down into a somewhat awkward friendship again. 

You decided to have lunch in the small solarium of the house. It was sunny outside, not a cloud in sight, but a chill had hit the air, making you want to stay inside. Danny joined you at the table, keeping his distance by sitting down from you. 

Food was the last thing on your mind, you tilted your head back at the sun and closed your eyes, soaking in the warmth through your skin and clothes. The break in the bleak cloudy weather gave you a much needed mood boost. 

“You should put on some sunscreen if you’re going to be doing that all afternoon.” Danny joked, stirring his soup around in the bowl, releasing steam from the thick broth. Smiling, you tilted your head back down, sticking your tongue out at him and scooping up a dumpling from the soup in front of you. 

“Do you think you could do it?” you asked, blowing on your food before eating. 

“Do what?”

“Give up the sun.” Danny was quiet, the only sound the clinking of spoons against bowls, the occasional soft flutter of a leaf landing atop of the solarium roof. 

“Do you think…you could?” you hadn’t been sure of the answer yourself but it bubbled up on your lips before you realized. 

“No,” you shook your head. Realizing your steadfast feeling, you straightened in your chair. “No I don’t think I could.”

“Me either,” Danny looked up toward the sky, seemingly relieved. “Sam wanted to try once, after the curse. And honestly I figured I’m already immortal, might as well be a vampire too.. But I didn’t know if trying for a ‘double eternal life’ would negate it all and kill me. We found Morana and asked, but she advised it wouldn’t be good.”

“I don’t blame you,” you picked up the piece of crusty bread on the saucer with your soup bowl, dunking it in and taking a bite. “Who is Morana?”

“She’s the witch Sam found, the one who did the curse.” Danny looked down into his soup bowl, as if the broth and vegetables were showing him a vision of the past. “So you don’t want to be turned?” Danny quirked an eyebrow at you. Shaking your head, you answered. 

“I want to live as long as I can and then get old and die.” you nodded. “And honestly, I’ll take turning into a wrinkly leather bag over missing the sun.”

“Gonna retire to Florida?” Danny laughed as you nodded harder. 

“Gonna get myself a little bungalow in a senior living facility, meet up with another old lady named Eustace and complain about the clam chowder on Tuesdays.” Danny almost snorted laughing, making your giggles erupt loudly. As the two of you laughed, you couldn’t help but envision spending more and more sunny days with Danny. You tried to envision the same with Josh, but couldn’t place him in the sun the way you could Danny. 

“It’s a nice dream, isn’t it,” Danny sighed, settling down a bit. 

“Oh yeah, I can’t wait to have dentures and diapers.” you giggled. 

“No, growing old.” Danny’s face fell, a solemn look taking the place of the cheerful smile. “Don’t waste that, okay? I would have given anything to do that.” 

“I know,” you whispered softly. Your heart broke for him, an occurrence that happened more often than not around him. Danny’s choice was taken away, and you’d be damned if you ended up in the same fate. 

You were ready to call it a night early. In your enthusiasm for the nice fall weather, you decided to try and rake a small patch of the massive lawn, just to spend a few more hours in the sun. Even with the gloves Danny gave you from the gardening shed, blisters had formed on your palms just under the skin, stinging with every flex of your hand. 

The large tub in your bathroom was calling your name, and you joked to Danny as you entered the house. The closer you got to your room, the more excited you were to run the water, add the bubbles and sink down into the hot water. But as you entered your room, it seemed someone had beat you to it. 

Steam was filtering out from the cracked open door to your bathroom, flickering light glinting off a gilded picture frame on the wall adjacent. Slowly you stepped towards the bathroom, hearing water splash around softly, and you stepped into the humid air. 

“It’s about time,” Sam smirked at you from your bathtub. “Jake is going to have a coronary when he sees the amount of water I’ve been using to keep this bath warm.”

“Sam, what are you doing?”

“I’m tired of waiting for you to come to me,” he shrugged simply. “You wanted seduction, and what’s more seductive than a hot, candle lit bath after a long day of working?” you took a deep breath, leaning against the sink counter, watching Sam relax back into the tub. “I even brought up a bottle of wine.”

“I’m sweaty and tired, Sam.” he picked up a glass of wine and stretched his arm out to hand it to you, though it only reached the middle of the tub. There was condensation on the glass, making you lick your lips, knowing it was chilled to perfection. 

“It’s chardonnay,” Sam sung temptingly, swirling the liquid in the glass to tantalize you. It did look good, and you pushed yourself away from the counter, bending to reach for the glass. Sam pulled it away, a playful, sinful look in his eyes. “You get in the tub, you get the wine.”

“Is there an option where I get in the tub and get the wine and you get out?” you snipped, leaning over the edge of the tub. 

“No.” Sam grinned, and you straightened up. Huffing out a ‘fine’, you stripped down, ignoring Sam’s gaze and slipped into the tub, settling at the other end. Sam eyed you for a moment, and handed you the glass of wine, which you gladly sipped and smiled. 

“Happy?”

“Getting there,” Sam murmured. He leaned back against his end of the tub, arms outstretched on the sides. Settling back into the tub, you let the hot water soothe your tired muscles. Holding your glass to your chest, you closed your eyes, ignoring the presence of the man across from you, staring at you. 

You adjusted your back a few times, trying to find a sweet spot that would work out a sore muscle in your right shoulder. The movement of the water met your ears, and you felt your body be pushed forward. Opening your eyes, Sam was no longer across from you, and instead you felt his body behind yours, his legs on either side of you.

“Let me help you with that,” his voice was low, his hands gathering your hair and moving it to your left shoulder. When he touched you again, he applied pressure with his finger tips, causing you to sigh. His hands were warm, and his thumb quickly found the knot you’d been trying to ease. A sharp, small gasp left your throat as he dug into it, and you felt him chuckle behind you. “There it is,”

Humming, you leaned forward, letting him work down your back and into the water. You downed the rest of your wine and set the glass on the side of the tub next to the bottle and some candles. Sam’s hands came up your back, working slowly before they came up and rounded your shoulders, to your neck. Your head lolled back involuntarily as he reached over you towards your collarbones. 

“Did you also work in the massage parlor with Jake?” you asked quietly, a small laugh in your voice. 

“I’d help him out here and there,” Sam whispered into your ear, his facial hair tickling your sensitive skin. “Are you feeling good, pet?”

“Yeah,” you sighed. You weren’t lying. Between the chilled wine, the hot bath, and the massage you were feeling less sore and so, so relaxed. Sam’s touch became lighter, his fingers slowly, gently grazing your skin. He teased you, barely dipping below the water and bubbles where your breasts waited. 

“Would you allow me to make you feel even better?” a shaky breath and soft nod, Sam's hands dipped below the water surface, caressing your breasts. His fingers found your nipples, pinching them delicately and rolling them between his thumb and forefingers. You arched your back, feeling your legs spread at the warm feeling spreading through your veins. 

Sam’s left hand stayed at your breast, softly groping it in his large hand and teasing your nipple. His right slid down your body, grazing your hip before making their way to your center. 

“Sam,” you sighed as the pad of his middle finger circled around your clit, the perfect amount of pressure to make your thighs shake with every pass. Moans were spilling from your lips as your hips bucked from his touch. One of your hands grasped his wrist under the water, desperate for something to cling to. 

“You sound so pretty,” Sam murmured into your ear, a hint of a yearning whine in his voice. “You feel so soft,” his finger slipped lower, teasing you before sliding in, working against the water around you. The heel of his hand was brushing against your clit as he pumped in and out. Your chest was heaving out of the water as you panted, writhing back against Sam. Water was sloshing out of the tub, bubbles going flat. His lips were pressed to your neck and shoulder, before the hand that was on your breast came up, grabbing your chin and twisting your head back and capturing your lips with his in a searing kiss. You felt the strain in your tired muscles but didn’t care, his kiss was hot and heady, and you only broke away to catch your breath.

“I’m so close,” you shuddered, opening your eyes and looking at him, “Sam, please. Don’t stop.”

“You sound just like you did in my dream, pet,” Sam grinned, between his own panting breaths. “I want you to say my name as you come, will you do that?” Biting your lip, you nodded, and he sped up his movements, causing you to cry out, the sound echoing off the walls. 

“Sam!” you cried, your grip on his arm tightening. His name fell from your lips over and over again as your orgasm crashed down on you, your hips bucking against his hand and causing more water and bubbles to splash onto the bathroom floor. You felt a sharp sting on your shoulder, and out of the corner of your eye Sam’s head was ducked down, a moan vibrating off his lips as his own hips pressed against your lower back. 

You were dizzy, but you were hellbent on getting more from Sam. At your movement, Sam withdrew his fangs from your skin, small beads of blood left in their absence. You moved his hand from your core and turned, straddling him and sinking down on his hard cock slowly. His head tilted back, eyes closed and mouth agape as you inched down, a brief glimpse of a vulnerable, quiet Sam. You noticed some of your blood on his lips, though none made it to his tongue. It may have been in acknowledgment of his agreement with Josh, even licking it from his lips could be considered drinking from you. Before you could stop yourself, you reached up, your thumb swiping across his plush bottom lip, gathering the ruby red liquid from it.

Sam’s eyes opened, and he watched you meet his eyes, bringing your thumb to your lips. Something lit behind his eyes as he watched you clean the blood off, and his hands took a hold of your hips, moving you as his hips thrust up at a quick pace. 

“Fuck!” you shouted, grabbing onto his shoulders to try and keep balance. Sam grinned before leaning forward, biting your breasts, anywhere his fangs could reach, leaving little punctures all over. Without the pull of a drink, it wasn’t near enough to send you over the edge again, but each nip did set a spark through your veins. One of your hands left his shoulder and tangled in his hair, clutching it and tugging his head back, his mouth falling open again. You were still able to taste a little of your blood in your mouth, and you leaned down, lapping your tongue against his. 

A low growl emitted from his chest, letting you know he could also, in fact, taste the blood too. 

“What a nasty, nasty trick,” he mumbled against your lips. A large hand raised from the water, enclosing around your throat, squeezing the sides. That spark in his eyes was dancing dangerously in the candlelight, and he rutted up into you, causing you to gasp with what little air you could intake. “If I wanted to, I could drink every drop of your blood right now.” Goosebumps raised on your flesh as you panted shallowly above him, your nipples hardening again, and he smirked “Oh, you want that don’t you?” In a flash of inhuman speed, you were on your stomach on the cold floor, Sam pulling your hips up and easing himself back into you. He wrapped a fist in your hair, tugging you up roughly. 

Sam’s lips pressed onto your shoulders again, the razor sharp tips of his fangs grazing, causing small rips to the skin there. You were preparing yourself for another bite, but his lips pressed to your ear again, breath hot.

“You want to break the one rule that matters most, don’t you?” his voice was ragged with his thrusting, and you reached back a hand to grasp his tensed thigh, trying to have some leverage. “You want me to drink from you and put you over the edge again. Even the hint of your blood tasted so sweet, I don’t think I could ever stop drinking you.” His hand left your hair and enveloped your throat again, though not squeezing as hard this time. 

“S-sam,” you stuttered out, your mind was turning into jelly, your muscles already ahead of it. If Sam hadn’t been holding you up, you’d been face down on the floor, moaning into the tile. 

“I do love to break rules, and I know you do too, pet,” Sam’s gravelly voice laughed haughtily in your ear. “Do you want that? Another little secret to keep?” Ice rushed through your veins, the idea that Sam also knew about the kiss with Danny, but it was quickly replaced with the fire erupting in your lower abdomen. Sam’s fangs punctured the skin of your neck, and you moaned. He was huffing out shallow, hard breaths onto your skin as his hips rhythm became frantic, slamming into you. You were sure there were going to be bruises forming on your ass in the shape of his hip bones. Your fingernails dug into his thigh as you came again, crying out his name one last time. Sam’s hips stilled as he found his release, moaning onto your skin. 

He took his fangs from your neck when he could muster the strength of movement, holding you to him with one arm while reaching over to the counter, grabbing a washcloth and wiping the small amount of blood from his lips and fangs before his tongue could taste more. Your body was limp, and he moved you both until you were closer to the tub, leaning you against it before standing and opening the drain to the tub. You were watching him, catching your breath. He strode around the bathroom, gathering a few towels and then turning on the shower. 

“What are you doing?” you asked softly. Sam glanced back at you.

“We worked up quite another sweat,” he answered. “I don’t think another bath will help, so we’re taking a shower.”

“I don’t think I can stand to even wash my body,” you weren’t joking, your legs almost felt fuzzy, like they’d fallen asleep in your previous position. Sam came over again, leaning down and putting your arms around his neck and hoisting you into his arms.

“Lucky for you, pet,” Sam hummed, walking you to the shower. “You have a bench in here, and I plan on doing all the work.”

Taglist: (feel free to add yourself!)

@joshsindigostreak @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine @sammysprincess @sammykiszkamyass @belovedsamuel @sunfl0wer-power @indigo-starcatcher @sammyscherub @earthlysorrows @lvnterninthenight @losfacedevil @xserenax-13 @sarakay-gvf @myownparadise96 @watchingovergvff @gretavanfleetposts @josiee-gvf @joshkiszkatoothgap @madneedshelp @gardensgatedaisy @myownparadise96 @demonrat444 @dannyandthekiszkas @tearsofbri @paleshadow-ofadragon @happy-harpy-stuff @like-a-woman-in-a-dream @starshine-wagner @objectsinspvce @josh-iamyour-mama @mountain-in-springtime @cal-a-bungaa @capturethechaos @jankandjonch @gvfpal

@allybjt @hippievanfleet @weightofbrokenbells @joshkiszkasbadussy @malany-gvf @ruby0antlers @samofthedawn @sacredjake @aim4thedoublee @diditallforyouu @gvfmarge @highladyofasgard @sammysvanfeet@gold-mines-melting @earthgrlsreasy @mountain-in-springtime @forcebond301 @stardust-and-shadows @llightmyllovee @gretavangroupie @comesofarsomehow @infinisonicosm @indigofallingsky @hellowgoodbye @hearts-hunger @fwzco @dharma-divine33 @lightsofthe-living-gvf @ascendingtothestarsasone @klarxtr @ofthecaravel @musicspeaks @mindastreamofcolours @imleavingyoufornewyork @dammm1256 @jordie-gvf @demonrat444 @misshunnybee @valleydollgvf @brookes-so-done @age0fwagner @starcatcherxstevie @amethystars @jakesguitarsolo @lolidontknowwhat @lyndz2names @godly-sinsx @dannythedog @anthemheatwave @samomf @spark-my-nature @scorpiosunsammy @theindigostre4k @jjwasneverhere @couldbefalling

[spield]

Bethyl (Witch AU)

We need to talk, Daryl. 

For the whole day, Daryl tried not to let that short sentence get to his head but, understandably, he failed. Because what else would Beth want to talk except that she’d finally come to her senses and decided that no, of course she doesn’t want to be a Dixon and this was a mistake. 

A five-year long mistake. 

Just when Daryl’s finally stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop, it finally comes stomping down when he’d finally gotten her a ring and built her a house.

He should be angry, but mostly, he’s just scared.

Scared enough to be loitering outside their front door, quietly listening to Beth in their backyard tending to their small garden. How could she be so calm when she’s about to break his heart?

Maybe it’s not bad news, Daryl. Carol told him and maybe it’s not but with Daryl’s luck in life - what are the chances?

Fuck. 

Shit.

Let’s just get this over with. Daryl stills himself and enters the blue door. He doesn’t stop to hang his jacket or take off his shoes, he goes straight to their backdoor and out to their backyard. 

Beth turns to him with a smile and normally that would be the end of it. All is good if Beth smiles - but he could see the slight redness in her eyes and the trembling of her lips and good lord, this will hurt. 

Daryl stops a few feet away from Beth, his boots scuffling against the gravel path. "Just tell me. Let's get this over with. I already know."

Beth's face shutters close, her eyes clouding over like a stormy sky. "You know?"

"Yeah," Daryl shrugs, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his own fears. If it saves her pain from saying it out loud, then he'll spare her. He loves her, and the thought of losing her is suffocating. "Just tell me when you want me out of the house."

"Out of the house? Why?" Beth asks, taking a step closer to him, her hand reaching out as if to touch his arm, but he steps away, his eyes darting around the garden, avoiding hers.

Daryl takes in a deep breath, the air filling his lungs like a heavy weight. "‘Cause I can't live with ya if we ain't together, Beth." His voice cracks, and he clears his throat, trying to sound stronger.

"You think I'm breaking up with you?"

"You ain't?" Daryl's voice is laced with uncertainty, his heart still racing with fear.

"No! Why would you think that?" Beth's voice is soft, gentle, but it's like a ray of sunlight peeking through the clouds, giving him hope.

"You said we needed to talk!"

"Yes --- but not about that!" Beth pauses, her eyes searching his face. "Well, a little bit about that, but I hope you won't leave me for it."

"What does that mean?" Daryl's eyes narrow, his mind racing with possibilities.

"It's not — It's not what I did, Daryl. It's what I am." Beth's voice is barely above a whisper, her words dripping with hesitation.

"Beth, you're not making sense."

Daryl's heart is still racing, his mind reeling with confusion. He takes a step closer to her, his eyes locked on hers.

"I know, it's just…., you have to promise to keep an open mind." Beth's eyes are pleading, her voice trembling like a leaf.

Maybe one of those open marriages thing, little brother ooooh-wee. Daryl's mind is a jumble of thoughts, but he pushes them aside, focusing on Beth.

"I promise," he says, his voice firm, his heart still pounding in his chest.

"I'm a witch," Beth says, her words dropping like a bombshell, the air around them seeming to vibrate with the weight of her confession.

"What?"

[salternateunreality2]

Claudia has a pet dragon AU

cute ideas that @strayheartless and I chatted about <3

Claudia probably had a pet dragon at some point that still visits and bothers her for snacks

Dragon: *tail wagging, dancing around, breathing fire* Claudia: *shoves its nose away* go on, git, I ain't got nothin more for ya, you ate all my wolf liver!

Dragon: *rolls on its back asking for belly rubs*

Claudia: ugh, fine. *Delivers belly rubs* Go on, ya daft dragon, I'm taking Cloud to school!

The villagers: ...

-----------

Claudia and her dragon had their babies around the same time, and babysat for each other.

Claudia and Dragon Mama exchange snacks occasionally; Claudia brings special parts of her kills that she and Cloud shouldn't eat, and Dragon Mama sometimes drops off whole carcasses.

Dragon: this deer ain't worth my time, but I killed it and Claudia might give me wolf liver if I drop by!

-----------

Mama Dragon is named Asil, and Baby Dragon is named Knarf. Because backwards, that's Lisa Frank, and they look like Lisa Frank characters. And they're scratch-n-sniff.

-----------

AGSZC visit Nibelheim and AGSZ are panicked when Cloud hears a dragon in the distance and runs off to confront it...only to discover Cloud GIGGLING and play-fighting it. They are more concerned about the giggling, as they've never heard it before.

They expected the Steve Irwin vibes from Zack, who has a pet sahagin in Gongaga, but Cloud was a surprise (he shouldn't have been, he's feral AF).

--

AGSZC: *walking to Nibelheim*

Dragon: ROAR

Angeal: We'd better steer clear, right Cloud? Cloud?! CLOUD!!!

Zack: Where did he even go?! That was so fast!

Sephiroth: Towards the dragon.

Genesis: Of fucking course.

AGSZ: *runs up just in time to see cloud, unarmed, jump on a dragon*

Cloud: KNARF YOU FUCKER I GOT YOU FIRST WAIT NO NOT THE FACE NOT THE FACE HAHAHAHAHAHAHA GET OFF

--

The dragons immediately like Zack because all animals immediately like Zack.

Angeal wins them over through snacks.

And they're obsessed with Genesis' sword and materia, and Sephiroth's hair.

They keep Sitting On Sephiroth and grooming his hair or staring at it, and they keep trying to steal Gen's stuff. You wouldn't think a puppy-lizard-cat is very sneaky when it's the size of a house, but clearly you would be wrong

--

Sephiroth: Please, Miss, I don't know how dragon saliva affects hair, and I can't afford for it to go spiky like Cloud's.

Asil: *still sitting on him and licking*

--

(turns out it's really really good for hair and makes it thick, shiny, and healthy...after you wash out the top layer of slime)

Knarf and Asil leave Genesis gifts when they steal from him. Sometimes it's worthless crap like a leaf or a rodent carcass; sometimes it's sparkling gems, rare materia, or their own scales, which are hard to come by. There is no pattern.

Genesis tries to bargain with them, bringing an assortment of Wall Market jewelry.

--

Genesis: Shall we trade? What will you give me for this diamond necklace?

Knarf: *holds up a leaf*

Genesis: How about this fake ruby bracelet?

Knarf: *5 rare materia*

Genesis: Ok, then you must give me something great for this fake ruby necklace, which only differs from the bracelet in that it is longer...

Knarf: *dead skunk plops on Genesis' head*

--

Talking about their childhoods:

--

Sephiroth: My sperm donor would order me to kill kittens.

Genesis: My parents didn't care, but my nanny would hit me with a ruler.

Zack: I'd be sent out into the backwoods to work off my energy and made friends with monsters!

Cloud: I'd go to air jail, where Asil would pick me up by my shirt and dangle me in the air.

Angeal: MY MOTHER SENT ME TO TIME OUT WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOUR CHILDHOODS

--

Air jail:

I'd like to think that Sephy starts to have his breakdown, Claudia hears about it and the mysterious head in the reactor, and then sends the boys to help Seph while she and Asil take care of Jenova.

Asil both sits on Jenova and incinerates her, while Claudia shoots Jenova with her biggest shotgun.

[dark-elf-writes]

Imagine cloud fighting someone that tries to block his sword with there’s when he aims for their neck, but instead of blocking the metal is just sliced in half as his continues to go through the neck OR their sword bends around his and he ends up dragging it through their neck because of the momentum/force built up by his swing with the buster sword

The rest of the team watching in a mix of shock awe and a touch of horror as they realize just how strong a SOLDIER really is. It’s so easy to forget when Cloud is finding cats for little girls or trying to joke in his own awkward way just how much whatever was done to him in Shinra changed him but there’s always moments that make them remember. None of them are afraid of Cloud, for all his scowls and brooding he is so gentle with those he cares about (and the list of those people is far longer than he will ever admit to) but each of them wonder late at night what exactly was done to him to make him that strong.

On a more lighthearted note: this is 100% why in the leaf house au Cloud goes through so many swords. Like the SOLDIER swords have got to be a certain metal and reinforced in the right way or they just crumble under their strength, and Cloud being partially enhanced do to repeated mako exposure as a kid is just too damn strong for the shitty weapons he’s finding in the slums.

[candied-boys]

🍯 Honey Cakes 🍯

Luke Randolph x fem! Reader

Tags: merpeople au, lazy! Luke, happy! Luke, possessive! Luke, romance, picnics, cottagecore, eventual smut, happy ending

1500 words

The sound of a babbling brook singing against the rocks, the bounce of tender moss beneath your shoes, the weight of a basket full of goodies in hand — each warming your heart like the gentle spring sun above.

Today is the perfect day for a picnic...

After all it is your only day off, which is why you're making your way through the royal forest towards the hidden lake. With the castle spires just barely visible over the lush green canopy you aren't particularly worried about getting caught trespassing.

Especially not when you discover the perfect spot on the farthest side of the water — a little alcove at the foot of the mountain’s steep rock face, shaded by evergreens and warmed by black granite. Far enough from the waterfall to stay dry but close enough to enjoy the view, you spread out your tattered and patched sheet near the edge and plop down.

Watching the clouds slip past has been one of your favourite pasttimes since childhood. After kneading the dough from the wee hours of the morning, popping loaves in and out of the wood fired oven, and preparing for the next day until the bread sells out, giving your feet a rest and enjoying the calm of nature is the perfect change of pace.

As the sun peaks in the sky you begin to grow hungry, so you rummage through the overflowing basket and pull out the food you packed — leftovers from last night's dinner, fresh bread to pair with homemade jam from last autumn's harvest, and the little round cakes Mrs. Baker gave you last night when they didn't sell.

The Bakers are the very sweet old couple you work for. They run one of the local bakeries out of the first floor of their house where you live in the cozy little attic. Since you have no family of your own and since their children have long since grown up and moved away, they spoil you like a grandchild when they can. This usually means that when the bread and pastries don't sell out before the end of the day you get to keep the leftovers.

By the time you finish last night's stew, a few chickadees have stopped by to steal the crumbs off your sheet as have a raft of ducks — no doubt hoping to plump up for the ducklings that will soon be born. Tossing the crust of your bread piece by piece out onto the water you watch them fuss over who gets first dibs. It's so much fun that you don't even spare your precious dessert, taking one bite for yourself and one chunk for the ducks.

The cake is heavier than the bread was though and it quickly sinks beneath the surface when you don't throw it close enough for the birds to snatch up immediately. This is even more entertaining, however, because the ducks dive for the bits of cake and show you their adorable tails.

Lost in the wake of the birds frolicking, you don't notice the subtle disturbance of the water nearing the rock ledge next to where you sit until a dark-red mop of hair pops out at your feet and says, “Oh, so it is you that threw that sweet stuff in the water.”

Too dumbfounded to shriek, you just stare at the man who crosses his arms on the ledge and looks straight at you.

Quickly regaining your senses you scold him, “Are you crazy?! What are you doing? You're going to catch hypothermia!! Get out of the water!!”

“It’s already the end of March. It’s not that cold no more,” he counters and lays his chin atop his forearms.

You're pretty sure the lake only just began to thaw this month, but he doesn't show any signs of chill — no shivers, no blue lips, no disorientation.

As you look him over you can't help but comment, “You… uh… have weeds in your hair…”

“Oh — just part of livin’ in the lake. So do y' have any more of whatever y're feedin’ the birds?” he drawls up at you while tugging the verdant leafs from his messy rust coloured locks.

“Yeah, I have more if you like,” you answer automatically and turn to fetch another cake from the tin behind you, but before your hand reaches the container you find yourself squealing.

“Wait!! Living in the lake?! What are you talking about?!!!”

“Oh, d'y think I'm human or somethin’?” he laughs and pulls himself up to sit next to you.

Taken aback by the sheer beauty of his emerald tail, it hits you too late that you might be in danger. The moment you try to scuttle away he catches you by the wrist and pins you beneath him.

Yet his gaze isn't threatening. His jade eyes aren't even on you.

Stretching over your head he snatches the tin full of dessert before sitting upright and prying open the lid as if he didn't just push you over and leave you lying on the ground.

For a second the idea of leaving everything behind and making a run for it crosses your mind. However, despite visibly being at least twice your weight and pure muscle, he looks fairly harmless when he smiles like that.

“Sho gwood. Wha ish dish shtuff?”

“They're honey cakes…” you reply cautiously as you pull yourself up and rearrange your skirt.

“Oh, I've heard of honey from the birds. The bees make it in some kinna nest, eh?”

Leaving aside whatever he is for the time being — if he's not a dream or hallucination — you tell him plainly, “Uh yeah… The honey we eat doesn't come from wild nests, but that's originally where you'd find it…”

He hums with curiosity, pale green eyes round and holding yours, urging an explanation.

“We make homes for the bees so that we can collect the wax from the hives. Then, we crack it open to get the—”

Frightening you enough to make you jump, he suddenly yelps.

You look around frantically for the source of his panic but discover the cause just as quickly when he turns the empty tin upside down and shakes it violently.

“I ate ‘em all already…?” he murmurs thoroughly dejected.

You'd think he was a six year old boy from his pout.

“I'm sorry. I don't have any more…’’

“Really? I can still smell honey though?” he mumbles looking all around.

Following his gaze to the basket on the corner of the sheet, you begin rummaging through the basket until you find the little pot of honey you packed with the jam.

“Is this what you smell?” you ask and offer the tiny jar to him.

He takes it with a broad grin, his touch far gentler than you expected it would be for the eager look in his eyes. You watch him, just as amused as you were watching the birds clamour for your crust earlier, draw out the miniature honey dipper and stick it in his mouth like a lollipop.

The way his eyes close and his shoulders relax is so charming that you almost forget he has a fish tail until you catch sight of it splashing in the water the way a happy child kicks their feet.

“So… uh… Are you real? I thought… merpeople were just a myth…”

He doesn't answer right away, his mouth full of sweet syrup, and the moment gives you pause to realize what you said is both very rude and quite pointless.

“Ah, What I mean is… why aren't you hiding from me?”

He shrugs, answering as he dips the wooden stick back in the honey, “Why'd I be ‘fraid of a lil' thin' like y'?”

Fumbling through your thoughts you eventually mumble, “I could tell others about you…"

He chuckles heartily and quips, “Y' really think they'll believe y'? They'd probably think y' just spent too much time under the sun or ate some poisonous weeds.”

He's not wrong.

“Why hide at all then?”

“‘Cause we dunna really like humans. They always end up tryin’ to turn us into slaves to do their biddin’. Y're all so obsessed with money.”

Reflecting, you're forced to admit that humans will attempt to make use of anything remotely intelligent for their own benefit, and quickly shake away the thoughts before they turn any darker.

“How do you speak the local language then if you never talk with humans?”

Finishing off the last of the honey he answers easily, “I dunna. Y' just think I do.”

“What?! Wait… Is that what you meant when you said you'd heard of honey from the birds?”

“Yup.”

He passes the empty pot back to you and slips gracefully into the water once more.

“Will y' bring more honey cakes again?” he asks with a yawn.

“If I come without the cakes, will you even talk to me?” you query honestly while thumbing the empty jar.

A cheeky grin is your only answer before he dives beneath the glittering, clear water.

Part two...

[sole-soul-survivor]

I’m kind of establishing a fan fiction outline for Ff7.

I know none of y’all asked for it but it’s an Anastasia au.

☁️Synopsis☁️

Cloud has only known what is left of himself, and the frigid bite of dank air beneath the plate in Midgar. Having been dropped off at the Leaf House in the sector 5 slums when he was merely 8, he does everything he can to stay out of trouble and keep his head down. He waits for the Orphanage to release him to pursue the SOLDIER program. Or, rather, to enlist in the low ranks and work his ass off to earn that title, eventually.

The thing is, no one bothers to tell him how, where, or when to start his dream. They all just expect this boy with no memory of his past to step into the unknown. No matter how comfortable he was with knowing little to nothing, it was utterly terrifying. Luckily, though, or rather annoyingly, he meets Jessie. A spitfire with more energy than a Thundaja materia. And, fortunately, Tifa. Who knows exactly how to quell Jessie’s fire enough to offer their help in his dream. With nothing to lose, he joins the two on their journey back to the old kingdom of Nibelheim, where the city is slowly rebuilding itself after the throes of a battle twelve years prior that left the kingdom and royal line in shambles.

Right before setting off, he meets the rest of the team, which he finds out is known as Avalanche. And apparently they’re constantly on the look for the lost prince, who they hope will restore Nibelheim’s once highly sought after rolling hills and vast, fertile lands. All orphans from the battle, trying to rebuild their lives. Hoping for some kind of savior Cloud is sure isn’t him.

Meanwhile, a certain King’s Shield in training has been assigned to infiltrate Avalanche’s ranks, also in search of the missing piece to his homeland. And Zack will stop at nothing to obtain the pride, and prince he once lost that fateful night twelve years ago.

Unfortunately, the team and kingdom’s military only has a year before the lost crown prince turns 21, and they are left politically vulnerable as Queen Consort Claudia is forced to step down. Which would leave the throne wide open for the King of the small southern kingdom Wall Market, Don Corneo to pick at the corpse of the once beautiful land.

Follow Cloud as he finds himself, who he has been searching for for twelve long cold years. Hoping to find his home, family, answers, and maybe even his heart.

-

I really just wanted to write him with his full found family and beefy ALIVE bf.

[bettathanyou]

A Sky Without It's Moon

Fic by Bettathanyou

Hey y'all, this is a fic I wrote for @fantadym and their self insert OC, Elisa, with Don Cedric (what she calls her au version of Cedric!!) Please give them as much love as you give me, this fic wouldn't exist without such lovely characters if a talented writer/artist such as fanta didn't exist!!!

Cedric walks in to the quaint home with a groan of relief, the weight of today's work finally lifting off of his tense shoulders. They sag, finally down to their normal level instead of being scrunched up to his ears.

The living room was dark, shadows being his only greeting. It was quite late, and the hush over the house confirmed that his sweet Estrella and his love were mostly likely asleep by now.

Good, Cedric nodded. Too many times he's had to insist that his family go to bed instead of ruin their sleep schedule awaiting his arrival. Some days were much better than others, but still.

He knew how important rest was, even if he and everyone under this roof was guilty of being a night owl to a fault.

Cedric walks with practiced silence to his daughters room, the soft glow of her enchanted star lantern illuminating the crack beneath the closed door.

Turning the knob with a deft hand, he peeks inside. The room was peaceful, and the soft breath of Estrella was the only noise within.

Cedric's mouth can't help but form a smile, an automatic response whenever he's in Estrella's presence. He tiptoes in, checking on her swiftly.

The small girl was fast asleep, hands tucked to her chest as dark curls frame her chubby cheeks.

A soft sigh of amusement passes the sorcerer's lips, as he bends down to kiss the child on her forehead.

"Buenos noches, mi Estrella. Sueña con los angelitos." He whispered lovingly, petting her hair for a moment before he swiftly exited.

Cedric crosses the hall, his shared bedroom with Elisa pulling him towards it like an invisible rope around his waist.

He knocks, softly, their nonverbal greeting.

Elisa had long since heard her husband return home, but for the first time in a long time, she doesn't have the strength to get up from her place at the windowsill.

She trembles, feeling the draft through the cracks between the caulking. She'll have to remind Cedric about fixing it later.

But not now. Now, as the woman lays her throbbing temple on the cold glass, Elisa just wishes for rest to come.

Cedric walks into the room, halfway shrugging off his heavy silk robe. He almost missed the silhouette of his love, but it was like his body already knew where to look when his eyes rested on her.

Two different shades of brown irises collided- one as dark, deep, all consuming as the night sky, yet glittered with the brilliance of the stars held within it.

The other- soft, sweet, the color like a caramel candy that melts perfectly on your tongue, or like the dappled rays of light that shine through the perfect autumn leaf.

Neither of them spoke for a moment, letting the silence hold them in an unspoken pact; as if Cedric and Elisa had said "let's just be, tonight."

Cedric takes off his robe, hanging it besides the hook on the door. Dutifully unbuttoning his vest, sighing in the way Elisa knows means the day was long.

She purses her lips, raising her head and glancing over to her husband.

You should do something- not be sulking here by the window. Elisa chastised herself, limbs creaking as she shifted off the ledge towards the lanky sorcerer, his hands already undoing the last button.

Cedric doesn't notice, not immediately- he tends to hyperfocus on things. But Elisa always had a way of bringing him back from the clouds that fog his mind.

He felt her small hands touch his back gently, and he turns towards her.

"Good evening, mi corazon." He whispers, tensing his shoulders as he is about to take off his vest.

"Allow me, mi Rey." Elisa's words roll off her tongue in the way that makes Cedric's heart flutter every time without fail. Of course, he doesn't protest as he feels her gentle hands remove his vest with a loving touch, that could only be described as reverence.

Elisa slips off the bright magenta fabric, her eyes tracing the subtle curves and slopes of his shoulders that cling to the forest green button up beneath the vest.

All Cedric notices is the dark circles underneath his wife's eyes, catching in the shadows of their room. He thumbs the dark half moons, frowning.

Elisa nimbly avoids his gaze, already knowing what Cedric would say.

"You look exhausted..." He murmured, his tone slightly prodding Elisa to speak. He holds his breath, already knowing it won't be easy to get her to crack.

"It was a busy day-... But I'll be okay tomorrow!" Elisa starts, smiling, but the light doesn't reach her eyes. Her smile falters, and her fingers nervously fiddle with cedric's dress collar.

Cedric's frown deepens, which makes Elisa's heartbeat quicken. Did she say something wrong? Was Don Cedric mad at her? Why wasn't he saying anything-

"...But you're not okay now- which is what matters to me, dear." Cedric replies in a soft, yet concerned tone of voice. His fingers brush through the waves and curls on Elisa's head, feeling restless and nervous himself.

How had he not noticed this until now? Was Elisa ever going to say something if this went unchecked? Did she even realize she was this tired? Cedric felt his heart pick up speed with each question that popped in his head, guilt singing through his veins.

"I... I'm-..." Elisa stutters, unsure of what to say. Her eyes flick up towards Cedric again, seeing the worry lines etched into his skin.

Elisa's heart sank.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be- I should've noticed sooner."

"I... I should've too... I guess, I just run around so much, I don't even have time to notice I'm tired." She laughs, but it's hallow sounding and they both know it. She cringed, choosing to look away and back to the windowsill where she waited for the sorcerer to return home. Her eyes scanned the sky, looking for a moon she knew wasn't there.

It was the new moon tonight- the one day a month that even the moon gets to have rest. She envied it- to have a day just for her is a luxury she can't seem to afford much these days.

Cedric follows her gaze, noticing it was a moonless night tonight as well. His caramel brown eyes drift away from the window, back to Elisa. The starlight was more than enough to illuminate the soft curve of her cheeks, the rich dark line of her eyelashes, and the lovely hue of her skin. He sighs silently, admiring her beauty for a moment.

The sorcerer can't help but plant a soft kiss on her cheek, smiling to himself as he felt his own cheeks tingle from blush.

This pulls Elisa from her stupor, a soft noise coming from her throat in surprise. Feeling flustered, from the kiss and from being caught in the middle of zoning out, she rushes to change the subject.

"T-the moon is gone tonight..." The short woman trails off, stepping away from Cedric to sit back down on the plush window seat from the bay window.

Cedric chuckles as his wife's bashfulness, joining her on the opposite side of the window seat, propping a leg up as he rests his arm on his knee.

"She will return, like always; even the moon has to rest to recover her light." Cedric chuckles dryly, eyeing Elisa with a knowing smile.

Elisa huffs in amusement, looking down. She knew Cedric wasn't really talking about the moon- he was referring to her.

"Maybe."

She relented, scooting into her husband's lap; Cedric extends his hip out, giving her room to get comfortable. Elisa fits into Cedric's lean frame like a puzzle piece, her soft body sinking against his chest. Cedric hums lowly, enjoying the soothing pressure her body weight provided him- his heart rate slowly down to a steady rhythm.

Elisa sighs in contentment, as Cedric snaked his arms around her waist, enveloping her completely. Her tense and achy muscles always seemed to melt under his touch, and her hand gently rests on top of his, her thumb tracing along his knuckles.

"...What about the people who rely on the moon? Don't they need her light, too?"

Elisa asks, barely above a whisper.

Cedric looks up at the twinkling stars above them, his heart aching for Elisa.

When will she see that keeping her light for herself is included in that equation? Cedric ponders up at the sky with a pained sigh, his free hand tracing light circles on her arm as he thinks.

"That's why the moon has the sun, darling. To be there when she cannot be- just like she supports him. That's what they do, mi amor. They look out for each other... Yeah?"

Cedric asks, his voice soft and his true accent leaning heavy in his words. Except it wasn't in anger like usual, it was a moment of vulnerability and affection.

Usually, such a sweet moment would ease Elisa's heart, but tonight it felt like a storm of negative thoughts and emotions- with her in the eye of it, completely lost and alone. She doesn't answer Cedric, not for a while. She fidgets restlessly in Cedric's embrace, a tight line on her mouth as her insides twist themselves into knots.

"What if the sun doesn't really need the moon? ...If she disappeared, would anyone notice?"

"Of course they would." Cedric answers back bravely, pulling her tightly to his chest. Elisa hears the sorcerer's heartbeat, strong and sure and confident in its drumming. It felt like her anchor in the swell of emotions within her, as tears threatened to fall.

"There's a reason the sun sets everyday- it's because it's the only way he can see his lovely moon illuminate the sky."

Cedric proclaimed, love and adoration dripping from every word like honey. He kissed Elisa's shoulder, and the woman can only bury her face deeper into him even though she knew he could feel her tears sinking into his clothes.

"If she were gone... He would disappear too. And never return until he finds her again." Cedric speaks with a steady, low voice, his lips tickling the skin of her shoulder as he nuzzles her, holding her protectively to him.

The storm within her seemed to quell at the moment, as if the reassurance was the beacon guiding her out of the maelstrom of doubt and fear that would usually send her spiralling into a deep abyss. She inhales a shaky breath, trying in vain to swat the tears away.

"...Really?" She asks, feeling a little self conscious for asking for even more reassurance even when Cedric was already giving her so much. But it was compulsive, and she waited for Cedrics answer with bated breath every time.

"Yes, really." Cedric nods, kissing the crown of her head sweetly as he squeezed her in comfort.

"I need you, Elisa. Always- taking a break doesn't mean I'll disappear; and you won't either, my dear." The sorcerer offers her a genuine smile, his caramel eyes softening more as he brushed away her tears.

Elisa was speechless by this point, and all she could do was nod until her voice returns to her again. How did she ever get so lucky, no- so blessed by the gods to have such a caring person enter her life? Who understands her in ways no one else will? How could words ever express the full gratitude and love she has for her king, mi Rey?

Even as her words failed her, she showed her appreciation in the ways she knew she always could; she snuggled close to her husband, her hands gently gliding along his sides as she mumbled sweet nothing's in her native tongue.

Cedric smiles, looking up at the stars and the moonless night.

It seems I've found the moon... Not in the sky, but right here, in my arms. He thought to himself, heart squeezing tightly with love.

He looks down at Elisa.

"I love you, Elisa."

Elisa blushes, but with all the confidence in the world, replied, "I love you too, Cedric."

[greyskyflowers]

✨🌙 Magic AU ideas for fun ✨🌙

~ Please credit me if you use any of these.

🕸️ Ink spiders

Spider like creatures that tend to live in places with lots of ink (think libraries, book stores, antique shops, etc).

Most people think the black spindling legs are the creature and it's made of ink (hence the name), but the spiders are actually made of the spaces between words, the black ink is the shadow. They're very thin and you have to get close and look sideways at them to faintly see their actual bodies, which almost look like very thin glass threads. More of a distortion in the air than an actual image. Leave ink splatters when startled and make little clinking noises like tea cups when they get curious enough to climb something you've left close enough to the page.

**Think that photo of camels in desert where people think shadows are the camels

🚪Little shops in between the books on shelves in antique and bookstore.

They look like little miniature houses/apartments but they aren't fond of people lingering so if you look away they'll shut the doors and windows by the time you look again.

Some even take their welcome mats back inside.

🌌 Planetary rings can be bought for an unbelievable price but only the best magic users have them. They make amazing engagement and/or wedding rings.

🐠 If you find the right crosswalk in the rain, you will loo down between the painted line over a mirror image of the city, see fish swimming, leaves floating, etc. Stepping on the blocks gets you across but stepping in the water spins you around and you end up in the city. If you look up you'll see the blocks in the sky and fish swimming high above like clouds. You can watch people walking across the street above you.

This is the only way to find certain magic market places and it can be hard to find the right crosswalk. People usually end jumping in lots of puddles trying to find the right one.

**You leave the same way

🌧️ Kitchen clouds that rain spices

🌊 The most expensive and rare lace is foam from the sea pulled off at high tide under a full moon. White with the gentlest hints of blue, perfectly imperfect in it's details. They say it smells of salt and feels cool against the skin.

**Sold by mermaids, sirens, ocean nymphs. If you buy if from someone else it's probably fake

💡Sting lights that fly off the string when not in use and flicker on and off around the room. When you ask for light or turn it on, they all come floating in to sit on the string at their spots.

**Like lightning bugs but just little puffs of light

🌱 Rooms where grass grows on the floor or up between floorboards. Wildflowers and clover joining it. Sometimes sunflowers pop up to keep depressed or sick people company, common in hospitals

🛁 Night bath bombs: Black ones that turn the water black and silver dust forms accurate constellations in the water.

Cloud bath bombs: White ones that cover the top of the water in rolling puffs that look like cotton but dissipate like fog when you wave your hand through it.

Ocean bath bombs: Blue ones that foam and make small waves, sea salt scent and the grit of sand at the bottom of the tub.

Rain bath bombs: Grey ones that smell like rain and look like puddles, the occasional leaf or two floating by, and the perfect warm summer rain feel and smell.

🎨 Colorful butterflies like paint chips travel together and always form beautiful murals when they land. They usually stay for awhile before getting up to move their artwork to somewhere else.

🐙 Upside down flowers that move like octopus, the petals like little legs they scurry around on. They sometimes produce pollen puffs when startled or angry.

🦷 Dentists that do teeth whitening for vampires

👗 Dresses with flower edges, the skirt made of stems all going up to form the waist with leaves occasionally helping to cover and the flowers all at the bottom. Living dresses.

Along the same thought, flowers that weave in your hair and stay, Ivy, lavender, gardenia, etc.

🥪 Swamp houses on giant lilly pads with monsters that lives in the muddy waters, ancient beings that adore grilled cheese and will accept it as an offering of friendship.

🐾 Veterinarians that can speak multiple animal languages and can ask animals what's wrong as well as follow up on any neglect or abuse claims

⚓ Tattoos that move and change as the person does. Flowers that go through blooming and wilting. Words that change fonts. Animals that wonder around the body. Anchors that sink down to the feet. Watercolor that leaves the skin damp

🛒 Groceries that pop into your kitchen as you order them.

**They keep putting the milk in the wrong place and at this point you think it's just to fuck with you.

🪞 Store changing rooms have two types of rooms available, with mirrors that flatter and support, or mirrors that are brutally honest and occasionally hurtful.

💉 Werewolves that need to stay up to date on their rabies/disease shots instead of their flu shots.

💰 The best thieves and scammers are fae because they're amazing at getting information, names, numbers, etc. Also kitsune because of their remarkable cuunning and playfulness.

💧 Depression medicine that shoos away the rain clouds over your head

Calming tinctures that literally stop your head from spilling

Warming spells that start at you toes and roll up your body like sinking into warm water

Cooling spells that run down from the top of your head like a cool shower

💀 Classroom skeletons that teach their own classes and love dad jokes. Real ones that tell stories from their lives, or died very recently but it was in the middle of the semester and they still have shit to do. Fake skeletons that like to pretend they were famous/fictional people and spread completely ridiculous and often hilarious rumors.

🏘️ Ghost towns/neighborhoods like spirited away. Quiet and empty during the day but bustling streets and shops as the sun goes down. They aren't on maps for a reason - tip your hat or nod your head and remember your manners while quickly passing through

🌫️ Spells that hide your home from those with ill intentions. Sometimes they can't see your house or it looks abandoned. Sometimes it switches the roads around so none ever lead to you. Those with good intentions will always find their way to you, even if they get lost.

**Think irish proverb about the road rising up to meet you vibes

🗑️ The creature that lives in the break room trashcan always has the latest gossip and will gladly trade you some in return for some old coffee or a snack from the vending machine.

🐌 Sea slugs as street cleaners, make their way through the streets at night in slow wiggles like how they clean the bottom of the ocean.

**Often cause traffic delays if they get behind and can stay out til morning, so listen to the local morning radio to make sure to avoid any road closures due to slug

👁️ Seers make the best personal assistants, front desk, nurses, etc. Catch things right as they fall, will call and reschedule appointments before people know they need to, can make sure messages get where they need to go exactly when needed.

**Fake seers will sometimes try to pose as weathermen or similar to get some fame and money. They usually get booted quickly.

🌿 Eucalyptus that grows in the shower and greets you in the morning with happy waves and wishes you good night in the evening. Moss that grows on the floor like a rug and sprouts like flowers when it thinks you need some cheering up.

⌛ Time delays are a thing, however they must be approved by the time equality agency. You can request to change the hours in your day. For example, a student might request to have more time to study before their 7am final. If approved, they might have say 5am last 4 hours before time resumes as normal. However they'll have 4 hours removed at the end of their day.

**Kind of like daylight savings where the clock jumps forward and backwards

Usually this is reserved for very special situations as there's a lot of paperwork and requirements involved.

🚀 Spaceships gets stars stuck on the side, like boats get barnacles stuck to them, and they have to be scrapped off and throw back up into the sky

**Stars also go too low sometimes and get stuck in tree branches and gutters

🍄 Giant mushrooms used at part of the structure and/roof in forest homes. Living homes.

🌳 Willow trees are incredibly protective. If someone gets a willow whip mark (snapped a branch at them like a towel) it usually means they were somewhere they shouldn't have been.

🦋 Some butterflies have extra pollen on their wings that gets shaken off. This can be gathered and used in magic makeup - doesn't harm the butterfly as they shake it off themselves when it gets too heavy.

🐉 Fire flowers that burn blue at the base and end in flickering flames. Little embers in the middle like pollen. Very small dragons take the embers and soot like bees.

Please note that it's illegal to take anything from a dragon, including fire honey, but sometimes if you befriend them they'll trade you. Maybe a shell of honey for something shiney. They're fond of things like tinsel and shiney confetti, it's easy to carry and they sometimes wrap it around them like little scarves.

🗺️ Physical maps that direct you like Google maps but also refuse to ask for directions if they themselves get lost. Sometimes they fold on the sides like little arms on their hips when they're mad.

**Map: don't you dare pull over, take the turn in .5 miles.

Driver: There is no turn!

Map: Take the turn!