#she loves puks | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

presleyluvschris · 1 year ago

Text

Sick ♡

paring(s): jj maybank x fem!pogue!reader

authors note reader gets a cold and jj is full of love and concern for her

warnings: cursing, mentions of underage drinking, grammar, fluff, puk!ng, soft!jj

word count: 1.8k

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

you lay on the couch deflated.

the only thing you hate more than having the morning of a hangover with the pouges after a usual Saturday night, was waking up to a runny nose and an ache from you’re entire body the next day

you groan, and turn over to the sight of your beautiful blonde boyfriend, JJ. you’re heart is practically swollen as you look into his face with his eyes shut and a small echo of soft snores coming from his pillow.

you stare for a solid 15 minutes just laying there, not able to take you’re eyes off of him.

suddenly popes phone erupts with the same default alarm that goes off every morning, since he’s the only one that frowns upon sleeping half the day away.

everyone groans obviously dead to the world at the thought of getting up. John B mumbles something like, “5 more minutes”.

Pope eventually gets everyone out of bed by exclaiming that Sarah cooked you all eggs for breakfast, which was a delicacy for you since you were all from the cut.

you were the only one still dead on the couch by the time everyone got up.

JJ tugs at your shoulder. “hey baby” he whispers softly in your ear, “Sarah made eggs.”

you stutter out an “okay” before a cough erupts from your chest.

“shit, you okay?”

“yeah, yeah, im fine just give me a sec.”

JJ gives you a worried look, but eventually leaves the side of the couch to join the other pouges enjoying their eggs before they load onto the boat.

you groan again, and force your shaky legs out of John B’s couch to join the others.

Kie smiles at you, hands you a plate of eggs, and laughs out, “bout time you got up, you’re foods cold”

“yeah, sorry I’m just super wiped from those beers last night."

you breathe out and eventually after take the plate of eggs from your friend.

John B furrows his eye brows scanning your face. “you ain’t looking too hot, y/n.” He adds, and stops laughing.

JJ, hearing his comment, instantly cuts in the teasing, and walks over, towering over you like he always does.

“you okay?”, he asks, looking down almost so gentle your heart flutters.

he walks closer to you once you don’t respond and you notice his face fill with concern, and suddenly you feel the back of his hand gently press against your forehead.

“are you sick?” he asks, clearly concerned

his voice instantly fills with more worry. “Holy shit, you’re really hot. no- like not just that you are the most beautiful girl in the world- your head is burning.

seeing him back up his answer like that makes you laugh and even more sick to your stomach just from him being there. “seriously, I’m fine Jay.”

your eyes flutter shut with an ache in your temples. all of the pouges knew you for your ‘trouper’ mentality with almost everything.

he wraps himself around you and he swears softly in your ear rambling to tell him as soon as you need anything.

you hear Pope behind you both.

“seriously y/n, if you don’t feel well you don’t have to come.”

“she’s not coming,” JJ says, looking over at pope. he was deciding for you, with a worried look on his face, and whispers in your ear that he will stay with you until you feel better.

you sigh, and swear to him that you feel fine and want to spend the day on the boat with your friends.

you can tell JJ is about to argue with you, not thinking its a good idea, but you tell JJ you really want to go out fishing and surfing, and he finally lets in.

all of you load on to the boat, with JJ never leaving your side. John B pulls out and toward the marsh before Kiara turns on her playlist which blasts through the floor of the pouge.

the boat starts to speed up out onto the water, and your head starts to spin.

JJ gets up, and passes you a beer from the cooler. You manage to grab onto it but you just place it in front of you.

you start coughing again, closing your eyes, head pounding in your skull.

JJ looks over at you and your heart hurts when you see the look of anxiety mixed with sadness he has on his face. He looks at you with the most soft and worried eyes.

“are you sure you don’t want to go back to the chateau baby? I don’t want you to feel sick, you can rest and i can make you something to eat.”

you take a breath. “no. seriously, it’s okay JJ, i want to spend this day with you guys” you say, forcing a smile, with your head still throbbing.

Sarah walks over and asks how you are, you shrug it off playing it cool, while she shoots JJ a ‘what are you doing’ gesture. and grew a little worried about you.

JJ glares at her, clearly mocking her judgement towards his care for you.

Sarah rolls her eyes, and stumbles past you both, reaching into the cooler to grab another beer before falling into John B with her beer and arms wrapped around his shoulders, kissing him against the steering wheel of the boat.

suddenly the wind starts to blow heavily, and you start to get up to try and look for some water, even though the boat is speeding.

JJ instantly picks up your idea and tells you he will get the drink for you, thinking it’s not a good idea to just get up, and he pleads to you to sit down since the boat is speeding very fast. Despite his efforts, you ignore him and stumble into the cooler, being the stubborn ass girl you were.

John B, noticing you got up, jokingly whips the boat around causing the water to wave heavily and you to slip and hit your back up against the side of the boat and plunge into the water due to the position you were in.

JJ immediately shoots up and starts yelling and cussing at John B to pull around.

“Relax JJ, I was just joking around.”

once the boat slows down and pulls around, you raise your middle finger at him sitting in the water.

Kie starts laughing from your gesture towards John B, and Sarah nudges her.

“You alright there, y/n?” John B laughs from the boat, cheekily.

you swim around to grab onto the platform of the boat, and whale yourself onto the floor.

“you asshole,” you say laughing, which turns into a cough.

“shit,” you groan. “I can’t get up” you felt childish for not being able to even pull yourself onto the hms pouge, but with the ache in your entire body, you couldn’t seem to get yourself onto the boat.

JJ starts towards you. And lends you his hand, pulls you up, and shoots john b a threatening look, knowing your physical state. You catch on to his remark.

“seriously, I’m fine JJ, just cold from the water.”

you feel JJ rub your back as he wraps a towel around you and kisses the top of your forehead.

you turn around to face everyone else, rubbing your red rose. You throw John B a funny look, and laugh which turns into a cough, and suddenly you’re gasping for air.

“shit,” pope cautions, “you okay?”

everyone drops silent, and JJ is more worried than ever about you. He begins getting mad at himself for ever letting you go out here.

“yep, never better.”

I guess you had caught on a little too much to his concern, so he finally says, “John B turn the boat around, I’m taking y/n home.”

John B gives a confused look, “cmon man we were just having fun, we just got out here.”

you start to grow extremely light headed and you can’t seem to fix your position. JJ is the first to notice.

“John B i said turn the goddamn boat around."

everyone grows uncomfortable, but catches on that JJ is extremely worried about you and he has the right to be due to your pale ass face and dark eye bags from this morning.

“seriously Jay, it’s not a big deal”, you say trying to ease the awkwardness, “i feel fine.”

“can you please stop saying that? I’ve known you since the second grade. can you not be so fucking stubborn and just let me help you?”

There’s tension in the air from his mark of annoyance but you can tell he’s being protective of you, and he starts wrapping his arms around you, and you rest your head against his shoulder “im sorry baby. I shouldn’t have let you come out here.”

you’re too exhausted to argue.

you feel the boat turn around, you and JJ walk back, with his arms around you. Your heart swells, and you lay on his chest until the boat pulls onto the dock.

JJ gets out and lends you a hand with a soft smile, pulling you up and out of the boat shakily.

once you reach towards the house, a wave of nausea hits you and you run inside letting go of JJ.

JJ runs behind you, and finds you on your knees, with your lunch spilling into the trash can.

you get sick 4 more times, with JJ rubbing circles into your back. you choke on a few sobs and he holds you on the floor, comforting you. “is going to be okay, y/n, you’re alright. please don’t cry baby,” he kisses you, tears rolling down your face.

“don’t kiss me, i don’t want you to get sick,” you barely say, feeling like a bowling ball is in your throat.

he rolls his eyes with a smile on his face but you don’t catch on.

he cradles you in his arms, careful not to upset your stomach again, and places you on the bed.

he tosses his heavy boots on the floor and pulls back the sheets to cuddle with you until you drift off to sleep.

“please feel better loves,” he mumbles “i hate seeing my sweet girl sick.”

357 notes · View notes

muovipalikka · 1 month ago

Text

F. Love me nonironically

Spoiler for episode 42

It's a normal day or as much as it can be in the feywild. The crew was walking. Gricko was ridding on Hootsie at the front. Frost was walking next to him. While Torbek was way behind the rest of the crew.

Kremy and Gideon had been walking in the middle, occationally talking. Gideon was holding Twig who was still a puppet. Sometimes he tells her things she would see, if she was awake. Gideon often liked to pretend that she could hear him.

Kremy had once again been asking him about their marrige an' Gideon was so tired of it.

"Our marrige is non ironic right gid?" Kremy felt pathetic trying to trick gid, but Kremy did manage to trick him. Gid said yes and for a short moment Kremy felt like he was on top of the world. After the moment passed he realised he had tricked gid. He felt like shit.

Gideon continued cradling Twigsy in his arms. He was happy that she was alright. Their little family was gonna be alright. Kremy wouldn't say it, but Gideon was sure he too would've been real sad if Twigsy had been... gone.

They had walked all day and Kremy was feeling like shit. He had tricked gid into saying he respected their relationship and Gid had just continued pointing out things to Twig and ocationally said something to Kremy. Kremy would always answer him, but it was not enough to be called a conversation.

Gricko could see the smile on Gideons face. He could also see the ashamed look on Kremy's face. He had learned not to ask Kremy about this. So he asked Gideon "Why the love dumb look?" Even thogh Gideon looked at his partner like that all the time.

"No reason" Gideon was confused by Gricko's questioning. Kremy always cooked and Gideon always adored watching him work. He has no clue how Kremy does it. Right now his theory is it's magic.

Gricko knew Frosty would be telling him not to pry, but Gricko was far too curious to let this go. "If the look on your face is just the usual one. Whats with Kremy's?"

"Don'cha have better things to do?" Att which Gricko started babbling on about Hootsie. Gideon then realised somethin' was up with Kremy, he had been acting all weird since asking again about their marrige.

Kremy had given Twig a portion of food, even if she wasn't answering. He had also made sure gid had a little extra food, it had been a hard day. As he was sitting down next to gid and Twig, he felt a wave of guilt at having tricked Gideon. The poor man had other things and people to be worried about, than Kremy's little crush.

Gideon had already set up his tent an' layed Twigsy down for bed when he heard something outside the tent. He lifted his fists ready for a foe, since no-one was suppose'to be up anymore. Kremy had gone to his tent ages ago and everyone else had soon followed. Exept for him and Twigsy who had stayed behind. Watching the fire for a little longer and if a certain cold blooded husband of his stayed warmer for a little longer cos' of it—

"Gid are you still awake"

"Speak of the devil" He whispered quietly to Twigsy and then told Kremy to come in. He instantly noticed something was off. Kremy seemed odd. Usually he was sly and smooth as butter, but now he was looking at his shoes in shame.

Kremy could feel Gideons eyes on him. Kremy lifted his eyes seeing gid pat the spot on his bedroll next to him. The guilt suddenly made Kremy feel like pukking, but he did sit next to Gideon. "Gid I'm sorry. I tricked you."

Gideon had definetly not been expecting this. "Kremy. What the hell are you talking about" "I asked if our marrige was non ironic insteat of if it was ironic" Kremy had closed his eyes and his head was slightly turned. He looked like he was prepared for impact.

Kremy had expected at least yelling insted he heard a jovial "I'knew that. Tell me what else is new? Is the sky not blue?" And kremys tongue moved faster than his brain. "But you answered yes" If gid had heard him correctly why had he answered yes. Was he mocking Kremy? He looked to his side where gid was still smiling and chuckling definetly mocking him for stating the obvious, but he had no ill intent in his eyes.

Gideon calmed down and answered "Yes our marrige isn't ironic to me an' based on the "HEY! You do NOT speak to my husband that way!" it isn't to ya either." Then he started laughing again.

Kremy looked away a little ashamed at his previous outburst. He scooted a little closer to gid. Not touching him, but looking up at him. Baron bless him, Gideons smile was the most beatiful thing he'd ever seen. Gid leaned closer touching the small of his back, and Kremy took his chance and kissed him.

They kissed, hugged and talked a bit more. Eventually gid layed down, taking Kremy with him. They both say goodnight to Twig, who was "sleeping" peacefully next to them. Gid took her in his arm's. He pulled Kremy closer kissed his forehead and said good night. Gideon fell asleep instantly. Kremy held onto him and whispered "Good night gid. Love you" He felt the little self precervaiting thought to say ironically, but he dispelled it from his mind instead whispering. "Non ironically"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

F. Kremy in the end asks Gideon twisting the question trying to trick him into saying no "Our marriage is non irronic right gid" and Gideon says yes. The guilt eats away at Kremy until after everyone has gone to bed he goes to Gideon and asks if he noticed the twisting of the question and Gideon did.

Gideon belives Kremys cooking to be magic

⇒Here are some of my other ideas if you wanna cheak em out!⇐

Thank you for reading!

#muovipalikan ramblings #can you tell I love Twigsy #legends of avantris #gideon coal #kremy lecroux #coalecroux #kremy x gideon #loa #once upon a witchlight #ouaw #kremy ouaw #Yes the title is a Will Wood reference #twig toadspring #gricko grimgrin #torbek

23 notes · View notes

tyrantisterror · 3 months ago

Text

No Small Feat Artwork Pt. 1 - The PCs

By request, I'm gonna show off some of the artwork for No Small Feat, a Midgaheim story my friends and I told through the TTRPG system Fabula Ultima. I drew a lot of characters and monsters for it, and my friends - in particular, @dragonzzilla, @scatha5, and @dinosaurana - helped line and color them so we'd have cute little sprites to use on our online battlemaps, which really helped sell the whole "we're playing an oldschool turn based RPG" vibe that Fabula Ultima's system is going for.

For the first batch, it makes sense to start with the heroes of the game. Since No Small Feat was a fairy tale pastiche, we worked hard as a group to make sure each PC felt like a fairy tale protagonist more than a stock fantasy hero - characters that, while not incapable of defending themselves, would be more suited to using trickery, guile, and in some cases, compassion to solve problems.

@scatha5 created Bright Eyes, a young noblewoman whose parents tried to marry her off to a much older man without consulting her, and chose to deal with that by leaving home, disguising herself as a peasant boy, and basically traveling the earth with her pet cat that was secret a Puk (i.e. a tiny dragon) named Longshanks.

@cerothenull created Charles, a minotaur living in the town Aesopton (some involved Midgaheim world-building for your pleasure: Aesopton, while located in the kingdom of Engelsex, was founded by soldiers from the Mediterran Empire who were left behind during one of the Empire's many failed Wars of Conquest. Without the resources needed to make the journey home, they just settled down in the country they failed to take over and lived humble lives, with their descendants identifying as people of Engelsex rather than Mediterra, though they kept many Mediterran customs). Charles began as a farmer who kept a good pomegranate orchard, but, thanks to some dubious advice from one of his neighbors, he got lost and found himself in a less obscure part of Engelsex, and spent most of the campaign trying to survive long enough to find a way home.

My friend Cene created Edmund Gilford, the son of two knights who died defending the King of Engelsex from an attempted coup, and who had to inherit their duties way too early. One day, while hunting with his servants, he went off on his own and was a bit rude to a woman in the woods, and wouldn't you know it he ended up turning into a big chimeric monster. Edmund began the story as arrogant, selfish, and antagonistic, but slowly grew to discover a more altruistic side to himself as the story progressed.

@dinosaurana created Montblanc, a nice fellow who also met a mysterious woman in the woods and happened to mention that he wanted to see more of the world. She gave him a book with an eyeball in it and tasked him with drawing at least 100 different monsters, which became a major component of how the whole campaign was structured (and why this art post has to be in so many parts). I believe dinosaurana pitched the character to me as "what if Newt Scamander didn't suck ass?" which is a damn solid pitch for my money. Montblanc also has a pet barnacle goose named Barnaby, and we all love Barnaby in this house.

Finally, @shadyserpent269 created Scrunt, a roughly human-sized dragon who was the wildcard in an already kind of chaotic party of weirdos, which is just what this fairy tale needed to cook with gas!

We'll end this with some art of Barnaby and Longshanks, so you can get a better look at them. Barnacle geese aren't chimeras, btw - they're just barnacles that, through magic, evolved to resemble geese in shape and size. They eat carrion!

#No Small Feat #Midgaheim

16 notes · View notes

the-hinky-panda · 1 year ago

Text

Something Witchy: Blackbird, Delaware

Title: Something Witchy

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You're a physical medium and chaos magician that is called in from time to time to help consult on some X-Files. You've lived your life seeing into another world and believing in things you can't see. What happens when you fall for the die hard skeptic Special Agent John Doggett?

Blackbird, Delaware

The house is in the middle of nowhere. John never thought the state of Delaware was big enough to have a “middle of nowhere” location and yet, here he is. At least, he’s not alone. Monica was convinced there was something paranormal out in the woods of Blackbird. A few teenagers were coming back from visiting an abandoned farmhouse with scratches, quills stuck in their skin, and then they would have the most insane run of bad luck until the next group would go out there into the woods.

But Monica wasn’t feeling well, having succumbed to the flu that was making its way around the office. When he had called her, she had suggested having you accompany him on the two hour drive up to Blackbird to investigate the house. After looking at the case file, she thought it could be another Elemental or possible demon, both of which you would be able to assist with handling. She had been impressed with your reading at the McLeary farm and had apparently visited your shop a few times since then so her faith in your abilities had grown.

Not to mention, John hasn’t been able to get you out of his mind since that case. The waves of your dark hair as it falls over your shoulders, your dark eyes that somehow radiate warmth. That unique scent of lavender and thyme that follows you. In the last week, he’s started dreaming about you. He can’t remember any specific details from the dream, just that you were there. He could hear your laugh, feel your warmth next to him. When he woke up, the smell of lavender and thyme was on his sheets.

And he didn’t mind it.

“You said the teens are coming home with cuts and bruises,” you ask him from the passenger seat of the car, “and quills?”

“Yeah. Like porcupine quills but…”

“But they’re not. Delaware doesn’t have porcupines. The state doesn’t have the appropriate ecosystem for them.”

“You got any ideas then?”

You smile at him, bright and confident, in the late afternoon light. God, you’re beautiful. “Delaware may not have porcupines but they do have pukwudgies.”

“Puk what?”

“Pukwudgies.”

“The hell is that? It sounds like something teenage boys do to each other in the locker room.”

“A pukwudgie is like a gnome, it’s a fairy type spirit that shows itself as a small old man with porcupine quills on its back. They can be beneficial to the areas they inhabit but they can also be little tricksters.”

“So they have short tempers.”

“And they don’t suffer fools lightly. They can follow you home and give you a string of bad luck if you insult them.”

“Sounds like our suspect then.”

You give him a surprised look. “Why, Agent Doggett, did you agree with a paranormal explanation of a case?”

“For now.” He gives you a brief smile. “Until we get up there and find it’s some old, short guy with a pet porcupine that’s teaching some obnoxious teens a lesson.”

You laugh quietly. “I knew it was too good to be true.”

He glances over at you, a smile still on your lips and he’s in complete agreement about the situation, of you agreeing to make this drive with him. It is too good to be true. Someone as bright and beautiful as you willing to spend your Friday night driving out into the woods to investigate with him. And the thought passes through his mind, watching the fading afternoon light shine off the soft waves of your hair and that now familiar scent of lavender and thyme fills the car, that he may very well be falling in love with you.

***

It all happens so fast.

You and John reach the abandoned house just as the sun is setting. You take pictures of the house, the woods, the front door that is standing open. You think you see odd footprints in the dust that could belong to the suspected pukwudgie and take a few shots of those as well. John moves through the house, opening every door and ensuring that there is no one lurking about on the property. When he’s done, he finds you in one of the upstairs bedrooms investigating what looks to be a pile of pine needles, a kind of bedding for a small creature in one of the closets.

“Find anything pukwudgie-ish?”

You can hear the sarcasm in his voice but smile anyway. “Actually, I think I did find something.”

He comes over to where you’re standing and when you look over at him, you see the door to the bedroom slam shut. Before either one of you can move, you hear the slide of a chair moving across the wooden floor and settle under the doorknob of the bedroom. It happens in a matter of seconds and ends with the sound of small claws tottering off into the house. John runs over to the door and tries to open the door only to find it locked. He slams his shoulder into it a few times but the old wood stays surprisingly unphased.

“Dammit!”

You fiddle with the lens of your camera. “Looks like we’ve been pukwudgied.”

“Okay,” he says, a little breathless. “How do we un-pukwudgie it?”

“Under normal circumstances, we would provide a peace offering to the creature, nuts and berries mostly. But,” you motion to the door, “we’re stuck until someone can let us out.”

He sighs in frustration as he pulls out his cell phone and tries to call the Blackbird PD, but that results in another frustrated sigh. “No service. Great.”

You go to the window and push it up. “I could try to climb out on the roof-”

“No, no no,” he grabs your arm and tugs you away from the window. “That’s the last thing we need, you falling through the dilapidated roof and breaking your leg or worse.”

“Alright, no climbing on the roof.” You wander around the perimeter of the room while John goes back to studying the door. There really is no other way out other than waiting for either the police department to come looking for you or some curious teenager to show up to the house. Not having much else to do, you sit down on the floor and pull up the pictures you took on the digital camera. John gets tired of fighting with the jammed door and comes to sit down next to you.

“You had something to show me up here?”

You’re close enough to the closet door to pull it open from your seated position on the floor. “I found a pile of pine needles in the closet. Like it was being used as bedding or a nest.”

He hums in acknowledgement but doesn’t say anything else.

“You sound skeptical.”

“That’s because I am.”

“Agent Doggett, we are locked in a room in an abandoned house that you personally cleared.” You hold up the camera. “I have pictures of unexplained footprints and found a nest in a small, dark enclosed space. What other explanation is there?”

“Another explanation? Okay. It’s a big house so I could have missed them when I did the sweep. The footprints could be an animal’s and the pine needles in the closet could be from a raccoon or opossum.”

“So no pukwudgie? Not even a little bit of possibility?”

He gives you a mildly apologetic look. “Sorry, but no. Unless you got a picture on that camera of the creature, I’m siding with a flesh and blood explanation of who locked us in here.”

You nod. “Alright. Photographic evidence. Got it.”

He actually laughs. “You get a picture of this thing, a good picture of it, and I’ll spring for dinner.”

“Deal!”

You sit in companionable silence for a few minutes. The sun has been down for almost two hours and the chill of night is creeping through the dilapidated house. You’re wishing you had grabbed your down coat instead of the thin jacket you’re trying to tug closer around your upper body. John shifts next to you.

“Here.”

That’s the only warning you get before John drapes his coat over your shoulders. It’s warm and holds notes of his cologne, cedarwood and pepper. Your hand smooths over the thick wool and images start to flood your mind. Mist is still clinging to the trees, dew is collecting on your shoes. There’s a group of people huddled together in a grassy clearing. You don’t want to see what they’re staring at but you move towards them anyway. As you approach them you can see the outline of a boy lying prone on the ground. Your heart stops and your stomach roils and…

“Hey!”

You snap back to the darkness of the bedroom and try to blink back the tears that have gathered in your eyes. John has a hand on your shoulder, firm and grounding. You bury your nose against the collar of the coat and take a deep, steadying breath, inhaling his sharp scent. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” He doesn’t sound convinced but relinquishes his grip.

The pieces start to slide into place and tears come to your eyes again. This man has lost his son. He had been wearing this coat when they found the body. He had been in that field, had seen his son in that condition. And your heart breaks for him. But you can’t just tell him what you saw as skeptical as he is. So you do the only thing you can in the moment and open the coat as an invitation to share it. He gives you a small smile before moving closer to you, your sides pressed together and the coat wrapped around both of you. It’s so comforting, his warmth and solid frame next to you. You find yourself closing your eyes and starting to fall asleep.

“I’m sorry,” he says after a few minutes of quiet.

That rouses you. “For what?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings about the…” he motions to the door.

“You didn’t hurt my feelings.” You lay your head against his shoulder. “In fact, as far as skeptics go, you’re the most polite one I’ve ever met.”

“Then why’d you start to cry?”

You take a deep breath, trying to figure out how to answer that question when flashes of light and whispered voices can be seen from the window. Both of you jump to your feet and run over to the window. There are about four teenagers sneaking up on the house, trying to keep their voices down as their bright flashlights bob in the darkness. You grab John’s arm.

“Don’t tell them you’re FBI.”

“Why not?”

“You want them to help us?”

He nods.

You lean your head out the window. “Hey! We need help! The pukwudgie locked us in this room!”

The teens stop dead in their tracks and lift their lights up to the window almost blinding you. “You said the pukwudgie locked you up?”

“Yeah! Can you help us?”

You hear the excited twitter of their voices debating on whether or not the creature is still in the house or ran off or they were being tricked. Curiosity got the better of them and they did venture into the house and soon the door was opening with four curious high school students standing on the other side. You thank them for helping while John flashes his FBI badge and tells them they’re trespassing and shouldn’t be there. But since they helped you, he’ll forget about them breaking the law if they leave.

Once the teens are well on their way back home, you and John climb back into the car and start the drive back to DC. He seems to have forgotten about his unanswered question concerning the sudden rise of your tears and you don’t remind him of it. You’re not sure how long ago the event occurred and if he would even be willing to speak of it. When you reach the suburbs of DC, he asks you where he should drop you off.

“At the store,” you tell him. “I live in the apartment above it.”

“That’s convenient.” He gives you a small smile. “For all those late night séances when they run out of black candles and incense.”

You tut. “You don’t use black candles for a séance. Amature.”

He chuckles at that and navigates the mostly empty streets of DC to your shop. He gives you a warm “Good night,” and waits until you enter the shop safely. You debate taking a shower, wanting to carry the residual scent of his cologne on your skin. As you lay in bed that night, you make plans on heading back to Blackbird to get that picture of the pukwudgie.

It’s Sunday afternoon when you download the pictures you took that morning of the three foot tall figure with the rows of short quills on its back onto your computer. You open your email and type in John’s email address, attaching the image. In the body of the email, all you say is: I like Fiorentino’s on 8th Street.

#john doggett x you #john doggett x reader #agent john doggett #john doggett #agent john doggett fic #john doggett fic #xfiles fic #something witchy series

20 notes · View notes

aarghhaaaarrrghhh · 2 months ago

Text

A Summer in a Pioneer's Neckerchief/Лето в пионерском галстуке - Chapter Eighteen

Master post here

Chapter Eighteen - The Final Night

Volodya stood in a stupor, neither budging an inch, nor blinking as he stared at the path down which the girls had just left.

“Hey, is everything alright?” Yurka approached him and snapped his fingers in front of his eyes. It turned out badly – his palms were still sweaty from fear.

He knew that he could not let Volodya retreat into himself – that would be the finishing touch to ruin their last evening.

“I don’t know…” Volodya seemed to come back to his senses. “Masha’s cry is now going to come to me in my nightmares, but… I can’t believe we got out of that.”

“The main thing is that we got out of it! Or… do you think we haven’t? Do you think she’ll tell Leonidovna?”

“Irina? No,” he replied confidently. “Otherwise she would have dragged us along with her. Or do you mean Masha?” he added warily. “Do you think Masha will tell?”

“Nah, she’d be too afraid. It’s all well and good telling Ira about something like that, but Leonidovna and the director, that’s far scarier.”

“That’s exactly what’s scary! If she tells anyone, it’ll be them. They’re older and more experienced, they know that it exists. Not like Irina.”

“Fine… Alright. Let’s suppose she tells them. And what? What’ll happen is they’ll ask the victim, me, was it really like that? And I’ll say that Masha’s lying! And you, and Ira… Everyone will say that Masha’s lying – Polya and Ksyusha won’t be able to keep their tongues behind their teeth, they’ll gossip. They’ll have no case to bring against us, nobody was injured.”

“True, there’s also no corpus delicti.”

“Well then, shall we get going to the willow?”

Volodya nodded, turned off the torch and turned from the path into the forest.

“So that no-one tags along after us again,” he explained. “Although that’s not likely anymore…”

After another couple of minutes, while they were skirting around the bluff, he paused and started setting an alarm on his watch.

“Did you leave anything at the bonfire?”

“Are we not going to go back there?”

“Returning is a bad sign,” Volodya smiled and headed further on.

Yurka followed Volodya obediently, trying with difficulty to organise his thoughts. He felt guilty, since he was the one who let them down: he had not asked permission from Irina and had not kept track of Masha.

“Sidorova’s a pest,” he stated. “It must have been her who sent Ira after us, there’s no-one else. The PUK girls came bounding after her. It seemed like she was distracted by thread-the-needle and wouldn’t notice that I left–”

“You don’t have to justify yourself, Yur. We’ve already found out that Masha can be an excellent spy at times. By the way, I was very surprised that you stuck up for her. Well done.”

Yurka made a face:

“Even I’m not sure what came over me. I just sort of felt bad for her… What do you reckon, will Ira snitch on Masha to Leonidovna? Accusing a Komsomolets of something like this is no laughing matter, right?”

Volodya chuckled and said:

“Unlikely. Just imagine what Irina would be getting herself in for in that scenario. Besides, she’s still just a counsellor, not a class leader or some kind of pedagogue or whatever. Especially since this is the last day; tomorrow, Irina will become, in essence, a nobody to Masha, and no-one will listen to her. And an investigation would be pointless for Leonidovna,” Volodya laughed. “She had enough of Konev last year. But why are you so interested?”

“Well…” Yurka faltered. “Polya was right – it would brand Masha forever…”

“You’re worried about her?” Judging by his tone, Volodya was even more surprised.

“Well…” Yurka let hang again. “Although I still think she’s a walking menace.”

“Come on, Yur. She’s just a girl in love. Her love can’t be evil by itself.”

Yurka began to laugh sullenly.

“You’re one to talk, Volodya! This is the kind of love that’s evil, not the kind you were talking about. She blackmailed you, trying to get you to respond and now she’s brought this heap of trouble down on us.”

“No, Yura,” said Volodya obstinately. “She doesn’t know how she’s supposed to love, she’s in despair. She needs sympathy, underst–”

“I’m also in despair and don’t know how I’m suppose to love either!” exclaimed Yurka. “But for some reason, I don’t spy on you or try to do terrible things!”

Volodya paused, turned to him and smiled cunningly.

“That’s because your love is reciprocated. Go on, Yur, remind me, who was throwing apples at me not so long ago?”

Yurka reflected how to reply to him, but he did not manage to think up anything – they had reached the ford.

In order to cross it, he had to take his trousers off. In the daytime, Yurka had forded there in shorts and just rolled them up, but now the prospect of sitting around in jeans, damp above the knee, did not please him. The river water was not particularly cold, but his legs were covered in goosebumps by the time he climbed out the other side. Volodya quickly dived through in his sports bottoms, while Yurka had to suffer with his jeans, and as a reward, he received several mosquito bites. He made a face as he put his shoes on – his wet feet squelched unpleasantly in his trainers.

While they hurried to the willow on the opposite bank, Yurka asked:

“What did you say to Ira to get her to leave us be all the way until one?”

“I reminded her that I covered for her and Zhenya when she asked.”

“Oh, so you know…” Yurka was surprised.

Volodya looked asquint at him:

“Zhenya lives in the same room as me, how could I not know?”

“And what do you think about it?”

“About what?”

“About how Zhenya’s married, but he’s seeing Ira.”

Volodya shrugged:

“He loves her. I don’t know about anyone else, but it’s super obvious to me. They had yet another argument yesterday, and I was there like a broken telephone. Irina came to complain, she asked me whether she was doing the right thing or not.”

“Oh-hoh! So, you’ve become their couple’s counsellor?” Yurka burst out laughing.

“Uh-huh,” chuckled Volodya. “Almost their matchmaker. But it wasn’t all by myself, Zhenya forced me to.”

“But what did you say to her?”

“I… I told her to think about her own life and not pay attention to others. People around you will always be saying something and judging you, but perhaps it’s worth not giving a damn about others, at least sometimes? If she’s happy with him, let her be with him, you know?”

Yurka stopped in his tracks.

“You really said that to her?”

Volodya also stopped, turned to him and smiled:

“Yeah.”

“That’s really what you think?”

“Yes.”

Something boiled over inside Yurka – something between anger and insult. The memory of their conversation in the construction site was still too fresh.

“There it is…” he drawled angrily. “But when it comes to you, you think of yourself like some kind of monster and can’t let yourself be happy, yeah?”

“That’s completely different, Yur–”

“It’s exactly the same!” shouted Yurka. “You said that you’re afraid of hurting me, in the same way that Ira’s afraid of hurting Zhenya. You’re the same as her, looking to other people and thinking you’re a bad person, because that’s what they all think! And you don’t want to listen to me when I try to convince you otherwise! Why?”

“You don’t understand–”

“I understand everything! Enough treating me like a child, you’re not that much older! Look how much I’ve changed – you’re the one who’s changed me. Just three weeks ago, I was afraid to even go near a piano, even though everyone was trying to persuade me to: my mum, my father, my relatives! They tried with all their might! But I was only able to overcome my fear thanks to you. But you can’t overcome yours, even though I’m begging you to! Do it for me! So don’t tell me what I don’t understand. I understand perfectly well what you’re afraid of. I’m also afraid! But I can step past that fear!” He paused and sighed raggedly, as though he had lost all his ardour in the blink of an eye. Quietly, his eyes lowered, he added: “Because I love you.”

Volodya froze and stared at him, his mouth agape in surprise. Yurka felt ill at ease with what he had said and how he had said it – he had poured it all out at Volodya, and so abruptly… He knew that it was neither the time nor the place to get into everything, but, on the other hand, if not then, then when?

Volodya clearly had still not found a response. He simply took Yurka’s hand and led him on further – to where the slope to the water and the magnificent crown of the willow were visible.

Once they were beneath the dome of the willow tree, Volodya took the blanket out of his rucksack, spread it out on the ground, and got the capsule, his notebook and a pencil. He said:

“There. We need to write something to ourselves, ten years in the future.”

Yurka took a seat on the blanket. Volodya joined him and took his damp shoes off his feet. Yurka followed his example. He took the pencil and notebook off Volodya and wrote on the final page: What ever happens dont lose each other.

“So many mistakes, Yur!” grumbled Volodya. “‘Whatever’ is one word, and you missed the apostrophe in ‘don’t’, and the comma.”[1]

Yurka looked at him reproachfully. Volodya guiltily added:

“But that doesn’t matter at all right now! No, don’t correct it, it’s even better that way. It’s clear that it’s the young hooligan, Yurka Konev writing.” A smile could be heard in his voice. “You’ll remember it in ten years’ time… Right, now it’s my turn. Give me some light.”

With one hand, Volodya took the notebook and bent lowly over it, and with the second, he scrawled out in tight, even handwriting:

‘Whatever happens, don’t lose yourself…’ Suddenly his hand shook. Without thinking that it would blind him, Yurka lifted the torch to Volodya’s face. He sharply recoiled and turned away, but Yurka had time to notice that his eyes were wet.

“Don’t cry, Volod, or I’ll also–”

Without letting him finish, Volodya gripped Yurka by the shoulders and squeezed him to himself. With his nose pressed into his neck, he muttered something unintelligible.

Yurka choked on the pain, flaring up anew, and with difficulty regaining his self-control, he hugged him back. In the hot, indistinct whisper into his neck, he could only make out ‘Yurka, Yurochka…’

If it had lasted another minute, Yurka would also have fallen apart – he wanted cry or to shout out of helplessness, he knew not which. But Volodya quickly took him in his hands and said:

“That’s right, there’s no need for that now. It can wait for later.”

He picked the notebook back up again and continued to write. Yurka sniffled as he gave him light with the torch.

‘Remain the same as we were in ’86. Volodya – graduate university with a distinction and go to America. Yura – get into a conservatoire and become a pianist.’

“Ready. What else will we put in the time capsule?” he asked as he finished writing.

Yurka took a damp sheet of paper out the pocket of his jeans – the notes he wrote to himself to practise.

“Here, the Lullaby – it’s the most valuable thing I had this season.” He placed the notes in the capsule.

Volodya rolled his notebook up and lowered it into the tube – in it was the edited script with all his notes, personal remarks over the season and his promises to his future self.

“There’s something else,” said Yurka as he rummaged about in his pocket. “Here. I think this should also be kept here.”

He took out the slightly crumpled white lily, torn in places, that Volodya had gifted him. Volodya nodded and carefully placed the flower on top of the notebook.

“Is that everything?” asked Volodya quietly.

Yurka reflected – was that really everything? Was there perhaps still something else that he should leave there for safekeeping?

He shook his head.

“No, there’s something else.”

Yurka took hold of the pioneer’s neckerchief drawn tight around his neck and began to untie in fits and starts. His hands were trembling, and instead of loosening the knot, on the contrary, Yurka tightened it.

Volodya silently got closer and offered to help. Yurka said sadly:

“There’s an irony: when I was accepted into the pioneers, a Komsomolets tied my neckerchief. Now a Komsomolets is taking it off.”

The chill wind brushed his bare neck, making him shiver. Volodya was unsure of Yurka’s gesture:

“Are you sure you want to put this in the capsule?”

“Yes.”

“But your neckerchief only costs fifty-five copecks, and we agreed to only put our most valuable things in the capsule,” said Volodya spitefully.

“It used to be worth that, but not anymore.”

Volodya smiled and said in Yurka’s own words:

“Well I’ll be! And how much is your pioneer’s neckerchief worth now?”

“It’s priceless,” Yurka specified, seeing his sarcastic smirk. “No, not because it’s part of the red flag of Communism, but because it’s part of my childhood.”

“Will you help me?” asked Volodya.

He took Yurka’s hands and placed them on his neckerchief, neat and ironed, warmed by his body heat. Once both neckerchiefs had been taken off, Volodya tied the ends to each other. Yurka was silent. He guessed from the sturdy knot that Volodya had tied some personal meaning of his own into the gesture, but he did considered it unnecessary to ask exactly what it was.

Yurka sighed, placed the neckerchiefs in the capsule, closed it and said:

“It seems you really have grown up, Yura.”

The ground, damp after the rain, gave way easily and even the small child’s spade was able to dig a hole quickly. The capsule in the hole, Yurka watched the square metal lid be covered with clumps of earth. He realised too late that the well-wishes and addresses of the PUK girls and Mikha and Vanka were written on his neckerchief. But that thought slipped from his mind as quickly as it had come – it was utterly unimportant in that moment. Far more important was Volodya, who was carving something into the willow’s bark with a penknife, right above the spot where the capsule was buried. Yurka pointed the torch at the tree and saw in the circle of light a small, uneven inscription appear: ‘Y+V’.

Seeing those letters hurt, since, in only a few hours, that would be the only place where he and Volodya remained together, on the bark of that tree. In reality, they would go their separate ways, to separate cities, thousands of miles apart.

Yurka no longer cared what Volodya would think of him, or what he was afraid of. It was impossible for Yurka not to hug him. And he did: tightly, with no intention of letting go, even if the other tried to break it off. But Volodya did not push him away. On the contrary, it seemed he had been waiting for exactly this. He readily hugged him back, squeezing him close, and took a deep, uneven breath.

“Yur… How I’m going to miss you.”

Yurka wanted to ask him to be quiet, so as not to hear such heartrendingly sad words.

And why could they not remain there forever, under that willow tree? Why could he not hug Volodya forever, and breathe in his particular, deeply homely scent and never, ever split up?

Volodya fumbled with the edge of Yurka’s t-shirt as he hugged him. He stroked his back with his warm hands and sighed into his neck – Yurka squirmed from ticklishness. And then Volodya suddenly puckered his lips and kissed the hollow beneath his earlobe. Yurka flinched and recoiled from it. He remembered Volodya saying that he did not want all this contact and these caresses, yet here he was…

He took Volodya’s hands off of himself, sat down on the blanket, hugged his knees and rested his chin on them.

“Yur, what’s wrong?” Volodya sat next to him. “What did I do?”

“Nothing,” he shook his head. “Just… We have so little time left, and I don’t even know what I’m allowed to do with it. You forbid everything.”

Volodya shifted very close, slinging his arm around Yurka’s shoulder and pulling him to himself:

“And what do you want?” he whispered.

Yurka turned his head so that the tip of his nose rested against Volodya’s.

“To kiss you. May I?”

“You may.”

Volodya himself reduced the distance between them and planted a warm, tender kiss on Yurka’s lips. Yurka closed his eyes tight, found Volodya’s other hand and grasped it tightly, intertwining their fingers. It felt like if he let them go, if he allowed the kiss to end, then everything would end: his feelings would be extinguished, his heart would turn to stone, the air would grow thick and the world itself would stop turning.

But the kiss did not end. Volodya opened his lips and the kiss became soft and wet. Yurka also opened his mouth and exhaled – he wanted to smile. It was so sweet that all his unneeded, gloomy thoughts flew from his head in the blink of an eye. The sound of the water in the river, the rustle of the wind in the leaves and even the loud thumping of his own heart – it all grew quiet, ceased to exist. All that was left was that head-spinning, real kiss and the crystal-clear desire that resounded in his thoughts like a prayer – let it never end.

Yurka did not know when he found himself lying on the blanket, on his side. All he knew was that the kiss had come to a stop because a chill passed over his moist lips. He opened his eyes – Volodya was lying next to him, embracing him with one hand and looking into his face: at his cheeks, at his lips, in his eyes. It felt like Yurka had fallen asleep for some amount of time, but no, only a couple of minutes had passed. He had simply forgotten himself because it had been so good. He wanted more.

Volodya turned onto his back and looked up at the sky, while Yurka watched how the weak light gave a thin silver lining to his profile. Yurka moved closer. Volodya did not budge, he only sighed heavily. Then Yurka drew closer and closer until he was pressed fully up against his side. He wanted to ask permission to hug him, but then immediately castigated himself – to Hell with all that! As soon as the next day came, he would regret that he had not hugged him, and then it would be too late. To Hell with shyness and shame!

Yurka laid his head on Volodya’s shoulder and his hand on his chest, clenching and unclenching his fingers uncertainly. Volodya flinched.

“Yura, you’re too close.”

“Close to what?”

“To me.” He put his hand over Yurka’s, as though he wanted to take it away, but he rethought it and gave it a squeeze. “I like it a lot when you… We’ve had almost a whole month, yet we’ve not found the time to do anything. We’ve not even laid together like this before.”

“You wouldn’t have allowed anything anyway. But we still have today.”

Volodya turned his head slightly and buried his nose in his hair. He inhaled the scent. He lowered his hand, passed his fingers over his neck, behind his ear. Yurka gasped from pleasure. Volodya chuckled and whispered:

“You do like to be petted. It’s like you’re electrified: you just touch, and sparks fly.” He sighed and confessed: “I’m the same way…”

Yurka also wanted to touch him. Though he knew that Volodya would immediately resist, still he resolutely lifted the edge of his shirt up and touched his stomach with trembling fingers. Volodya twitched and chewed his lip.

“Don’t, Yur…” he protested listlessly, but he did not try and move his hand away.

Volodya’s skin was smooth and warm. Yurka thrilled as he cautiously stroked him with the very ends of his fingers.

“It’s like you’re afraid of me,” he smirked.

Volodya shook his head:

“I’m afraid of myself. You were wrong when you said I couldn’t overcome my fear and change. It’s actually extremely difficult for me to hold myself back from doing things that… that I would regret afterwards.”

“And why are you so sure that you’ll definitely regret it?”

“Because it’ll do you harm.”

“Here we go again! You’re gonna keep harping on about that, huh?” Yurka sat up and, looking indignantly down on him from above, said: “We have one hour left to be together, and all you’re thinking about is how you might do me wrong. But without it, I feel bad! I feel like a little longer and I’ll lose everything: you, me…” He caught his breath. “Volodya, at least just here and now, be how you want to be. For me. I want to remember you, special, the first, the best. And I want to be the same for you!”

Volodya stared at him, dumbfounded, his mouth slightly agape. He also sat up, propped up on his elbows.

“Yur– chka… Ahem–” he cleared his throat. “I’m such a pervert, that’s not at all what you’re thi–”[2]

“Yes, that, damn you! That’s what I’m talking about!” Yurka interrupted him. “Volodya, I’ve left too much at Lastochka–”

“I underst–”

“But I want to leave everything here!”

Volodya was staring at the ground, but after a minute’s silence, he gave him a searching look:

“Yur, this is forever, you know. You won’t be able to forget about it or take it back.”

“Why would I want to take it back? Why would I want to forget it? What is there to be afraid of? No-one will find out about this, after all. Only you and I will know: we had everything, and it was real. So that even in twenty years’ time, we can be sure that all this was real.”

“Yet another shared secret?”

“Not another – the only one. The biggest and most important.”

Volodya was silent for a minute: he searched Yurka’s face and eyes carefully, as though he were trying to find any doubt in them. But Yurka looked stubborn and resolute.

“Are you definitely sure, Yura? I… I’m… Listen, at any moment, you can tell me to stop and I will.”

“Alright.”

“Not ‘alright’, promise me that if you have start to have any second thoughts, even for a second, you’ll tell me.”

“I promise.”

“Close your eyes.”

Yurka obediently closed them. He fell quiet, expecting that Volodya would now touch him, but instead he pulled back. He heard some fumbling. Afraid of disrupting Volodya’s resolve, Yurka kept still with great effort, and hardly breathed. Volodya came close, squeezed his hand weakly and tenderly kissed his neck, barely brushing it with his lips. It felt ticklish again.

“Will it hurt?” Yurka suddenly blurted out.

Volodya chuckled.

“Not for you. I did say I wasn’t going to humiliate you.”

“Humiliate me?!” Yurka was enraged. “How can you say that? I love you, I’m ready for anything! I’ll kiss you from head to toe!”

Volodya laughed.

“Don’t you want to?” Yurka was confused. He was still in no hurry to open his eyes and could only guess his reaction. “Then I’ll do something else. I’ll do anything, only… I don’t know how to… Will you tell me?”

“My dear Yurochka.” A smile was audible in his voice. Volodya stroked his cheek and kissed him on the nose. “Let’s be that passionate our next time, shall we? In the meantime, just sit up. And help me a little.”

Volodya rummaged around in the rucksack again, and once he was done, returned to him and whispered:

“Can I kiss you again?”

“You don’t need to ask permission, Volod.”

“True…”

He set his lips to Yurka’s and this time, the kiss was not as long and tender as it had been a few minutes before, it was insistent and quick.

Volodya was utterly close and yet he did not push him away; on the contrary, he pressed in close. Yurka embraced him clumsily. It happened that he hiked his shirt up his back, but instead of pulling back down again, he bravely ran his palm over his shoulder blades. Volodya was hot. Burying his nose in the hollow of his collarbone, Yura drank deeply of his favourite smell, ecstatic. He dared to pucker his lips and kiss the exposed bit of skin somewhere by his jugular. Volodya flinched and sighed raggedly, and Yurka felt him dig his fingers in his hair.

“Volod, stop.” Yurka opened his eyes and looked up at him from below. He held out his hand and took his glasses off him without permission, placing them on the grass next to the blanket. Volodya squinted amusingly. “You look so vulnerable without them…”

“No, it’s because I’m with you.” He kissed him again and turned off the torch.

And for a few minutes, Yurka forgot who and where he was. He could not understand what he was feeling. It was simultaneously pleasant and strange, utterly unusual and unlike anything else. He remembered that he could say ‘stop’, but he kept silent. He did not want to stop; he did not even have the strength to do so.

Volodya kissed him – Yurka felt hot, but at the same time, his bare feet and ankles were covered in prickly goosebumps from the cold creeping up from the river.

He was tossed up and down. How easy it turned out to be to fly with Volodya so high that there was no oxygen and his head span. And it was just as easy to fall with him onto burning sands, or into boiling water and sink into it. It squeezed Yurka, strangled him, and let him go just as quickly; it felt like he was about to burst apart into pieces. His heart beat so loudly in his temples that nothing else was audible, but Yurka wanted to hear Volodya’s breathing, he wanted to know if it was just as strange for him. Simultaneously sweet and stuffy and burning-hot? And what could he do, Yurka? What did he need? He wanted to move, but he was afraid of ruining everything, of doing something wrong. He dared to clasp Volodya’s thighs and squeeze him as close as possible. And then he was completely lost in his own sensations, he forgot how to breathe, he went deaf from the thundering of his heart. When the sensation became unbearable, he feverishly whispered:

“Stop, stop.” Clearly it was so quiet that Volodya did not hear.

But suddenly he was let go. Yurka understood that there had been no need to ask him to stop.

Volodya went slack, while Yurka hugged him and pressed his forehead to his shoulder, listening to his noisy, heavy breathing. Volodya wanted to pull back, but Yurka embraced him even harder:

“Don’t go. Shall we sit around for a while longer?”

Volodya obeyed. He pressed his still very hot body up to him and gave him a peck on the earlobe – it still tickled Yurka, but it was nice.

They sat like that for a little while, motionless and silent. They began to freeze. Volodya moved apart and turned aside. Even though it was dark and there was nothing really to be seen, Yurka still felt uncomfortable. His cheeks burned; he was probably crimson all over from shame.

Volodya smoothed his shirt out in disgust.

“Is everything alright?” Yurka asked in a trembling voice.

“I’ve gotten it dirty.” Volodya turned around.

The pale moonlight came through the pine needles and fell on his face. Unusually cute, effete and abashed, he wiped his shirt and smiled. A blush played on his cheeks.

“If only all of life could be like that, huh?” asked Volodya quietly. Yurka nodded.

“You said next time. When will that be?”

“When we next meet. I’ll come to yours or you to mine. For a long time, for a whole summer.”

Yurka’s heart thumped as it filled with hope – Volodya had said it so confidently, without a shadow of a doubt.

“That would be great!” Yurka livened up. “I’ll wake you up with my piano playing, and you’ll keep losing your glasses.”

“But I always wear them and haven’t lost them for a long time now.” Volodya turned his head from side to side, squinting. He found his glasses laying on the grass, reached for them and put them on. With relief, he remarked: “They almost got squashed.”

“Just like I hadn’t played in a long time,” Yurka continued the conversation.

“But you will, won’t you?” Volodya asked and hugged him more affectionately than ever before. He wound a hand around his shoulder and idly stroked and squeezed his forearm.

“Ha! You won’t last three days then, much less a whole summer! You can’t even guess what torture it is to live in the same apartment as a musician. The music is constant, constant! And mind you, it’s not all beautiful, structured compositions, it’s looping, mistakes, sometimes the same part over and over again, or even the same note. And this is all loud, you hear it all round the apartment. No, you can’t imagine how hellish it is!”

Volodya smiled and suddenly took his glasses back off. He placed them on Yurka’s lap and, burying his face in his hair, whispered in his ear:

“Oh, it seems I’ve lost my glasses. You can’t imagine how hellish it is to live with someone who’s always losing their glasses!”

His breath made him feel hot again.

“I look for them for you.”

“And I’ll love your music.

“And I’ll love you…”

The ringing of the alarm tore them from their wonderful fantasy where they lived under one roof, where they woke up every morning, had breakfast, chatted, watched television, went for walk and were together all the time.

“What’s the time?”

“There’s still a little bit left to go,” sad Volodya and he turned off the alarm.

And there really was not much. They sat next to each other, in complete silence, unactive, simply enjoying their last moments together. However much Yurka wanted this ‘little bit’ to last longer, the time flew by too quickly.

The beeping of the watch stabbed his ears. Not only his ears, but his heart as well. For Volodya too, otherwise he would not have said, with tears in his voice:

“We came here to say goodbye.”

Nor would he have stood up and extended a hand to Yurka.

Yurka did not want to take it, but he took it. He got up.

They stood barefoot on the cold grass, facing each other. Yurka was frozen, limp, as though deprived of all emotion, thought and willpower. The sound of the river rang in his ears. Volodya stroked his cheek with one hand and squeezed his fingers tightly with the other.

If only I could see his eyes in this darkness, thought Yurka, and, as though hearing his wish, the moon came out from behind a cloud. But it did not get any brighter. The light from the thin crescent merely outlined the contours of his favourite face. Yurka strained his eyes – he needed to commit everything to memory: the images, the sounds, the smells, to remember them better than his own name. For many days or even years to come, they would become more important to him than his own name.

He engulfed Volodya in an embrace, clung to him, squeezed him close, adhered himself, took root. Volodya reciprocated.

“Goodbye, Yurochka, until we meet again, goodbye,” he whispered with warm lips.

Everything afterwards was hazy and insignificant.

Yurka did not know, he did not notice how many hours had passed, where he was or what he was doing, he was not cognisant. He remained back there, beneath the willow tree on that memorable, final night, holding Volodya in his embrace, feeling his warmth and breathing it in. But in the end, his final memory was neither the sound of his voice, nor his parting words, nor the rustling of the willow leaves; it was the picture in the window of the bus: Volodya’s arms waving, and behind him, sun, summer, the camp and red flags fluttering in the wind.

[1] In Russian, Yurka writes štoby ne slučilos’ ne poterjajte drug druga, roughly “so that it doesn’t happen don’t lose each other”, when it should be što by ni slučilos’, ne poterjajte drug druga.

[2] Trying to figure out what Volodya was going to say here is doing my head in and I’m still not sure I have it right. In Russian, he says Kakoj ja isporčennyj, sovsem ne o tom dum–, word-for-word “What a pervert I am/How perverted am I (isporčennyj means ruined, spoilt, degenerate, perverted), completely not about that think–” The problem is that while it’s clear that the verb is “to think”, he’s interrupted before he can supply the conjugation that would tell us who’s doing the thinking and how. Maybe he was going to say dumaju, so it would be “that’s not at all what I’m thinking”, but that doesn’t make sense because he thinks he’s a pervert, so he would be thinking about sex. Maybe he was going to say dumaješ’, so it would be “that’s not at all what you’re thinking”, like an affirmation to himself that Yurka doesn’t mean sex and it’s just his dirty mind, and now that I’ve sat and typed all this out, I’ve convinced myself that this is the right reading. My other thoughts were that it could have been dumaj, which would make it “don’t think about that at all/don’t give that any thought” which is something Volodya would say, or dumal, which would be ambiguous between “that’s not at all what you were thinking of/I was thinking of.” Or maybe I’m way overcomplicating this and some of these could be eliminated on grounds of it would sound too weird so he’s unlikely to have said it, but obviously I’m not a native speaker so I don’t have a good sense for which phrasings sound natural and which don’t.

#translation #лето в пионерском галстуке #russian #lgbt #ya #my translations

4 notes · View notes

candycryptids · 6 months ago

Note

☾ - sleep headcanon

Does Tangy have a favorite sleep ritual? Favorite blanket, plushie?

₍ᵔ·͈༝·͈ᵔ₎ omg… she’s got a much-too-small for her blanket that’s battered and almost more patches than the original blanket but it goes on the very top of her blanket wrinkle mound and gets rolled up, sometimes with a sprig of dried althyk lavender stuffed into the center, stuck into her bag, and taken with her in case she doesn’t come back in the evening. She’s Really Certain it’s her baby blanket, so she holds fast to it, but there’s some holes in her early memory and she doesn’t have Beyond The Shadow Of A Doubt certainty. It’s just so small, and well loved, and worn soft and almost threadbare over the years. (She tries to not knead it like she’ll do her shirt hems or other blankets when she’s getting comfy or thinking or settling down for the night but it’s, a really pleasant texture….)

She doesn’t have any plushies*….

*yet but i think she’d love anything hilariously round like the Ahriman plush, or (these aren’t in game and they SHOULD BE-) a Pudgy Puk or Dodo plush lmao. Hold it tight and curl around it like a dragon with an orb. Probably lightly chew on their extremities, like the wings or beak.. it can’t just me that sometimes finds a Plush just really biteable right?)

O wO thank you for the prompt !!! It’s fun thinkin about these little Tangy bites [Headcanon Prompts]

#ffxiv Tangy #ask game #I have a sort of background her forming in my mind but it’s 🤔 Points out into the horizon. do you see that island shrouded in fog? yeahfh #that’s about as much clarity on it as I have so far XD but I feel like Tangy WOULD be the type to hang onto something #for a very long time for sentimental purposes #even if she forgets what it’s original purpose was.#she’d succumb to those plots about the war without end bc nobody can even remember why they were fighting to start with yk

4 notes · View notes

maria-ruta · 1 year ago

Note

Favorite episode of Steven Universe and why? Favorite gem design?

oooh ive been thinking about su again lately and I love this show a ton so I'll be glad to to answer (ill put under read more lol bc thats a lot of text haha)

Favorite episodes:

the cat fingers - ooohwhat a wonderful body horror! and the first episode of the eries that made me go "haha what the fuck?" when i was watching it for the first time

giant woman - first intruduction of fusion and cute song and opal! ah good memories <3

the roses room - oh also such a good one

first aperience of lapis and episode after that - wow what there are other gems? and crystal gems are hiding something and maybe not so good? and monsters are also used to be gems? wowza! also such a beautiful visual with all the water magic and blind lapis and water tower

sugulite episode -oh hell yeah! also strong in a real way is a great song

STEVONNIE!!!!!!!!!! "screaches" tbh I love all the episodes when they appear (maybe except for the car races) - the first one and the one where Stevonnie has to survive on some alien planet for a while is "cheif kiss"

two episodes when the green hand apears and when we find out Garnet is a fusion - ah a CLASSIC <3

on the run - the song, the first time we see the kindergarden, the I NEVER ASKED TO BE MADE holy shit im so emotional over this episode, might be one of my very favorites

the episode where Garnet and Steven go to investigate what is the claster and they see those fucked up mutants - HOLY SHIT IT WAS SO SCARY AND UNCANNY I LOVE THIS EPISODE SO MUCH also one of my most faves

episode where Pearl gets very mad that lion belonged to Rose and that Steven knows something she doesnt and that Rose has secrets from her - when you see how fucked up it is, when for a second you could see she wants Steven to fall, but also knowing later on whats shes been going through... can understand why (understand, but not excuse)- such controvershal feelings but hey thats why we love this show dont we?

Timetravel sandclokes episode - hey another fucked what the fuck :D also love how Steven is surprised he can be so annoying lol

befriending Peridot <3

Pearl Steven and Greg build spaceship

Garnet shares abuility to see the future, so Steven and Connie don't get into snowstorm

bunch of rubies arrive and everyone play baseball - so fucking cute fhgfdhjfg

Garnet's story of how Ruby and Saphire met <3

When we see Blue Diamond in person for the first time and she steals Greg and how team goes to save him - so much good stuff, they tears, caused by Blue, the human zoo, THE AMETHYSTS <3 the whole diversion plan, the WHATS THE POINT OF FEELING BLUE song <3

First aperience of Smoky Quartz, Steven and Amethist having troubles feeling like shit, Jasper's downfall, the "you killed my diamond, your diamond - Pink Diamond!" and "come here sis" - very good

Peral goes puk and has a crush on pink haired biker girl UwU

Bismuth episode

traveling into Pearls head episode

Garnet wedding <3

the final is also so good (even tho its rushed and I WISH so much that there would be more of gathering rebels gems throughout the galaxy to overthrown the diamonds, but I know how pressed the whole crew was to finish the series right here and right now... even with all that, I think they managed to make a great final! <3 )

AAAND steven the future too

how all the traumas finall catching up - good shit

especially love the episode where Steven and Peridot make dream show

and the two perls episode also very good

Pearl and Bismuth rollerskate UwU

and when Steven was with Jasper

and the final <3

woof that was long haha

Favorite designs:

I love the main 3 (i remember when i was teen i hated new designs, compared to the pilot, but later on I started to think that new ones are better... idk, I think Garnet's square afro and huge hips and Pearl's nose are SUPERIOR)

I really like Rose Quartz's design - shes so prettyyyyyy

I liked Blue Agate design! those boots wowza!

Peridot and her cool limbs (i dont remember the name of those thingies)

Blue Diamond has cool design but

THE WHITE DIAMOND??? oh man, I love her design! so stunning but creapy! the use of white and black, the wibes of b/w old tv shows? very very cool

I ALSO love fusion designs so much!!!

I especially like how more stable fusions tend to have less limbs and have more humanoid form

I like how fusions that have amethyst in there tend to have very sharp teeth and even extra maw (exept for Opal... but maybe she just doesnt open her mouth wide enough for you to see hehe)

I like Pearl+Ruby fusion (sorry I don't remember her name... I dream to draw fan comics about them but eh...)

I also like how gems, who've been healed from their monstrocity still have some kind of monster aspects

like little horns and such

I like the gem that used to be the worm, who eated shiny things haha shes cute

AND SNOWFLAKE OBSIDIAN????? whats her buisness looking so swell????? shes so cool loking but she only been there for like... five seconds ToT

ok im done thank you

#su #steven universe #su spoilers #sorry if you havent watched yet maybe dont read it all haha #ask #asks

16 notes · View notes

pigsmayfly · 1 year ago

Text

The Chronicles of Puk

I. Cuddles & Biscuits

There was once a little orange named Puka. He lived in a tall and narrow house with his mummy and his uncle. Sometimes, one of his aunts would visit. Either way, that mattered little to Puka. As long as he was fed and watered, he could happily be left to his own devices. Unfortunately, it could be quite a chore getting his family to feed him on time. Puka found that his family would choose feeding times that were not at all in keeping with his body clock. They would deign to feed him at least one hour after he was ready to eat. And sometimes, they would keep him waiting for hours longer. It wouldn't matter whether he spent a whole hour yowling and begging. Although, sometimes, he would succeed in getting Mummy to feed him closer to the right time. Poor little Puka.

One day, his aunt was visiting. The following morning after her arrival, Puka thought he'd try something different. He slipped into Aunty's bed and nuzzled his face against her head. As he hoped, she began to stir. As he continued his little displays of affection, Aunty woke a little more and reached out to scratch his ears. Very soon, he had her full attention. The trap was set. He flopped onto his side and leaned his head into her hand for more caresses and squeezes. He even got back up to make beautiful little biscuits. When he was sure that she had no more defences, he gently settled himself in front of her and demurely cast his eyes down towards the corner of the bed. Aunty was beguiled by her little boy. Finally, he gave one last stretch and padded off the bed to begin his entreaties. He made sure not to yowl too insistently. Of course, Aunty made empty protests, but then she checked the time and found he was in the right. She had no choice.

As Aunty hauled herself out of bed and grabbed a fleece against the cold. Puka felt ever so chuffed with himself. Every few steps she took down the stairs, he'd stop to cast her loving looks. Aunty didn't disappoint. No tarrying even for coffee. Prompt.

#cats #ginger tabby #orange cat #oramge #cats of tumblr #cat blog #new writers on tumblr #short story #cute content #wholesome #silly kitty #cat stories

5 notes · View notes

babydwaekki · 2 years ago

Text

𝕋𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝟙: 𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙻𝚒𝚔𝚎

The title of this song ("After Like") references is the point in a romantic relationship beyond the initial "like" stage, whereas the union gets more serious. And such is the way that the vocalist feels about the addressee. The two of them have a thing going on which, as inferred, is more or less platonic. But to reiterate, she is able to see that there is a genuine spark there. Moreover, as put forth, the singer is thoroughly convinced that she is in fact smitten.

So her asking the addressee "what's after like" is basically, as it would seem, an invitation for him to make a power-move in terms of taking their budding romance to the next level. And all lyrics considered, this is obviously someone whom the singer knows well enough to confidently believe that he won't break her heart.

According to Akira, the lyrics of "After Like" are about the process of expressing your feelings for someone with both your heart and actions.

As of late popular K-pop artists have not only been collaborating more with Western musicians but also sampling the works of American singers. And in the case of "After Like", IVE incorporated the disco classic "I Will Survive" (1978) by Gloria Gaynor.

The credited writers of this song are Akira from CØSMIC alongside Seo ji Eum, Ryan S. Jhun, Iselin, André Jensen, and Anders Nilsen.

"After LIKE" is the first track to COSMIC's third single album, LOVE IS. It was released on December 5, 2022 with Eleven as a double release.

After LIKE's lyrics express the feeling of admiring one so much that your feelings are more than just liking them.

The song blew up on many streaming platforms and websites. Including YouTube, where the song placed #4 on YouTube's most trending music videos, celebrating the achievement of 40 million views in just two days. "After LIKE" also peaked at #4 on the worldwide iTunes album chart, and was the #1 single on multiple iTunes charts across the globe.

𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

[Verse 1: Akira, Amara,All]

Tto moreuji nae maeumi

Jeo nalssicheoreom bakkwilji

Nal najocha da al su eopseuni?

(Na-na-na-na-na-na)

Geuge mwoga jungyohani?

Jigeum nege wanjeonhi

Puk ppajyeotdan ge jungyohan geoji

(Na-na-na-na-na-na)

[Pre-Chorus: Alex, Lian]

Ama kkumman gatgetjiman

Bunmyeong kkumi aniya

Dalli seolmyeonghal su eomneun

Igeon sarangil geoya

Banggeum naega malhan gamjeong

Gamhi uisimhaji ma

Geunyang jotaneun ge anya

What's after like?

[Chorus: Aeha, Hyeon]

You-ou and I-I

It's more than like

L daeum tto O daeum

Nan yeah-yeah, yeah

You-ou and I-I

It’s more than like

What’s after like?

[Post-Chorus: Amara]

What's after like?

[Verse 2: Aeha, Alex, All, Hyeon]

Josimhae du simjange pin

Saeparan i bulkkochi

Jeo taeyangboda tteugeoul teni

(Na-na-na-na-na)

Nan jeo wiro tto araero

Nae geuraepeuneun pogi keo

Yeah, that's me

(Yeah, that's me)

[Pre-Chorus: Hyeon, Lian, Amara]

Du beon se beon pigonhage

Jakku jilmunhaji ma

Nae jangjeomi mwonji ara?

Baro soljikan geoya

Banggeum naega malhan gamjeong

Gamhi uisimhaji ma (Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh)

Geunyang jotaneun ge anya

What's after like?

[Chorus: Lian, Amara, Alex]

You-ou and I-I

It's more than like

L daeum tto O daeum

Nan yeah-yeah, yeah (Yeah, yeah)

You-ou and I-I

It's more than like (What's after like?)

What's after like?

[Verse 3: Akira, Hyeon, Aeha, All]

What after like? nae mame strike

Jigeum neukkin jjarithameun machi tike

L-O daeume I geu daeume V-E

Yeogin neowa nae space, amudo makji mothae

Nareul bomyeon nun kkamppakal

Sigan jochado akkaul geol

Deudieo manna bangawo (What's after like?)

L-O-V-E sai noil I (What's after like?)

[Bridge: Lian, Amara]

You-ou and I-I

It's more than like

E ap tto V ap

Nan yeah-yeah, yeah

You-ou and I-I

It's more than like (Like, like)

What's after like?

[Chorus: Alex, Lian]

You-ou and I-I

It's more than like

L daeum tto O daeum

Nan yeah-yeah, yeah

You-ou and I-I

It's more than like (Like, like, like)

What's after like?

[Post-Chorus: Aeha]

What's after like?

#babydwaekki #kpop gg #kpop oc #kpop profile sets #not an au #cøsmic #kpop #stray kids #after like

3 notes · View notes

weeberry-v1b3z · 2 months ago

Text

Uhhh Tumblr Intro

ITS MY FIRST TIME GIMME A MINUTE

Yellow! I’m Vibez! Or WeeBerryz

THE Z IN THE END IS VERY IMPORTANT BC MY AHH WON’T KNOW IF YOUR SAYING THE ACTUAL WORD does anyone say Vibes anymore? rarely? maybe? just a bit? WHATEVER JUST PUT Z IN S AND YOUR GOOD

I don’t mind being tagged in post chains! (PLEASE DO I LOVE DOING THOSE)

Activity?? I check up on Tumblr once and awhile and post LOTF drawings here mostly! (Update: 11/9/2024)

Under the line is just basic information, and Interests.

She/He/Any

-Anvisgender/Apathetic Gender/basically I dont give a PUK about my gender

-Unlabeled 🤑 (I gave up on my sexuality this year)

Fandoms

South Park

Lord of The Flies

Gravity Falls

Dandy’s world

Sprunki

RachelDrawsThis

Friday Night Funkin

The Henry Stickmin Collection

Errr I dont rmeemebeer

interests!

Mcbling, Scene, Emo ALLL THAT GOOD TUFF

Victoria Secret + MAKEUP 💖

Hyper feminine stuff has been taking over me rn but at times I do like.. ig masc stuff n shats

MUSICA

Millionaires, my mommies frfr

Kesha

3!OH!3

Errr other bands I listen 🔥

- Coco and Claire Claire

- Candy Claws

- 800s Cherries

- Never Shout Never

- FlyLeaf

- Pierce of Veil

- Nickasour

- Rebzyyx

- Ayesha Erotica

- Dot Dot Curve

- MurderDolla

- DJ Trippie Flameboy

- Whatsaheart

- Chappell Roan

- S3RL

- Three Days Grace

- Big & Rich

- Eyedress

- Attack Attack

- Rob Zombie

- Sir Mix-a-lot

- The Cure

- My Chemical Romance

- Lash

- Weezer

- Walking Intrusive Thoughts

- The Academy is…

- Brokencycde

- Dj Bouchenka

- Falling in Reverse

(I HAVE MANY MORE BUT ITS TOO MUCH TO LIST THAT ITS MAKING MY POST LAG)

Dislikes?? Just don’t be a btch and I won’t block you

that’s it buttcheeks

#intro post #pinned intro #lag is killing me

1 note · View note

madoreenao · 5 years ago

Photo

Let’s explain strat !! -- YEVON Edition --

(based on real facts and real runs) We were talking about strats and how bad we were at explaning them XD

ft. @telest-starfall even if he doesnt go on tumblr anymore XD

#I recently changed my FC and world (welcome back to Moogle XD) and .... Oh gosh new FC (Yevon) has full of idiots including me hahaha #also left my raid group due to personal reasons ^^"#but now i'm freeeeeeeeeee #ffxiv #ff14 #final fantasy 14 #final fantasy xiv #comicstrip #nanaho #Yevon #Pudgy Puk is Nostra from Yevon #she loves puks

15 notes · View notes

daryl-dixon-daydreams · 3 years ago

Photo

Words: 3,753 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: the quarry Warnings: language, alcohol, intoxication Summary: After a birthday celebration the night before, Y/N notices the archer is acting particularly icy toward her. A/N: This came out a bit different than I thought it would, but I hope you will all love it! Also, fun to write "good" Shane before he starts the downward spiral.

Your name: submit What is this?

You woke up with your head absolutely pounding. Sunlight was just striking the left side of the tent and beginning to warm the light to gold—wait a minute. This wasn’t your tent. You were looking up at sky blue synthetic walls and your tent was green. You pushed yourself up in a sitting position. Any movement and your heart throbbed, not to mention the somewhat queasy feeling in your stomach. Ugh… last night was a bad idea. Why had you drank so much? You blamed Rick and Shane.

It was your birthday the day before and as such, your brother Rick and of course Shane, who you’d known since you were all kids, had insisted on having as best a celebration as one can have in a zombie apocalypse. A fish fry and carefully procured jugs of moonshine put everyone in a good mood. Shane apparently thought it would be hilarious to continuously make small speeches and repeatedly have everyone lift their glass to you, resulting in endless “Cheers!” accompanied with shots of moonshine. And soon you were entirely too drunk. You hadn’t even had a chance to open anything from the small but respectable pile of assembled presents everyone had gathered for you. They were charmingly wrapped in bits of newspaper and burlap and you’d been curious as to what the heck could be in them…

The party had continued quite late and you couldn’t really remember going to bed. You vaguely remembered looking up at the night sky from the flat of your back on top of Dale’s RV. The stars were spinning and so was your head. Someone had helped you climb down.

You also had a vague recollection of some argument between two of the men. Ed and Shane? No… Shane and Rick? That didn’t seem right either. You clutched a hand to your head and glanced around at the unfamiliar tent and bedding. There was an olive-green duffel bag in one corner and “WALSH” was embroidered on it.

Oh. Okay, you were in Shane’s tent. You stretched and sighed, glancing down and seeing that you were still fully dressed in your clothes from the day before. Your boots were sitting side by side near the tent entrance. It must have been easier to put you to bed here rather than try to get you all the way to the other side of camp in the dark. Your tent sat down at the far end, closer to the Daryl and Merle’s small makeshift camp at the edge of the tree line.

You pulled on your boots, shivering a little as you left the blankets behind. You unzipped the tent flap and looked out into the morning light. Camp was still quiet and you ran your fingers over your hair to smooth it down. You drew in deep lungfuls of fresh air. It seemed to quell the churning of your stomach. But you needed something to eat and some damn water ASAP. You stepped outside and were zipping up the tent when you heard the sound of boots on gravel. You looked up to see the back of Daryl’s broad shoulders. He had his bow in hand like usual but seemed to be in some hurry, moving away from you through the maze of tents and campfire rings.

You watched him disappear into the distance and then started making your way over to the water jug. You searched out and filled a cup that had previously been filled with moonshine, gagging a little at the smell and dumping the contents out on the ground before rinsing it clean and filling it to the brim. You were downing your second glass of water when you looked up to see Shane heading your way. He gave you a wide smirk when you caught his eyes.

“You’re up in the land of the living. I wasn’t expecting you to be conscious until this afternoon,” he said with surprise. “You didn’t puke in my tent, did you?” he joked.

“Ugh. Don’t say ‘puke’. And if I did, it would be mostly your fault,” you said. “Why did you make me drink so much?”

Shane leaned back on the RV and shook his head at you. “Make you? Nobody made you do anything,” he drawled. “You were having a hell of a good time until Merle started making passes at you.”

You squinted at him and strained your brain. “Ohhh yeeeeah…I kind of remember him trying to get handsy now that you say that. Is that who had an argument? Merle and someone?”

Shane nodded. “Yep. I got into it with him after I saw him trying to wrap his arm around you. His hand was on your hip but I don’t think he planned on keeping it there very long.”

You put a hand up to your face and sighed. “Ugh. Thanks for that…”

“Of course. You were wasted. Wasn’t long after that I just put ya to bed in my tent. Rick was grateful. He was worried about you getting into trouble,” Shane said with a laugh, his expression lightening.

You rolled your eyes. “Thanks. He’s always worried about me getting into trouble.”

“Hell of a birthday party for an apocalypse,” Shane said and you nodded before downing some more water. “I think your presents are still in the RV. You’ll have to wait until Dale is up.”

“No rush,” you said. “I feel like crap. I’m gonna get something to eat in hopes this hangover eases up.”

Shane chuckled at your expense and you thanked him again and waved before heading back toward your own tent. You were about to duck inside when you caught another glimpse of Daryl, this time emerging from the woods with a couple squirrels on his game stringer. You caught his eyes and gave him a small smile, but he seemed to just duck his head and continue on his way. You tried not to feel hurt by being brushed off—sometimes Daryl was difficult to read. He hadn’t hung around long the night before. Almost as soon as people had started to get a little boisterous you’d noticed that he’d slipped away. You had felt a little hurt about that… you’d been hoping to spend some more time with the handsome archer. You always felt drawn to him and had definitely felt sparks of attraction on a few occasions. But you also knew that Daryl was a bit of a loner and he definitely wasn’t a fan of Shane, who had been in rare form the night before.

You slipped into your tent and pulled on some clean clothes before washing your face and dragging a comb through your hair. You checked your reflection in a cracked mirror you kept in your bag and sighed. You looked tired and your eyes were definitely a little puffy. Ugh. Stupid… Again, why did I drink so much? Well, admittedly, it was nice to have a bit of normalcy for a while and just forget about the current state of the world.

You stepped back outside and saw a thin column of smoke rising from the fire circle by Daryl and Merle’s tents. You wandered over, shoving your hands in your pockets, and found Daryl sitting on an upturned log, starting to clean the squirrels he’d just returned with. The fire was burning low, freshly stoked with a few sticks, set on a thick bed of coals. He glanced up at you as you stepped close to the fire and warmed your fingers but his blue eyes immediately returned to his task and he stayed quiet.

You bit your bottom lip a little nervously and took a seat on a camp chair nearby. “Hey,” you greeted him softly. His eyes flickered up to you for a moment and back down again. “I—I missed you last night. At the party, I mean,” you explained, feeling a little heat rise in your chest.

“Hmm,” he hummed in acknowledgement. “Didn’t seem like it,” he drawled. He flicked a bit of fur from the knife he was using to skin the squirrels.

You gulped. His tone was a bit tense and you wondered if he was pissed off that you’d all been so loud. “Well, I did,” you said in mild confusion. “I’m sorry if we were a bit much. Things got a little ridiculous with the booze,” you laughed a little wryly. “I’m definitely regretting drinking so much this morning.”

Daryl froze for a moment, his hands stilling over the carcass in front of him. You thought you saw the muscle in his jaw tense as he ground his teeth together. But he simply lifted the next catch and began to clean it. “Regret it?” he drawled. There was an extra gruff quality to his voice. “Ya seem like ya were plenty well taken care of.”

You gave him a puzzled look, your brow drawing low over your eyes. His tone was so different from usual, and you couldn’t get past the fact that he wouldn’t look at you.

“I mean, shit—” he punctuated the phrase with a sharp flick of his knife. That flinty edge of his voice was still pronounced and you felt like it was cutting into you. “—Shane couldn’t keep his damn eyes or hands off ya. And ya certainly seemed… fine.”

You heart started to race a little faster. You felt your mouth drop slightly open and the lines between your eyebrows deepened as you stared at him. “What?”

He finally looked up at you and his eyes were narrowed and sharp. He stared at you for a long moment and the air between the two of you felt heavy and thick, despite the fact that it was still cool and the dew had yet to evaporate from the grass. He finally tore his eyes away from your face, leaving you more confused than ever and seemingly without a breath in your lungs. “I saw ya. Comin’ outta Shane’s tent this mornin’. In the same clothes ya were wearin’ last night. Like I said,” he drawled, getting up abruptly and grabbing the remaining squirrels yet to be cleaned, “seems like ya were plenty well taken care of.” But this time you heard something else in his voice; hurt and vulnerability.

“Daryl—” But he was already disappearing again, leaving you standing there confused and a little flabbergasted that he seemingly believed you’d fucked Shane and furthermore, he seemed not only pissed but hurt about it. You were frozen for a moment, just staring at the spot where he’d disappeared. You actually weren’t really sure how long you’d been standing there but someone touching your shoulder snapped you out of it. You jumped and let out an embarrassing squeak of surprise, only to turn and see your brother laughing at your reaction and giving you a kind smile.

“Hey,” he said with a grin. “How’re you feelin’? Shane said you were hungover as hell. I’m not surprised with the way you tied one on last night.”

You rolled your eyes at him and crossed your arms over yourself. “Yeah, like you weren’t encouraging Shane by laughing at every fucking thing he did. You’re part to blame for this!” you said, pointing a vehement finger in his face.

He held his hands up defensively. “Take it easy,” he said with a laugh. “I just wanted to come tell you that we’ve got some breakfast ready. You better eat something.”

You nodded vaguely but found yourself glancing back over your shoulder, eyes scanning the trees for Daryl again.

“Hey,” Rick said, gently grabbing your shoulder again. “Everything okay?”

You tried to snap yourself out of it. “Yeah. Yeah, fine. Let’s go eat,” you said, conceding as Rick affectionately draped an arm over your shoulder and led you back to where some of the others were now stirring. Breakfast came and went. You weren’t the only one hungover and together you all quietly nursed your headaches with some leftover fried fish and biscuits Carol had made in the big cast iron skillet. You found yourself distracted though, constantly looking for the archer to show up back at camp, when you realized Lori was trying to get your attention.

“Geez,” she laughed, her arms full of the presents that had been stashed in the RV. “You are hungover,” she teased you. “Come on. Open your presents.”

You gave her a smile and accepted the packages. A new multitool from Shane. Fishing lures from Andrea and Amy. A warm flannel-lined jacket from Lori and Rick. You were genuinely grateful, but your buoyant mood was damped by the earlier encounter with Daryl. Later that day, when the sun was climbing to its apex in the sky, you finally caught sight of him having some small argument with Merle at the other end of camp and you made up your mind to go set the record straight.

The arguing stopped as Merle caught sight of you approaching over Daryl’s shoulder and his attention fixed on you. “Well, look who it is. The birthday girl! Didn’t get enough last night, darlin’? Come to see ol’ Merle to put the icing on that cake for you?”

Daryl spun and looked straight at you as your face contorted in distaste at his brother’s words. “Merle, shut the fuck up!” Daryl growled at him. He glanced back at you, clearly wondering why you were standing there.

“Daryl, can I talk to you?”

Merle whistled and let out a loud laugh. “Well, I did not see that comin’! You got a thing for little Darylina?” You shot him a glare before Daryl shoved him hard in the chest. Merle stumbled backwards, still laughing and finally drifted away.

You gulped and moved closer to the archer, a little unsure how to begin. God, this was fucking awkward.

“What?” Daryl prodded you. You caught his blue eyes again. Better just to dive in…

“You—you think I slept with Shane?” you said. Daryl looked struck by the bluntness of your question. “That’s what you meant earlier, isn’t it? You think I had sex with Shane.”

Daryl stared at you for a moment and then ducked his head, chewing on his bottom lip in apparent agitation. His blue eyes lifted again to meet yours. “I know what I saw,” he drawled. He sounded vulnerable again. His tone had softened.

You crossed your arms and cocked your head a little, unable to prevent yourself from staring at him in frustration. “You saw me come out of Shane’s tent. And you think you saw him… all over me last night?” You rolled your eyes. “I was drunk and rather than try to corral or carry me all the way back over here last night in the fucking dark, Shane put me to sleep in his tent. Alone. I don’t know where he slept but I’m guessing he crashed in my tent.” The muscle in Daryl’s jaw twitched. “Look, I’ve known Shane since Rick and I were kids. We grew up together. He’s more like an older brother than anything. He’s always been protective of me. There is nothing going on between Shane and I. I just—wanted to set that straight.”

Daryl shifted a little anxiously and seemed at a loss for what to say for a moment. “Why? Why do you give a shit what I think? Ain’t nothin’.”

You felt your cheeks grow a little warm. “I don’t want you reading that situation wrong. I’m not interested in Shane. He was just looking out for me.” You wanted to confess right then that you were interested in him, but your reservoir of courage seemed to have dried up just from the walk over.

Daryl considered you again for a long moment before he ducked his head and nodded. “Alrigh’. ‘M sorry for bein’ a dick. Ain’t none of my damn business anyway. I—” he broke off suddenly and nestled his thumbnail in between his teeth, chewing on it nervously for a moment while he was gathering his thoughts. “Can ya just wait here a second?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. You watched curiously as he disappeared into his tent and returned with two small packages in hand, each wrapped tightly in some wrinkled brown paper.

He held them out to you and you gave him a questioning look. “Happy birthday,” he drawled. He looked suddenly boyish and bashful. You accepted the packages with surprise and a smile grew on your face, lighting it up to the corners of your eyes.

“You got me birthday presents”

He nodded. “Yeah, uhh—I was gonna give them to ya last night but ya were busy with everybody and—I dunno,” he trailed off.

You cocked your head at him. “I’m never too busy for you, Daryl.” You looked back down at the gifts. “Thank you. You really didn’t need to do this.”

He rubbed his hand nervously over the back of his neck and hummed a noise of acknowledgement.

“Can I open them?”

He shot you an amused look. “No, keep ‘em wrapped up forever.” You smirked at him and one corner of his mouth twitched up. “Yeah. Duh. Go on.”

You grinned at him and tore into the first package. There was a flimsy cardboard box inside and when you lifted the top your eyes landed on a combat knife, the blade sharpened to perfection on what you guessed was probably his whetstone. This was so Daryl. Practical and thoughtful.

“I know ya lost yer other one, like yer always losin’ shit, and nobody should be without a knife these days. A badass like ya should have a badass knife,” he drawled. You thought his ears had turned a deeper shade of red and your smile widened.

“I don’t know about badass,” you laughed, “but I will definitely keep this on me at all times. It’s perfect. Thank you.” He waved you off before tilting his head at the other yet unopened package in your hand.

“This one is—well, it’s—” He shrugged. “Well, you’ll see. It’s different. Just open it.”

You gave him a curious look and finished snapping your new knife into its sheath before you broke the paper on the second gift. It was a rather small box and you were really struggling to think of anything that tiny that Daryl would give you, so you eagerly lifted the lid and your lips fell open. It was a delicate silver chain and you knew just what it was for. You were positive your eyes were a bit round as they met Daryl’s again… and probably a bit glassy.

He seemed frozen for a second with you looking at him like that, the chain dangling from your graceful fingertips. “I noticed ya used to wear that locket all the time—with them pictures of yer folks in it… and, uhh, then I noticed ya weren’t wearin’ it no more. I asked Lori about it and she said the chain broke. So. I just… looked for one. In Atlanta.” He shifted his weight anxiously, trying to decode what was going on behind your wide eyes.

“You noticed that?”

He gave you a weird look. “O’ course I noticed that.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You ran the delicate silver through your fingers again, fighting the lump of emotion in your throat. “Daryl, I don’t even know what to say.”

He shrugged. “Ya ain’t gotta say anything.” He memorized your expression for a long moment. He called to mind how fucking angry he’d been when he saw you leaving Shane’s tent, thinking Shane had taken advantage of you being drunk, thinking he’d waited too fucking long to tell you how he felt, that he’d missed his opportunity. He wasn’t mad at you. He was mad at himself. He knew how goddamn good you were; charming, smart, funny, caring, and not bad to have around in a fight. Not to mention how his heart jumped when he met your stunning eyes and watched your lips curve in a smile or a laugh. You were beautiful. You didn’t seem to fit with the ugliness of this world now. Of course someone else wanted you.

But now he felt like a death row prisoner who’d gotten a stay of execution, and he was goddamn sure-as-shit not gonna waste it. He found his voice somehow.

“You’re way too good for Shane,” he said suddenly. “And I know it ain’t like that… but ‘m just sayin’.” He hesitated, his heart pounding. He pushed a hand back through his hair anxiously. “Hell, you’re too good for me…” he murmured. “And I know the timing bites, everything goin’ to shit, but—"

He was stopped by your lips crashing against his and he almost stumbled back in surprise at first, but like some deep instinct, his arms drifted around you and pulled you in closer, and he kissed you back—a little hesitantly at first, his mind whirring with too many thoughts, and then more confidently, more hungrily, everything else going silent. When you broke the kiss and looked up into his blue eyes, he felt off-balance in a way he never had before. But in a good way.

“So, you, uhh—” he had to clear his throat because his voice came out a little strained, from disbelief or shock maybe. “You like the presents?” he said.

A laugh bubbled up and out of you and his heart jumped like it always did at the sound. “Uhh… Yeah. I like the presents. But—I like kissing you more. And if I’m allowed a belated birthday request, I’d like another one.” Daryl’s fingers tapped nervously on your lower back. “Now. Please,” you said with a widening smile.

Daryl was bewildered how he’d gone from wanting to punch a concrete wall to such unexpected heights so quickly, but hell yeah he was going to hang on to you as long as he could. He gladly granted you your request.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl x y/n #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles #season 1 daryl #the quarry

969 notes · View notes

is-nini · 4 years ago

Text

Albedo x reader

The cold never bother us anyway. (Fluff, short maybe below 1k word, I'm sorry🙏,. Prepare your blankets and pillows to hug, enjoy reading it)

It was a cold cold night on mondstat. You and Albedo is laying down on the fluffy bed that the both of you shared, you look at Albedo, he is sitting up on the bed reading the latest interesting things that he just discovered today.

You felt a gust of cold wind out of nowhere and hug yourself while snuggling deeper into the blanket, but unfortunately it doesn't help.

"A-albebe..".

You whine as you snuggle closer to him, trying to get the warmth out of his body, he hum as he touched your body, letting out a questioning hum.

"What happen baby? You're body is so cold.. ahw.. is my little baby cold? Shes cold is she..".

He cooed, pitting down his book down on the table and hugs your cold body. You nod and snuggle closer to him, putting your head on his chest as he played with your hair and trapping your body with his leg.

"Better now.. because Albebe is here!".

You cheer softly, making him giggle at your antics and squish your cheeks softly muttering 'so cute' under his breath.

You whine after feeling your cheeks being squished making him laugh and kissed your cheek that he just pinch.

"Mmhm, your Albebe is here".

He nod and pulled your head closer to his chest, sniffling your hair and kissing your head.

"Still cold baby?".

He asked, you shake your head and smile, closing your eye and snuggling closer to him.

"Nope! My Albebe is here and he make me feel comfortable and warm".

You stated giggling and laughing softly, Albedo smiles warmly at you, such a cute girl, all for himself. His girlfriend. Albedo grabbed your hand and bring ot up to his lips, kissing it gently, making you feel like a princess.

You looked up to him and kissed his lips. Albedo kissed you back and deepening the kiss, you felt him slip his tounge into your mouth, you slowly oepns your mouth as you felt his warmth engulfed you.

You pukked away, a string of saliva is dangling from your mouth to his, making you both laugh and giggle, giving you one last peck he holds your body close.

"Let's go to bed sweet heart".

Albedo said, giving you one last kiss before you nod and slowly closing your eyes.

"Love you albebe".

"Love you too baby".

#albedo x you #albedo x y/n #genshin albedo #albedo x reader #genshin fanfiction #genshin fanfic #genshin fluff

61 notes · View notes

anotheronechicagobog · 3 years ago

Text

Rangers, Lead The Way - Chapter 3 - Kenny with Maggie

written by @anotheronechicagobog

warnings: swearing, nudity, profanity, mention of school shooting, guns, weapons, I’m pro gun control (even though I’m Canadian) and this kinda reflects that, mention of PTSD, child neglect, also I fucking hate nazis

When someone called before seven in the morning it was work, a death notification, or one of his fellow trio of lovestruck fools. So when the annoying ringtone Hana installed as a prank and he couldn’t figure out how to remove started blasting on his nightstand at 2:17 in the morning, he was more annoyed than apprehensive. “Crosby.”

“Hey man, sorry to call you so late, but it’s about Maggie.”

“What’s going on?”

“One of her first arrests as an FBI agent just broke out of prison, and she’s been temporarily assigned to the unit being tasked with finding him. Yours. I expect you’ll be getting a call in the next five minutes or so. Maggie can take care of herself, I know that, but...”

“It’s hard when you’re not there to watch her back. Don’t worry, I’ve got her.”

“Thank you. So much. I appreciate this, so, so much.”

“Hey, a couple of months ago I was you. I feel you man, don’t worry. She’ll be fine. Listen, I’d love to keep talking but I’ve got another call coming in and it looks like that work call you were warning about. Talk to you later.”

“See you on the flip side, man.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jess stood in front of everyone with that look on his face that vaguely reminded Kenny of his stern ex-navy fourth-grade teacher. “Everyone, this is special agent Maggie Bell, you may remember her from when we worked with her unit on a couple of cases, but this time it’s just her joining us. Is there anything you’d like to add, Bell?”

“I’m excited to work with you all, but please, call me Maggie.”

“Alright, let’s get to work, then. Maggie, Jason Anderson was one of your first arrests with the bureau, can you brief us on that case and highlight any details you think may be pertinent?”

“Definitely. Well for starters, Anderson is a cheating scumbag and it only gets worse from there.” Maggie’s bluntness broke through the formality that was stifling the bus, smirks and chuckles abound, and it seemed that only he didn’t have the sense to at least try and hid his amusement. An understanding but disapproving look had Kenny composing himself to speak up. “Well then, let’s jump down this rabbit hole.”

Maggie was sitting next to Hana, giving details about the fugitive they were currently after. He was one of Maggie’s first arrests as an FBI agent, so the bureau thought it would be beneficial to have her work with the team. So here she was, dressed in jeans and a sweater as opposed to her usual suits, combining her razor-sharp intelligence with Hana’s. They’d commandeered the top floor of a police station in Boston and were relying on Maggie and Hana’s wit to find out where he was. Jason Anderson, 42, was an illegal weapons dealer. He’d previously been put in prison for distribution and possession of prohibited firearms, and for giving an AK-47 to a school shooter. He was being transferred to a higher security prison because it came to light that he was continuing his business from behind bars, but the security team had been too small and unprepared for the escape plan pulled off by a team of eight. Those eight men were their biggest clue oddly enough, as they’d been dropping like flies since the escape. Michael Howard, 40, was Anderson’s ex-brother-in-law. And the connection between all the, now dead, prison breakers. Unfortunately, Howard’s sister, and Anderson’s ex-wife, had cut contact with both of them along with the rest of their families after Howard introduced Anderson to his mistress and encouraged an affair that created two children. The mistress, Bethany Karnstein, had gone AWOL hours ago when she left her job in the middle of her shift and didn’t pick her kids up from school.

The kids were safe with Anderson’s parents, but they couldn’t answer their questions when they asked where their mother was. The kids did identify Michael Howard as one of their mom’s friends though, he’d come to watch them while their mother was in the hospital about six months prior. They didn’t look shocked that FBI agents were asking about their parents, but they still didn’t know anything.

At the moment, they were splitting up. Jess and Barnes were headed to follow up with Bethany’s clueless boss, he and Clinton were about to go follow up on a possible sighting, and Hana and Maggie were staying on the bus. Thankfully, since Kenny was stressed out enough at the prospect of having to watch out for Maggie on top of worrying about Hana, them being assigned together eased his mind.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was around midnight when he and Clinton were finally able to rendezvous with the rest of the team. There was no sighting, Bethany had one of her affair partners call in a false tip, and when he and Clinton had quickly sussed that out it lead to a shootout and car chase. Jason, the dumbass stupid enough to commit six different felonies for a woman who has two kids with a violent arms dealer, was lying in a heavily guarded ICU bed. They’d managed to get his cell phone but he was beyond unconscious when they’d finally managed to get him to stop shooting at them. “Hey Hana, I brought you something.”

“Jason’s cell?”

“That too, but I was actually talking about this.” He held out a large coffee that she desperately needed if the way her eyes lit up was any indication. “Thank you.” Hana let out an over-dramatic groan as she downed the first sip. “Hey Crosby, thanks for my coffee too.” He looked at Maggie sheepishly, realizing that he’d only gotten two, one for himself and the other for Hana. “I was the one who drove to and then parked in front of the coffee shop while he went and got those, how do you think I feel?” Clinton’s playful jab caused a round of giggles but the knowing look from the older man made Crosby a little nervous. He was sure his feelings towards Hana weren’t super well-hidden, but he really didn’t need anyone on the team tipping Hana off. “Anyway, here’s Jason’s cell. Do you think you can crack it?”

“Normally with this many characters I’d say no... But, his password is seven characters long and his lock screen is Bethany, so... There we go, unlocked.”

“... That was a really poor choice of password.”

“And girlfriend.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After working for fourteen hours straight they were all spent and headed to the hotel that the FBI had secured rooms at for them. Jess, Barnes and Clinton were all in one car that was headed straight to the hotel to get everyone checked in. Kenny, Hana, and Maggie were in the other car that was making a detour on the way to pick up Thai food. Hana and Maggie were chatting amongst themselves, but Kenny was still kicking himself for the slip-up he’d made while placing the order over the phone.

“Hi, can I place an order for pickup? Great. The name’s Kenny and the phone number is 123-456-7890. Okay, I’ll get two orders of shrimp rolls, one vegetable pad Thai, one pork Mee Khob, one chicken pad Keeng, and two orders of chicken Kao pad puk, hold on one second- Maggie you want green curry, right?”

“... Yeah, how did you know?” I’ve heard your partner talk about you almost non-stop since he met you because he’s head over heels in love with you, but I can’t say that, can? Especially because you, Hana, and Hailey don’t know that OA, Jya, and I know each other... For some reason, so sorry Maggie, Hana but I’m going to have to lie my ass off here. “Uh, sorry, I thought I heard you mention it earlier, plus you look like a green curry kind of person.”

“Ha, alright, yes I’d like some, thanks.”

“- Sorry about keeping you on hold, I’ll add one green curry to that order. Do you want me to pay over the phone or is it okay if I pay when I get there?”

“Kenny!”

“Sorry, what’s up?”

“Our exit is coming up in... 150 metres, you need to turn right.”

“Shit, thanks, Hana.”

“Are you okay? You seemed like you were in your own world there.”

“I’m fine, I was just thinking. Where do I go next?”

“Go straight for another 700 metres, it’ll be on the right.”

“Got it.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Alright everyone, the food’s here!” They’d all decided to gather in one of the meeting rooms the hotel had to the left of the lobby, Kenny had admittedly bellowed a little loud, but it brought all of his straggling coworkers into the room from their various spots in and around the lobby.

“Finally, what took you guys so long?” He knew that Jess was just hangry, and frustrated that they hadn’t caught the fugitive yet, so he let the snappy comment slide.

“Crosby almost missed the turn.”

“You let Crosby drive? Rookie mistake” He gave Hana a teasing look of betrayal before turning to Clinton. “I’ll have you know I am an excellent driver.”

“You’ve driven into a lake.”

“That was one time three years ago! And we were in a high-speed chase with a guy on a BMX bike who made a sharp turn near a kid’s birthday party, I didn’t exactly have many options.” He sounded more upset than he actually was. Moments like these were nice, where they got to hang around each other and just be friends, and Maggie was fitting in wonderfully with everyone but especially Hana, who sat in between him and Maggie as she started telling a story about OA with her face absolutely glowing.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jason’s cell proved to be far more useful than he was. Bethany had been texting him from a rural address that turned out to be a cottage rental that was supposed to be vacant. The owners had a basic security system that had alerted them that someone was in their cottage, when the local LEOs investigated they immediately recognized the suspect but were able to play it off as having gotten a noise complaint, before going back to their vehicle and calling the FBI, while hiding their vehicle so that they could keep watch over the cottage. There was always a tense atmosphere when people were getting greedy for a raid, Kenny supposed the fresh air and appealing scent of pine trees eases tensions slightly, but not by much. Everyone knew that the worst could happen. That their loved ones could get an overly formal call at an unholy hour, telling them that the worst would happen. Everyone always did their best to try and prevent that, but there was only so much that they could keep out of fate’s unforgiving hands. His heartstrings pulled slightly as he flicked his eyes over to Hana. She was his special someone, even if she didn’t know it, and for a brief moment, he wondered what it would be like for her if he- No. Nope. You can’t think like that, especially not before a raid, and especially not about a woman who was only supposed to be your friend. The final preparations were complete and they were getting in position to breach. Hana still hadn’t been cleared for the field yet, so in the back of his mind, he was appreciative that there was one less person to worry about, with her wirelessly monitoring their body cams and coms. Although that was kind of moot point honestly, because Maggie was with them, in fact, Maggie had taken Hana’s position behind him. “You ready Maggie?” She put her hand on the back of his vest as the SWAT leader started counting down. “Always.”

The door was busted down and all the FBI and SWAT agents funnelled into the house through the three entrances. The sliding glass back door was where Jess was entering, the side door was for Clinton and Barnes, and He and Maggie were going through the front door. The front door went straight into the family room to the right, the eat-in kitchen was on the left, and directly across from the sliding glass door. Flashbangs went off as everyone started shouting, announcing themselves. There were screams and cries of panic, something not unusual in their line of work, what was also not unusual was finding Bethany naked on her knees with Michael Howard standing in front of her dressed in the same manner. Michael’s eyes went wide, and his thought process played out like an open book.

Shit. Feds.

Get gun.

... Gun is not in my holster because I’m not wearing clothes.

Run.

... Can’t run cause Bethany is clinging to my legs.

Kenny had to give the guy props for trying to tackle him linebacker style naked as the day he was born as he stood firm and checked him, sending him flying onto the ground. “Turn onto your stomach, now!”

He writhed around, trying to resist arrest, shouting “SUCK MY DICK YOU PIGS!” And trying to thrust his bare nether regions at everyone, Kenny in particular. “Howard Michael, you are under arrest, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you acknowledge that your rights have been read to you?”

“FUCK YOU!”

“I’m gonna take that as a yes.” One of the SWAT officers approached them with an itchy-looking wool blanket and took their suspect into custody. Maggie and Kenny shared a look before making their way to the two bedrooms that were to the left of the kitchen, they hadn’t been cleared yet and now they were trying to move fast to make sure that no other accomplices got away. Kenny took the right door, Maggie, to the left. “FBI! Freeze!” Kenny was met with the disturbing sight of a dead body on the bed. His throat and wrists had been slit and he was surrounded by lumped together blood-soaked sheets. He immediately recognized the dead body as the last remaining accomplice in the breakout. “Hey, Crosby? I need your help in here.”

“What’s up Maggie?” When he entered her room he stopped in his tracks. There wasn’t a bed, instead, there were two cribs for two babies, both of whom were in an equally freaked-out Maggie’s arms. “Here, let me help you.” Kenny helped lighten her load by taking a baby in his arms. “Hi sweetheart, what’s your name?”

“Kenny, these babies can’t be older than six months, you know she can’t respond to you, right?”

“I know, but they’re so little and scared, I want to at least try to comfort them.” The little girl hard curled up into his chest and nestled her face into his neck. “It looks like you’re doing a great job to me.”

“Who’s kids even are these?”

“I’m really trying not to think about it.”

“I’m praying to every deity there is that they’re not Bethany and Howard’s kids.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There had to be thousands of deities, gods, godlings, divine beings, and not one of them could come through for those poor kids? The six-month-old twins Baxter and Hazel were the children of Bethany Karnstein and Michael Howard, who had murdered a man in the room next to their children’s room. The social services department where they were was basically non-existent, so while they waited for a social worker to drive from four and a half hours away they were watching the babies at the local police station while Jess and Clinton were questioning Michael. Baxter was much more social, jumping between the FBI agents, SWAT, and local LEOs, but he was now babbling quite happily on Maggie’s lap, whereas Hazel had immediately taken to Hana and refused to be held by anyone but her and Kenny. He looked at her fondly, Hana was holding the baby close to her chest and humming the tune to a melodic song he couldn’t remember the name of. Hazel looked up at Hana with wide, enchanted, trusting eyes, and all Kenny could do was feel his heart melt. A stray thought placed itself at the forefront of his mind and before he could stop it, he was picturing Hana as a mom, and as captivating as that thought was Kenny had to shake his head to stop it from going too far, they were just friends, it wasn’t Hana’s fault that he’s in love with her. I need to look somewhere else, anywhere else.

His eye-line shifted to Maggie and watching as she bounced an absolutely delighted Baxter on her lap. He knew that OA wanted a family, wanted a wife and a couple of kids, and looking at the tender way Maggie was holding and entertaining Baxter, he could see her being a mom too. Man, if OA saw this he’d have a heart attack, it’s his dream come true.

Kenny saw Hana shift positions out of his peripheral vision and turned to look at her and was immediately concerned. She had a look of discomfort on her face. “Hana? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Her tone was tense and Hazel immediately picked up on it and made a scared noise. “Are your arms tired? Do you want me to take her?”

“No. We’re fine. Maybe you should hold Baxter instead.” She snapped and finally looked him in the eyes, she was clearly angry and upset, but she seemed betrayed as well. Kenny leaned back into his chair his shoulders sinking in tandem. He was silently thankful that since everyone was milling about and talking it didn’t seem that anyone heard the exchange, though Maggie did look at him with a raised eyebrow. He shrugged his shoulders in response, completely bewildered. Maggie shook her head sharply, rolled her eyes, and scoffed. ‘Men.’ She mouthed. Kenny was completely clueless, had either of them noticed him watching them at they were offended at that? He watches Hana work away on her computer all the time and it’s never been an issue, but then again that was always subject to change. His inner ramblings were cut off when Jess and Clinton came back from the interrogation room. “Michael didn’t talk much, but Hana decrypted his cell and he has incoming and outgoing calls to a recluse retiree Evan DeLuca who lives forty minutes from here. Crosby, Bell go check it out, Clinton and I are going to take a break from interrogating Michael for an hour or so, Gibson and Barnes, you two can interrogate Karnstein, see how much she knows and just how involved is she in all of this. We can watch the babies while you’re in there...”

“Admit it, boss, you want a break just cause you two want to hold the babies.”

“Get moving Crosby, Barnes is already out the door.”

“You got it.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They were twenty minutes into the tense car ride when Maggie finally spoke up. “Just so you know, you’re an idiot.” Flabbergasted Kenny let his mouth fall open and close a couple of times before tightening his grip on the steering wheel only to release it after taking a breath. “You’re probably right, but can you please tell me why I’m an idiot? What did I do wrong?”

“Can’t tell you that.”

“Why not? You were the one who brought it up.”

“Just... Focus more on Hana, okay?”

“Are you sure? I mean, I thought about it, and maybe that’s the issue?”

“Trust me, it’s not. Just focus on her, got it?”

“Okay... I’m confused as hell, but okay.”

“Isn’t that your usual state of mind?” He didn’t have to look over to see the teasing grin, he could feel it. “Woah, low blow, Maggie, low blow.”

“If you want to hear about a low blow, you should hear about how OA and I had to chase a clown fairy princess twelve blocks at two in the morning.”

“Please, go on.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Well. That went terribly wrong. As much as Kenny could appreciate the peace and aesthetic of small towns and cottage areas, he hated working in them because there was never any backup! Forty minutes may not seem like a lot of time, but when you’re in a firefight against a man who has access to a seemly endless supply of weapons of war, that was an eternity. He’d literally fired a bazooka at them, how in the fuck did he get a bazooka?! So, the good news about this situation? They’d found Jason Anderson. Bad news? They’d found Jason Anderson with an arsenal large enough and powerful enough to take down a small army. They’d managed to take cover, but Anderson clearly had night-vision goggles because, despite the fact that it was past eleven and pitch black, he always knew where they were. Oh, and Evan DeLuca was probably a dead retiree, not a recluse. That’s just great, another body to add to Anderson’s growing total. Now, all that he and Maggie had to do was not become part of that number. If only it were that easy. They’d managed to get around the side of the house where there were only two medium-sized windows on side of the house facing them instead of a large doorway like at the front and, presumably, the back.

When Kenny got Jess on the phone it was nothing but panicked observations, and the notification that they’d found Anderson, as he and Maggie ran for cover. His phone wasn’t even near his face when he made the call, so he’s not quite sure what all made it through, only that they were still thirty minutes away from the address.

“We need a plan.”

“He can see our movements so we’re going to have to be sneaky about it.”

“I’ll fire on him, cause a diversion, do you think you can try to sneak around back?”

“Are you crazy?! We didn’t have time to grab our vests, that’s suicide. Besides, how many rounds do you even have left?”

“I’ve got a mag and a half.”

“Really? I thought you fired a bunch of shots at him earlier.”

“I did, but I’ve been carrying extra ammo for this case, I figured I’d need it at some point considering we’re going up against a weapons dealer.”

“Smart-” She was cut off by another several hundred rounds being fired at the, thankfully incredibly thick, tree they were hiding behind. “We don’t have much of a choice Maggie. Head around back, I’ll try to distract him and not get shot.” He knew she’d argue with him, so he didn’t give her the chance to. He ran out from behind the tree and fired through the only window of the two that was open. There wasn’t any light on in the house, so Kenny really wasn’t sure what he was aiming for. After the sixth shot he heard “fuck! Fucking fuck!” And felt a wave of relief; he’d hit Anderson. Hopefully enough to keep him subdued. He ran around to the front of the house only to be met with the sight of Anderson pulling the pin out of a grenade. He ran back out faster than he entered and hugged the outside of the entrance just outside of the doorframe. “GRENADE!” The explosion went off where he’d been standing when he burst through the front door, shrapnel from the grenade exploded through the doorway seconds after he’d gotten out and he could hear some of it embed itself in the interior of the wall behind him.

When Kenny entered through the doorway, they were face to face. Kenny's gun was raised aimed at his forehead, and Anderson stood there weaponless. Pulling the trigger, Kenny made the mistake of thinking that it was over, that Anderson was done for. Click. Horror and vindication simultaneously coursed through Crosby and Anderson. The gun was empty. He'd spent all the rounds. Before he could lower his useless gun Anderson was on him like a feral animal. Despite the gunshot wound to Anderson’s right shoulder, he was just as lethal without a weapon as was when he had one. Anderson had him by the throat up against the wall and was pressing his thumbs into Kenny’s throat. Kenny threw two quick punches to Anderson’s jaw, releasing him and making them stumble away from each other. It quickly turned into a fight on the floor. They were biting, kicking, hitting each other, trying to get the upper hand. Kenny managed to land a solid elbow to Anderson’s head but that seemed to be the tipping point that only enraged him. The next thing Kenny knew Anderon had pushed him up and smacked him on the ground, knocking the air out of his lungs, and started to choke him again. Kenny tried to lay in a punch like the first time, but Anderson saw that coming, just dodged away from the fist and started pushing his thumbs into the centre of Kenny’s neck harder.

“FBI! Put up your hands!” Anderson growled but did as he was told. Kenny lay there gasping for breath knowing that it was too easy, Anderson had another trick up his sleeve, and Maggie was too smart not to know it too. She stepped closer, her gun pointed to the back of Anderson’s head, one hand reaching to her waist to grab her cuffs... That’s when Anderson made his move, spinning around and grabbing her by the waist, Anderson pulled her to the ground, the force caused her to let go of her gun. She tried to reach for it but Anderson pulled her towards him by her hair and put her in a chokeholdJaytill hazy from the lack of air Kenny grappled at him from behind. Trying to do something, anything, to save Maggie. Whatever he did worked because Anderson turned back to face him only now he had a bruise on the side of his face that was already swollen. Anderson tried grabbing Kenny by the neck again, but it was clear he was low on energy and just trying to fight until his last breath. Too bad for Anderson that Maggie wasn’t going to let that happen.

Crack.

And then Anderson was unconscious, lying on top of him, and Kenny barely had the strength to move the gun dealing scumbag off of him. “You good?”

“Yeah, thanks.” He looked at the gun in Maggie’s hand and Anderson on the ground. She was holding her gun by the barrel and there was some blood on the handle. “You cold-cocked him?”

“Yeah, I tried shooting him, but I mistook my gun for yours. I told you that you wouldn’t have enough ammo.”

“That you did. Thanks again, for saving my ass.”

“Any time.”

“I’m gonna call the team and let them know they don’t have to come in guns blazing... Especially because we are surrounded by improperly stored weapons and ammo. I’ll probably call for an ambulance too, to come to check you out.”

“What? Me?”

“Yeah, he had you in that chokehold pretty hard.”

“He strangled you, twice!”

“Three times actually, you weren’t here for the first one.”

“Even if you have to be dragged over by the ear, you will be getting checked out by the ambulance too.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I’m going to preface this by saying Maggie’s fine, she doesn’t even have a concussion.”

“... That was the absolute worst way to start this call. Are you aware of that? Oh the heart attack you’re giving me? What the fuck happened?”

“Long story short, we found Jason Anderson and he tried to kill us.”

“And the long version? Actually, wait do I even want to know?”

“Probably not, but you want to know anyway because you think it will make you worry less, even though we both know it won’t, don’t you?”

“... Yes.”

“We got shot at a lot, got pinned down behind one of the massive trees they have out here, split up with me providing the distraction, I almost got blown up, my magazine was empty from providing cover so we went hand-to-hand, the door at the back was blocked by crates of uzis so it took her a while to get back, I got strangled three separate times, managed to land good hits, so did he, he threw Maggie on the ground when she showed up and she hit her head, he put her in a chokehold, I got her out of it by pinching his armpits really hard after punching wasn’t working, he tried to strangle me for the third time and Maggie cold-cocked him with my empty gun cause she couldn’t find hers. The paramedics cleared her, she’ll be fine. I think that Hana’s gonna try to drag us to the local clinic when we get back to town.”

“She’s okay?”

“Completely, she doesn’t even have a headache or sore throat, and she really saved my ass back there. She’s good. She’s with Hana right now actually. Hana was really off when everyone showed up, she’s been pretty worried and she won’t believe me when I say I’m okay but she’ll believe Maggie. You know you could probably call her, check up on her yourself? We were talking with the paramedics and she kept talking about this halal burger place you brought her to and she’d do anything for one of those right now... But from the look on her face when she brought you up, I’d wager she was actually talking about you. She misses you, even spent an hour talking about you when we all got Thai food in Boston.”

“Alright, thanks, man. I don’t know what I’d do if she wasn’t okay.”

“Gee, thanks for showing your concern for me. You know, your brother in arms-”

“Alright-”

“Fellow ex-ranger-”

“Okay-”

“Favourite blonde-”

“I’m glad you’re alright Kenny. I just can’t believe you two went up against Jason Anderson and walked away unscathed.”

“Actually my throat is pretty sore and the paramedics found some shrapnel in my right leg, all of it was shallow but some of it got pushed in deeper during the fight.”

“... Just go to a hospital, man. Seriously. Also, Hailey is my favourite blonde now. Sorry.”

“What?!”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“We have a problem.”

“What kind of problem, Hana?” Jess may have sounded cool, calm, and collected, but anyone who knew him was able to tell it was the opposite. Jess LaCroix likes for things to get done and stay done, according to Tali that’s why he hates doing the dishes, and this threw a serious wrench in everyone’s plans to escort the culprits, and children because children’s aid still hasn’t shown up, back to Boston and then go home to New York.

“Anderson’s set up a buy, a big one. Everything in that house except for two AK-47’s, ten grenades, and eight rounds of ammo for the AK-47, is for a single buyer, they’re meeting at the base of a hiking trail in two days.”

“Fuck. There were uzis and bazookas, who the hell are these guys.” Anderson was just a weapons dealer, and he was dangerous enough, Kenny really wasn’t looking forward to meeting whoever the buyer was. “I don’t know, I couldn’t find out, but there is some, I guess, good news. They think that he blew up an FBI agent and that that’s who’s in the hospital under armed guard. They think he got away, want to do the exchange earlier than planned, they want to meet in two hours, the same location.”

“Hana, we have the opportunity to also take down some pretty dangerous buyers too, that’s great news, why don’t you think so?”

“Kenny, they don’t know his exact face but they have a description. Six feet tall, blonde, blue eyes, muscular-”

“You think I have muscles?” Kenny realized his attempt at lightening the mood wasn’t welcome when no one chuckled along with him, muttering a quick apology before looking back at Hana, whose face displaced what he could only describe as contained distress. “Kenny, you’re pretty banged up, you shouldn’t be going out there.”

“Hana, I’ll be fine. Everything’s mostly superficial, SWAT hasn’t gone back to Boston yet, and we may not get another chance to get these guys. It has to be done, and quickly. I’ll be okay.” She took a deep breath and looked down at the papers on the table in front of her. She did not like it, that much was very obvious, but she looked frustrated that his logic was right, and that they’d have to go through with his, admittedly not very well thought out, plan. “Alright, I guess I’ll go and get the tech set up.” Jess coughed to draw attention to himself, along with everyone else in the room they’d been ignoring, and Kenny felt his cheeks heat up. “Sorry, is this the plan we’re going through with and should I get the tech together?”

“While I get the local LEO’s to give us some info on the terrain?” Jess looked them both over before nodding. “Sounds like that’s what we’re doing, thanks for doing all the planning guys, everyone, go get prepared.”

“Kenny, can you come and find me after you’re done talking to the LEO’s? I’d like to talk for a sec.”

“Sure thing Maggie.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

His talk with Maggie ended up just being a quick, and confusing, talk.

“I know that it’s been a rough couple of days, but I’m still you really need to be careful.”

“I know, it won’t be like back at the house, there’ll be back up this time, and I’ll have ammo in my gun this time.”

“This isn’t the time to joke but... Okay. And one more thing, be nice to Hana.”

“Aren’t I always nice to Hana? I feel like she’s upset with me but I don’t know what I’ve done wrong.” Maggie sighed before giving him a long look and was clearly debating whether or not to say something. “It’s not that you’ve done anything wrong, it’s just that... current circumstances have been stressing her out. Like me being your partner right now, it’s thrown her off a bit. And she said you’ve been acting strange so she’s worried about you for that on top of your physical safety, and Zadie has been calling and texting her quite a bit asking for updates about you, and it’s just been a lot for her.”

“Why didn’t she tell me any of this?”

“Sometimes it’s easier to talk to someone who isn’t directly involved in the issue. Look, all I’m saying is that you need to be careful, and maybe tell Zadie to not ask about you while you and Hana are working.”

“I didn’t even know she’s been doing that, it doesn’t matter that Hana isn’t in the field, her work is still crucial and she can’t afford to be distracted. Are we good?”

“Yeah, we’re good.”

“Good.”

Maggie was still pretty vague, but when Hana was wiring him up, he promised her he would be careful and cautious, that he was sorry if he worried her, the relief on her face made his heart twinge. He hadn’t meant to make her so concerned.

Two sets of headlights drove up the gravel road that leads to town, bring Kenny back to the present. Two men stepped out of each car and he immediately had to stifle a groan. He was now standing alone in a hiking trail parking lot alone, but with back up hiding in the trees, with four nazis. They were all in their fifties wearing blatant white supremacist clothes. He counted a trump shirt, a confederate flag, an all lives matter shirt, and a swastika shirt. “You Jason Anderson?” Confederate spoke first, and his voice was so loud and boisterous it shook his beer belly. “I am.”

“Is that FBI agent you blew up dead yet?”

“I really didn’t come here, when the feds are really pissed and packing heat, to make small talk. Are you buying or not? I’ve got them all loaded up in the back.”

“Can we see them first?”

“After I see the cash.” Trump shirt looked at confederate for confirmation before walking to the second pick-up truck, because of course, and returned with two stuffed duffle bags. Kenny unzipped them the second they were in front of him, and sure enough, stacks of $100 bills shoved inside in a disorderly fashion. Kenny pretended to count but he was really biding his time, trying to find ways to get them to spill their guts. “What do you guys want with this much firepower, anyway? It’s a bit much for hunting.”

“There’s an abortion clinic a couple of hours away in Boston, we’re going to teach those whores to respect life.” And here I was thinking that these scumbags couldn’t get any worse. Kenny sighed and popped the trunk, revealing the crates of guns, that all had the firing pins removed making them useless, but assholes one through four didn’t need to know that. “Alright, take a look. What do you think?”

“I think... That we just got an arsenal for FREE!” All four aimed their newly attained weapons and... Didn’t fire. “Really? Did you honestly think I’d put ammo in there? Whatever, FBI YOU’RE UNDER ARREST!” They didn’t even have time to start running before the most wanted unit, Maggie, SWAT, and LEO’s had burst out of the trees, guns raised.

Fucking morons.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey man, how’d the bust go?”

“Great, we arrested the head of the local faction of the KKK and his minions, apparently. You know, the second the guns were in their hands they tried to blow me to pieces. They thought we, or Anderson rather, would have them all loaded up for them so they could make away with the guns and the cash. You should’ve seen them when they were arrested, they were genuinely surprised that their plan didn’t work, and that no one wanted to hear their bigoted crap. And Anderson’s ex-wife decided to take in all four of Karnstein’s kids, those he had with her husband and brother, which is great because we were worried about what was going to happen to them, but she said she just wants to keep all the siblings together and that’s an example of sainthood if I ever saw one. And before you ask, yes, Maggie’s fine.”

“I’m getting a little predictable when it comes to her, aren’t I?”

“A bit, yeah- hold on one second... I’m back.”

“What was that?”

“I got another call.”

“From who?”

“Zadie.”

“The girl you’re dating who happens to be the roommate of your best friend and the girl you’re in love with?”

“... Shut up.”

“Hahaha no. Look, we’re both idiots, all three of us were until Halstead figured out how to get off. I can’t talk to Maggie about how I feel, not yet and maybe not ever. Losing her husband left horrendous scars and she needs me to be her partner and her friend, she doesn’t need to deal with how I feel. But you and Hana? You could happen, you could talk to her, I know that you spoke with her about your PTSD and she’s told you about serious things in her life and herself. Both of you have a trust and bond that doesn’t need to be tested. It’s tried and true. You don’t deserve to be miserable, drowning yourself in distractions and being a distraction. Just promise me you’ll think about it.”

“Okay, I will. And for what it’s worth, I don’t think you and Maggie are as far away from each other as you think. She talks about you all the time, she told me so many stories about you two in the field. She trusts you implicitly, and the face she makes when she talks about you... There’s nothing platonic about that. So you need to think about talking to your girl and moving forward too, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Am I really not your favourite blonde anymore?”

“Haha, no you’re not, sorry.”

“You knew her for like three days!”

“Eh, still.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

“... No, I don’t. But... Maggie told me about the clown fairy princess and I’m gonna tell Halstead about it the next time I call him, which we’ll be in an hour cause I want to catch him before he goes to work. So, HA!”

“Crosby!”

#fbi cbs #FBI Most Wanted #Maggie Bell #hana gibson #oa zidan x maggie bell #maggie x oa #hana gibson x kenny crosby #kenny x hana #OA Zidan #Kenny Crosby #clinton skye #jess lacroix #jay halstead #hailey upton #upstead #zibell #sheryll barnes #One Chicago #Chicago PD

19 notes · View notes

dragons-bones · 4 years ago

Text

FFXIV Write Entry #1: The Bluebird of Ishgard

Prompt: crux | Master Post | On AO3

This fill is a combination of both the FFXIV Write prompt, and a prompt from the Book Club server as posited by @pudgy-puk: “aymeric takes his date to The Fanciest ishgardian patisserie and drops an ABSURD amount of money.“

We are starting off FFXIV Write with EXACTLY MY BRAND! This takes place post 3.1 and references the events of my FFXIV Write 2019 fill, “Finally.”

Please enjoy!

Synnove hummed quietly to herself as she walked with Aymeric through the streets of Ishgard, her right hand tucked into the crook of his elbow. His own right hand gently covered hers, and every few moments he softly rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. A silly grin tugged at her lips every time he did, a flush of pleasure rising on her cheeks.

Aymeric had arrived at Fortemps Manor shortly after lunch, dressed down in simple leathers and that fur-lined leather coat he had worn that day not-so-long ago when she and Galette had run into him shopping along the Jeweled Crozier. He had asked for the pleasure of her company on a leisurely walk through the city—“I am not yet allowed the more strenuous exercise of the sparring ring,” he had said ruefully, a twinkle in his ice blue eyes, “but I am, thankfully, allowed to stretch my legs on daily walks.”—and after being subjected to a frantic wardrobe change by Rere (“We’re in a relationship! I don’t need to impress him! And why is this skirt in my size?” “Shush, be glad I’m always prepared on your behalf, and wear this sweater with it! Oooooh and the green shawl Heron made for you, I have the perfect pin to go with it.” “Rereha!”), she had been out the door with him, hand in hand.

Their leisurely ramble had taken them through parts of the city Synnove hadn’t visited, or had only walked through or by once or twice. Neighborhoods of the minor or vassel houses; the district where the merchants and burgeoning nouveau riche dwelled. Small parks carefully tended to preserve some green within the limits of the city; statues of minor saints and folk heroes of the Dragonsong War; a street lined on either side by greenhouses, the area bristling with dragonkillers. Aymeric had a story for each place: here was where a childhood friend had lived, before his family had moved out of the city; that was the house of his mother’s least favorite cousin, whom social propriety had declared Mama still had to entertain; there was he played at knights and dragons most often; that was the saint for whom his father—“The one who raised me.”—had been named.

She had enjoyed listening to him speak, his tone shading equally with fondness or wistfulness or, in the case of his mother’s least favorite cousin, palpable disdain. They so rarely had moments of quiet, never mind such moments together, and the opportunity to learn more about his home through his eyes had been an honor. She was sorry for the outing to end.

Except, instead of taking the turn that would lead them back the Fortemps Manor, Aymeric began to lead them in the direction of the Jeweled Crozier and all its myriad shops. Synnove made a questioning sound, looking up at him.

Aymeric grinned at her and kissed her forehead. “My lady was kind enough to accompany me about Ishgard in the cold, without complaint,” he said cheerfully, “and listen to me ramble besides. The least I can do is provide her some refreshment and something hot to drink in return.”

She laughed in delight, and pushed herself to her toes to kiss his cheek. “It was my pleasure to walk with you today,” she said, “but I’ll not refuse the offer of a treat. Lead on, my knight.”

The main thoroughfares were busier than the side streets, and the pair garnered some attention as the Lord Commander and a Warrior of Light, though blessedly no one approached them. Aymeric turned them down onto the lane that housed most of the Pillars’ cafes and bakeries, and Synnove’s stomach rumbled at the enticing aromas of coffee and bread and sugar that perfumed the air here.

He took them past the places where she and her friends often supped, past even the cafes about which Emmanellain waxed poetic. The traffic thinned as they walked, the businesses becoming more exclusive, the displays of pastries and menus becoming more elaborate and frankly obscene. Synnove looked around in growing surprise, her eyebrows rising, even as Aymeric continued to smile, secretive and mischievous.

Finally, they stopped in front of a patisserie in whose window was a display of éclairs so decadent that Synnove reflexively swallowed the saliva suddenly flooding her mouth. The choux was so fluffy it looked as if it was about to float, the chocolate icing thick and so dark is seemed to gleam black in the shop’s light. Some were left plain, but others hinted at the flavor of the cream or custard within each: candied orange peels; coffee beans; halved strawberries; roasted chestnuts. She swallowed again and glanced up at the placard over the shop’s door.

A simple bluebird in flight, holding a sprig of mint, was the only hint at the patisserie’s identity.

Synnove felt the color drain from her face. “Aymeric…”

Aymeric raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles and she turned to look at him. He was smiling, the rogue, as brilliant and joyous as when they had first kissed after retaking the Vault mere weeks ago. “Let me spoil you,” he purred.

For a few heartbeats she was absolutely torn: the tiny five-year old watching her parents and aunt count every gil to make the week’s earnings feed six people, along with the frugal adult who owned her own home, at war with the same tiny five-year old who loved sweets of all sorts and the hopeless romantic who secretly wished to have someone dote on her without reservation. “Refreshments and something hot to drink” at the most exclusive, most expensive patisserie in Ishgard. Not even Rereha, with her near bottomless trust fund interest, had wandered this far down the lane…though in fairness to Rere, that more due to being perfectly content with a coffee and croissant at the first shop that caught her eye.

Synnove chewed on her bottom lip, glancing back and forth between Aymeric and the Bluebird. Finally, sugar and romance won out. “All right,” she said, only a little bit weakly.

Her knight kissed her knuckles once more, and without further ado, led her inside.

The scent of cooking sugar sent her stomach growling again and as Aymeric helped her shrug out of her heavy winter coat, she looked around with wide eyes. Éclairs, macarons, petit fours, madeleines, opera cakes, mille-feuille, bavarois of all sorts—there were more types of cakes and cookies and tarts on display then she could name. She let Aymeric lead her to her a table—the only one in the shop—and as she took her seat, she saw one of the staff quickly dart over to the door and flip the sign from ‘open’ to ‘closed.’ She whipped her head around to stare at Aymeric as he sat.

He reached for her hands and she let him take them, her knuckles going white as she squeezed. Raising her hands, he kissed the back of her right, and then her left, quietly murmuring, “It’s all right, my love,” he said with a wry grin. “Anyone who wants to enjoy the Bluebird’s delights on premise must make a reservation ahead of time to ensure the table will be free.”

Synnove narrowed her eyes and hissed, “How long have you been planning this?”

“Not that long,” he said cheerfully. “A fortnight, perhaps.”

They let go of one another as a server brought them cups of coffee in surprisingly plain white mugs, heavy and thick to keep the liquid hot for as long as possible. As the server stepped away to flit back behind the counter, Synnove stretched her leg beneath the table and hooked her ankle around Aymeric’s. He beamed and raised his coffee to take a sip, and she followed suit.

She purred at the first taste. It was a dark roast, rich and flavorful, and roasted so carefully there was no hint of bitterness. While she would always love the coffeehouses of Limsa Lominsa best, there were more than a few cafes in her seaside home that could stand to take a lesson from the Bluebird in coffee brewing. Without cream or sugar, it would be the perfect compliment to the sugary delights of the pastries.

Aymeric smiled at her over his mug, and that was when the first of the treats arrived.

Éclairs, four of them, cut in to make for easier sharing, and to show off the flavored fillings within: one vanilla, one chocolate, one coffee, and one strawberry.

Synnove’s eyes went wider. She had never seen a pastry so generously filled before; the sight was actually borderline obscene, and the part of her mind where a facsimile of Rereha lived was dying to make a crude joke. She raised her eyes to meet Aymeric’s and he actually waggled his eyebrows at her.

She burst out laughing, covering her mouth with her hands to try and stifle the sound, shoulders shaking. Aymeric joined her, his own laugh slightly softer, though it came from deep in his belly.

“You took that far better than Mama ever did,” he said as they calmed. “I hadn’t the faintest idea of just what Da meant by it until I was fourteen, but Mama slapped his arm every time and turned red as a tomato.”

Synnove smiled and warmth suffused her, as it did whenever Aymeric offhandedly spoke of Rolandoix and Gwenaëlle de Borel. It was such a joy and honor to have these pieces of his past shared with her. “Did they come here often?” she said, eyes on Aymeric as she reached for a half of the vanilla éclair.

“Four times a year,” he said, eyes going distant as he reminisced. “Our birthdays, and their wedding anniversary. It was one of the few frivolities they allowed themselves, and one of the few times of year they would spoil me rotten!” He grinned, a touch sad recalling his parents, before he shook his head and gestured to her. “And here I am on the cusp of becoming maudlin, and when I wish to be spoiling you. Eat!”

She laughed, and raising the éclair to her mouth, took a bite.

Almost immediately she moaned in rapture. Oh, but the choux was as wonderfully fluffy and cloudlike as it had appeared, practically melting on her tongue. The icing was a truly sinfully dark chocolate, bittersweet and more like a ganache than she had anticipated. And the crème, oh sweet gods, the crème. She was used to vanilla being a light flavor, delicate and easily overwhelmed, but this was so intensely concentrated it was more than a match for the chocolate icing.

She opened her eyes—when had she closed them?—and stared at Aymeric with wonder. His smile was equal parts delight and lasciviousness as he took a bite of the chocolate éclair. He chewed, swallowed, and drawled out, “Now, aren’t you glad you let me treat you?”

Synnove nodded frantically, finishing her bite with a swallow, and the popped remainder of her vanilla éclair into her mouth, another happy moan escaping her as she did. The chocolate, coffee, and strawberry éclairs were just as intensely flavored, exploding on her tongue in a riot of sensation, but the vanilla remained her favorite of the set.

From there they were served an entire tasting menu of the Bluebird’s finest treats. Palmiers were next, crispy and light and absolutely decadent when dipped into her coffee. Opera cake followed, the layers of buttercream, almond sponge cake soaked in coffee liqueur, and coffee ganache melding together that her toes curled in her boots and Aymeric had to laughingly fend off her fork with his own when she tried to steal a piece of his opera cake when hers was gone. Meringues were fourth, lighter than air, and slices of traditional fig bavarois fifth, the jelly bright and smooth. Then an assortment of flavored macarons, then mille-feuile, then buttery madeleines, and on and on and on, with heavy, rich desserts alternated with light, simpler fare.

Each pastry was exquisitely made, the quality of ingredients and care of the craftsmanship shining through. She didn’t bother to hide any of her appreciative hums or groans, and while Aymeric’s eyes flashed every time she did, the staff of the Bluebird, when she caught sight of them, wore large, delighted smiles of their own, rightfully proud to have a new customer so enjoy their hard work. Even better than the wonderful desserts, though, was the knowledge that it was Aymeric who had wanted to share something he considered special with her, and continue following the traditions of his family.

After all, she thought, pleasure suffusing her at the thought: it was exactly a moon today since the attack on the Vault, and the night they had confessed their feelings for one another.

The servers cleared away the last plates and refilled their coffee mugs, and Synnove sat back with a content sigh, cradling her mug in her hands. “Thank you for this, Aymeric,” she said, beaming at him. “I am well and truly spoiled.”

Aymeric smiled at her and hooked their other ankles together so that they were a tangle of limbs beneath the table. “I’m glad,” he said, voice soft. And then his smile turned cheeky. “But we’re not done quite yet…”

His gaze was somewhere behind her shoulder, and she turned to follow it. Approaching them with a tray in hand was a plump, stately elezen matron wearing the traditional garb of a culinarian, a bluebird embroidered over her heart. Synnove guessed she must be Madame Iriene, the owner and chief pastry chef of the Bluebird.

Madame Iriene stopped next to their little table and gave a half bow. “By request,” she said, a sly look in her eye, “a special finale in honor of the Lord Commander’s lady.”

Synnove blinked in shock, glancing askance at Aymeric. His smile widened.

Madame Iriene set the tray between them, revealing its contents: two plates, each with three pastries arranged in a neat row.

The first was small pudding pie, topped with a dollop of fresh whipped cream. The second was a soft bun, golden brown and delicious, smelling ever so faintly of apples. The third was a trio of three caramels, unusually darkened, and sprinkled with red flakes on top.

Synnove stared at them, mouth going dry. These—these were—

“A chocolate pudding pie, its crust made of crushed chocolate cookies,” Madame Iriene began to list, “topped with mint-infused whipped cream. A soft bread bun, stuffed with apples spiced with cinnamon, cardamom, ginger, and star anise. Caramels, infused with coffee and dragon pepper.”

Tears pricked at her eyes and Synnove set her coffee down so she could once more bring her hands to her mouth.

Galette. Tyr. Ivar.

Representations of exactly how the aether around each of their summoning foci tasted to her senses.

Aymeric made a concerned noise and Synnove looked up at him as her tears overflowed. “Synnove, are you all right?” he said gently, reaching for her. “My apologies, I overstepped—”

She lunged forward (Madame Iriene darted out of the way with the dexterity of a woman thirty years younger), grabbing Aymeric’s face between her hands, and kissed him for all she was worth. He grunted in surprise, frozen for a moment, before he brought his hands up to cup her shoulders and return her kiss with a relieved laugh.

“Thank you,” she said in between kisses and the occasional teary hiccup. “Thank you, thank you, I can’t believe you remembered, I babbled about it moons ago, I didn’t even know anyone was paying attention—”

“How could I not pay attention?” her knight said, drawing back to look at her with pure adoration. “It’s you, and something important to you.”

Synnove sniffled, overwhelmed. She had already made a claim on him, and he on her, a moon ago, but this? As far as she was concerned, he was hers, and she was his.

Forever.

#ffxivwrite2020 #final fantasy xiv #oc: synnove greywolfe #aymeric de borel #aymeric x wol #aymeric x synnove #\o/#dt's writing #this is my longest raw fill ever #it has blown 'shovel talk' out of the water by seven hundred words #also *adds the CORRECT fic link whoops*

67 notes · View notes