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hansolmates · 4 years ago

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g.p.s - god, parents suck | m

summary; seokjin just wants to enjoy the disney treatment and you are more than happy to deliver pairing; dilf!jin x hotelier!reader genre/warnings; crack, humor, gets a lil emotional, teenage daughter issues, one very minor allusion to a daddy kink LOL, a very vaguely implied sex scene, so CHEESY w.c; est. 5.1k a/n; wee my first jin fic! this is for @btsghostiewritersnet #DynamiteDads event! I was supposed to go to disney this year but sadly miss rona had to cancel our plans so this is just pure self indulgence. as always thank u to @eerieedits/ @chillingtae for the disney dream fic banner!

if you like it give it a bippity-boppity-boop on the like and share buttons! ✨✨✨

“Left, left!” Seokjin cries, holding onto the emergency break for dear life, “not my left, your left!”

“We’re facing the same way! We have the same lefts!”

“Clearly not if we’re going right, Sweetheart.”

“But the GPS says to go right!”

“In four-hundred feet, keep left at the fork,” Google Maps interrupts pleasantly.

“That’s it. Kim Yeji, pull over!”

“But Daaaaaaaaad,” yet his daughter complies, sadly pulling over at the edge of the road. She doesn’t even have to step on the gas, just turns the wheel slightly so she can land slowly, pathetically on the gravel.

“Angel,” Seokjin says levelly, reaching over to unclick the seatbelt. “I will drive the rest of the way, I gave you time to practice for you have to drive to college but we can’t get on the highway like this.”

“You never let me do anything.”

“What, I do! Who let you go to prom in that sequined excuse for a dress?”

“Uncle Namjoon!”

“Fine, I’ll give him that! Who let you dye your hair to a crisp—”

“Uncle Hoseok!”

“Uncle–” Seokjin is affronted, jabbing the seatbelt in it’s locked position when he gets in the front seat. “Forget it, let’s just have a peaceful drive for the next few hours until we get to the hotel,” he removes Yeji’s phone from the holder, placing it in her lap.

“Dad,” she waves her phone around, pointing to Google Maps, “you need the GPS to get there.”

He scoffs, “No, I don’t. We’ve been to Disney plenty of times. I know where we’re going.”

“Oh yeah? When’s the last time we went to Disney?”

“When you were two? Three?”

Yeji relaxes in her seat, not ready to argue with her dad once more. “Alright, lead the way,” she gestures vaguely to the empty parkway, devoid of life for miles.

Seokjin is undeterred, reaching over the console to pat Yeji’s blonde hair. He turns on the radio, only to be met with the sound of crunchy static and terrible country music. Cutting the radio, he immediately switches to an old Disney CD, telling Yeji to let it go as he pulls into the open road. Reddish dust clouds around the car briefly, ripping against the tires as they drive off to their hotel.

“Is this the Princess Hotel?”

“Nope, this is the Prince S Hotel.”

You can’t help but grin at the way your current customer’s face falls. He’s a handsome thing, all plush and pillowy in the cheeks and lips. Despite his daughter hanging off his arm like a limp noodle—after all it’s past 2AM and they’ve probably been driving for hours—he still manages to look somewhat put-together despite you telling him they’ve got the wrong place.

“Told you, use the GPS,” her daughter chastises weakly, tucking her cheek in his shoulder.

His kid’s a pretty girl, kind of reminds you of when you were a teenager. “The Princess Hotel is about an hour away on the other side of the Disney resorts,” you say slowly, noting from the way the girl is swaying on her feet that her father must be equally as tired, “although, I would suggest staying here for the night. Your daughter’s about to fall asleep on my counter.”

At the pointed look you’re giving the teen, Seokjin puts a protective hand on her slim shoulders. “Yeji-bear, why don’t you lie down for a bit,” he leads her over to a spare couch. “We’ll call our booked hotel,” he says shortly, looking over his shoulder to give you a forced smile.

Ah, you’ve seen this scene one or two times in your days working at Prince S. A father too prideful to admit he may have messed up just a little with the directions, and a child that probably argued or simmered so hard on the way they’re passed into a stupor on your lobby couch. Tonight, or your early morning is a little special though, you’ve never seen a father as handsome as the one in front of you, exasperatedly calling up their real hotel reservations.

“What? My reservation has been revoked?” her daughter groans when he jostles around his lap, knocking her head, “how can you do that? Past the time? I thought this was Disney!”

You drum your nails against the counter, using your other hand to pull up your guest list for the night on the computer. The father, now furrowed in the face, walks up to you and leaves his daughter on the plush couch.

“One double bedroom for the weekend, please,” the father pulls his cards out, flicking it to your side of the counter. He places down his car keys in the available holder, “I parked out front, you do valet right?”

With a nod, you get to work. “Take it they weren’t very accommodating?”

“They gave our hotel room to some Make-A-Wish Foundation kid!” he cries exasperatedly, hands in the air as you patiently book the room. Your eyes linger longer than usual on his driver’s license and ID: Kim Seokjin. Even his driver’s license mugshot looks handsome. He rests his arms against your counter, despondent. “Is it terrible for me to hate on some kid with a terminal illness?”

“A little,” you shrug, slipping his keycard under his elbow, “but I mean according to your, Yeji-bear,” you can’t help but giggle at the nickname, “if you used the GPS you’d be at the correct hotel.”

“Don’t remind me,” Seokjin glares, hauling his and Yeji’s luggage in one hand, “baby, let’s go upstairs c’mon.”

You watch the small family trudge to the elevators, sleepily walking forward like zombies. No one spares you a second glance, they never do, so it gives you ample courage to take a look at Kim Seokjin’s toned body. Broad shoulders, a Dorito-trimmed waistline, and long legs that you want to climb up on.

Oh, daddy.

“Hey,” Yeji pops up on your counter, looking much perkier than she did hours before, “do you have my dad’s car keys?”

Trying not to raise your brows at your young guest, you give her a smirk, leaning over the counter. A spunky thing, with sharp eyes with a pretty cat-tipped eyeliner shape that has her looking well put-together. You wish you had your shit together as a teenager, you barely have it together now.

“I do,” you quip, “why?”

“I wanna get Starbucks,” she says simply, “the pineapple matcha is to die for, and I want to drink as many summer specials as I can before it’s over.”

“Valid,” you reply, going into your master key to retrieve all the guests’ keys. Taking Seokjin’s from its holder, you note the expensive make. Peering up from your desk, you look at Yeji’s innocent features. Before you place the key in her waiting palm, you snatch it away, “Why do I have the feeling you’re doing something that you’re not supposed to be doing?”

Yeji tilts her head, “I don’t think it’s any of your business,”

Sassy. You like it. “Get me a grande matcha frappe and your secret’s safe with me.”

“Deal.”

Watching Yeji drive off in the large Hyundai Palisade gives you a little twinge of worry, but you quickly tamp it down to motherly instinct. If you were Yeji’s mom—which you’re definitely not, you’d be worried. Naturally, you feel similarly.

The hotel phone rings, the red light from 921 blinking on your switchboard. Flipping down the room number you pick up the receiver, “Prince S Hotel, how can I help you?”

“You do booking, valet, and housekeeping?” Seokjin’s exasperated voice says in your ears, “who would I call if I want breakfast?”

“That would also be me,” you reply wryly, twisting the curly wire between your fingers, “we advertise ourselves as a hotel for the quality, although we are much smaller with only thirty rooms. Sort of like a bed n’breakfast, getting the true royal treatment.”

“Would the royal treatment consist of some extra towels and a continental breakfast?”

“You got it.”

A little cliché of you to do the whole “whistle while you work” segment—a lacy apron to make sure your uniform doesn’t get dirty, a spot of coffee to keep you peppy and setting everything up on a gold trimmed cart. You didn’t think you’d see Seokjin again, especially after how upset he was about his room.

With a little rap on his door, Seokjin invites you inside to set up. Their room overlooks the valley as opposed to the busy roads, so it’s a perfect way to rise with the sun. He immediately reaches for the coffee as you drag your little cart in, completely ignoring the cream and sugar on the side. After a long sip, he moans in pleasure.

“Ah,” he exhales, a sound that has you teeming. You grip the handlebars a little tighter than usual, “Maybe it was fate that we ended up here.”

“Maybe,” you fight the urge to bite your lip, because Seokjin has no idea how cliché of a line that is. He isn’t even speaking directly at you, talking in front of the sun like it’s his morning routine. “Say, have you seen Yeji around?”

“Ah,” you shug, pretending to be oblivious, “I think she went out for a walk.”

He turns to you, giving you a quivering brow, “She hates walking. Probably calling her friends in Korea or something.”

Of course she doesn’t like walking, you think, that’s why she took your car for some overpriced drinks.

Instead, you place the fresh pancakes and sides on the guest table, making sure everything is organized and in order. You place the towels atop the haphazardly made bed, making sure to put two mints on top. It isn’t customary to include mints, but you think the mints your hotel has taste great and deserve to be shared around more often than not.

“So, it looks like you’re ready for Disney,” you remark, taking note of his outfit. He has on blush mid-thigh shorts, stretchy and made from a canvas fabric that looks airy and comfortable. Around his neck is a little portable fan, and on his head is an old Mickey baseball cap.

“Ah, just for today and tomorrow! Sunday is my ‘me’ day,” Seokjin says, dashing across the room at the sight of fresh food, “Yeji is meeting with some cousins and will be spending the rest of the weekend with them.”

“Sounds like a fun weekend,” you remark, turning to leave.

“Will you be working the rest of the weekend?”

This is supposed to be small talk. You try to convince yourself that Seokjin is just being polite, wondering if his service is going to be impacted by you being around or not. There must be nothing sexual, or just mere attraction, going on between the two of you. Well, maybe on your side of things. The pink shorts and the baseball cap are doing things to your body that you barely understand. Unfortunately, the eager apples of his cheeks and the innocent upturn of his lips lets you know that any possibility of returned affections is virtually nonexistent.

“It’s my weekend off,” you fight the twinge of excitement when you see Seokjin pout, “but Park Jimin relieves me, and he’s definitely a much better host than I am. He’ll make sure everything’s taken care of.”

“Does he make better pancakes than you?” Seokjin asks, swirling a bite in a ribbon of maple syrup.

“I’m afraid not,” you smile, “he makes a mean breakfast burrito though.”

He shrugs listlessly, eating slower. He takes his time to make sure every pancake is cut in equal two-centimeter pieces, taking his time as if he’s savoring the last of your home-cooked meal. “Not sure if I’ll be completely satisfied then.”

With a firm smile, you wheel your cart out as fast as you can. You can’t keep up the facade now, not with your trashy mind and your dampening panties ruining your sense of self. Quietly slamming the door behind you, you’re met with Seokjin’s spitting image.

Yeji tilts her head at you, eating you alive with her dead-on stare. She places the keys and your matcha beverage on your cart.

“Did my dad confuse you or something?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“He’s like that,” Yeji shrugs, taking a long sip of her drink, “don’t worry, I’ll put in a good word for you.”

A good word? With an uneasy smile you wheel away, ignoring the burn in your cheeks.

“Can I have the keys?” Yeji asks the next morning, minutes before your shift ends.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. You’re sure Yeji is a wonderful kid and has a good heart, but she’s seriously putting your five-star Yelp review on the line. Cocking one eyebrow you say, “What, need your Starbucks fix?”

“Do you know how to parallel park?”

“Why, need a teacher?”

“It’d be better to have someone nearby to make sure I don’t park into a guard rail.”

“Does Seokjin approve?”

“You obviously know the answer to that,” Yeji replies, “and you and my dad are on a first-name basis, huh?”

Fighting the heat in your cheeks, you busy yourself by locking up the money box and key tin, but not before grabbing the keys to the Palisades. “I’m doing this for you because I have impeccable customer service skills,” you feign haughtiness, leaving your front desk and scanning your ID to clock out.

“Not because you think my dad is hot?” she follows you out the door.

“Do you always talk about your dad like that?”

Yeji is silent as she takes the keys from your grip, and you follow her in the passenger seat. A scent that’s fruity yet musky fills your nostrils, and you hug your arms for comfort. This is painfully awkward, at least in your point of view, but Yeji pays no mind as she connects to her Spotify playlist and turns on the air conditioner.

“I’m not one of those prissy daughters that try their damn hardest to make sure their dad doesn’t date,” Yeji murmurs, adjusting the mirrors, “anyone my dad dates will be better than Hyehwa. He deserves to be happy for all that he’s done for me.”

“Hyehwa?”

“The biological carrier for nine months,” Yeji replies dryly.

Your heart pinches, squeezing against your ribcage as you put two and two together. Hyewha, who you’re assuming is, or was Yeji’s mother, is definitely out of the picture. Yet seeing how confident Yeji is with herself, and how much he loves her father and wants him to be happy, is clear in your eyes.

“You are one cool kid,” is the only thing you can say, hoping you don’t have that silly heartened look in your gaze.

It seems that you do, because all she does is roll her eyes and put the car in drive.

It’s nearly one in the morning when you get the call.

You’re off the clock, but it’s graveyard hours and you and Jimin are craving pizza. So while Jimin tends to the last minute guests, you pick up a cheesy pie and hide behind the desk while Jimin does his job.

You’ve polished off half the pie when the main phone rings, and Jimin sighs heavily. Late night and early morning calls are the absolute worst.

“Get the hospital on speed dial,” Jimin jokes, but not really because the last time someone called at one, you really did wish you had an ambulance on-site.

“Prince S hotel,” Jimin spins the cord between his fingers, looking like a dreamy teen heartthrob as he leans against the counter. He immediately swings the phone over to your greasy fingers, “it’s a personal call.”

Wiping your hands on the box, you raise a brow. “Hello?” you ask, wholly confused.

“Mm, it’s Yeji,” the voice slurs on the other line, “I need help.”

“A-are you drunk?” you say, incredulous.

“Yeah, me and my cousin snuck a bottle downtown,” Yeji sounds nervous, and you unconsciously grip the phone tighter, “can you pick us up? I can drop you my location if you give me your number, please. My dad trusted me with the Palisade this weekend, I can’t let him know what happened. I know I’m always trying to get under my dad’s skin and whatever but I don’t want him to lose my trust, what we did is a dumb mistake.”

A part of you feels for Yeji, you’ve done dumb shit like this when you were young. All those fond memories are nothing but memories, and definitely not reflective of your current life now.

The rational, intelligent part of you knows that you should probably call Seokjin right now and tell him what’s going on. You don’t really want to get involved in their family matters, especially when as of late you’ve been inserting yourself in Yeji’s antics.

With a sigh, you pull up your Lyft app, already knowing whose side you’re on.

It takes no more than fifteen minutes for you to arrive at the scene, Yeji and what you assume is her older cousin sitting on the curb of a dilapidated Krispy Kreme, sadly polishing off a whole box of glazed donuts, Well, her cousin is polishing off the box, Yeji is taking nibbles at her proffered donut.

You sigh, pulling Yeji up. You see tear-streaks, her previously perfect cat-eye smudged off and running down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, sounding not as inhiberated as she did before, “I bothered you.”

“Not at all,” you soothe, running a hand down her braids. You try not to melt when Yeji nearly leans into your warmth, but backs up at the last second, “I’m happy that you called. Would rather know that you’re safe now than later, yeah? I’m not mad at you,” you assure, pulling a crumpled brown napkin from the pizzeria to dab at her ruddied cheeks.

“Hi, I’m Jungkook,” you turn your head dangerously slowly towards the cute muscle pig who’s still sitting on the curb, “Ya deserve a five-star Yelp review for this service—”

“But I’m mad at you,” you pointedly ignore his drunken charm. He looks old enough to drink, which only further annoys you because he should be the one taking care of Yeji, “get in the damn car, Youngkook.”

“It’s Jungkook—”

“Get in.”

He swallows his tongue, and you notice Yeji stifling a giggle at your attitude. She wordlessly hands you the keys, clamoring in the front seat while Jungkook takes the whole back row. Yeji tiredly informs you the address to her cousin’s hotel, and you drive off into the night.

“Did I ruin my dad’s chances with you?” you think that Yeji has no clue what she’s saying, but there’s a little sliver of heart in her tone. Her face is pressed against the window, the cold glass on the verge of keeping her awake as she stumbles in and out of consciousness.

“You could never do that,” you mumble, and you smile when her eyes willingly flutter shut.

“Hey, babe,” you practically hear desperation in Jimin’s voice.

“Jimin, no,” you already know that his request is sitting prettily on the tip of his tongue, “it’s my weekend off. I’m not getting out.”

“But someone requested your pancakes,” he whines, and you can practically feel his pout on the other line, “and he said and I quote ‘I’ll be able to tell that you made them.’ I feel threatened!”

“Did they offer to pay in diamonds?”

“N-no. But he said it’s his daughter’s special weekend and he’d be really thankful if you’d come by and make your breakfast for him.”

Daughter? Yeji. You sigh, rubbing a hand over your face. You have your own room separate from the hotel, a deal that has you living rent free in exchange for your hard labor five days a week. “Heat up the stove for me and crisp the bacon,” you mutter, hanging up and throwing the phone under the covers.

Tugging your hair back and throwing on a large hoodie, you put on your slippers and pad down the little sidewalk that leads to the hotel. The sun beats down on you immediately, willing you to go back to your air-conditioned room to fall back asleep. Swimming through the soup that is the Californian air, you shuffle inside Prince S and make a beeline for the kitchens. You brush through busy employees, flashing a quick smile and “good morning” as you get to your station.

Jimin is already there, sitting at your workspace. All your ingredients are sitting out: flour, eggs, butter, vanilla, baking powder, baking soda, buttermilk, and fresh berries. However, Jimin makes no moves to attempt cooking, instead looking at you with pursed lips and waiting for you to get a move on.

“Get your butt off my counter,” you slap his thigh disapprovingly, pulling your sleeves up to start mixing the ingredients, “you’re dirty.”

“I embrace being dirty,” Jimin replies majestically, kicking his legs back and forth. His Doc Marten creepers wave in your vision, “thank you for swinging by. He said that it was really really important that you come in and make them. Daughter’s request.”

“They’re lucky they’re a cute family,” you mutter under your breath, although the words aren’t laced with malice.

The batter is fluffy and puffy, rising with the scent of melted butter and caramelized sugar. You take careful fingers towards the berries, creating a smiley face in the uncooked pancakes.

“Is your maternal side kicking in?” Jimin says in your ear, and you swing at him with your spatula.

“Leave me alone, art is being made.”

“Sure,” Jimin hops off the table, patting your shoulder, “I got a date with room 69,” you roll your eyes, there is no such thing as room 69. “So please continue to be awesome and finish off this favor by delivering it to Mr. Kim’s room.”

“Jimin, no!” you don’t care that half the staff is staring at you amusedly, the other half uncaring because they’re so used to the two co-managers. “I’m not wearing—I’m not wearing pants.”

You gesture to the obscene amount of bare legs out in the open. California’s hot as hell, you try to wear as little layers as possible. However, in the workplace you like to keep a modicum of decency. Even though Kim Seokjin is fine fine fine, you have decorum.

But Jimin’s already off to visit the guest in room 69 and you’re stuck with a pile of fresh hotcakes and none of the workers want to get involved in your shenanigans. Typical. Begrudgingly, you force your Hallmark-esque smile and arrange the gold trimmed cart, taking care to put extra berries in the fruit dish.

It’s a simple transaction. Get in, drop off the food, accept the tip if Seokjin feels generous, and get out. The door to room 921 looks larger than life, intimidating like the gates to heaven. You knock firmly, but gingerly. “Room service?” the voice that escapes your lips is your sugary professional voice, one that makes you wince immediately.

A muffled “coming!” has you bristling at the door. You curse yourself, looking at your bunny-clad feet and your legs disappearing under your hoodie.

As soon as Seokjin pops his head open you blurt, “I swear, I’m wearing shorts underneath this.”

“Uh,” and that forces him to look at your legs. Dammit, it was a good intention but the wrong way to go. “Good to know,” he coughs, opening his door wider.

The room is much messier on Seokjin’s side of the room, now filled with Eeyore and Baymax memorabilia. A large, white Baymax plush sits innocently at one side of his untouched bed. You crack a smile at that.

“Where’s Yeji?” you ask lightly, putting both stacks of pancakes down on the available table. You absently wipe the crumbs off, leading the little pile of food-crust to the garbage can.

“Yeji?” Seokjin asks, “why would Yeji be here?”

The way you put the cutlery down instantly slows, “You called Jimin this morning saying you needed pancakes specifically made by me to give to Yeji.”

“Who?”

“Jimin?” you raise a brow, losing your high-pitched commercial tone. “Tiny, annoying blond guy?”

Seokjin stares.

You stare back.

“Yeji’s at her cousin’s townhouse,” Seokjin states plainly.

“No, you called and said Yeji wanted pancakes—” No.

Yeji, or Jimin, or both called you and set it up.

“Oh, Jimin’s an idiot,” you tap your head lightly, wanting to bop out any potential embarrassing memory that has burned in your brain, “must’ve misheard. Or is hearing ghosts! Honestly he isn’t the right mind I’m so sorry I reallygottaneedto—”

You can’t even breathe let alone exhale the rest of your sentence, so you instead do the only thing you can do—run away. You don’t bother to exude grace as you plop any trash on the cart from yesterday’s room service, whipping the cart around so fast that the side wheels fly off and pop a wheelie.

“We don’t have to let the food go to waste,” Seokjin says pointedly, probably watching you like he’s watching a comic show as you try to bolt out of the room.

The door is closed, and the little hallway is too small for you to put your body and the cart between the walls. You’ve trapped yourself. Maybe you could just leave the cart and dip? You’re sure there’s at least two extras downstairs.

“It won’t,” you reply dumbly, “I can eat it in the breakroom or something, I haven’t made breakfast for myself yet. I mean, I was kinda craving an avo-toast this morning, but pancakes are always a classic.”

Seokjin snorts at your incessant rambling, carding a hand through his chocolate locks, “I’m trying to ask you to stay for breakfast.”

“You’re trying to—oh,” you mirror his expression, running a hand over your hair so it pulls out of its already messy style. You haven’t done much physical activity this morning, but you feel absolutely breathless as you’re glued to the cheap carpet, taking in Seokjin’s wide glassy eyes

“And if you stay for dessert, I’d like to thank you properly,”

“I didn’t bake dessert,” you hide the shudder in your throat when he steps closer, pinning you against the cart. Your knuckles must be transparent by now due to how hard you’re gripping the cart.

“You didn’t,” Seokjin agrees, “but you definitely brought it.”

You yelp, actually, a whole little dolphin-squeal escapes your lips as Seokjin puts his hand against the wall. You’re actually living a Disney-esque scenario that you do not want to be in. Seokjin’s either trying to give you the Eugene-Signature-Smoulder, or the Prince Naveen charm that isn’t very charming.

“You’re a cheeseball,” you try to snap back, but it only comes out as a small reply, fitting of your cramped situation.

His buttery brown eyes are clear and warm, and his sweet scent envelopes your form. You feel impossibly small, sinking deeper and deeper into your hoodie until you feel the heat of his voice sinking deep into your skin.

It’s then that he leans in and whispers in your ear, his voice a simple request, “Please tell me that you’re interested in me too.”

Something clutches softly in your heart, tethering you to Seokjin’s gaze. You wonder how many times Seokjin goes through this scenario. You wonder if he’s happy being a bachelor. You figure that many partners must have doubts being tethered by a teenage daughter, or if Seokjin is used to fleeting hook-ups.

“Have been since check-in,” you reply smoothly, finding your breath and looking up from your eyelashes.

Seokjin’s lips find yours, and you swear you’re lip-locking with Cloud Nine. They’re soft and supple and taste a little like maple syrup as they mingle with yours, and you can’t help but weave your hands through his equally silky strands, tugging him closer as he hooks his arms under your bare thighs.

He gives your bottom an experimental squeeze, leading you to the unmade bed.

Needless to say, breakfast has to wait.

“So, I’m going to throw a cliché.”

“Sure, we’re in Disney.”

“Why me?” you slap his bare chest when Seokjin laughs, pouting, “I mean it! All I did was look cute and give you pancakes!”

“So you admit you’re cute,” Seokjin smirks.

“C’mon don’t change the subject, tell me!”

Even though this hotel is partially yours, you’re still amazed at the softness of the Egyptian cotton as it engulfs both your bodies. Maybe it’s because you’re warm and bathing in the noon afterglow, maybe it’s your bed partner. Still, it feels divine as you lounge in bed, sipping champagne (left by the door, courtesy of Jimin.)

“Mm, caught you driving around with Yeji in my car.”

You sit up straighter, clutching the sheets to your chest, “You saw us last night?”

“You were also out last night?” Seokjin tilts his head, “I meant when you taught her how to parallel park.”

“Oh fuck—I mean,” you slap your forehead, knowing you can’t get away with this one, “Let’s just say I helped her out of a sticky situation. Don’t blame Yeji, blame Yeji’s bunny-headed cousin.”

“Noted,” Seokjin throws an arm around you, snuggling closer. You relax into his hold, melting between the sheets and his soft skin, “Knowing you’re pulling through for her. Let’s just say I’m a little soft for my daughter, no matter how old.”

“She’s wonderful,” you say genuinely, taking slow sips of your bubbly drink.

“Wanna go visit her for lunch? I’m supposed to be meeting her in an hour.”

You don’t feel deterred or nervous to see Yeji, or even the possibility of meeting Seokjin’s extended family. So you agree, run back to your room quickly to throw on a reasonable summer outfit that doesn’t consist of hooded sweatshirts and booty shorts.

Seokjin offers to drive your sedan, and since you feel a little princess-ish today you decide to let him take the wheel. After a few minutes attempting to drive in the direction of the townhouse however, you lower the volume on the radio.

“Jin? I think you’re going the wrong way,” not only do you live here, but you went to the townhouse last night and you’re sure it’s in the opposite fork, “do you want me to plug it in the G.P.S?”

“I know my way, hon,” Seokjin waves you off, confidently streaming through the oncoming traffic. You smile nervously, you have a feeling this situation has happened once or twice.

“Oh, is that why you ended up in my hotel?” you tease, “because you’re so good at directions?”

“Duh,” Seokjin reaches for your hand atop the console, “after all, my intuition led me to you.”

#jin x reader #jin crack #seokjin x reader #btsghostie #kwritersworldnet #seokjin fluff #seokjin crack #bts smut #bts fic

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gumnut-logic · 4 years ago

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Callisto - Part Five - Orientation

Things actually start happening now :D

As always, many, many thanks to @tsarinatorment @scribbles97 @janetm74 and @onereyofstarlight for all their amazing help. We’re deep into the hard slog now, but I am still enjoying this so that is a good sign :D

Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read this and cheer me on. The hard slog of the middle of a long fic can be as bad as the hard slog in the middle of a painting, so all cheering is always welcome. But ultimately, I’m hoping you are find this enjoyable and not boring :D Nutty is learning here, so big L plate on my forehead.

Let the antics continue.

-o-o-o-

Virgil stared at his father’s broad back as he walked the length of the gantry toward the elevator. Scott paused a moment and Virgil placed a hand on his back in support. Muscle beneath many micro layers of spacesuit rippled as his brother loosened his shoulders. A glance of fiery blue and Scott followed his father.

As was the way of things.

Virgil followed Scott.

As was the way of things.

The cavern was a large one. It had to be to fit Three beneath its airlock doors. His heads up display confirmed pressurisation of the bay to Earth normal and his mind did the calculations on the infrastructure required to pump that much atmosphere into such a large space so quickly. He couldn’t help but be impressed.

The gantry led to an elevator platform and they crowded onto it. Gordon brushed up against him as if to catch his attention and a worried frown was shot in Virgil’s direction.

As the gantry retracted and the platform lowered, Virgil let a hand brush against Gordon’s side. If he did the same to Alan, well, they were his brothers and he may have needed the connections a little himself.

The ride down gave them a great view of the heavy equipment available in the bay. Virgil had accessed all the information he could get his hands on during the trip out, needing to know how he was going to deploy their own equipment.

He had known this was going to be an underground job and had packed accordingly. The problem with underground was initial deployment - how to get the equipment under the ground.

The backup was always to make their own holes. But that could be unnecessarily messy and a last resort. So Virgil was quite happy to see the set up included all the heavy-duty crane and hover support he could ever want.

TI had equipped this expedition exceedingly well.

Walters met them at the bottom of the bay. The rock had been ground smooth down here, filler shone in places where ice had obviously been removed, making the floor a patchwork of white and dark grey, human ingenuity and raw moon.

The Commander nodded to Scott, but it was their father whose hand he grasped solidly before pulling him into a hug. “Space Jockey, it is so good to see you. Thank you for coming.” Walters stepped back and held Jeff at arms’ length. “You’ve gone grey.”

“And you’re bald. Your point?” But their father was grinning through the plasiglass of his helmet.

“We’re both a little crunchy around the edges.” He turned to Lee. “Hey, Scrappy.”

“Graeme, I may be old, but I can still kick your ass over that.” Despite the threat, Uncle Lee grabbed the man’s hand and shook it with enthusiasm.

“These are my boys.” Dad gestured at them in turn. “Scott, Virgil, Gordon and Alan. John is still aboard the Excel and will be liaising from there.”

Walters nodded at each of them in turn, his white-grey spacesuit wrinkling with the movement. He had his helmet on just like the IR crew did. Best chance to avoid contamination or some random bug the Tracys might had inadvertently brought with them.

Of course, Virgil and John had run the decon protocols before departure and it was obvious Callisto had its own methods, but the risk was there. Helmets on unless they had no choice.

Another thing about space that was annoying - listening to your own breathing in a confined container. Okay for short term, total annoyance long term. Especially if your nose got itchy.

It was a sign that Virgil really needed more sleep when he managed to miss a chunk of what Walters was saying simply because he was designing an in-helmet nose scratcher in his head. Well, it could be multifunctional if he gave it enough reach. Head scratcher, chin scratcher-

Gordon nudged him.

Unfortunately, right in his bruises. “Ow.” He glared at his brother only to find the fish gesturing with his eyes.

Commander Walters was looking at Virgil with a question on his face. Both Scott and Dad were frowning at him. Oh shit. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“The Commander asked if we would like to survey the entrance to the caves first or deploy our equipment.” Dad’s voice was very...patient. “Scott said it was your decision.”

Virgil didn’t hesitate, regardless of the embarrassment. “I’ve scoured your maps, Commander, but I would be happier if you could show us the entrance to the cave network. It’s not far?” maps and diagrams were one thing. Reality was another.

Walters eyed him a little curiously. “Sure. Follow me.” And he led them towards a set of massive doors.

For a moment there, Virgil expected some grinding machinery to split the doors wide like some grand movie entrance complete with cinematic music, but no, Walters led them to a small airlock embedded in the left door and ushered them through.

It was kind of disappointing actually.

“We keep the Garden isolated as a precaution and as a way to monitor the function of the ecosystem.

“Garden?” Alan had obviously not had time to fully read up on the Base like the rest of them.

Walters’ eyes lit up despite everything. “You are in for a treat. The Garden is our horticultural team’s ultimate triumph.”

The doors opened and sunlight flooded into the airlock. And it was sunlight enough for Virgil’s jaw to drop. They stepped out into an environment so familiar, they may as well have stepped out the back door of the villa.

Except it wasn’t. The plants were recognisable, yes, but their growth most definitely was not.

This was not in the briefing notes.

“This looks suspiciously familiar.” It was Gordon who stepped to the front of the group.

Walters frowned. “Excuse me.”

Gordon’s eyes narrowed in on the man. He pointed at a nearby tree. “Pokey trees don’t get that big in five years, Commander. What’s in the water?”

It was Walters’ turn to frown. “Pokey trees?” A blink. “Oh, pohutukawa. No, they do not. However, with some special treatment and the lack of strong gravity, they can.”

Virgil stared up at the giant tree. It was far too thin at the base for the spread of the massive branches and it seem wrong somehow. Everything was too long and looked as if it was going to fall. What was even more odd was the sound of a honeyeater argument in those branches. A scuffle, a ruckus of squawks and a flash of grey and yellow flew out from amongst the leaves and darted over the rocky hill in front of them.

“You have birds?!” Gordon sounded caught between amazement and outrage.

Walters stared at him a moment longer. “We have much more than that.” He turned away and led them away from the tree and up a winding path. Virgil’s boots crunched gravel that glittered as it moved. He frowned at what was probably nothing more than ground up moon. It was pale and sparkling like some set prop out of an early science fiction show John might have watched.

But he was soon distracted by much more fascinating sights.

The path led up a small hill and soon he realised that they were in a massive cavern, bigger than all the hangars beneath Tracy Island combined.

And it was full of life.

Birds of several different kinds flew about the ‘sky’. A sky dominated by a number of extremely bright lights hanging from a ceiling so high it couldn’t be seen for the brilliance. Oddly growing foliage was everywhere. The lone pokey tree by the door was scarlet in blossom, but it was not alone. Flowers sprouted from wonky stems and too tall grass. The little hill they were standing on was the highest point in the cavern, the ground sloping down into the distance. At the far edge, a lake had ducks swimming in it.

“How the hell?” It was Gordon, but Virgil’s questions were not far behind.

Several physical requirements clicked into place. The cavern was obviously heated and pressurised with an Earth level atmosphere just like the hangar, otherwise those birds wouldn’t be able to fly beyond bouncing in the gravity.

While Gordon’s head seemed ready to explode, Virgil managed one word. “How?”

Walters had a quietly confident smirk on his face. “A combination of research, applied science and a whole pile of luck.” A sigh. “This is Ju’s baby.”

Scott shifted where he stood. “Where is the access to the cave network?” Virgil glanced at his brother. There was an intensity in his eyes that spoke of both mission urgency and further questions that would need asking once that mission was complete.

Walters exhaled and nodded. “This way.” He led them down the other side of the hill to what eventually proved to be another set of massive doors. “The caverns were here when we arrived. We knew of them before we left Earth, but what we did not realise was their extent.” Walters stopped in front of the doors. He gestured at the cavern. “To create all this, we only needed to seal the cavern entrance overhead – which the Base did nicely. We installed a series of atmospheric inducers, the heating and the lighting. The rest we grew from seed or egg.” The man was obviously proud of their achievements.

“Sir, the caves?” Scott was getting rightfully impatient.

“Yes. Yes, you’re right.” He swallowed and hurried over to yet another small door within a door.

Virgil took another step forward, intending on seeing how the door was unlocked when his world suddenly doubled. His stomach rolled over with that familiar nausea ever so reminiscent of their trip out here.

He swallowed and closed his eyes a second.

“Virg? You okay?” Gordon was whispering on a closed channel.

Virgil cranked his eyes open, lack of sleep suddenly piling on top of him. His fish brother was frowning at him. Scott, their father and Uncle Lee were walking towards Walters and the door.

The sudden vertigo had him fearing an incident inside his helmet.

But then as he took a step towards Gordon, the nausea faded away, a single last cramp dissipating as his little brother approached and put a hand on his arm.

“Virg?”

“I’m okay. Just felt dizzy for a second there.”

“T-drive?”

“Probably.”

“Meds wearing off?”

“Didn’t think I would need them.”

Now Alan had stopped following Scott and was looking back. Any minute now and he would have not only Scott on his ass, but Dad as well. He straightened his spine. “I’m good.” But whatever it was had triggered the beginnings of a headache.

Damn.

Well, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d completed a rescue with a headache. He’d throw back some paracetamol when they went back to Three to source their equipment.

“You sure?”

“I said so, didn’t I?”

Gordon held up his hands. “Just checking, bro. Don’t get your pants in a twist. Hard to unknot them out here.”

But Gordon was still frowning at him.

Alan was turning back...

Move or get smothered.

He flexed his shoulders and strode off to join the rest of this family.

-o-o-o-

Gordon stared after his heavy lifting brother.

Damn that T-drive. His own stomach hadn’t fully recovered either and Virgil was obviously still feeling it.

Gordon pondered whether Virg could knock him out for the voyage home. Maybe knock both of them out.

Alan was frowning and gesturing for him to hurry up. Scott and Dad had already entered what turned out to be yet another airlock.

Space was hard work.

He kicked at the gravel as he trotted after his brother and darted into the huge airlock with his brothers.

Walters was talking again as he sealed the door behind them. “The cavern appears to have been a terminus for this branch of the cave network.” Walters should seek a job as a tour guide. “As I said earlier, we knew about some of the caves before we arrived, but it became increasingly clear that our sensors weren’t telling the full story when we discovered exactly how many tunnels are under the surface here.”

Gordon felt the room depressurise and his HUD declared the atmosphere had become almost nothing. He frowned. It was still something though and he remembered that Callisto was one of those odd places that had the bare minimum of a bunch of gases clinging to it.

He was pretty sure that if he pinged Johnny, he could give him an essay on it, Jupiter luny fan he was.

Walters opened the other side of the airlock and led them through.

Oh, wow.

They were once again in a cavern, a smaller one to the one they had just left and it was obviously more in its natural state. The big doors were sealed into one wall and a lighting system had been deployed running off into the distance.

And there was a lot of distance. The cavern was definitely a tunnel, a good twenty metres wide and high. But that wasn’t all that had his jaw dropping.

The walls were sparkling in the light.

Walters must have seen his reaction or the reaction of his family. “Pretty amazing, huh? The walls are full of a mix of ice and rock. The ice catches the light, but there is also an unusual amount of mineralised crystal as well. We’ve found several types of quartz along with precious metals.”

Gordon was only half listening to him. He wandered over to the nearest wall and examined it. Ice. Water. But in a way it was rarely seen on Earth. Kinda interesting. He ran a hand over the wall and frowned. “You say this is natural?”

“Other than stringing up the lights and installing the doors, from here on, it is pure Callisto.”

“This was made by running water.” Even Gordon knew how impossible that was in the current environment. He looked up to find everyone staring at him. “Hey, I know my element when I see it. This wall has been eroded by running water.”

Walters slumped just a little. “Thank you. Ju has been saying that since we got here. Unfortunately, we can’t work out how that can possibly be a thing, but yeah, all the tunnels, if we were on Earth? Water made. Like limestone caves apparently.” A snort. “Ju has been very adamant about it.”

“Have you reported this?” Dad’s voice startled Gordon a little.

“Reported? Sure. But all her peers are less than accepting. All signs point to Callisto as having had no crustal movement since it formed, minor atmosphere, and certainly no running water at these pressures.”

“But this is a fact.” Gordon frowned again. “What about the reports of an ocean on Callisto under the crust.” Yes, he had checked that out. This wasn’t his first Jovian moon after all. It was why he had brought Four with him.

“Too far down. We can’t reach it. And besides, it is impossible for water to exist as a liquid on the surface, there is not enough atmospheric pressure. We’re barely five hundred metres down here. We haven’t been able to explain it, and until we do, it is considered only one possible and likely doubtful explanation.”

Gordon turned back to the wall. It glittered at him as if daring him to discover its mysteries. “Virg?”

“Hmm?” His brother’s voice was distracted enough to distract Gordon. He flicked over to a private comm. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Gordon. What did you want?”

Gordon grunted. “You got something to test the rocks?”

“If needs be. We have a rescue to complete first.” Virgil killed the private line and turned to Walters. “I’m satisfied. Scott, we need some recon. I recommend we get two dragonflies down here.”

Scott nodded. “Okay, we are go. Alan, you’re with me. Gordon, you’re Virgil’s wingman.”

As it should be.

Besides, Gordon wanted to keep an eye on their resident lumberjack. He was acting weird.

“Dad, you and Uncle Lee are our liaisons with Base.”

Gordon bit his lip.

“Scott-“

The Commander of International Rescue held up his hand, fire in his eyes. “No, arguments.”

Dad’s eyes latched onto Scott and flared, but Uncle Lee grabbed his arm. “Space Jockey...”

Grey eyes flickered to his best friend and got a dose of determined Lee Taylor for the effort.

Their father’s lips thinned as nobody moved for a whole moment, Scott emanating commander vibes all over the cavern. If Dad didn’t obey, all hell was going to let loose.

“Thunderbird Five to Callisto.” John’s voice echoed over multiple comms, a faint and unfamiliar hiss and crackle in the background.

The moment snapped and Scott tapped his comms. “We read you, Thunderbird Five.”

“There is considerable interference on comms, you should be aware. I cannot guarantee service at all times. Source is unknown.”

“Noted.”

Damn, that was going to make this even more difficult. They could get lost down here themselves.

But then this wouldn’t be the first time Gordon had worked without contact with his brothers.

First time in space, though.

“Scott, we have located two life signs.”

“What?!” Walters took a step forward and looked ready to climb into Scott’s commset to get further information.

The commander ignored him. “Details, Thunderbird Five.”

“Eos and I were able to work around the majority of the interference and we have two faint lifesigns registering to the north of Callisto Base, almost directly under Burr crater.”

“Only Two? We have five missing persons, Thunderbird Five.”

“I know, Scott.” John’s voice was calm but sad. “Eos is still working on that interference, but at this point I don’t expect to find more. We’ve been able to map the caverns and tunnels within a thousand-kilometre radius. Sending the data to your comms now. Other than those two, I’m reading nothing. I do not have enough resolution to locate anything more specific.”

Like dead bodies.

All of them shifted where they stood, caught between the positive of a location and the negative of three missing rescuees.

“Keep looking, Thunderbird Five.” Scott’s voice was empty of emotion.

They had a mission and now they had a target.

“FAB.”

The line cut out.

Virgil had already pulled up the map John supplied on his wrist ‘projector, his eyes combing the holographic maze of tunnels. Even from here Gordon could see they were massive. If these had been eroded by water, the rivers had been big.

But their history would have to wait. There were lives at stake and Scott was already moving back to the airlock, Virgil and the rest of the group hurrying to follow.

Gordon hesitated just a second, lured by the thought of water flowing through the rock in such a low-pressure environment that the liquid should be ice.

The walls sparkled at him.

But the mission...

He took a step forward and his foot kicked something tiny that bounced ahead of him. Frowning, he bent to pick it up.

The crystal was no bigger than his fingernail and sparkled pink in the lighting.

“Gordon!” Scott was glaring at him from inside the airlock.

The aquanaut shoved the stone into his kit and hurried to catch up.

Perhaps space was a little more interesting than he thought.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Scott Tracy #Jeff Tracy #alan tracy #John Tracy #lee taylor #callisto

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wienerbarnes · 4 years ago

Text

The Escape

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Cheek to Cheek)

Word Count: 2,717

Warnings: mind control ooooo, general violence, description of stealing a car that is wildly inaccurate bc ive.... never stolen a car, dues ex machina

A/N: some background about the reader! this one takes place before the last chapter of the original series, way before anything with bucky. this oneshot kinda recounts her prison escape 👀 not a lot of bucky in this one, but kind how the reader got to where she is and stufffff i love a good origin story

MAIN MASTERLIST | CHEEK TO CHEEK MASTERLIST

You didn’t sleep the entire night. How could you? How were you supposed to sleep when you know you’re waking up to your inevitable death?

You refused a last meal a few hours ago. What was the point? You didn’t have an appetite anyway.

All you could do was count the hours, the minutes, the seconds, until the footsteps would sound down the hall, arriving at your cell, the guards would stare at you through the bullet-proof glass wall, the only wall of four that wasn’t made of thick concrete.

They’d take you down to the observation room, they’d strap you down in the chair before asking for your final words. You’d stare out into the window of the observation room, unable to see through to the otherside, but knowing there’d be witnesses there. Maybe the families of people you killed. Maybe government officials, the ones who worked as hard as possible to get you this ending.

First, the sodium thiopental would be injected into your veins to sedate you. Then, the vecuronium bromide will be given that will send your body into paralysis. Finally, the potassium chloride will stop your heart. And your life will be over.

What a shame.

Too soon, your life was wasted. And too soon did the guards feet sound down the hall. And too soon did he arrive in front of your cell, ordering you to get up from your bed to shackle you.

He’s alone, you notice. Perhaps they don’t expect you to put up much of a fight.

Something snaps in your brain and before you realize you’re even doing it, you’re tapping into the young guard’s poor brain. He was a cop. A cop turned prison guard to spend more time at home, less time out in the world trying to catch bad guys. Never really bad guys, though, always just some unlucky soul caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Open the cell.” You tell him, finally through to his head. The keys jingle as he unlocks the three complicated locks attached to the side of the door.

You’re suddenly grateful for the hundreds of times they called you crazy, they called you a psycho, they told you you didn’t have powers, that that was your sad and sorry excuse of the reason for your crimes.

“Take off your clothes.” You order next. The young man begins to strip, taking off his clothes until he’s down to his underwear. White briefs with a blue waistband.

Once his uniform is on your body, you take everything he has, leaving his pistol with him.

“Shoot at everybody that comes in here.” You tell him, and he stares at you blankly, no longer in control of his actions as you take over.

You take a moment, closing your eyes and trying to concentrate on what the prison looks like, where the exits are, and where the guards are. You peek an eye open to glance at the man’s watch that now sits on your wrist, eight minutes until the shift changes.

Eight minutes for you to not fuck this up.

You close the cell door behind you, locking it, and making your way down the hall. You need to time this perfectly so that you’re slipping out as the other guards are leaving.

Just keep your head down, and get out as quickly as possible. Don’t talk to anyone. Just get out and start walking. You’ll get to the city eventually and you’ll hide out until you can keep making your way through New York. Maybe you’ll go to Jersey. Or up to New Hampshire.

Yeah, you’re just going to walk to New Hampshire, aren’t you?

Not a priority right now. Focus on getting out. A deep breath until you unlock the gate at the end of the hall, making your way out into another hallway. You visualize the map in your head once more and keep making your way down. You walk with confidence, head still slightly tilted down, but steps quick and light. Another guard turns the corner at the end of the hall and you make sure your steps don’t falter, and he walks right by you without a second thought.

You’re still unsure about the whole mind control thing. You don’t want to question it, because it seems to be pretty useful right now, but you don’t want to abuse it either, knowing your luck will eventually fail you.

It’s not long before you hear a gunshot ring out in the distance and you glance at a clock on the wall to see the shift change happening now.

You need to get out of here, now. Soon the guards will realize it’s you who’s missing from your cell and the search will begin. They’ll start with the entire grounds of the prison, which will hopefully buy you some time to make it to the city, if you sprint.

You finally make it to a more open area, exit signs now posted at the tops of doorways. You finally find a group of other men, some with bags or coats and you slip into the crowd, hoping that these are the guys leaving from their shift.

“Hey, have a good one, man. Tell the family I said hello.” A rough hand pats your shoulder before brushing past you.

Your stomach drops at the fact that these men are so unaware. So unaware that their real friend is in your cell, probably having a shootout with the new guards who just began their shift. The fact that these guards showed up to work today and the first thing they encounter is another guard in his underwear shooting at them.

Push it back. Push it back. Push it back.

As you’re huddled in between bodies, a bright light suddenly washes over your face. Sunlight. Your eyes burn at the feeling, a feeling so foreign having not felt it in months. You force them open though. You need to separate quickly, because not only do you not know where the parking lot is, you don't know which car is yours, you don’t have keys, and even if you did, you don’t know how to fucking drive.

Why did you never learn this! You never thought you’d need to since you decided you were going to join the military at sixteen, but you still should’ve fucking looked into it!

You don’t think you’ll make it walking. It’ll draw too much attention. The prison is in the middle of fucking nowhere and you’re just going to walk home? What would be worse is if someone offers you a ride.

New plan: find your car and hope it’s unlocked so you can sit inside until everyone leaves.

You know Hydra made you break into things before; houses, cars, etc. But you’ve tried to repress so much of that time that you can’t remember if you ever hot wired a car before.

You hope your luck doesn’t run out anytime soon.

Men arrive at their cars and the options quickly narrow down between an orange SUV and a black, fancy-looking car. You take your chances on the SUV.

It’s unlocked. It’s fucking unlocked. You shut the door and heave, feeling so hard to breath in the small space, but feeling relieved at the chance to finally make some noise and express your stress outside of that group of people you were stuck around.

“C’mon. C’mon! Fight or flight, c’mon, just make me know how to hot wire this.” You close your eyes, as though that will suddenly make the knowledge appear in your head. It doesn’t, surprisingly.

Until you look in the cupholder to see a dozen bobby pins. He probably has a daughter. “It’s going to have to do.” You mumble to yourself.

You quickly straighten them out and shove them into the small spot where the key goes. You twist and turn, holding a bunch of pins together to simulate an odd shape of the key, until finally you hear a click.

That’s gotta be good! Right? You go with it, continuing to twist until you hear a sputtering and crunchy sound of the engine starting.

This guy drives a piece of shit car. But it’s fucking on! You waste no time in putting the car into the drive before pulling out the lot. You make yourself extremely nauseous at your own driving, or rather, attempt at driving. You see in the rearview mirror the lights on the prison flashing, the bright red signaling that they’ve realized you escaped. You give yourself twenty minutes before they ditch the search of the prison grounds and look for you in the city.

Down the road you alternate between driving fifteen miles an hour to sixty, finding it so difficult to get a steady control of the car. But you’re doing it! You only need to make it to the city. That’s it.

“How the fuck do they make sixteen-year-olds do this shit?”

Eventually you get the hang of it. Still a terrible driver, but you at least don’t feel as scared driving among other cars.

The longer you drive, the more it catches up to you what you’ve done. Soon enough, the tears come and so do the sobs. Until you stop a red light and let out a yell of agony, the stress and sadness washing through your body.

It’s hard, wanting to break down completely but having to keep your eyes open for the light to change, and having to pay attention to your surroundings. You find a small alleyway to pull into and you put the car in park before ditching it.

No time to cry, you can cry later. You peek around at the name of restaurants and stores around you, not recognizing any of them. You look at the street signs not recognizing those, either. You haven’t been around society in almost ten years, and you feel hopelessly and utterly lost.

You look around the alleyway and see a big dumpster. Just for a little while, you think. You lift the lid and climb inside, shutting the lid above you.

It’s dark, greasy, and the worst thing you’ve ever smelled, but it’s somehow better than where you were. You don’t know how much time has passed, but the noise outside the dumpster grows, and you make a guess that it’s around six or seven in the morning.

If you want to blend in with the crowd, you need to change your clothes. A prison guard outfit will most definitely make you stand out to people, especially when news breaks that there's a prison escapee on the loose.

When you finally lift the lid to stand up, you look to your left to see a teenager, probably not older than seventeen, staring at you, frozen, key in hand, seemingly to open up some store that you’re in back of.

He’s tall and lanky, and what makes him stand out to you the most is the spiky black hair he sports on his head and the thick black eyeliner around the rims of his eyes.

“You… okay?” He asks, clearly confused as to why a random woman in a prison guard outfit is hanging out in the dumpster behind her place of work. But you’re frozen. You don’t know what to say. You can’t imagine the last twelve hours I’ve been through, it won’t make much sense.

“Are you… hungry?” He asks when you don’t answer. “I’m, uh, opening now, but no one will be here for another hour or two when we actually open. I can make you something if you like?” He offers.

He thinks you’re homeless. Which, you are, technically. But he doesn’t recognize you. Perhaps you haven’t made the news yet, but it’ll only be a matter of time.

You finally nod, climbing out of the dumpster bin and walking over to where he holds the door open for you.

You devour the sandwich he makes you, a simple ham and cheese on white bread, but it’s the best thing you’ve eaten in, well, a decade.

“How long have you been homeless for?”

“Are you from New York?”

“What’s your zodiac sign?”

“What’s your favorite band?”

So many questions come from the curious kid, kindness radiating from him. Casual conversation ensues, and you’re careful not to give too much away.

“Can I ask you something?” You ask, wiping your mouth with a napkin as you swallow the last bit of sandwich.

“How do I get to Brooklyn from here?”

“You’re in Brooklyn, silly.” He responds and your eyes widen a bit, not thinking you’d get this lucky.

“Sorry, that came out kinda insensitive,” He apologizes, picking up your plate, “It’s not like you have a GPS or anything. Anywhere you’re trying to go in particular?”

You have a flash of a vision, Bucky sleeping soundly in his apartment, as the sun shines through in orange cracks in his blinds. Your mind envisions the building, where it is, what it looks like, and how you can get there. Why is your mind and body wanting to lead you to where Bucky is? If you’re trying to lay low, why does your vision want you to go to what’s the third most recognizable government figure in the country, after the President and Captain America?

“Uhm… to see a friend. I guess I wasn’t trying to go, but I have a lot of… free time now, so. Just don’t know what I’d say to him.” You tell the boy, rubbing your eyes in exhaustion. You’re not looking forward to the rest of the day, or week, or month, or life.

“Why don’t you write a note? That’s what I do; when I don’t think I can say the right thing, I write it instead. I can give you some paper and an envelope.” He offers.

This kid has got to be my guardian angel personified, you think. What are the fucking odds?

“You should take it with you, though. I gotta open up soon, and I’m sure you don’t want to experience the morning rush of this place.” You read my mind.

“I’ll give you a change of clothes, too. Where’d you get that, anyway? Do you hang around dumpsters often? Is that one from a Halloween store?”

“Okay, that’s too much. You’ve already been so kind.” You refuse, ignoring the curious questions that shoot out of his mouth.

“Then don’t take it as me being kind, take it as me being mean. You smell like shit from that dumpster.”

You can’t help but laugh, and oh how good it feels. You never thought you’d laugh again, and here you are, giggling at being told you smell bad by some goth teenager.

Soon enough, you’re walking through the backways of buildings, in a crisp white t-shirt that smells of the cologne of a teenage boy, and note and envelope in hand. It takes you about forty five minutes to make it to Bucky’s apartment building, and it was only slightly less stressful that your walk out of that prison.

Through the glass door, you don’t see anyone at the front desk, so you open the door and step inside.

To your left you see a wall of mailboxes, and one large one at the bottom overflowing with letters and gifts. You take a wild guess and say that that one belongs to Bucky. You’ve heard he’s a pretty popular guy, along with the company he keeps.

You take the stairs to the eighth floor and the fourteenth room, hoping the 814 on that mailbox wasn’t random. You scribble out on your piece of paper, tearing it off and keeping the rest in case you need for another note in the future, or a snack. You bite at the blue bracelet on your wrist before it breaks and stick it in the envelope, tucking in the flap to close it.

You place it on the ground and silently press your ear to the door. You don’t hear him, but you hear the sound of the television, announcing your missing presence and the manhunt around the city. You take that as a cue to leave quickly.

Why you feel such a draw towards Bucky, you’re not sure, but for some reason, you have a feeling that leaving him this gift of sorts won’t come back to haunt you.

Perhaps it’ll even lead to the opposite.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel #badass queen who can't drive

118 notes · View notes

kazuharem · 4 years ago

Text

“Out About on the Town” - HC [FLUFF]

Thanks so much to @in-a-world-of-my-own-invention for my first ever request! (So sorry this took so long to complete!) This was so much fun to brainstorm 💖💖

A/N: Basically these HCs each have 3 events. 1 is described in little detail, another is described in moderate detail, and the last one is described in great detail.I did try to make each guy about the same length. If I wrote all three events in great detail, I’d be writing fics lol (brace yourselves,-these are long) Also sorry if the last lines sound like karma lines RIP

Here are the boys being dragged around by MC~

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Gavin: "Memory Lane of the Youth”

(Ngl, this was the hardest for me to write for some reason, but I’m very satisfied with the results I think; thanks so much to @stehkotori for all the info/ideas on our favorite Birdcop ♡)

💫 The “Letters Through Time” segment that you did became a huge hit and Loveland TV want you to do a part two on favorite haunts of people from when they were young

💫 You finish your interviews and find that the favorite memories happen to be an old timey arcade in the middle of the city, an amusement park that had been open for several decades, and a cliff side park where people particularly enjoy stargazing

💫 You want to call Gavin to come with you, but hesitate, is he still on mission?

💫 Just when you make the decision to call him anyway, your phone rings. It’s Gavin and you almost hang up on him in surprise

💫 “Gavin! Are you back from your mission? You didn’t get hurt, did you?”

💫 You hear Gavin laugh and your heart just swells “I just got back,” he tells you, his voice light, “It was a pretty easy mission this time. What’s up?”

💫 You tell Gavin about the show you’re shooting for “Do you have any free time? I’d like to ask you on a date for you to come with me. You were such a big help to me last time, and this excursion sounds like fun. If you’re not too tired, of course”

💫 He’s already in even before you asked “I’m free, where should I meet you?”

💫 You tell him the address of the arcade, intending to meet him there. Not even 5 minutes later, you hear the familiar roar of Sparky outside your apartment window. You run downstairs to meet him. “Gavin! Wha-”

💫 “Need a ride?” Gavin asks, leaning against Sparky. You eye him carefully and he smiles “I didn’t get hurt, I promise” You don’t believe him and inspect him carefully

💫 The two of you head to the arcade, your arms are wrapped around Gavin’s waist. It’s the first time in a while since you’ve felt free

💫 You arrive at the arcade and you gaze at the building, amazed. Despite its age, bright neon lights flashed continuously across its walls exactly how it did five years ago. Immediately, you pull out your camera and start snapping away. “It’s just like I remembered,” you say aloud, “I came here once with my friends.” Then you grab Gavin’s arm and pull him towards the entrance, “Come on! Might as well play some games”

💫 You go inside and an elderly man greets the two of you warmly “You’re welcome to play any of the games, just ask me for the tokens.” You look at the surroundings. There was Pac-Man, Galaga, Pinball, (wow hahaha I am old) and many more games of the past. Then you see a basketball machine and you spot a glint in Gavin’s eyes

💫 “Let’s go play basketball!” You suggest, remembering that Gavin loved to play basketball. You pass some bills to the elderly man and he gives you a handful of tokens. “Come on!” You hand Gavin some of the tokens, “I want to see you play”

💫 Gavin’s skills are unmatched, and you watch in admiration as he shoots ball after ball into the hoop. You snap a few pictures and the machine dinged

💫 “Young man,” the elderly owner says, awestruck, “You just beat the high score that no one has been able to in years”

💫 Gavin rubs his neck, a little embarrassed, “I just like it, that’s all” NAW homeboi was trying to impress you but also he is really good

💫 “Well you have some talent,” the old man says as you drop your unused tokens into a bowl, “Come back and play anytime”

💫 “Thank you so much!” You thank the owner for the interview and the two of you were on your way to the amusement park

💫 “I can’t believe this has been here all there years,” you marvel at the spinning rides, the Ferris wheel, and the carousel. “Now I can understand why this made it into the top spot for favorite haunts”

💫 For the rest of the day, you drag Gavin from ride to ride, taking pictures every chance you get

💫 It was twilight when the two of you get done with the amusement park. “What’s next?” Gavin asks

💫 You grin, “Our favorite pastime,” you blush a little at the word ‘our.’ Before he could ask, you blurt out the answer in excitement, “We’re going stargazing! And tonight’s perfect! Come on!”

💫 It’s quite a trek up to the cliff-side park, but Gavin is here and he has an arm around you, supporting you. The two of you hike up the mountain and the trail ends in a grassy meadow. Your mouth drop open, “It’s beautiful up here!” You exclaim, the tiny lights of the city seem so far way

💫 Luckily, there doesn’t seem to be anyone around so you and Gavin have the area to yourselves. Gavin settles himself on the grass and extends a hand towards you, “Come here”

💫 You sit and suddenly Gavin tugs on your hand, sending you flying into his chest. Your face flush instantly, “Gavin!”

💫 He laughs and you feel the sound rumble through his chest, warm and comforting, “We’re stargazing,” he reminds you and positions you so that you could comfortably look up at the sky. Your face turns a even brighter red, if possible

💫 You soon fall into a comfortable silence as the sky darkened to a inky black and slowly, twinkling stars start to appear

💫 “It really is beautiful,” you break the silence softly, wonder lacing your voice. Gavin makes a noise of agreement and he pulls you closer to him. “Gavin, I want to know about the constellations” you gently request

💫 And in his sure, soft voice, Gavin starts to name the constellations in the sky, pointing them out and telling you random facts

💫 You stretch your hand out towards the glittering background, “Don’t you ever wish you can just...reach out and grab them?” You ask softly, “Something about it makes me feel safe, like someone is watching over me”

💫 A calloused hand covers yours, the touch gentle, but you can feel the firm strength that you always associate with Gavin coursing through

💫 “The stars and I will always be there to protect you, no matter what”

Kiro: Night Market Expedition

(This isn’t exactly across the city, but MC does drag Kiro around. I thought it would be cute! This was loosely modeled after the Japanese Fireworks Festival, hanabi. This one is a little short - sorry!)

🎆 It’s summer and that means festivals galore! One of the key parts of the festival is the night market, full of food and quaint handicrafts. After the night market, there will be a fireworks show

🎆 You invite Kiro out since the two of you love to chow down his album recording wrapped and you thought he deserved a break. DON’T TELL SAVIN ABOUT THE FOOD

🎆 Kiro is super excited at the prospect of all that food getting the opportunity to spend time with you as well as being able to see the fireworks

🎆 He meets you at the bustling square in his typical disguise, a hat and black frames. The various vendors are already making food and delicious smells fill the air. Kiro is practically bouncing as you make your way to him. “Miss Chips! Are you ready for our food expedition tonight?”

🎆 “Yes!” You say as Kiro cheerfully wraps you in a hug as way of greeting

🎆 “What’s our plan of attack?” He ask as he surveys the sprawling vendors, cerulean eyes twinkling with anticipation

🎆 “I did some research,” you say as you pull out your phone, “I’ve narrowed it down to ‘Foods We Have to Try,’ and ‘Viral Foods.’ Where do you want to start?”

🎆 Kiro studies your list with intense concentration, “The King Takoyaki first,” he says finally

🎆 “That’s exactly what I was thinking!” You exclaim and Kiro sends a million-watt smile your way

🎆 “Just as I thought, Miss Chips and I are really connected!”

🎆 You pull out a map that you procured earlier and study it. “Let’s go!” You grab Kiro’s hand and pull him along to the vendor

🎆 Along the way, you can’t help but snap pictures of the various handicrafts that people are selling. Kiro asks if you want to stop and check some of these out

🎆 “Later! We’re here to eat first,” you pull Kiro along, with nothing but your destination in mind. You arrive in front of the “King Takoyaki” stand. You and Kiro share a gleam with excitement and order 2 takoyaki

🎆 Kiro is about to take a bite when you stop him, “I need to take pictures first!” He laughs and grabs your phone

🎆 “Miss Chips, let’s take one together!” He pulls you closer to him and holds up his takoyaki, grinning at the camera

🎆 He takes a picture of you two, grinning goofily with your takoyaki

🎆 “Ready? On 3, 2,1!” The two of you bite into the savory ball.

🎆 “Mmm!” Kiro wriggles with delight. You laugh and sneak a picture of him when he’s not looking. “Oh this is so good! Good call, Miss Chips!” He high fives you, “What’s next?

🎆 You look at each other, “Ringo-Ame!” [apple coated in crunchy sugar candy] Both of you say in unison and the two of you break out into a fit of merry laughter

🎆 “Come on!” You say, tugging on Kiro’s arm. “I think I saw it earlier.” You lead the way amidst the bustling vendors and stop in front of a little cart filled with bright red glossy apples on sticks

🎆 You pause to take some pictures. “Here!” You turn towards Kiro’s voice and suddenly your mouth is filled with a sweet tanginess

🎆 Kiro grins, “Is it good?” You nod as you chew and Kiro laughs aloud. His laugh is bright and carefree; it makes you smile as well

🎆 “We’re supposed to eat it together,” you mumble when you finally finish chewing

🎆 Kiro hands you an apple on a stick, “Then it’s your turn to feed me!” He opens his mouth wide and you stick the apple in his mouth. “Just as I predicted, whatever Miss Chips feed me is unbelievably delicious!” His voice is a little muffled

🎆 You put your hands on your waist and pretend to glare, “Of course! I only introduce you to good food, you know!”

🎆 Kiro smiles and it’s infectious. Your lips tug up in an answering grin

🎆 The two of you go from stall to stall, sampling various foods when suddenly you hear a commotion near the river

🎆 “The fireworks!” You exclaim, “They must be starting! Let’s go!” You grab Kiro’s hand and pull him towards the crowd. Everyone is congregating on the banks of the river, getting ready for the fireworks show

🎆 You manage to find an empty spot a little ways from the crowd. After all, you didn’t want Kiro to be mobbed

🎆 The two of you sit and wait. Kiro pulls you close and there is a thunderous BOOM!

🎆 The sky bursts into dazzling colors and the crowd oohs

🎆 “So pretty!” you shout to Kiro over the noise. He nods, staring at the colorful bursts. You steal a glance at him. The various colors and flashes from the fireworks throws different colors across his face, and you forget to breathe for a moment. Kiro looks ethereal

🎆 Kiro glances at you and your eyes meet. You can feel the ever present warmth emanating from his bright blue eyes and it warms you all over. He pulls you even closer to him. “What are you looking at?” He asks loudly

🎆 You smile and press your lips against his ear, “I was just thinking, that just now you looked like you do on stage. With the lights flashing, only right now the stage lights are replaced with fireworks. A true idol, bringing light to his fans,” you say, speaking from the heart

🎆 He gazes tenderly at you for a moment and then leans down to whisper in your ear, just like you had with him, breath ghosting over your ear,

🎆 “But to me, Miss Chips is my light, she outshines even the most beautiful of fireworks”

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Lucien + Victor under the cut

Lucien: Cherry Blossom Tour

(FYI contains traces of Blossom Date-my Lucien creative juices has been used up by writing my other fic lol. NOTE: What I tried to write here is basically hanami aka a Japanese tradition of viewing cherry blossoms and eating/drinking. Also, this might be a bit biased oops)

🌸 It’s springtime and cherry blossoms are finally in season!

🌸 Cherry blossom themed everything have been popping up everywhere. Cafés, bakeries, ice cream shops, you name it. It’s the perfect time for couples to go out and enjoy spring under the cover of pink and white

🌸 You have been working nonstop for days and you were getting a little jealous at all the cute desserts that your coworkers posted on their social medias. This weekend, you finally have the day off and you want to go see the cherry blossoms before they’re all gone

🌸 You invite Lucien, and he readily agrees. He has been waiting for your invitation

🌸 He shows up in front of your door at 10am on the dot, dressed in a cozy white sweater with a black overcoat. “What’s the itinerary for today?”

🌸 You grab his hand and excitedly show him pictures on your phone. “So Kiki recommended this café and she said that the sakura latte is a must try! Also, afterwards, maybe we can go to this bakery! The mochi there looks so cute! And then after the bakery, we can go to this spot. I heard it’s the best place in the city for cherry blossom viewing!”

🌸 Lucien smiles as he lets you pull him along and ramble about all the places you want to see. “Slow down, silly girl, we have all the time in the world to see everything you’re interested in”

🌸 The two of you get to the café and settle down in a booth near the window. You eagerly order the sakura latte, Lucien orders the cherry blossom tea. As you wait for your drinks, the two of you chat casually about work. With Lucien around, the conversation is never dry, no matter how boring the topic

🌸 Your drinks arrive and Lucien waits expectantly, knowing that you wanted to take pictures. You quickly snap a few pictures of the pretty drinks and upload them onto your social media with the caption “Trying this for the first time!”

🌸 You take a sip carefully and Lucien watches with amusement. “Is it sweet?” You nod happily. Lucien chuckles, “Silly girl, you got foam all over your mouth”

🌸 Before you can grab a napkin, Lucien tenderly swipes his thumb across your lips. In the blink of an eye, his tongue darts out, catlike, to taste the foam on his finger. “You’re right, it is sweet,” he grins at your shell shocked face

🌸 LUCIEN CAn YoU nOT

🌸 After you recover from ProfessorSmooth Lucien’s antics, you finish your drinks and head over to the bakery to try the special sakura mochi

🌸 “Welcome! For today, we are having a lovers’ special! For every couple, we are giving them 2 free sakura mochi with the purchase of the special couple cherry blossom waffle set!” The cashier greets you cheerfully

🌸 “Er...” You are flustered

🌸 “We’ll take it,” Lucien answers for you as he wraps a arm around you, smiling politely at the cashier

🌸 Smooooooooooth

🌸 You collect your food and you once again take pictures of the delicate desserts

🌸 Lucien waits patiently until you’ve set your phone down and offers you a bite of the mochi. You close your eyes in delight as the fragrant taste spreads through your mouth and Lucien chuckles. “Good?”

🌸 You nod as you open your eyes to find Lucien gazing at you in adoration. Blushing, you move to return the favor and his grin widens

🌸 After finishing the desserts, you bring Lucien to the park where you can see couples setting up blankets underneath the pink blooms

🌸 “Careful,” Lucien warns as the two of you navigate through the crowd

🌸 You sigh, “I didn’t expect there to be this many people. There aren’t any open spots!”

🌸 “Look over there,” Lucien directs your attention to a little grove hidden a ways from the bustling crowd, “I think there might be some cherry blossom trees in there, would you like to check it out?”

🌸 You walk towards the grove and glance at the crowds behind you. They didn’t seem to be interested. The trees part to reveal a little clearing in which five cherry blossom trees sat undisturbed, branches laden with faint pink blossoms. You gasp in delight. “Lucien, how did you know these were here?”

🌸 He shakes his head, smiling, “I didn’t. I think we just happened to be lucky” WhAt a CoINcIdEnCe

🌸 You run up to the gently swaying trees, eagerly taking pictures. “It’s really so beautiful!” You gush

🌸 “Yes,” Lucien murmurs, but he’s gazing at you, “Truly beautiful” You don’t notice RIP

🌸 “Did you know that cherry blossoms are the embodiment of mortality?” He suddenly inquires after a moment. You look at him, a little startled by the topic. Oops here comes a lecture by Professor Lucien. He smiles as to reassure you and continues, “The Japanese Samurai believed in this principle to appreciate the inevitability of death without fearing it. This was carried over by the Japanese pilots during World War II who painted their kamikaze warplanes with cherry blossoms before embarking on suicide missions to ‘die like beautiful falling cherry petals for the emperor.’ It’s a beautiful contrast, isn’t it?”

🌸 You look at the delicate blossoms thoughtfully, “Yes, but you forget that cherry blossoms also embody spring,” you say quietly. “Spring and rebirth goes synchronously with cherry blossoms. The Japanese also worshipped these cherry blossom trees in the spring to grant them a bountiful harvest. So even though they are fleeting, they teach us to appreciate the fleeting moments in life and admire their beauty”

🌸 Lucien stills, “Indeed,” his dark eyes are on you, ever so unreadable, but you detect a faint fondness within those violet pupils

LOL this was my attempt to write a scholarly scene like the one they exchanged during the Blossom Date in the Chinese server EPIC FAIL RIP

🌸 You smile at him, “So instead being sad about these fleeting moments, shouldn’t we be happy that we get to see such beautiful blooms?”

🌸 “Yes,” he answers and his voice is a little thick with emotion

🌸 “These moments spent with you, no matter how fleeting, will always be beautiful”

Victor: Hidden and Exotic Foodie Gems Across Town

(Count how many times Victor calls you “Idiot” or “Dummy”)

🍽 You’re doing a segment on undiscovered food joints around town

🍽 You ask Victor to join you since he’s a chef he owns Souvenir (one of the original hidden gems)

🍽 Doesn’t want to (“Dummy, just interview Mr. Mills and film it at Souvenir”)

🍽 You explain that since you already covered Souvenir, people want to see new content and new restaurants

🍽 Dummy “I’m busy”

🍽 A little disappointed, you say you’ll go invite Lucien someone else

🍽 Are you an idiot “Goldman, cancel all my appointments for today” (GiVe GoLdMaN a RaIsE) “Which restaurants are we going to?”

🍽 You excitedly show him a list of restaurants which includes a restaurant that has a soup dumpling recipe spanning over five generations, another which all their ingredients come from their home farm, and another restaurant which promises a unique sensory experience like no other. “So I was thinking having soup dumplings for breakfast, then the farm-to-table place for lunch, and then finally the multi-sensory restaurant wrapping it up for dinner!” You ramble, not noticing Victor sitting at his desk watching you, a small smile playing around his lips

🍽 “Dummy, so are we going to get going or not?” He interrupts you, “I do have a company to run, you know”

🍽 “Let’s go!” You cheer, pulling Victor from his desk. He refuses to admit that your enthusiasm is infectious

🍽 The soup dumpling place is located in the older part of the city and you’re entranced by the architecture of the buildings and quaint cobblestone streets. You take pictures of everything. Victor rolls his eyes, but secretly he’s smiling on the inside. Seeing you excited, he couldn’t help but feel the tingle of excitement as well

🍽 The dumplings were delicious and you captured everything with your camera, even stopping Victor from eating in order to take that perfect shot

🍽 Dummy “You’re not running a food blog”

🍽 After breakfast, you inform Victor that the next restaurant is up in the mountains. His brows crease. “Are you going to drag me all over the city?” Yup

🍽 “These are the restaurants the viewers want to see most,” you tell him as you trek up the picturesque trail through the woods

🍽 Dummy “Watch where you’re going”

🍽 You don’t listen to him as you continue yammering away and taking pictures. You don’t notice how Victor is watching you intently to make sure you don’t trip over a tree root or smack into a branch

🍽 Suddenly your foot misses a step and Victor grabs your arm before you could fall. Your momentum propels you into his hard chest. You hear a sigh above your head, “Didn’t I just say to watch your step?”

🍽 “My oh my, what a lovely couple!” You hear a cheerful voice say before you can retort. Victor lets you go carefully, still holding onto your arm. You both turn to find a little old lady smiling at you

🍽 “Hi!” You break away from Victor, a little flustered. You introduce yourself to the woman and your reason for coming. She warmly welcomes you guys into the restaurant

🍽 “Would you like to see the farm first?” She asks and your eyes light up. You look at Victor. He coughs

🍽 “You know, you don’t need to ask for my permission,” he says, rolling his eyes

🍽 “The two of you are so sweet,” the lady coos as she leads you guys to the farm

🍽 The two of you spend a lovely afternoon, eating the freshest ingredients. You ask the lady many questions about her restaurant until you feel like you got enough material. There were many pictures taken

🍽 By the time you guys leave the farm, the sun is just starting to set. “Perfect timing!” You beam up at Victor, “I can’t wait for the multi-sensory experience”

🍽 Idiot “You’ve done nothing except eat all day. How can food excite you to this extent?”

🍽 “It’s the experience, not the food,” you tell him, waiting as the two of you arrive before a nondescript steel door. “And...it’s who I’m with,” you add, more softly as your cheeks redden. The door swings open then, saving you the embarrassment

🍽 The two of you are blindfolded, with earplugs in. You hold on tight to Victor’s hand as a server leads you two inside. You are gently directed to sit down and a hand removes your blindfold. You blink, eyes adjusting to the light and then you gasp. Multiple lights in a wide array of colors are projecting lazily onto the walls and table. Soft music play in time to the revolving lights. “Wow!” You exclaim in delight

🍽 “I see that it doesn’t take much to impress you,” Victor says quietly and you turn your head just in time to see a soft smile across his lips

🍽 You stare at him because did Victor just smile? And he sighs, “If you keep ogling at me, you’re going to miss the show”

🍽 Show? You’re about to ask when suddenly the music stops and the room darkens. There is a blast of fanfare and lights explode. You smell something absolutely fragrant and your server enters the room.

🍽 For the rest of your meal, every course is paired with a matching scent as the lights dance to the music. Your senses are completely assaulted. You miss Victor smiling at the way you eagerly scarf everything down

🍽 At the end, the music quietens and the lights dim. You put down your utensils and turn to Victor happily. He’s looking at you with something inexplicably soft in his eyes. You blush, feeling self-conscious. “Wh-why are you looking at me?”

🍽 “You have sauce on your face, dummy,” he says without skipping a beat. VICTOR, CAN YOU NOT

🍽 You pout at him, after wiping your mouth. “So...you didn’t enjoy it?” You ask quietly. You can’t help but feel hurt, and you wonder if you had wasted an entire day of Victor’s busy schedule

🍽 There is a sigh and Victor reaches for you, pulling you close and you tumble into his lap. GUYS, YOU ARE STILL IN A RESTAURANT

🍽 “That’s not it, dummy,” You hear him sigh and then-

🍽 “I’ll always enjoy the time spent with you. That time is never wasted, as long as it’s with you”

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See I can write fluff sometimes, it’s not just angst all the time and not smut 😅 Wow this ended up being longer than I had previously planned to be. They turned out to be like minifics whatttt rip i’m sorry (Also there were some technical issues-forgot to save) 😓 But I hope that this was what you had in mind! Hopefully I got the characterizations of the boys right!💖

Requests are open!

For more of my work: 📖

200 notes · View notes

juuten · 4 years ago

Note

Hey, I really like your works! I'd love to have a drabble or a scenario with Juza, please. With a topic of confession, please. Would be nice if a bike ride would be included. Should I be more specific or that would be enough? Thank you in advance!

Thank you for liking my works, and more importantly, for your immense patience! I'm really really sorry that I only finished the story now, anon 😥 I had an immense writer's block + I dealt with a lot of problems. So if you saw me reblogging posts, it was one of my ways to cope with them.

Anyway, I assumed that the bike you're referring to is Juza's motorbike. You may correct me by all means.

I hope you enjoy reading this! ❤

Bathed in Purple and Orange | Juza Hyodo

Sitting on a bench near the convenience store, you swung your feet with a smile on your face. There were countless places that you and your friend can potentially go. They were usually food shops, but each of them has a different thing to offer. Nevertheless, those places always complimented his and your taste buds (literally and figuratively). You grinned. What adventure awaited both of you today?

Your ears perked up when you heard a familiar voice calling out to you. You looked at your side and saw your friend.

Your eyes widened at the view before you. Juza riding a motorbike amplified his manly and strong aura.

You jogged towards him, inspecting his new vehicle. While doing so, you sneaked in a few glances on Juza’s form. "You got a motorbike now. Congrats!"

"Thanks," Juza said through his helmet. "But sorry for bein' late."

You shook your head. "It's fine. Now that you have a motorbike, we can visit more places!"

You quickly opened your map app on your phone, searching for places that you two have yet to explore. Suddenly, Juza called your name.

You looked up, tilting your head. "What is it?"

Juza paused for a while before saying, "I wanna take you somewhere."

You blinked. "Eh?”

He looked down on the bricked floor. "'Is fine if you don't wanna."

You immediately shook your head. You would always take the opportunity to go with Juza. But more importantly, you felt that this place was something special to your friend; he rarely initiates to go somewhere without you knowing. Not that you mind, but it filled you with curiosity.

"I would love to go with you, Juza."

"Wear this." He offered you the spare helmet that sat on the passenger's seat.

"Thanks." You accepted the helmet. You put it on your head. With deft hands, you quickly locked the straps of your helmet under your chin.

"You can sit here." Juza patted the spot closely behind him.

You nodded, sitting at the spot. Then you blushed as you realized - you were one centimeter away from Juza's back. Your eyes traced the creases on his shirt. They convinced you (again) that a muscled body was waiting underneath the cloth. You had the urge to wrap your arms around him and lay your head on his muscular back. A warm feeling bloomed inside you. Then you furiously shook your head, gripping the seat until your knuckles turned white.

‘Control yourself, (First Name). Control.’

Juza looked at you over his shoulder. "You ready?"

"Y-yeah!” You shot him a sheepish smile.

Juza intently stared at you, making you clear your throat. He muttered an apology before saying, "Grip on me."

Your eyes widened. "What?”

Realizing what he said, Juza quickly whipped his head to the front to cover his blush. "You can, uh, use me as support. 's safer."

“Oh… Thanks, Juza,” you said as you shifted closer to him. Then you gently wrapped your arms around his torso. You tried to hold back from squealing as you felt his abs contracting.

"We'll go now." Juza stepped on the pedal, dashing off towards the road.

You tightened your grip on the man, burying your head on his back. With this speed, you could fall off at every moment.

Juza almost stepped on the breaks when he felt your arms tightening. He might have stumbled off the bike as he felt your breath on your back. His heart was thumping on his chest. One little movement of yours, he might explode. Juza deeply breathed before exhaling. He needed to calm down, or else both of you may be caught up in an accident.

"You okay, (First Name)?" Juza hoped that you did not notice the tremble in his voice.

You nodded. "I just can't open my eyes due to the speed!"

"Sorry ‘bout that." He slowly decreased the speed of his motorbike.

You slowly opened your eyes, letting out a gasp as you saw the scenery before you. The city looked glorious as the sun enveloped the buildings across with orange. The trees that danced with the wind looked more mesmerizing as the warm color highlighted their features. Overall, the scenery felt solemn, peaceful even. You unconsciously shifted closer to Juza, turning your head sideways to appreciate the beauty the sun gave you through out the ride.

Time seemed to flow fast; Juza already slowed down until the engine came to a stop.

"We're here," Juza said as he parked his motorbike on the side.

You unbuckled your helmet and landed down on the grass, resulting in a crunchy sound. You let out a breath as you saw the river. It flowed endlessly and calmly, with its waters reflecting the hues of the sunset. But what made the scene serene was the absence of vehicles that relentlessly honked. The bridge was far away from you two, after all.

You slowly walked until you reached the edge of the grass-filled land. Then you plopped yourself on the grass with your feet dangling.

"This is nice! It's a peaceful spot," you said as Juza sat beside you.

"Yeah." Then he faced forward, staring at the river. "...I always played catch with my little bro here.”

"He likes baseball, then?" He nodded at that.

You aimlessly swung your feet. "Now that we’re talking about him, what's your baby bro like?"

"He's very kind and caring. He also gets along with people. Kumon is... a ray of sunshine." A soft smile bloomed on his lips. His eyes became so gentle and filled with love, the piercing gaze he always has dissipated. "No... he may be the sun itself."

Your eyes softened. “You love him very much.”

"Yeah. Unlike me, everyone loves him. But for some reason, Kumon likes me a lot," Juza mumbled the last statement.

Your brows scrunched up. "You're such an admirable person, Juza. You always wanted to protect the people you love. It may be in a rough way, but your baby bro saw through that. That's why I understand why he likes you so much."

"And..." you breathed in. You wanted to point out every reason why you appreciated him - from his scarred hands to his love for sweets. You wanted to tell him that you will always be beside him, supporting him.

You wanted to say how precious he was for you even though he thought otherwise.

Your affection for this man beside you quickly filled your heart. You touched his arm, gently caressing its muscles with your thumb. Juza turned to you, a confused expression on his face. Before you could stop your lips, the words fluttered out of your mouth, "That's why I like you ever since - as a friend and as a man."

You felt Juza stiffen. Your heart rapidly pounded as you waited for his answer. Seconds of silence only passed, but it felt like your time sped up. It felt like Juza would not reply to you soon as he did not move an inch. You let go of his arm. Somehow, your eyes already knew the answer. You rapidly blinked for the tears not to slip, but the regret bubbling inside you let them escape. If you had controlled your emotions, this would not happen. You had created a horrible memory that ruined the sacredness of this place.

You sniffed. “Sorry.“

“No.” Juza scratched his head. “I just… didn't know how to react. ‘Is all.”

You wiped your eyes with your sleeve. “…I see.”

“But… I like you too,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked. Even though you did not hear it clearly, the tinge of pink appearing on his tan cheeks told you his answer. “You… like me too?”

He nodded with his eyes staring at anything other than you. But you did not mind. The relief made you exhale as if you trapped an excessive amount of air in your lungs.

Then silence surrounded both of you. It was not an awkward one; it was a silence that blended with the comfort of the scenery and the relief of knowing that the man you hold so much affection for liked you.

You locked your pinky finger with his pinky, not noticing how the pink on his cheeks darkened. As if the sun gave its blessing, it slowly set, bathing the both of you in gradients of purple and orange.

#a3!#a3! act! addict! actors!#a3! game #a3! x reader #juza hyodo #juza hyodo x reader #a3! imagines #a3! scenarios #a3! actor training game #aimee writes #aimee answers

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we-are-inevitable · 4 years ago

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not moving on, not looking back // ch. 3

A/N: AHHH HES HERE !!!

Tag List: @tarantulas4davey (let me know if you’d like to be added!)

Read on AO3!

***

He's about five minutes early, but that's fine, right? Yeah. David raises his fist and knocks on the door.

Just a few moments later, the door opens, and David grins. “Hi, Ka-- Oh, you're... not Katherine.”

The first day is actually a lot better than David thought it would be. His kids are all pretty chill about him being the new teacher, and they all cooperated well and let him know exactly where they were and what they needed to be doing. It was a nice change of pace from the class he used to teach back in New York, which was all so fast and strict, but this is much more subdued. David loves it already, but he’s thankful it’s over; it’s been a long day, and right now, he just wants to go home and relax for a few moments before he gets ready for dinner with the Kelly’s.

Once home, which he arrives at around 4:15, David changes into something a bit more casual- a pair of ripped skinny jeans, a white shirt, and a light blue flannel that he leaves unbuttoned. The sleeves are shorter on this one, just barely to his upper arm, but he still rolls the sleeves up to his shoulder. David sees no point in dressing up particularly ‘fancy’ for this dinner; he’s 26, and Katherine seems to be around his age as well, so it isn’t like he needs to impress any actual professional adults.

David waits until about 5:30 to leave his place. According to Google Maps, Katherine’s house is about a twenty minute walk away from his own, but that's fine with David. He walked everywhere in the city, and he’s looking forward to the stroll. On his way there, David takes in everything he can: the color of the trees changing, the crunchy leaves beneath his brown boots, the crisp autumn air. He can get used to this feeling. It feels… nice. It isn’t rushed.

Maybe Tarrytown isn’t such a bad place after all.

David tilts his head to the side as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, looking down at the address. He checks the number on the mailbox and nods to himself, rubbing his arm as he walks up the driveway. The house isn’t huge, but it’s two stories. It looks historical. Colonial. He takes a deep breath and checks his watch. He's about five minutes early, but that's fine, right? Yeah. David raises his fist and knocks on the door.

Just a few moments later, the door opens, and David grins. “Hi, Ka-- Oh, you're... not Katherine.”

No, no. The man standing in front of him is most definitely not Katherine, but David isn’t exactly upset at the mixup. This guy is hot. He has a square jaw, tan skin, dark brown eyes, and perfectly messy hair- which is wavy and kind of long, coming just a few inches above his shoulders. He's a few inches shorter than David, too, but he seems pretty strong, especially since the shirt he's wearing- some college t-shirt- is perfectly tight in all the right places and, wow, David has never felt more homosexual. Someone call 911. Cause of death: hot guy.

The man standing in front of David raises a brow, then glances him over. “Nah, I ain’t Katherine. Who're you?”

Oh, fuck, his voice is deep. David isn't going to make it through dinner. “Uh-- Heh, David Jacobs, I work with Katherine… She, um, invited me. To dinner. Unless I have the wrong place--”

“David!” Katherine calls out, and he sees her rush out of the kitchen. She looks different outside of school- her hair is tied low, her bangs are swept to the side and held by a few pins, and she’s wearing a pair of mom jeans and a simple white turtleneck. She looks almost unrecognizable outside of her professional clothes. “Gosh, I’m so glad you’re here! This is my husband, Jack. Jack, this is David Jacobs. He just moved into town. Took Mrs. Ingram’s job, remember?”

“Mrs. Ingram got fired?” Jack asks under his breath with a confused expression, before shaking his head and turning his attention back to David. “Come on in, man.”

David nods slowly, taking a step into the house. It’s cute- there’s a fireplace, a big leather couch, and a nice little coffee table. A shelf lines the wall in the back of the room, with books and little knickknacks, as well as a few plants here and there. The living room was spacious, connected to a staircase that led upstairs. Everything is lit up inside, and it feels… bright. It feels homey. “You’re both really good at interior design,” David comments idly, but doesn’t miss the weird look that Jack shoots Katherine.

“Thank you! I got a lot of this stuff at TJ Maxx,” Katherine admits with a grin, before leaning up on her tiptoes to kiss Jack’s cheek. “You boys have fun, alright? I’m gonna go work on dinner.”

Just a few moments pass until Jack and David are alone. Jack looks at David with a curious expression, before gesturing for David to follow him. He walks to the living room and plops down on the couch, turning the volume on the TV down. “You’re the gay one, right?”

David sputters for a moment as he sits down, before nodding. “Yeah? Listen, if you have a problem with-”

“No, hey, it’s cool! I was just wondering. Calm down, man,” Jack shoots him a kind smile. “Want a beer?”

“No, thank you.”

“Suit yourself,” Jack says with a grin, then leans forward, grabbing his can of Bud Light and taking a sip. His eyes are on the TV, and as soon as the commercials turn off, Jack turns the volume back up. It isn’t very loud- probably because David is there- but Jack seems entranced by what was on the screen.

David turns to face it, and has to hold in a sigh as he sees a football game being played. Of course. David doesn’t know what else he was expecting. Slowly, he pulls his phone out of his back pocket, scrolling through his Twitter timeline for a few minutes before hearing a chuckle from beside him. “What, is football boring to you or somethin’?”

“Huh?” David glances over at Jack, who seems to be studying him. “Oh-- Sorry, no, I just don’t get how it’s played,” David admits, hurriedly shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“What do you mean, you don’t get how it’s played?” Jack asks with a bewildered look, then scoffs. “I mean, just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you can’t watch football. You’re still a dude, right?”

David shoots Jack a look. “Are you serious right now?”

“Right, sorry. I- I didn’t mean- I’m sorry. That won’t happen again,” Jack cringes, before leaning forward. “I just… Who ever said football is for beer-guzzling troglodytes in trailer parks? We scholars, you and I, can enjoy this on a whole other level!”

“Scholars?” David asks with a tilt of his head.

Jack makes a noncommittal gesture, but Katherine chimes in from the kitchen. “He’s a history professor down at Mercy!” She brags cheerfully, which causes Jack to shake his head.

“That- That isn’t important right now. What’s important is that you know football basics when you leave my house tonight,” Jack says with a smirk, moving closer. He wraps his arm around David’s shoulder- clearly, he isn't averse to physical contact- then points toward the screen. “Look, first you got your two teams. Yeah? There’s a coin toss to begin the game. Both teams really wanna win tonight, it’s a big game, so this is gonna be intense. The coach assigns a starter and, boom, the game starts with kickoff. And…" Jack pauses, watching the action on the screen, before letting out a subdued cheer with a raised fist. "We’re four downs to the ten-yard line! Ya follow?”

“Uh…” David really wants to speak, but Jack’s arm is still around him like that and, wow, it’s kind of hard to think. This was just a silly little attraction to Katherine’s hot husband, though, nothing worse than that.

The rest of the first quarter goes just like that. Jack explains everything he can to David about the inner workings of the game. He’s so goddamn passionate about it, and David really has to concentrate in order to even hear what he’s saying. He’s talking, he’s saying all of this information that he knew by heart, but all David can focus on is his voice.

“Davey, dude, you’re missing the game!”

David blinks and comes back to reality for a moment. He nods and looks back at the screen, a soft blush rising to his cheeks. “Right. Okay. Focus on the fine men.”

“The offensive linemen?”

“Have you seen number 49? I said what I said.”

“Right,” Jack says with a chuckle, shaking his head. “Whatever. Choose your valentine, but let me have my game in peace.”

“Why else do people watch this stuff?” David asks with a soft laugh, smiling at Jack, and Jack smiles back and wow, David’s heart stops for a second. “When’s the intermission?”

“Inter-- What, you need a glass of wine?” Jack teases and gently nudges David’s shoulder. “God, ya kill me, Dave,” Jack murmurs, turning to face him. Their eyes lock for one, two, three seconds, before Jack tears his gaze away and focuses on the screen. “Glad you’re at least enjoyin’ yourself.”

“Me too,” David admits softly, turning back to face the TV. An awkward silence falls over them, until David slowly speaks up. “It isn’t as boring as I thought it was.”

“Huh?” Jack glances over at him, then chuckles. “Aww, you like football now?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” David clarifies, “but it was entertaining. Better than what I watched in high school, at least. I was in the marching band. Drumline.”

Jack shoots him a toothy grin, and looks as though he was about to speak until Katherine’s voice sounds from the kitchen. “Jack, David, dinner’s ready!”

#tarrytown au #davey jacobs #david jacobs #katherine plumber #katherine pulitzer #katherine plumber pulitzer #javid #jatherine #newsies #newsies live #newsies musical #newsies broadway #livesies #jac writes

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stayathomesim · 5 years ago

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Bob’s Pancakes

Introducing the result of my day of getting reacquainted with PSP: a box of pancake mix clutter!

OMG you guys, I crack myself up. 😂😂😂

100% Whole Grain, Protein Packed Bob’s Pancakes mix is made from whole, organic, non-GMO ingredients and packaged in a very recyclable box! Put it on your pantry shelf or leave it on your counter for everyone to admire. It will just sit there with its lid so coolly and casually ajar, tempting you to open it and make more. Bob. He knows Pancakes.

Original mesh, recoloring ok with mesh link

Outdoor Retreat maaaaybe required? I edited a mesh from that pack. 🤷‍♀️

Clutter sort, $25

Download here (SFS)

Rambling below

So with learning new things I tend to jump headfirst into them. Such as making screens for porches and baskets full of stacks of cloth and baseball caps for kids. But then because they’re more complicated projects and I know nothing, I run into more issues like not knowing how to change shaders or even what a shader was until then, being overwhelmed by UV mapping a frankenmesh, and that inverse hat chop problem...

So I started off small! I thought to myself, I’ll make an object that is a cube. I can UV map a cube! But what would I make from a cube?

You know, one of my million WIPs is “Crunchy Mom Stuff” because for realz, the game and available CC is lacking in stacks of cloth diapers and accessories, and all kinds of other things all over my house.

Such as pancake mix? I make almost everything from scratch, but ain’t nobody got time to make pancake/waffle mix in the morning so I like to use Kodiak Cakes mix.

And, ta-da, Bob’s Pancakes was created.

And I can’t stop laughing to myself at it even though it’s 8:45pm and 2 kids are in bed and 1 WON’T GO TO SLEEP and it’s been a long day.

I learned some good stuff through this process. I’ll spare all the details, but it involved shadow meshes. Sounds ominous. Is not.

#s4 cc #ts4 cc #s4mmcc #ts4mmcc #s4cc #ts4cc #s4 clutter #s4 food #s4 kitchen

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concussed-to-pieces · 5 years ago

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To Tell You The Truth Part Three

Fandom: Prospect [2018]

Pairing: Eventual Ezra/Prospector!Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Good morning, good evening! I hope you're all doing well. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch @renegademustelid @wrestlingfae @zombiexbody @sporadic-fics @rzrcrst @lackofhonor @the-feckless-wonder @arrowswithwifi

Part One

Part Two

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains graphic depictions of gore and allusions to previous abuse. Stay safe!]

Bakhroma loomed massive and pinkish-tan on the horizon ahead as you bent double, hands on your knees while you struggled for breath. No doubt you had pushed your filter carbon far past its limits with your headlong sprint heats through the Green. A quick look confirmed your suspicions; the indicator blinked sluggishly at the bottom of the red lines.

You bit your lip, barely reining in the panic threatening to engulf you yet again. You had no idea where you were. Damon was the one with the map, and Ezra...he was the only person alive who might be able to help you. Your heart dropped as you realized that all your running had really done was prolong the inevitable.

You sank to the ground, staring up at the planet that dominated most of the sky in front of you. The hazy atmosphere around it was bright orange, fading into the navy blue of the cosmos backdrop. Checking your watch, you saw that the first cycle had kicked into the second several hours ago, though the light level didn't seem to have changed at all. The cloying, overbearing vegetation around you abruptly made sense. This moon was not only humid, it was also bathed in light for much longer than the standard twenty-four cycle.

Moving robotically as your legs began to protest, you lumbered stiffly back to the treeline to suss out the spring you had passed by. You would need water. Even if you weren't in the right headspace to be thirsty, dehydration was not something to sneeze at.

You knelt in the mud alongside the spring, the coolness welcome on your overworked knees even through your suit. Pumping and purifying water always took longer than it ought to, and you found yourself staring blankly off into the distance as you filled your first jug.

You were working on the second when your helmet earpiece suddenly crackled to life with a shrill whine of static.

"-llo...hello to the Green."

Ezra?

You swiveled your head wildly to look around and the static increased with the motion, making you slow to a stop. It was a stationary transmission, then. Your helmet must be picking up a long range somewhere nearby.

You rose to your feet while rushing to stow the jugs of filtered water in your day pack, tilting your head and mentally begging Ezra to keep talking. He did not disappoint, his drawling voice and the bursts of intermittent static your compass through the tangled overgrowth.

"...one or two pearls...that I will be willing to part with for well under the peakest commercial rates. Nothin' funny."

It sounded like he hadn't managed to get what he needed to fix the drop pod. Your eyes burned with tears.

"Just a desperate man tryin' to make a bad deal with the right holdout."

Brick red flickered through the Green's lush verdancy and you realized after a moment that it was canvas. A tent solidified out of the thick brush as you advanced, the roof coated in a generous layer of amber-yellow dust.

"...anyone is out there...don't hesitate to click on." The signal was nearly free of static at this point. This tent was the obvious origin of the broadcast. But now the question was...whether that message was prerecorded or not.

You hid beside a large, gnarled tree and pondered your next move. Sure, you had the pistol. If it did you any good was an entirely different animal, but you definitely had it.

It felt sturdy in your hand compared to the flimsy Boscelot thrower rifle. Solid.

Maybe...maybe you could reason with Ezra at gunpoint. Strike some kind of new bargain. You had nothing to put on the table this time, however. Everything had been in that pack, and you highly doubted the other prospector was interested in your sketchbooks. It would have to be at gunpoint. He had the resources, but you had the gun.

Just like Damon.

You hated yourself in that moment, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. Then, you darted across the space to the tent, ears straining to catch any noise from inside the structure. You couldn't hear much through your helmet to begin with.

After a quick prayer, you unzipped the tent and cautiously ducked your head to enter, leading with the thrower pistol clutched in your hands.

Someone seized your arm like a steel trap and you were ripped through the doorway, the pistol getting knocked out of your grasp in the process. Your plan effectively destroyed, you succumbed to panic, thrashing and attempting to claw at your assailant even with your gloves on. You twisted your head around to try and catch a glimpse--

And those bloodshot blue eyes seemed to loom up at you from the dimly-lit interior, making you scream out in terror, "No, no, Damon please!" as you struggled to get free.

He all but wrestled you bodily into one of the tent bunks, grunting in pain when you beat your gloved fists into his ribs. You weren't sure if it was just because of the adrenaline or if it was due to how long you had been separated from him, but you had never fought him this hard in your life! You had always just accepted, given in, bowed to his demands. Where had this tenacity even come from?

"Not again, not again!" You sobbed, futilely kicking your legs to try and throw him off of you. "P-Please, please, please--!"

"Gentle soul, if you do not cease tenderizin' my ribcage in this most belligerent and unneighborly manner," a familiar drawl met your ears through your thick helmet, "I will have no resource but to employ far more drastically militant tactics. Be still."

That voice! You froze, your hands still bunched up to tear at the fabric of his exosuit. Ezra.

His large form seemed to solidify in the exceedingly-dreary tent lighting now that you weren't fighting for your life, and you realized with a rush of embarrassment that it hadn't been Damon's eyes you saw, but the distorted reflection of the whites of your own in your helmet's dome. That, coupled with your imagination...

Damon was dead. How could you have forgotten? Damon was dead. It was just Ezra.

Does that make it any better?

You released him without a word, scrambling back as far as you could and drawing your knees to your chest in a defensive stance. Ezra stumbled upright, reaching overhead with his left hand to press a few buttons. The tent's air scrubber rattled sluggishly to life. "You can take off the helmet." He muttered.

You did so almost immediately, taking a greedy inhale of the dubiously-clean oxygen. A bit bar hit the threadbare bunk webbing by your feet and you ripped the colorful wrapper open, tearing chunks out of the crunchy substance with your teeth. As you devoured the bar ravenously, you realized that Ezra was utterly silent.

You dared to flick your eyes up and found him studying you, his expression pensive in the sickly orange twilight of the tent. You gulped down the bite of Calori-paste that now threatened to choke you. "I...I'm sorry." You apologized thickly. "I shouldn't have-"

"Be quiet and finish the bar, gentle soul." Ezra instructed softly. He sounded unsettled, of all things. Like he expected you to turn on him any second. "I believe I have unfortunately deduced the answer to the mystery I had pondered earlier, though I wholeheartedly regret opening that proverbial Pandora's box." He shook his head.

The Calori-paste sat in your stomach like a block of lead. You struggled through the last few bites, washing them down with swigs of plasticky water from your canteen. You held out the other bottle that you had filtered as a sort of silent peace offering and Ezra accepted it without hesitation, the older man proceeding to gulp half the bottle in one go.

"I know you may not be overly inclined towards listenin' to me at the moment," he gasped out, wiping the moisture off his mustache. "But I'm afraid my situation has grown even more dire than previously implied." He raised his eyes to meet your own. "I...I need your help." He confessed.

You took another drink of water to give you the time to collect your thoughts. You were certain your disbelief was plain on your face; you had never been gifted in the art of hiding your turns of expression.

Ezra snorted, lowering his body to sit on the far end of the bunk. "The Saders were not exceptionally keen on barterin' with me once you made your timely departure." He held his arm, wincing and no longer looking at you. "I managed to convince them to swap me some of their ambrosia for supplies, instead of-" He halted, his shoulders going rigid before he carefully continued, "I cannot excise the infection without assistance, and if I do not remove it with an exceedingly low degree of error, I will lose the whole arm."

You swallowed hard, clenching your fist so tight that the handle on the water jug creaked as you asked, "Were you going to give me to them?"

You knew that all Ezra had to do was say exactly what you wanted to hear. But you could live with the prettier lie if it got you off the Green. You could pretend to trust, pantomime the partnership.

His eyebrows drew together in a dark frown and you watched his jaw work sporadically before he finally exhaled a singular, monosyllabic, "no."

You waited for the rest of the sentence, the emphatic declarations of I would never! or what kind of man do you take me for?, but he remained silent, staring at the tent floor. Weirdly, the lack of long-winded antics made his answer feel more honest somehow. He was obviously a gifted liar, tailoring his technique to his target.

You sighed heavily through your nose. "Okay."

You told yourself that the bewildered gratitude in his eyes must have also been part of his ability to tell falsehoods.

Ezra prepared the sparse surgical supplies from your kit with a somber, almost funereal air. He seemed to be already convinced that his arm was a total loss. Maybe he knew better than to put much stock in the abilities of a battered floater.

You were seized with the uncanny urge to prove him wrong. Your need for validation was what had landed you in this mess with Damon all those stands ago, you reminded yourself, but you couldn't shake the habit so easily. "Did I hurt you? When I...when I hit you?" You asked before you could think better of it.

"No more than the average lighthearted dig dust-up would, gentle soul. Do not trouble yourself on my behalf." Ezra replied dully. "I offer my most sincere reparations for givin' you a fright."

"I spooked myself. I...I saw the reflection of my own eyes in my helmet and I thought…" you trailed off, nervously sipping your water.

"That man, Damon." Ezra hesitated, struggling to secure the band around his upper arm. "I know it is rude to ask after personal affairs, but did he-"

"Don't." You said softly.

To his credit Ezra stopped immediately, busying himself with the tourniquet. After he had completed that arduous task, he bit the cap off of one of the porta-surge syrettes, spitting it out to land neatly in the lid of the field kit. He jabbed the needle home in his shoulder with a poorly-muffled gasp of pain, nearly crushing the tube with the force of his motion before dropping that into the kit lid as well. "The lid is for sharps." He informed you. "We lack a tray or a proper sterile environment, so keep your hands clear."

"I'll cap that once I get gloved up." You assured him. "I'm not leaving a sharp in the field kit. Knowing me, I'd forget it was in there and wind up accidentally pricking myself or something."

Ezra nodded, swallowing convulsively. You took the Ralon scalpel from his slightly-shaky hand. "You ever used one of these?" He asked, his voice gone a bit reedy. His breathing in general seemed poor, off-tempo. He was afraid. The knowledge that he was just as scared as you were made you feel more sure of yourself, for good or ill.

You shook your head in reply to his question, explaining, "I've never used this model before. The one I have for harvesting is much older."

Ezra reached over, flashing you a disingenuous smile. "It's easy."

He pressed down on the side of the scalpel battery pack, activating the laser blade. The whole handle buzzed in your grip, feeling uncannily like your handheld stitcher.

"There's five levels of intensity. Use two for flesh. Four for bone." Bone?! You jerked your head up, meeting his terrified gaze. "You got it?" He choked out after a second.

You nodded stiffly. If he wanted you to know the bone setting, then by Kevva, you would.

His eyes softened and for a split-second he looked like he might cry. "Thank you." He rasped, blinking rapidly and then glancing away.

You rummaged around in the porta-surge for the tiny, standard-issue penlight, immensely thankful that the battery still had enough power to work. The tent was poorly illuminated, outside light barely able to filter through the thick material. "Will this...when I start, is it going to hurt you?" The sterile glove packet made an ungodly amount of noise, crinkling and crackling in your hands as you fought to tear the seal.

Ezra scoffed, demonstrating the sensation that his right arm currently possessed by slapping his limp hand a few times. "I won't feel a thing. Hack away." His breathing was still too fast even as he continued to prattle, "quick, confident strokes are best. Try to go full circuit on the first cut."

You nodded again, one-handedly scooping the syrette and pushing it against the side of the lid to shove the cap back on. Then, you disposed of it in the trash bag by the door. Holding the penlight between your teeth, you smoothed your gloved hand down his arm to pin it securely in place. You were really going to do this. Well, if he wasn't able to feel it...

You had peeled multitudes of aurelac gems in your mining career. You were exceptionally delicate when it came to skinning the pearls. You couldn't recall the last time you had punctured one of the blisters and ruined a pull. Surely...surely this wouldn't be much different.

"I've never had to use these syrettes before. Kinda' nice. Tingly." Ezra commented as the scalpel buzzed to life. "Almost like it's…" With something that might have resembled quick confidence, you began your excision. The laser blade whirred through his epidermis with enviable ease, smoking slightly. "Oh shit. Oh shit." The older man muttered over your head, his whole body gone tense.

"What?" You asked around the penlight. Ezra started panting, his chest heaving violently underneath his threadbare waffle thermal layer. "Does it hurt?"

"No. N...h--I-I don't know. Keep goin'." He stammered. "You're doin' great, k-keep goin' until you think you've got it all." His left hand was clenched so tightly that his knuckles had gone nearly stark white beneath the layers of ground-in dirt. "Once y...once you finish, dump the juice into the wound and th-then cream it a-all sh-iiit, shut, shut." He continued to instruct you through gritted teeth.

You nodded, wholly focused on your task. At least it wasn't difficult to spot where the infection had reached. It turned the tissue and muscle it consumed to a sinister purple-black. You tried to keep your brain separated from the fact that this was a human arm you were methodically carving a chunk out of, a human arm attached to a living person who, despite his incredibly convincing big talk, could definitely feel what you were doing. You deliberately narrowed everything down to being as rapid and thorough as possible, like when you had to harvest in a poor environment. Every extra second you spent was a precious resource you could ill-afford to waste, literally. Thank stars that he had the tourniquet wrapped so tightly, even if the blade did it's damnedest to cauterize as you cut.

Once you were as certain as you could conceivably be that you had removed all the infected matter from the wound, you sloshed some of the Sader's juice from Ezra's canteen onto the exposed area. It hissed and steamed like boiling water and Ezra buried his face in the crook of his left elbow, biting down on his sleeve and screaming into the fabric.

Your hands finally started to tremble as you loaded the patch gun and listened to him dry heave, but you doggedly kept at it. Just a little more to go. It felt like it took an eternity for the stupid cream to expand. The reload was probably years past its expiration date.

And then it was over.

You carefully gathered up the grotesque little pieces of your handiwork that had fallen on the floor, balling everything into your fist. The gloves squeaked wetly when you stripped them, turning them inside out as you did to keep the blood and organic matter contained. They dropped into the waste bag by the door, plopping sadly down next to the spent syrette on a bed of bit bar wrappers.

You shakily switched off your penlight and took a step back, reaching for one of the tiny antiseptic wipe packets. Despite your best efforts, the skin of your wrists was spattered here and there with blood. You scrubbed at the rusty fluid silently.

Ezra's whole body was shuddering with every groaning retch, saliva hanging in thick strands from the bottom of his slack mouth as he rocked his way through the pain and clearly fought down the urge to vomit. Moved by the admittedly-pitiful sight, you tugged loose your bandanna and wiped off his chin. "It's done." You informed him softly.

He caught your wrist before you could pull away and you were shocked when he pressed a sloppy kiss to your knuckles. "You are Kevva-sent, gentle soul, never let anyone t-tell you otherwise." He grated, "Divinity incarnate; a damn valkyrie in floater's clothing, decidin' my fate on the battlefield."

You squinted at him, down at the grisly mass of expanded foam and then back at his face. "I don't know if I would count this as a battlefield, Ezra."

"Martyr's malfeasance," he swore, his voice cracking, "you can attempt to dismiss it but I will never forget this kindness, gentle soul. Not even in the next life."

"Don't...look, let's just hope I did everything right." The insanity of the task you had just performed struck you anew and hysteria bloomed in your chest. At the same time, his heartfelt proclamations of gratitude settled low in your belly, a flickering flame of pride that you wanted to shelter and nurture. You sat down hard on the bunk, pulling your knees up again. The still-smoking scalpel gleamed at you in the dim light of the tent. "I'm probably gonna' be sick." You warned him faintly.

"You are far from alone in that camp, gentle soul." Ezra replied dolefully. "We'll be spewin' in the same trough shortly, I imagine. I have always been a man...afflicted by the trials of sympathetic vomiting."

"Oh no!" You found yourself caught between laughing and gagging, settling for a retching little snicker. "Come on, don't say stuff like that, you're gonna' make me hurl."

After several queasy moments had passed, he spoke up again, "I know you are just as eager as I to continue on to that mercenary camp, but I must insist on a short reprieve. A burge...burgeoning cloud of exhaustion is relieving me of what little sensibility I possess." He tucked his wounded arm against his chest as he curled up in his bunk. "And I will need time for the syrette to wear off, lest I be rendered an incompetent, staggering buffoon."

"We have to go to them, don't we?" Your voice was tiny.

Ezra sighed. "It would appear so. We will have to throw ourselves upon their proverbial mercies and hope that they are willing to acquiesce in exchange for our harvestin'." He cocked his head to look at you curiously. "Do you actually believe that it's the Queen's Lair they've stumbled upon entirely by chance?"

"Does it matter?" You asked. "Damon thought it was legitimate enough to throw the both of us across the universe in a trashy rental pod. I would say that must count for something, but…" You shrugged, propping yourself up against the end of the bunk.

"I understand. Still though, we will need rest if we are to successfully tackle this conundrum." He drowsily watched you as you dug around in your suit pockets to locate your sketchbook. The current iteration was a beaten memo pad from the pod rental company, each page stamped with the letterhead of Dasha Landcraft Rental.

This was a familiar ritual to you. Turning your brain off whenever you needed to rest was a difficult thing to manage. In your mid-teens you had begun sketching before lights out and found that for some reason, the activity emptied your thoughts enough to allow you to sleep much easier than you had ever managed without it.

You unwound the twine that kept the pages closed and flipped to a fresh one. Trying to recreate the scenery you had witnessed earlier, sketching Bakhroma hovering imposing on the Green's horizon.

"An artist, now that I did not anticipate." Ezra commented. You flinched, realizing how close he had leaned in to watch you. "What else have you drawn, gentle soul? Might I peruse your work?" He requested, his hand extended.

"I'm not--!" You floundered, tilting away and clutching the pad protectively to your chest. "I-I'm not...I'm not an artist. I just…I can't sleep without um, doing. Something like this." You tapped the notepad nervously. "It helps me relax."

Drawing is a waste of time, you should be spending that time cultivating skills relevant to your field.

"No harm in that." Ezra replied agreeably, his words striking a sharp contrast against the echoes of Damon's belittling in your head. His hand remained outstretched, patiently waiting.

You let out your breath slowly, rooting around in your hip pocket for the previous pad you had filled. That one you had pilfered from the Jata Bhalu processing facility, it had an actual hard cover and a loop for a writing implement. You tugged it free and hesitantly passed it to him, stammering once again that you weren't an artist, this was just something you did.

Ezra was devastatingly silent as he leafed through your tiny sketchbook. For someone that you had come to expect to talk, the stillness that permeated the tent made you unnaturally fearful. Your fingernails dug into your memo pad. What if...what if he was judging you? Some of the sketches were tired and messy, some of them smudged from your environment. Tea and coffee and tears blotted the pages. What if he didn't like them?

This was why you didn't show anyone your drawings, you-

"Have you ever considered acquirin' one of the draw-pads? I am no artist myself, but I know that the digital method saves precious space in pods." Ezra suggested. "And a single rainy day could ruins months of this hard work you have stockpiled."

"I...I want one, of course. It's just...they're so expensive and I could never justify it." You murmured, a little sad as you thought back to standing outside the pawn shop of the last freighter and gazing down at the battered box in the window. Out of date models alone were well removed from your price range. You could only imagine how much a brand new one would set you back.

"Puggart Bench West! I'd recognize that dock anywhere." Ezra exclaimed suddenly, wiping his hand off on his leg before he tapped on the page. "West dock is a real hive, isn't it?"

"Oh, y-yeah." You stuttered.

"And this one...a deep space miner? Thing looks at least Fringe kestron grade." Ezra continued, squinting. "Not quite Testin, but it'll do in a pinch. I had a few stands on one of those. Food was shit."

"That was...um, it was just a ship that went by the transport freighter that I was on. Out in the Fringe." You shrugged, grimacing. "I didn't know what kind it was." You reached over with your pencil. "How do you spell 'kestron'?"

"K-e-s," Ezra paused, his brow furrowing, "t-r-o-n. If I'm not mistaken. Hell, it might be t-r-e-n." He admitted. "I'm uncertain, gentle soul. It has been so many stands since I've...since I've seen…" he yawned widely, then set off on another tangent. "In the Pug, there was this...vendor, you follow me, in this mercado." He rolled the 'r' in the unfamiliar word, like he was luxuriating in being able to say it. "They had--shit, it was some sort of...treat, the name is eludin' me. Drizzled honey, cinnamon, that fancy sugar dustin'…"

"Little pillowy things?" You supplied. "When the place made them fresh you could smell them all the way down the block?"

"Kevva, yes, now you got my stomach beggin'." Ezra groaned. "What were they called though?"

"It started with an 's', so...pa-"

"Sopaipillas!" He erupted, his eyes lighting up. "I swear, gentle soul, my heart just skipped a beat." He chuckled dreamily, "As much as I bemoaned the drudgery of it when I was there, I'd love to be back on the Pug right about now. Bench was a eternal shit hole, but at least I could breathe." He lolled his head to the side, looking at you once more. "When you and I escape this Green hell, I insist that you give me the pleasure of your gracious company on an expedition to that hallowed mercado." The older man slurred, his eyes sliding closed. "We will devour countless treats in safety and stroll the docks. A heavenly concept, you must admit."

"That does sound nice." You replied wistfully.

"It is settled, then." He held out his left hand to shake yours and you obliged, feeling childishly hopeful about the whole thing. "Now, set the alarm on that platinum chronometer of yours. Maybe...four hours or so? Kevva knows I'd love longer, but if we hope to arrive with adequate harvest time, we'll need to manage ourselves with caution." Ezra squeezed your hand, his smile weary. "Rest well, gentle soul."

Part Four

#ezra (prospect 2018)#ezra prospect #ezra prospect x reader #ezra x reader #ezra prospect imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #slow burn #eventual romance #prospect 2018 #prospect film #prospect fanfiction #I love one man #also take care of your sharps ffs #canon-typical violence

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justlookatthosesausages · 5 years ago

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“Lift the Spirit” :: a post-Frozen 2 Elsamaren fanfic

Chapter 1: The way I see you

Elsa was sitting against a tree and silently reading a book in the evening light of the Forest, enjoying the last rays of sun enlightened by the warm smell of flowers and distant cooking at the camp. She had chosen to sit away from everyone to have a bubble of relaxation and time for herself, but not too far however, to still make sure that everything was alright. Anna often compared her to a house cat, and she was on point; not too close, not too far, quietly observing and enjoying the peaceful settings. Only the chirping sounds of Nature punctuated her silence, which she loved as she turned the pages slowly, her eyes dancing along the lines of the book set on her thighs as she had bent her legs.

Bruni was drowsy and quiet on her shoulder, only half asleep in the same way she was only half distant from the village. The guardians of the Forest were constantly vigilant; even if then, the moment was devoted to pure relaxation.

She could feel the tiny salamander’s belly move with its fast but steady breathing on her bare shoulder, and in a way, it reassured her. Fire and ice surprisingly paired well. As time passed, the sun started to get low and disappear behind the West mountains. At some point, she had to squint to read the lines, and Bruni noticed the tension in her neck. He opened his eyes, blinked and looked at the Snow Queen who was struggling to see words, but wouldn’t stop her reading, too stubborn as she had reached an interesting part.

Bruni noticed her frown and peeped, then set his tiny back on fire to give her light. Elsa muttered a ‘Thank you’, deep in her reading, then once she was done with the paragraph, smiled and waved her fingers to reward the Fire Spirit with fresh snowflakes. Bruni happily chewed on them with crunchy noises and satisfied chirps. He rested his head against her shoulder again, enjoying the forever fresh skin and sighing in content. Elsa flipped another page, when suddenly, a huge sound of explosion resounded in front of them.

Bruni jumped in the air in fright at the loud noise, and squealed in surprise when Elsa stood up in a startle.

What the hell was that?

It had come straight from the village, and Elsa could now hear the sound of Northuldra raising their voices, which with the distance, meant that they were screaming.

The Snow Queen’s eyes widened, and she dropped her book on the ground. Next to it, Bruni landed in a smooth move, looking at the village with waving nostrils, then back up at Elsa to know what to do.

“That sounded like an explosion, a gun fire even. Come!”

The Fire Spirit chirped in agreement of his participation. If there was a fire, he could take care of it in even less time than it would take for Elsa to put it off.

As they started to run to the camp, the blonde saw that her bare feet would soon meet rocky dust on the path, so she pointed at behind her with her left hand and waved at the ice sandals she had left near the tree. In a swirl of snowflakes, the sandals flew to her, opened their straps, and clipped to her feet as she was running.

She entered the village with a literal and figurative squall, her azure blue eyes darting from one spot to the other to find the source of the explosion. Before she even found it, she noticed that none of the Northuldra actually seemed scared or concerned. Only a few turned to her presence and smiled at her, wondering why she had arrived so fast. Elsa then spotted a few Northuldra talking loudly to a brown-haired one around the fire, and next to them, something that she clearly didn’t expected: Honeymaren, standing and watching. Or rather, the opposite of standing, as she was bending in two and wheezing with laughter, while, Elsa now recognized, Ryder was getting scolded by elder Northuldra.

The blonde blinked at the sight of her wife laughing to tears at her brother’s clumsiness. She quickly forgot all the adrenaline and urge of the situation now that the possibility of danger had been removed, and that she was blessed with the aura of the love of her life giggling.

“This is not funny.” Mumbled Ryder once the elders were gone. “I didn’t know that this powder was explosive.”

“Why did you even think that this was pepper?” Wheezed Honeymaren.

“I don’t know!” Blushed the man furiously. “It’s black and it’s powder!! How is it not the same?!”

“Rule number one, little brother: smell the thing before you pour it into soup.”

She then gasped and immediately stopped laughing. “Wait, you were about to put something you don’t even know about in the soup that I was going to eat? That we were all going to eat?”

Ryder mumbled and looked down. “I assumed it was pepper…”

Honeymaren laughed nervously. “Well, we avoided food poisoning, thanks Ahtohallan.”

He kept mumbling. “I hate when it’s my turn to do the cooking for the tribe. I’d rather go take care of the dyes three times a day than prepare dinner.”

Her sister stopped laughing and tapped his shoulder in support. “Skills come with time. Everyone has to do everything. You’re gonna make it, Ryder, trust me.”

“Thanks”, he replied, still mumbling.

He eventually rose his eyes to his sister. “You make a great leader. I mean, apart from the moment you mocked me.”

Honeymaren grinned and winked at him.

Elsa walked to them, a bit breathless as her panic still had way to go down.

“So that was just a simple explosion? Nobody got hurt?”

They turned to her. Honeymaren smiled fondly at her wife’s concern. “No, nobody got hurt. It’s okay.”

Elsa nodded, and the brunette could see on her neck how fast her heart was still beating, and her nervous nod as she stared at the kettle of soup.

“Where were you?” She inquired. “We actually were looking everywhere for you.”

“Oh, I was deep into that novel Anna introduced me to on last Yule. I didn’t see the time go by.”

Honeymaren looked at the sky, then frowned. “I’m worried for your vision…”

“It’s fine, Bruni provided light.” Smiled Elsa.

The Fire Spirit, who had been following her and was now staring at the flames under the kettle, chirped up to Honeymaren.

“That doesn’t change my mind. You shouldn’t read with such little light. What if Bruni hadn’t been there? How many times did you read books in evenings without light?”

Elsa crossed her arms. “How many times did you read maps in the main hut after we return from our explorations, with even less light?”

Honeymaren bent her head exaggeratedly. She got a point.

“Yep, I saw you.” Smirked Elsa, knowing she won. “See? My vision is excellent.”

The Northuldra smiled. “Well, now I’m keeping an eye on you.” She said, gesturing back and forth between them with two pointed fingers.

Elsa smiled tenderly. “Glad to see that my wife’s sight will never leave me.”

Ryder eyerolled. “Are you two done talking about eyes? I’m trying to focus here.”

The blonde turned to him, a hand on her hip.

“I could have left you alone. If I didn’t get interrupted in my reading.” Stared Elsa.

Ryder blushed, now idly playing with the end of the wood spoon.

The blonde then sighed. “I dropped my book on the ground though. I should go pick it up…”

Gale sensed her need and descended from the top of the pines where they were playing with birds, to float around the discarded book and pick it up. They crossed the path back and put it in Elsa’s hands.

“Thank you, dear.” Smiled the blonde. She then frowned. “Wait, you didn’t pick up my bookmark?”

Gale did a twirl in the air that looked like an interrogation mark.

“The bookmark.” Answered Elsa. “You know, the little band of paper that was with it? And it has a string attached to it.”

An instant of silence passed as Gale chimed in return.

“Why would I use that?” Repeated the blonde, blinking. “Because it’s useful! We use it to mark the book! What? No, I can’t simply remember where I left at…”

Honeymaren watched with amusement as Elsa continued to explain to the Wind Spirit what a bookmark is, and laughed internally because she loved when the Snow Queen struggled to describe the utility of some objects used by humans to the Spirits. It was especially funny with Gale, because while Nokk was cranky, Bruni inattentive, and the Giants quite literally headstrong, the Wind Spirit loved to tease Elsa about objects that actually aren’t very useful.

Elsa finished arguing with Gale until a yawn stretched her mouth, and it was so sudden that she didn’t even get to hide it with her hand.

Honeymaren giggled. “Long day, uh?” She guessed, knowing that tiredness was the only reason for the blonde to be this grumpy.

Elsa sighed and rubbed her eyes tiredly.

“I got to admit, yes.”

Gale chimed in a tender laughter, then brushed her hair. The Snow Queen was too exhausted to even groan at their gesture.

Honeymaren smiled and walked to her to gently circle her hips with her arm. “Come. We’re about to serve dinner anyway. You can go to bed right after.”

“Don’t wanna…” Mumbled Elsa, her hold however warm against Honeymaren.

It made the brunette laugh. “The Forest isn’t going to be in danger if you go to sleep early for once, you cute dork.”

This time, Elsa groaned at the tease. Honeymaren figured that she had been reading a book to relax from her day, but it was a bit too effective. As they walked to join the other Northuldra around the fire, she could see how the blonde was giving up on her strength and even laying against her wife’s body.

They sat down along with all the tribe on the trunks disposed all around the central fire, and started eating.

Soon, Elsa stirred a bit. She didn’t shiver when she was feeling cold, as one of the assets of being blessed with ice and snow powers by Ahtohallan meant that the cold wasn’t bothering - an asset Honeymaren was envious of - but that didn’t prevent the blonde to feel uncomfortable when night fell with a particular humidity. The brunette obviously noticed.

“Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

She gently sit Elsa up, and crossed the Northuldra circle to trot to their hut. Elsa frowned at she wondered why she went there. When her lover got out and held something that she had picked up from inside, she squinted to understand what it was through the blur of the heat rising up from the central fire.

She came back to sit next to her, and prompted Elsa to rest her head against her shoulder again.

“What is it?” Blinked tiredly the blonde, trying to sharpen her sight.

“When you cuddled against me, I noticed the way you rubbed your arms. It’s a humid night tonight. Here.”

Ryder smiled as he saw Honeymaren unfold what she had been holding, wrapping her wife and her in a familiar brown scarf.

“Our scarf…” Mumbled Elsa.

A flashback came to her mind.

///////

“I like this brown color. You two have chosen well. I can’t figure out why, but this color really represent your couple.” Complimented Anna, observing her curling herself in the shawl. “Maybe because it’s the color of the tree barks, or the hut, or maybe Honeymaren’s eyes.”

Elsa chuckled. “Maybe.”

Anna sat down next to her on the Arendelle’s castle couch. She smiled. “Are you alright? I know that this week of mandatory royal meetings isn’t fun, especially for you who isn’t used to it anymore, and is away from the Forest for all that time.”

“I’m fine. Wait, did you think I was feeling down?”

Anna bit her lip. “Well, you used to wear Mother’s scarf when you were upset, but as I haven’t seen you getting worried for many years, I was wondering what was on your mind. Are you cuddling to it for comfort?”

Elsa smiled, especially at the warmth in Anna’s voice. “Yeah. It also smells like Honeymaren, which is a lovely bonus.”

She closed her eyes and lowered her nose as the shawl was enveloping her, and she inhaled the unique scent of her wife, which always brought her up in the clouds.

“I like the little reindeers sewed on it.” Smiled Anna.

“I made them.”

“You did?”

“Yes, just like she weaved the snowflakes and Spirits unity symbols. This is how it’s made: every member of the new family make motives that represent someone else. She sewed what she loves about me, I sewed what I love about her.”

“New family?” Repeated the younger with a grin.

Elsa nodded. “I’ll always remember what Yelena told us… We were picking up berries and licken that day, and she took the opportunity to be alone with us two near a bush to have a private moment.”

The redhead dropped her elbow on the top of the couch and leaned her cheek against her hand, listening closely.

Elsa smiled emotionally at the memory. “She said… ‘Now that you’re a couple, and officially devoted through each other through a lifetime union, you represent a family.’ Yes, I said that it was just the two of us, and that we didn’t have children, so it was maybe too exaggerated… And she answered… ‘Dear, even if you are two people, it’s still a family. In fact, many families in the history of Northuldra are just one parent with one child.’”

“This is beautiful.” Murmured Anna.

Elsa nodded again, and tears filled her eyes as another memory seized her with soul. “She then added that…”

She gulped as her throat tightened.

“That she had never seen a more lovely couple than ours. She said that we represent what the Northuldra always have represented, and the promise of peace that the Arendellians will forever stand to. The Spirits of Nature and Sami people united eternally. The former Queen of Arendelle devoting her life to who would become the Northuldra leader.”

Elsa rose a hand from under the scarf to quickly rub the tear that had fallen from her eye. Anna looked at her tenderly, then at the scarf.

“And Honeymaren and you are close and combined just like the weaving of this scarf.”

The blonde smiled. “Actually, the evening that followed, I asked Honeymaren to come in our hut to talk with her. And I asked her if she wanted to weave a familial scarf together.”

Elsa grinned. “She melted into tears. I’ve never seen her cry this much since we did our double proposal.”

“Aww. And to say I thought that nothing could top such an awesome thing than the scarf… The story behind it is even better.”

Elsa’s eyes looked at the ceiling, dreamily. “The day after, we started to sew it hand in hand - quite literally, because it requires mutual work - and it took us several days. But I’m deeply proud of the result.”

“No wonder why you always admire it.” Grinned Anna.

///////

Elsa returned to present time, now idly playing with the strings ends of the fabric.

“Our scarf…” She murmured.

Despite the clear fatigue, Honeymaren also heard some emotion in her voice, and smiled tenderly as she held Elsa closer, her body now covered by the warm shawl.

“Just relax, okay? It’s what you intended to do with reading anyway. Here, have some more soup, and we’ll put you to bed right after we finish the meal.” Smiled Honeymaren.

After the blonde emptied her bowl, Ryder served another round of soup, Northuldra happily willing to get their bowls refilled. In fact, most of the tribe asked to have some soup again. Ryder’s face light up at the flames of the fire. “You do?”

“Of course. It’s a really good meal you’ve made us today, Ryder.” Complimented the Sami standing next to him, and many others around her nodded in agreement.

The man smiled broadly, and with tearful eyes, he filled every bowl he could until the kettle was empty. Once he sat down, and watched the tribe eat and drink the soup with smiles as they were all resuming their conversations, he let out a happy sigh.

Honeymaren’s hand was on his shoulder again. “See? And with practice, your cooking will be even better.”

“Thank you.” Smiled the man.

A silence passed, and Honeymaren felt a slow and warm breathing on her shoulder. Elsa had fallen asleep.

For the Queen of Ice and Snow, she actually had a very warm aura when she was peacefully sleeping. Honeymaren smiled tenderly, her heart soaring just like every time she got to lay eyes on her beautiful sleeping wife. She passed a hand in her platinum blonde hair, and caressed her cheek to wake her up just enough.

“Time for us to go to sleep.” Murmured Honeymaren.

While Elsa emerged, she turned to Ryder. “We’re going to the hut. Good night.”

“‘Night.” Greeted Ryder with a smile.

The Northuldra leader saluted her tribe with warm nods and smiles, then nudged Elsa slightly for her to stand up. However, she was either too tired to do so, or too reluctant. Probably both.

Honeymaren shook her head. “You want me to carry you to bed in bridal style, uh?”

Elsa actually didn’t answer, her head tilting back. Honeymaren hold it right in time, and put it against her chest before passing a hand in her back and the other under her knees. The blonde weighed like a feather, so she had no trouble to lift her at all, especially with her huntress muscles. Their scarf now was covering Elsa’s body as she walked her wife to their hut - under the tender gazes of some Northuldra who couldn’t help but stare - and Honeymaren carefully watch it to not make it slip down as she passed the door and closed it behind them.

“There.”

She grinned as she watched her lover.

Even if Elsa rarely drank and therefore rarely was drunk (for she was a lightweight and it happened systematically), when the blonde had a long day, her extreme tiredness made her look like she was inebriated.

One time, Honeymaren was looking for her after a particularly exhausting day, and had found her standing still among the reindeers in their paddock.

“What are you doing here?” She had asked, climbing the fence to join her and make sure that everything was alright.

When she saw that tears were covering her face and that they kept falling, her heart had split in two. What had happened to put her in such a state?

“Elsa, what’s wrong?” She had whispered with deep worry.

The blonde then had lifted her arms tiredly with a tearful and disappointed sigh.

“I don’t have enough hands to pet them all.”

Then she had burst in tears again.

From that day on, Honeymaren had sworn to always keep an eye on her to see when she was tired and avoid such stupid situations. She also had sworn to always try her best not to laugh at her lover’s tired craziness.

She gently put her on the bed, and Elsa instinctively rolled in the scarf, the lights of the hut enhancing the brown color of the shawl.

Honeymaren smiled and lifted her head to look at the hovering sources. Floating ice photophores that Elsa had made during the past year were bathing the hut in a light that Honeymaren undoubtedly now associated with the word and feeling of ‘home’. Only Elsa was able to turn the blue color into something warm, protective and reassuring. The kandle jars had many different shapes, which the brunette particularly loved. Some were rounds, some were squared, some had crossed lines, other had tiles motives, and every time she would spend a relaxing moment staring at them, she would find new intricate details, and her love for them grew even more. There were seven of them constantly floating around in their hut, and Elsa added more if that was necessary.

Honeymaren replaced the candles in them herself, and she quietly laughed at the memory of that one time when the blonde had purposely made a photophore float near the ceiling and made it impossible to reach to change the candle.

She appreciated that, whether Elsa was asleep or not, they would always slowly fly around the hut, and project pretty motives on the walls, the flames inside dancing and forming dreamy moments.

She blew and each every one of them while Elsa laid on the pelts. Then in the dark, she lifted Elsa’s body to place her on her side of the bed, and replaced the shawl by the pelts. Even if she looked very comfortable in it, and it was heartbreaking to take it off her arms, Honeymaren knew that she found her tangled in it several times on mornings, so she had the wise measure to store it away. She folded it slowly, admiring once more the motives that Elsa had weaved for her, and put it on one of the wooden furnitures of their large hut. She then went under the pelts next to her lover, and kissed her forehead, then the side of her neck.

Elsa opened drowsy eyes.

“‘M’too tired…”

“I know, snømus, I know. But you should melt your outfit or turn it into your nightgown. You spent all day in it, and crossed rivers and climbed mountains with it. Taking it off will make you sleep better.”

Elsa moaned a slight protest, but she was right. In fact, her wife was right most of the time. She lazily flicked her wrist under the pelts, and in a glow of bright magic, the white mixture of snow and ice she had been wearing turned into a more flexible and skin-like clothing.

“D’ne.” Muttered Elsa, and just like that, after the casual miracle, she fell back to sleep.

She instinctively shifted as Honeymaren laid loving eyes on her, letting her spoon her with her back turned to her.

The Northuldra happily obliged, and as her eyelids went heavy as well, she felt Elsa’s hand move under she pelts, and she smiled when her fingers touched the blonde’s wrist covered with a leather band; it hadn’t left her since their wedding day.

Well, ‘wedding’ was the word Anna kept using. In Northuldra culture, it was more of a union ceremony. However, Honeymaren liked the Arendellian culture as well. She lifted Elsa’s left wrist to look at the leather bracelet closely, with her own left hand so she could see her ring at the same time. They had chosen to mix their traditions; Elsa had crafted her a tailored ice ring with her magic, and Honeymaren had knitted her a leather bracelet. Many times, her friends from both the tribe and the kingdom had underlined how this exchange perfectly represented their now iconic couple.

She had loved the way Elsa had reacted tearfully when she had learned that Northuldra symbolized their marital union with handfasting, tying hands together to show their engagement. When she learned that it was a literal knot to prove their link in any meaning of the term, and that the two members of the couple had to wear it for the whole day of ceremony and never break it, she was already excited and picking up leather colors.

The brunette smiled at the memory, and delicately put her hand back to where it was, next to Elsa’s face on the pillow, where she liked to place them.

Honeymaren kissed her neck one more time, then closed her eyes.

She frowned as she suddenly heard a munching sound, and lifted her head to look at the bottom of the bed, then to the entrance of the hut. Near the door, Elsa had discarded her ice sandals, and was too tired to remember to melt them. A mischievous salamander had grasped that rare opportunity and was happily chewing on the ice loops and ornaments.

“Bruni!” Scolded the Northuldra in a whisper.

The Fire Spirit popped some sparks in surprise as he saw that he was busted, and widened his eyes when he saw Honeymaren’s deep hazelnut ones staring at him in the dimmed light. With a little snarl, he took one of the sandals in his teeth and walked backwards off the hut with the magic shoe in his mouth, taking his snack with him outside.

Honeymaren puffed and shook her head. She let her head fall in the pillows next to Elsa, and curled against her. The gluttony salamander surely would come back once she falls asleep to steal the second shoe. It didn’t matter, she thought as she cuddled with a smile. Elsa would make new ones in the morning anyway.

=======

When Elsa woke up, Honeymaren wasn’t next to her. She patted the empty pelts, blinking tired eyes, then once she saw that her wife was definitely not there, she let her hand slide along the furs, like she could still feel her energy under her fingers.

She sat up and looked at the empty space with a quiet sigh, then around the room. She pouted when she saw no trace of her.

She saw by the light passing through the wood that at least half of the morning had passed already, and she understood that she had been even more tired than she thought. She stood up, then stirred and stretched, and walked to the toilet set in a corner of the hut to wash her face. In a spin of ice and snow, she then crafted herself a simple deep blue outfit, slightly reaching purple colors, and it was similar to her Fifth Spirit gear, minus the light ice armor pieces and double train. She couldn’t find her sandals, but just shrugged and crafted new ones. She opened the door of their hut and enjoyed the unique air of the Forest as it caressed her face and invaded her mind. Gods, she thought, this would never get old.

Elsa walked for a few seconds in the camp until something caught her eye.

“Kristoff?” She frowned when she noticed the blond hair and beard shining in the morning light on someone who was talking with a few Northuldra.

Her frown turned into a grin when he turned and she saw that indeed, it was him.

“Hi, Elsa!”

“Hi!”

They hugged warmly as a greeting, and she smiled.

“What are you doing here? I like the impromptu visits, but I’m curious.”

“I had a delivery for Leaifa. From the gem cutter. His assistant broke his leg and he had to delay the delivery, which I heard about when I passed by the shop yesterday. I suggested my help.”

Elsa puffed.

“Don’t you have King duties to attend to?” She smirked, teasing him.

He knew she was, so he simply shrugged. “I like a break sometimes. And I actually needed to go up North to check on the ice harvesters post, so it was on my way.”

Elsa then registered what he had said. “Wait, you went to the gem cutter store? Ohhh, so you found an idea to celebrate your 10-year anniversary with Anna.”

The blond man blushed. How did he let something so important slip his tongue not even a full minute after meeting her?

“Please don’t tell her.”

“Of course I won’t.” Eye rolled Elsa. “I know what a surprise is. Don’t tell me what jewel it is, I want the surprise too. She’s gonna love it.”

“You don’t even know what it is.”

“I just know she’s gonna love it, because it comes from you.” Smiled Elsa.

Kristoff smiled back, but soon Elsa was distracted, and she looked behind him and turned on herself to stare at the whole camp.

“Have you seen Honeymaren?”

The King bent his head. “For someone who lived reclusively for a good part of her life, and is the most introverted person I know, I’m surprised that you can’t serenely wake up without her by your side.”

Elsa held her arm, looking a bit nervous, and he knew he hit home. He pointed at a random spot.

“She’s at the center of the camp, preparing breakfast for everyone.”

The Snow Queen lifted a sarcastic eyebrow.

“That’s a really bad lie.”

“Why?”

“Well, first, it’s way past time for a breakfast. Second, it’s not even Honeymaren’s turn to make breakfast. And even if it were, it doesn’t smell as nice as the following hours after she cooked.”

Kristoff was stunned. “Waow, you two really are married.”

Elsa shrugged playfully. “You know the deal.”

Her face then suddenly turned serious. “Now tell me where she is, Kristoff.”

She sounded a bit desperate behind that scold. He sighed. “Fine. She’s in the glade, in that direction, down the hill. She wanted to pick flowers to craft you a flower crown. Happy? Good, now I ruined her surprise.”

“Thank you!” She chirped happily.

The blond man shook his head as he saw her go.

=======

“There’s no need to keep picking the flowers.” Smirked Elsa. “I know what you’re planning to do.”

Honeymaren startled at her presence, her hand going over her heart at her sudden voice coming from the top of the hill. She gave her a stare, then resumed her actions with a sigh.

“If you don’t want it, I can give those beautiful purple windflowers to another woman of the tribe.”

Elsa scoffed at her fake threat and approached. “I want it. Please keep going.”

Honeymaren wasn’t planning on stopping anyway, and well intended to give her wife a flower crown with purples and blues that seemed to be tailor made colors for her.

“How did you know I was there?” Frowned Honeymaren, though that frown was also due to focus as she tied the stems together.

“Kristoff told me. He kind of ruined the surprise.”

“He ruined the surprise or… You begged him to tell you?”

Elsa blushed. “Second one.”

She gulped and remained silent.

“You got that feeling of loss again when you woke up, uh?” Guessed Honeymaren. “Snømus, I’ll never leave you. I’ll forever be by your side. We’re married, remember? That’s quite literally in the contract.”

Elsa smiled. “Yeah. But you know me.”

“I surely do. Well, now I know that mornings isn’t the best time to make surprises. Noted.”

“I love your gift idea, though. It’s really nice. And it smells nice as well.”

She sat down next to her to sniff through the other fresh flowers that Honeymaren had picked and put in a basket, and could be of use in the village.

The Northuldra smiled at her close presence. “And you know what else smells nice?”

“Hmm?”

“You in the morning.”

She leaned for a kiss, which Elsa returned in a smile.

“I didn’t even bathe yet.” Giggled the blonde.

“Oh, don’t worry, you don’t smell terrible. Ahtohallan certainly gifted you that eternal scent of licorice mint along with the package.”

Elsa eye rolled with a smile and they kissed again. They next spent some time in silence, Honeymaren neatly crafting the flower crown, and Elsa observing tenderly.

“There. Bend your head.”

Honeymaren put the flower crown in the platinum blonde hair that drove her crazy in love, and admired how they looked almost yellow in the beaming sunlight. Elsa gave her interrogative azure blue irises.

“So?”

The brunette’s cheeks filled with admiration.

“You’re gorgeous. It suits you well.”

“Thank you. You’re the one who picked up the flowers.”

“I know exactly which colors enlighten your face the best, I have to admit.” Said Honeymaren.

Elsa smiled. “You know, it’s a bit unfair that you don’t have one too.”

She flicked her wrist. “I’ll recreate the same color tones.”

Honeymaren chuckled happily as she felt something weight in her hair, as well as heard some ice crafting crunches in her ears.

“How do I look?” She smiled when Elsa was done, knowing that she had just made a magic ice flower crown for her to match the real one.

“Breathtakingly beautiful. Like every day.”

“Okay, I was about to call you show-off, but ‘flirt’ is replacing it now.”

Said Honeymaren, and Elsa smirked.

“Hey, want to come with me later to move the herd of reindeers to a new grazing?”

“Sure. I’ll just have to warn Nokk first. You know how whiny they can get when they learn that I rode a reindeer without telling them.”

Honeymaren laughed. “I couldn’t tell who’s the most dramatic Spirit with you two in the group.”

Elsa shook her head.

“Don’t shake your head to hard, you’re gonna make it fall!” Complained Honeymaren, adjusting the crown on her head.

“Then don’t say stuff that make me shake my head.” Teased Elsa.

She melted in the caring touch and eyes Honeymaren had as she kept focusing on the flower crown. That deep concern reminded her of the day before.

“Sorry for falling asleep like that yesterday.” Mumbled the blonde.

“Never apologize for it, love. You’re actually adorable when you’re drowsy.”

Elsa nudged her lovingly.

“What? It’s true.” Smiled Honeymaren. “There’s just one thing I’m sad about. You didn’t get to sing a lullaby to me.”

“I’m not gonna sing a lullaby to you every night.” Eye rolled Elsa.

“Sure you will. You have a very beautiful voice. I want it to fill all of my dreams. I swear, sometimes I wonder if your voice isn’t magical as well.”

The blonde smiled. “It’s funny, Isak said the same thing the other day when I sang him a lullaby to sleep. You really think I have a beautiful voice?”

“Elsa. Seriously?”

The Snow Queen thought for a moment. Then she remembered how all the animals in the Forest loved to listen when she sang to the Earth Giants. One day, she would have sworn that every noise of the woods had stopped.

“...Maybe that it’s true, for how many times I received the compliment.”

“Of course it is. If a five year old boy can tell you, then it’s true.”

“Isak doesn’t really count. I’m his aunt, and he pretty much worship me, just like Eydis did when she was his age.”

Honeymaren cuddled closer, nudging her nose with hers. “And don’t I count? I also worship you, with all the more fervor.”

The blonde grinned with a blush. “Okay, I suppose that it is true then.”

They kissed, softly, then deeply, until they actually remembered they were humans and supposed to inhale oxygen. They gasped in giggles, and touched their foreheads together, resting in this position.

“I love this field.”

“Hmm-hmm.” Smiled Honeymaren, closing her eyes like her, soothed by the vibration of her voice through her head.

“It’s away from everything. Like we are cut from the rest of the world. We don’t even hear the village or the waterfall nor the river from here.”

“I know. That’s why you like it so much. Maybe that’s why those flowers are so beautiful. They grow in a quiet place.”

They opened their eyes to look at the flora surrounding them. Elsa blinked. “Wait, was that a figure of speech? Did you refer to the flowers only, or…?”

Honeymaren grinned. “It’s open to interpretation.”

“You hopeless romantic brat.” Chuckled Elsa.

“You’re the one who heard a figure of speech, you bookworm.”

Elsa lifted an eyebrow, and waved a finger. The ice hoop of Honeymaren’s flower crown got smaller, and teasingly squeezed her head.

“Aow! Hey!”

The blonde giggled and put it back to normal. “Watch your words.”

“Alright, alright.” Smirked Honeymaren. She then kept her stare. “Keep cool.”

A silence passed, and the brunette insistently pointed at her magical flower crown made of ice. “Get it?”

Elsa would have loved to eye roll and dismiss her joke, but she couldn’t help but smile. Her wife rarely made puns, so she appreciated them deeply. She sighed for the effect.

“Hanging out with Anna doesn’t make your humor any better.”

“I get my bad puns skill from my sibling”, laughed the woman. “Ryder is impossible.”

“He should honestly have a contest against Anna. I wonder who would win. I mean, who would be the worst.”

They laughed openly in the glade.

“You know, I also get that bad humor from you.”

“Me?” Said Elsa, her eyebrows lifting.

“Don’t act surprised, dorky snømus. You have the nerdiest humor.”

“You laugh at my jokes!” Remarked Elsa, feeling a bit betrayed.

“Because we’re married and I respect you. That doesn’t mean they’re good.”

Elsa huffed. “So it’s out of pity?”

“More out of politeness.” Grinned Honeymaren.

The blonde crossed her arms and pouted. She didn’t for long, however, for the brunette laughed and bent to her to kiss her with pushing lips. She made her fall back in the grass, then circled her face and body with her hands and forearms, hovering over her, which was a posture that turned Elsa completely weak and could make her give in to anything. Honeymaren obviously knew it and noticed her smiling blush.

“It’s out of politeness because I don’t always understand them.” Continued the Northuldra.

“That means they’re too advanced for you”, teased the blonde.

“Well, ouch. Though who on Earth can understand a joke about Orion’s pants?”

“That’s because it’s a belt! Orion’s belt!”

Honeymaren shook her head. “Who can make the link between greek mythology, clothing and a freaking constellation, sweetie?”

Elsa pouted. “I thought it was obvious.”

The Northuldra leader kissed her on the forehead. “For your brilliant brain. Not mine.”

The blonde gave her a bashful smile. She then lifted her head to capture her lover’s lips, then when Honeymaren had her eyes closed, smirked and rolled on the side, knocking over her arm, and the brunette lost her balance. Elsa giggled as she fell on the grass.

“You little minx…” She muttered with a smile.

“Come on, we have to go.” Smiled her wife, standing up and checking on her crown.

She offered a hand to her wife so she could stand up too, and Honeymaren was about to tug her so she could fall next to her. Nevertheless, the blonde was clever, and she infused a warning cold in her hand as a ‘don’t you dare’ dismissing sign.

They laughed together and walked hand in hand to the Sami village, Honeymaren’s other hand swinging a basket full to the trim.

Halfway there, they almost bumped in Kristoff, who was visibly looking for them.

“Kristoff! I’m not thanking you for betraying our secret.” Reproached Honeymaren teasingly.

“He can’t resist my pressure.” Smiled Elsa.

Their smiles vanished when it was clear, by his pale face, that Kristoff wasn’t in the mood for jokes.

“Something very bad happened.”

“What?” Panicked Honeymaren.

“What happened?” Asked Elsa on the same tone.

Then some details that had escaped them until now became striking; Kristoff’s cheek was scratched with a bright red cut, his coat was open, and his forehead covered with sweat and tree dust.

“Kristoff, what happened?” Frowned Honeymaren.

“You didn’t hear us calling for help.” Guessed Kristoff.

“No.” Said the couple in one voice, and in this word, the man understood that they were also reproaching him to still not say what on Earth had put him in such a state and why he still wasn’t leading the way to run back to the camp.

Which they suddenly all did, without confer even, for how obvious it was to do this next. They followed Kristoff, adrenaline and panic fueling their jog as they crossed the woods to their beloved camp.

“We were under attack.” Simply said the King, under breath, as they finally reached the edge of the village.

The hill they had stopped on allowed to have a view of the Sami camp below, and it offered the two women a sight that brought their breaths and hearts to a halt.

Whatever had attacked the Northuldra had done it strategically, it was the first observation that one could make. Whoever was behind this was human without a doubt. The Northuldra had sadly been attacked by predators numerous times in their existence, even since Elsa lived there, but it always had a messy organization. Here, it was so orchestrated that it ripped them apart. Huts had been destroyed, crafting tables broken, personal belongings were sprayed everywhere and the paddock had been put down.

It was a warning. A sinister and clever warning.

But something else hit Elsa to her very core; magic. There was magic in the air, undoubtedly, floating around as the rest after its use.

“Magic. The attack was magical.” She muttered, struggling to say words with her state.

Honeymaren suddenly disappeared from her side, and hurried to the people, dropping the basket of flowers that she had been holding. Elsa turned to the King in confusion.

“Kristoff, why didn’t you call the Spirits? Anna taught you how to do the call. Why didn’t you--”

“It didn’t work. Many of us tried. Unsuccessfully. So we resumed to fighting, figuring out it was the only solution.”

Elsa got her breath taken from her again, and she could only stare at the scene with terrorized eyes.

Honeymaren was running from one Sami to the other, checking on them, asking what happened, getting news from everyone, making a list of who was injured… Or worse.

She was running around frantically, and two things broke Elsa’s heart: the mood that had switched from Honeymaren’s flirty teasing and happy face to the utterly panicked she had now, and the visual fact that her ice flower crown had fallen back in her movements, now stuck in the back of her hair. Elsa gulped and immediately waved her hand to make the crown disappear in a swirl of snowflakes, and Honeymaren didn’t even notice, too busy running around and helping with the bodies.

Elsa reached up to her crown, and took it off. She stared at it with tearful eyes, and many emotions passed through her as she held the crown, and threw aside.

The flowers fell among a pile of broken wood and dirtied furs and cloths, the remaining of what had once been a hut and had been destroyed like half of the village.

She ran to join her wife, who was next to Ryder.

“How can I help?”

Honeymaren gestured at the Northuldra they were helping lift on a stretcher.

“We have to bring him to the healer. He broke his knee when a tree fell on his hut.”

Elsa recognized the Northuldra named Lavhas despite the dirt on his face and the scrunched eyebrows he had at the pain, clenching his jaw to not scream. She got struck by the detail that he lived at the other end of the village. The attack had been that wide?

“Elsa!” Called Honeymaren, taking her out of her thoughts.

“Sorry. On the count of three. One, two, three!”

With the help of Honeymaren, Ryder and another Northuldra, they placed Lavhas on the stretcher, and brought him to the healer’s hut.

Thankfully, this one had been only partially destroyed. However, it was getting filled with more and more patients.

“We can use my hut as a secondary station. I live alone, I have plenty of space.” Suggested Gaddja, a woman who lived two huts away from Honeymaren and Elsa’s.

As they all encouraged this idea, Elsa inhaled in a gasp and scoped the place, searching for their hut. It was intact, thanks gods, just like the ones surrounding it. It was one of the rare spots of the camp that hadn’t been touched.

She let out a sigh. Suddenly, a scream echoed in the woods, and they all twirled around from the entrance of the medical hut. In fact, Honeymaren almost slapped Elsa in the face with her braid, but none of them cared.

Someone was kneeling next to two unconscious bodies in the middle of the mess, and all eyes were on them, for they had just been discovered under a pile of heavy wood that several of the strongest Northuldra were lifting up and clearing.

“Domma! Simma!” Cried the grieving woman, and she burst into tears as she collapsed next to the two corpses.

Honeymaren ran to them, and Elsa followed. When they saw the man and the boy that had been crushed to death, Elsa’s heart leaped in her chest before crumbling, and Honeymaren clasped a hand on her mouth to hide a screaming from her side. Both women couldn’t help but kneel, one more heavily than the other.

Honeymaren rubbed her hand over her mouth, her jaw trembling. What kind of loathsome and dishonored person would do such a thing? Her heart cried the loss of two of the people of her tribe, and her eyes trembled at the killing of a father and his son.

She clenched her fist in the dirt to calm her trembling hand, then raised it to close their eyes that had been forever fixed in a stunned expression. The Northuldra leader then comforted the mourning woman with an embrace. After a few minutes, the woman, who Elsa knew was one of the most fierce of the tribe, stood up, and went to get two pelts to cover the bodies.

Honeymaren stayed on the ground, falling from her kneeled position to drop on her backside.

Elsa came closer to her and passed a hand along her back to calm her down.

“I don’t understand… Why didn’t the Spirits do anything?” Asked Honeymaren.

That was a really good question, in fact one of the first Elsa had asked herself. Even if they couldn’t be called for some reason, they had to come and help. Gale always was floating around and could have alarmed the others. She turned to her wife to answer that she didn’t know, when something hit her with a delay; the tone Honeymaren had used to ask that question. Reproach. Was she blaming her directly? Like it was her fault?

“Honey…”

“Why didn’t they do anything?” She hissed, pain and anger weighing on her heart.

Elsa immediately crouched to be next to her, passing a hand on her shoulder.

She stared at the dead child the other Northuldra were taking care of, and her soul trembled.

“Honey, I don’t know. I sincerely don’t know.”

The brunette clenched her fists in the dirt again.

“Call them.”

“I…”

“Call them.” Ordered the leader, planting her hazelnut eyes in hers. In the light of day, they appeared orange like amber, and Elsa could almost see fire in it. “I’m in no condition to do the call.”

Elsa gulped and nodded. It was certainly difficult to sing the Spirits call with a tightened throat like she had at the moment.

The Snow Queen however didn’t have to sing a single note; she was mentally connected to the other Spirits. She closed her eyes and focused.

Something odd happened. Something odd that hadn’t happened to her in a whole decade. She could feel the four Spirits’ energies and presence, but they didn’t answer back. With a frown, and still closed eyes, she insisted on her mental call, trying to understand.

Honeymaren noticed the wrinkle on her wife’s face, and calmed down her nerves when she saw that something was wrong on the Spirits side as well.

“I don’t get it...” Muttered Elsa.

“What?” Inquired the Northuldra leader, her anger towards the Spirits now replaced by worry.

“They… I can feel their emotion, but… They all feel shame. Deep, deep shame.

Honeymaren frowned. “Please explain.”

Elsa was a bit happy to see that her tone had changed; the commander in her wife had pushed her anger aside to analyze the situation properly.

“They... “ Elsa closed her eyes again, focusing on what her fellows were expressing. “They feel ashamed because they couldn’t help.”

“How come?” Wondered Honeymaren.

Pretty much nothing could stop the Spirits, that was common knowledge.

“They can’t touch them. They couldn’t touch them during the fight.”

“Them?” Repeated Honeymaren. “Who’s them?”

Elsa was frustrated just as much than her. “I don’t know, Honeymaren! I’m translating as I go! I can’t tell!”

“The monsters.”

They jumped at Kristoff’s voice behind them. He had followed the conversation, also craving for answers from the Spirits for their absence.

“Monsters?” Shivered Elsa.

“They were actual creatures. I’m not making an exaggeration. They were entirely black, menacing, with a humanoid profile but horrible features. They were large, so large. Larger than Aillun. And taller than most of us. Taller than me, even.”

He made short sentences, but yet had retrieved a normal breathing. Elsa inspected his face. Whatever those beasts were, they had haunted him. And not many things could frighten her brother-in-law. She forced herself to have a gentle voice despite the devastating situation.

“Kristoff… Do you want me to have a look at your cut?”

“If you want. It wasn’t made by the creatures, though.” He assured. “I was trying to hurt one of them with Nilan, and we did a scissor attack, but the creature suddenly turned small and Nilan cut me on the cheek with his spear. He apologized plenty afterwards, but it wasn’t his fault. Actually, if it wasn’t for my reflexes, I would be blind right now. So kudos to that guy.”

He trembled, and Elsa retracted the hand she was about to hover around his injury. “No, it’s not you.” He smiled sadly, assuring it wasn’t due to Elsa’s cold touch. “I just remembered the way it reformed.”

“They can reform?” Gasped Honeymaren, turning from the corpse she had been staring at to the King again.

“Yes, and change their shapes. They are made of a sort of thick black ink. None of us managed to hurt them, they are not physically impacted by our attacks. It’s just like trying to kill smoke. Or goo. Or gelatin. Or... ”

He shivered again, and Honeymaren put a warm hand on his shoulder to settle him.

Elsa sighed in despair. “That makes them impossible to fight…”

And that’s only at this instant that something blatant occurred to her. “Wait, how did you eventually got rid of them if you can’t hurt them?”

“We didn’t. I was about to come get you, and they fled right when you arrive.”

The two women blinked. Before Elsa even finished registering what that possibly understated, Honeymaren was up on her feet, and looked all around her at her people.

“Nothing will harm you as long as we’re here. I swear by it. We’ll make watch turns. I take the first one.”

The Northuldra nodded, smiling sadly. Elsa blinked at her wife’s statement, which wasn’t the direction she thought she would react, then her heart filled with love and pride. Damn, did she love this woman.

The leader smiled to Kristoff as she stood, and walked closer to check the King’s state.

“Is he okay?”

“It’s really just a scratch. A deep one, but it’s superficial. You’ll have a pretty scar for months to talk about.” Smirked the Snow Queen, soothing his pain with a fresh spray.

Elsa then startled.

“What?” Startled Kristoff too, concerned for his cheek.

But Honeymaren knew that facial expression. “The Spirits.”

“They’re calling to me.”

Elsa closed her eyes and focused, in a way to answer. They all were expressing their deepest sorry about what had happened, to which Elsa replied with a sincere forgiveness from her heart, but at the sole condition that they helped her understand why they didn’t help the Northuldra for the first time in their existence.

The four Spirits then united to explain in a concert of emotions.

Elsa frowned at the last feeling she received from them, and that she had to translate in words to Honeymaren and Kristoff. She was a bit confused by the appellation, but nodded anyway to thank them. She opened her eyes.

“They are able to tell me why they couldn’t participate to the fight.”

The two humans were attentive. “So?”

“Dark magic. The creatures… The beings they couldn’t interact with… They are made of dark magic.”

=======

The death ceremonies that followed to mourn the departure of a father and his son were just as heartbreaking on Elsa’s point of view than to see the number of Northuldra that got injured. Honeymaren and her could have helped, but they didn’t. Of course, despite blaming herself in most of situations, Elsa still knew when she actually couldn’t do much; here, it simply was because they were away the moment it happened.

As the wife of the tribe leader, she however felt deep frustration; that joyful behavior in the flower field had cost a great price to the camp. She said that this glade was beautiful, well she knew already that there was no way now that she could ever stand there again without feeling shame.

In that instant, her emotion matched the other Spirits, and she could feel their sad harmony in her soul.

The ceremonies had ended, and several hours had passed where everyone checked on everyone’s state and healed what hadn’t been healed, including both psychological and physical pain. Kristoff had left now, and some Northuldra were already building new huts, like the tradition encouraged to do. Better drown sorrow in actions.

Honeymaren and her were now walking away from the river where they had sent the two corpses float then lit them with a blast of flaming arrows, and the boats were still gleaming in the horizon.

“They knew.”

Elsa turned to her wife’s words, that had drilled the silence. They were filled with rage, and accentuated with her sadness and helplessness.

“The person who did that. They knew you were away, so they could attack.”

Elsa was about to reply she was thinking the same thing, then she noticed the nuance. “...Me?”

Honeymaren turned to her. “If you had been there, you would have been able to stop them.”

“I… I don’t know, Honey. Those creatures, whatever they are, they seem powerful and fearless. And if they’re made of dark magic, there also is no way for me to interact with them, that apparently is a Spirit rule.”

“You also are powerful and fearless.”

Elsa frowned. She was in no mind for compliments. Or was Honeymaren simply desperate? “Did you not listen to the last part of what I said? I can’t interact with them. I didn’t even know dark magic existed before this very day.”

“The Spirits can’t, I’ll admit it, but maybe it’s not the same for the Bridge. You’re the Fifth Spirit, Elsa. Surely you can do something.”

Now that sounded desperate.

“Honey… I wish I could. Sincerely. But…”

The brunette’s hazelnut eyes saddened with betrayal. She had failed her people, and now her wife told her that she gave up hope.

Surprisingly, not because the situation didn’t lead to it but because Honeymaren rarely did, she collapsed into tears, and turned to Elsa to hug her tight. The blonde was shocked, but instantly wrapped her arms around her, and held her close as she rubbed her back.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. The danger is gone.”

“I couldn’t... I couldn’t protect them…” Hiccuped Honeymaren on her shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably.

Elsa clenched her eyes shut at the acknowledgement that the leader had bottled up her emotions until now, and they ended up exploding.

“Shh… You simply weren’t there. As I did. Whoever bastard did that… They’re gonna pay.”

Honeymaren chuckled wetly in her back. “Language.”

Elsa smiled when she heard the happiness come back. “Sorry, not sorry. Hey, look.”

She parted the hug delicately, and held her wife’s shoulders. Honeymaren quickly rubbed her eyes to make sure that no Northuldra could see her in that state.

“Yes, they purposely attacked in our absence. But you know what that also mean?” Smiled Elsa.

Honeymaren lifted her eyes as she tenderly pushed her brown hair away from her face, and rubbed the tear furrows that remained on her cheeks.

“It means that they’re scared of us. They know we both are a threat to whatever they have planned.”

Honeymaren gulped. She couldn’t help but be objective. “Or that means that they made this a threat to us. And that next time, we’re the target.”

Elsa’s deep blue eyes stared intensely at her.

“Well, we’ll be ready. We’ll be ready, Honey. I swear we will.”

The brunette inhaled longly, retrieving her serious and determined state, then nodded fiercely.

“Oh, we damn will.”

“That’s my wife.” Grinned Elsa.

#tadaaaam #lift the spirit #here we go first chapter of a BIG adventure #CAREFUL THIS ONE IS 9'000 WORDS LONG YOU'VE BEEN WARNED #fun thing is: this fic won't have many chapters but a LOT of words #that's a new format i'm trying out #making every chap like an episode of a show #with cliffhangers and all hehehe #reblog and comment if you like this beginning :D #elsamaren #snow sisters #frozen 2 #post frozen 2 #disney fanfics #frozen #i inspired myself from several text posts of mine in this NOT gonna lie #frohana #ice bros

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