~~{KH/FF} One Shots~~Taking Requests~~

~Airships are Meant to Fly~ ~Vaan x Reader One-shot~

     A girl with [color] eyes walks home after a rather difficult day at work in the Traverse Town Hair Salon. "Xemnas didn't work at all today," she grumbles under her breath, exhaustion and a headache causing her to massage her temples, frustrated. "Would it really kill him to put down the issue of Twilight Town's Weekly Top Fashion Tips? I mean, I know the guy wants to be a fashionista, but really?"

     Walking up the slate-colored paved pathway to her front door, she notices her chic, intricately patterned white and black marble bird bath she got on her birthday is missing, a spot of grass pressed down left to mark the place where the proud stone previously stood. Her eyes flicker automatically to the small one-story beige house just to the left of her own.    

      She runs a hand through her short [color] hair angrily and makes her way to the residence, taking long heated strides, already fed up with situation that never seem to stop happening.

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*Flashback: **The loud, melodious ringing of the doorbell awakens the slumbering boy inside from his sleep. He groans tiredly rubbing his tear-stained grey colored eyes that are turning red and slowly pushes himself off the small couch, an instruction manual on building airships falling off of his lap and tumbling to the dull-carpeted floor with a soft thud. It lands cover-side up next to a sympathy letter inscribed with the name of the infantry leader Captain Basch that's been reread countless times, long before the boy's arrival to Traverse Town the day before.    

     He slowly gets up, steps unsure and wobbly. The doorbell rings again, though this time quieter than before, as if contemplating whether or not the car in the driveway really meant anyone was home.
      He stumbles to the front door calling out, "Wait! Just a minute, please," picking up a nearby shirt laying on the ground by the door and pulling it on over his head to cover his bare chest, ultimately avoiding a possible awkward encounter with the landlord.
     Unlocking the front door and turning the doorknob, he opens the door slowly, the aging hinges letting out a protesting creak. Once fully open, he raises his eyebrows in surprise at the sight of a girl around his age with long [color] hair and pretty [color] eyes standing on his front porch with her hands in her light jacket's pockets, instead of the 40 year old stocky man that is his landlord.

     "Hi!" she greets waving, smiling brightly with shining [color] eyes. Her breath escapes her lips in a white vapor from the icy environment. "I'm [Name] [Surname], your neighbor. I'm just stopping by to welcome you to the neighborhood. I live," she turns 90̊ counter-clockwise and points to the pale blue two-story house to the right of his. "Right there, in case you need anything. Come on over whenever you need something, or if you just want someone to talk to." The boy stands there with his mouth hanging slightly open, entranced by the kind gesture.

     [Name] lets out a nervous laugh, but the warm smile never lives her face. She rubs her arms and shivers slightly. "Are you okay? You know, I've seen a couple movies before, and this is usually where the freezing girl is either invited inside out of the cold, or the mysterious neighbor introduces himself. So tell me mysterious neighbor, which one will it be?" He clears his throat and quickly steps aside, ushering her into the untidy living room. "Oh, uh, I'm Vaan. Vaan... Ratsbane. Why don't you come inside? I-I'm sorry for the mess. I didn't expect to have any company, Miss [Surname]." She giggles at this. "No need for formalities. Please just call me [Name]. Oh, and don't worry about the mess. Believe it or not, I've seen much, much worse at my friend Yuffie's house. This place doesn't seem to have shurikens on the floor or stuck in the walls, so you're already beating her in house cleanliness and overall safety," She says, grinning up at the boy. He chuckles in response, walking over to sit on the three person dark green couch in the corner of the room where he had been sleeping not five minutes before.