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erensproudsimp · 3 years

Text

Chef D'œuvre

Jean kirstein x Reader

⚠ Sexual Content Ahead ⚠

Content Warnings:Fluff, Sex on a canvas, established relationship, teasing Jean hehe, dirty talk, ultimate smut + this isn't proofread

Summary: Restraining Jean from touching you the whole day, a candle light dinner in the evening leading to sex on a canvas? The idea of Jean as an artist is just so hot.

Word count:4.1k

Fanart is by artworkbyzuli on insta

Cross-posted on ao3

Colorful tainted tiles, the smell of fresh paint hovering in the air, early hours of sunshine filtering from the beige curtains to fall on his face highlighting his features as his eyes concentrated on the canvas. Blanc frames waiting to be hued with a meaning or not. Teeth clenching, his jawline apparent, he looked like a Greek God, his brush being his weapon, almost out of this world. Shirt glued on his body like a second skin layer bringing out his honed muscled body, Jean truly was a work of art spreading his magnificence on cloth and paper. Standing by the door frame in his shirt two times bigger than your figure, you admired your boyfriend, his back facing you, drowned in his own world of aesthetic in his studio.

Tiptoeing to him, you wrapped your arms around his torso, your cheek pressed on his back catching him off-guard. You took a quick whiff of him. Sandalwood with a faint citrus.

"Woah there, good morning baby, did you have a good night sleep?" Jean's hoarse voice almost made your legs lose their balance. His free hand caressing your arms, you hummed as a simple yes still intoxicated by his scent.

"I'm going to go prepare breakfast, I'll call for you when I'm done." Jean gave you a quick forehead kiss before you left the room.

Cracking some eggs in the pan, you connected your phone to the speaker in the house to play some music while you proceeded to put fruits in the blender to make smoothies. Swaying your body to the music at the same time lip-syncing to the words, you spread butter on slices of bread unaware of Jean's presence behind you. The man crossed his arms, leaning on the wall he admired your actions which were nothing but alluring to him.

What made it even more hot to him was the fact that you were wearing his shirt. At first in the studio, he didn't realise but now that he noticed, he couldn't help but smirk to himself. He took in the way his shirt was practically floating on you, the flashbacks of last night suddenly raced through his mind. The way you were moaning his name, grabbing the sheets tightly as you let him take control of you made him take a deep breath before he approached you.

Now it was his turn to return you the hug from earlier. Surprised by him, he didn't leave you a second to react to his abrupt act of affection, he moved your hair to the side to plant a kiss on your neck making you shiver. His arms tightened around you just as his kisses went deeper all through your neck.

"y/n," his hot breath unsteady.

"Je-Jean, the eggs are gonna burn," you breathed.

"The only thing burning right now is my urge to fuck you right on this counter," Jean whispered in your ear almost making you lose your thinking pattern.

"Jean, I'm serious," you tried to wingle from his grasp to save your omelettes and placed them on two separate plates.

Jean looked at you disappointedly as though a puppy who had just lost its toy.

"Aww don't look at me like that, gimme a kiss, come on," you opened your arms, encouraging him to come to you.

Gladly he did and locked his lips in an instant.

"Jump," Jean demanded in between the makeout and you, of course, obeyed.

Your legs around his hips, sloppy lips fighting for dominance, Jean pressed your ass on the kitchen island. His arms snaking up and down your thighs, giving them a light squeeze here and there.

"Your legs are pretty, but they would be prettier on my shoulders hmm," his voice laced with a passion so hot like molten lava.

Your insides now ignited with flame, you pushed your hips into his by closing in your legs wrapped around him. Hard. Mischievousness coursed through your mind as you wanted to tease him for making you flushed.

"Want my legs over you? well catch them if you can," with that said, you jumped off the kitchen island freeing yourself from his clutches to run away from him.

"Hey! Get back here! I'm not done with you! " Jean called after you, laughing as he chased you down the corridors. A soft genuine laugh emitting from him when you threw pillows from the sofas at him to halt his movements only for him to catch the items and throw it back at you like a snowball fight.

A grin plastered on your face when you finally got tired of the running and collapsed on the floor with Jean kneeling beside you equally euphoric. The happiness was mainly because he felt so much at peace seeing your smile.

"Got ya," he breathed from exhaustion, encircling his arms around your waist and pulling you close so that he could rest his chin on your shoulder.

"You're so warm," Jean nuzzled his nose into your neck.

"Speaking of warmth, our food's getting cold in the kitchen, hurry up we need to eat," you mentioned.

"The only thing I want to eat right now is you-" you cut him off with your index finger pressed on his soft lips.

"Jean, I swear to god, let's go," you pushed him from back because he was trying to grab your ass, however, you receded.

"Your hands were so small on my back, but I'd prefer them jerking my dic-" again you shut him up by shoving toast bread in his mouth to save you from further embarrassment.

"Y/n baby, I need you so bad right now," he said swallowing that bread hard as your eyes widen.

From the look in his eyes, you could tell that this man was sexually frustrated, certainly because of your actions earlier but you didn't expect him to be so thirsty.

For a brief moment, a thought came up to you, basically telling you to refuse his current wishes to make him further agitated just so that you ravish the feeling of him taking the pent-up anger out harder on you later. Perfect plan, you internally agreed to yourself.

"Oh you need me badly? How about you show me that at night, okay?"a light smirk stretching the corner of your mouth.

" Y/n, I need you now, like right now, I can't wait till night or anything," Jean whined. How cute.

"Aww, you're that desperate baby? You can't hold yourself back? I thought you were tougher than this,"you cooed.

" Y/n, I can see damn well what you're trying to do, so stop messing with me please, "Jean reached out to grab your face only for you to pull back. Not going to lie that did hurt you when you saw the disappointed look on his face, yet, oddly that made you feel and realise the control you had over him and goddamn this felt good.

"Okay then, how about a little bit of challenge for you? If you manage to keep your hands off me the entire day and that includes any sort of contact, I'll make a surprise for you tonight as a reward. And if you lose then no sex for you until the next day baby. Deal?"

"Now that's going to be hard as hell but your surprises never fail to entertain me so deal."

"That was quick of you," you commented shaking his hand as a way of signing the contract.

"I just know that you're going to do something remarkable that will blow my mind so I'm simply looking forward to it."

His hopes were ridiculously high for the reward and luckily you already had something in mind for tonight.

After breakfast, Jean wasted no time to rush into his studio to keep you out of his sight. That was going to be a little too easy for him to win in this way. Not that you didn't want him to win, you couldn't help but want to push him to his limits. While you were scavenging your mind for the perfect way to catch him off guard, you heard a knock at the door. Outside was the postman with a package which seemed to be a delivery of one of the various things you kept buying online.

Taking the parcel inside, you opened it to find something that made you smiled evilly. It was a black transparent two pieces lingerie with lace straps. Not a second was wasted for you to change into that. To hide your plans, you wore a bathrobe and tiptoed to the studio.

Inside, Jean clearly concentrated on drawing when you creaked open the door, his attention now on you.

"Y/n why are you wearing a bathrobe in the middle of the da- oh-"

Right at that moment, you removed the robe letting it fall to your feet to unveil the marvel that was hidden inside of it.

Jean's breath hitched in his throat.

"You have no idea how badly I want to scream right now,"his pencil falling out of his hand, he covered his face with his hand and took a step back from you. He rubbed his temples as he inhaled deeply.

"Fuck y/n, why are you doing this to me?"he looked at you from up to down as though he was eating you up with his eyes, capturing every inch of what he's seeing and burning it into his memory.

"Do you like what you see?" your hands on your hips as you leaned on the wall.

"You have no idea."

You chucked and approached him slowly.

"If only I could touch you right now, you have no idea of what I'd do to you," Jean put his hands into the pockets of his pants to try to contain himself from not jumping on you like a hungry wolf who hasn't eaten in weeks.

Clacking your black heels on the cold tiles, your hands meticulously moving on your hips, you diminished the distance between you two. One foot difference. Jean licked his teeth from inside closed mouth and opened it slightly to let out hot breath, sustaining the proximity but you could see the intensity in his eyes.

"I can't stop staring, please y/n, "

"Where's the fun in that? I wanted to see you all hopeless for me and you're doing a pretty good job resisting," your finger pointing at his growing bulge.

Blowing air from his mouth, his hands on his hips, he walked to and fro.

"Is this the surprise you were telling me about in the morning?"

"Of course not, the surprise is bigger than this. I just wanted to give you a little sneak peak thought since I love you so much and don't want to kill you with a heart attack," you giggled twirling a strand of your hair. His eyes went big.

"If that's the case, you better prepare yourself for tonight because you seriously don't know what I'm going to do to you," Jean licked his lips.

"Can't wait," you blew him a kiss while you strolled out of the room, his eyes still fixated on the lingerie.

Not only did what happened turned you on, but it also motivated you to start the preparations for Jean to wreck you till you couldn't walk. Changing into pajamas for comfort, you took out scented candles of your preference and placed them on the nightstands and dressing table in the bedroom.

Jean's POV

'What the hell was y/n even thinking pulling that move on me? '

Sighing deeply I looked at my boner.

"Now what am I going to do of you? Jerk off to the memory of y/n in that black lingerie?"

On second thought, that doesn't sound bad, except for the fact that he was in an art studio.

Gosh, was he not turned when he first saw you in that. The way the cloth surrounded your soft breasts, decorating them to be perhaps the most flawless thing he'd ever seen or the way your stance screamed if confidence. He couldn't decide which of them were hotter.

The little ribbons on the strap did nothing but make you more erotic. How did you even manage to look that good, is a mystery that he will never discover.

"I really got the best of the best for me huh," Jean smiled to himself.

His art failed in front of you. Null and void. In his eyes you were the definition of what a beauty goddess was, hence proving that beauty indeed lied in the eyes of the beholder. Despite your imperfections which nonetheless still made you impeccable, Jean always attempted in copying your sublimity yet in vain.

Without a doubt, you were the best Muse he's ever had in his life. One day hoping that he would finally do you justice and be able to recreate his image of you in his mind on cloth, Jean kept trying albeit failing each time. However, he would absolutely never give up.

Collecting himself from the recent impact, he picked up his pencil from the ground and as much as he wanted to concentrate on his drawing of you, he couldn't prevent himself from picturing you from back then. You were beyond gorgeous. Maybe, that exactly was the inspiration he needed.

"I need to take a bath," Jean said to himself. Luckily there were two bathrooms in the house, as he wouldn't want to interrupt you while you were busy making whatever surprise.

To be honest, Jean was as impatient as you and full on ready to be taken by surprise by you.

Your POV

"Okay I've cleaned the room spotless, scented it, changed the sheets of the bed, took out towels and now time to bring the big thing,"you checked off everything on your mentally made-up list before you could continue.

Rushing to the wardrobe, you took out the art supplies required for the sex painting. Canva isn't the comfiest option for sex but you knew that it will all be worth the work at the end.

You honestly couldn't wait to see Jean's reaction to this.

Since the mattress can get a little colorful, you didn't want to run the risk of ruining the bedding either, you rather placed the sheet of canva on the carpeted floor that was still easy to the body. Laying down a cloth, that you taped so that it wouldn't dislocated when things get moving, on top of which you placed the canva and towels around it as well as a trail of towels towards the bathroom so that clean up of the post-art would be rendered easier.

"Okay now that everything is settled, let's go take a bath and prep myself up," you muttered to yourself, locking the door from the inside so that Jean wouldn't accidentally enter it.

-Time skip-

A private dinner in your dwelling makes for an magical evening. Silk sheet on the table, napkins neatly pleated on the white plates surrounded by tableware. Incorporating flower petals, slow romantic harmonious music, and low lighting to create the right atmosphere you as well added string lights for an added touch of enchantment. Aphrodisiac food was the obvious choice, you thought, placing down the lobster in the middle. Wine in glasses twinkling to the fairy lights for a further sizzle.

Not long until Jean made his appearance in a suit, top buttons of his shirt loose while you were in a black dress lighting the scented candles.

"Hey babe," his throaty voice called.

Turning around, you saw him, his hands in his pockets walking towards you. His large body towering yours.

"You look hot," he complimented looking down on you.

"So do you," you giggled bopping his nose.

Pulling a chair, Jean signaled you to sit as he pushed the chair then going to his seat facing you.

The empty wine glasses were delicately filled with the red alcohol, each of you raising your goblet for a cheers.

" Cheers to my pretty boyfriend."

"Cheers to my future wife," Jean smirked as you were busy turning fifty shades of red.

In comfortable silence, except for the clinking of utensils, both of you ate.

"Main course is done for, now time for dessert, "he said standing from his chair to yours. Lift you off the ground swiftly, he walked you to the bedroom in bridal style.

"huh? HUH? Jean what are you doing?"

"Taking my dessert to eat, what else?" he replied kissing you. His kiss was a fever. Hot. Sluggish.

Opening the door to disclose the surprise, his eyes went wide until it hit him. The canva and towels on the ground, paint orderly laid on the bed.

"I was thinking the house needed some more decorations, so why not spice things up by creating this masterpiece and hanging it in the living room for everyone to see? " innocently you smiled at him.

"Hahaha y/n! You're amazing!" rosy cheeks, eyes twinkling with admiration and affection he twirled your body in air, "wait then that means that the whole day you preventing me from touching you was pointless," his expression now slightly frowned.

"I mean, yeah, I mean, I just wanted to see you desperate for me," you fumbled with your words.

"Bad girl. After this I will have to punish you for making me suffer for nothing," Jean put you down.

You didn't know whether to feel anticipation or fear knowing that this man was going to wreck you.

"Why are you acting coy all of a sudden? Weren't you the one to act like a whore? " with the cockiest smirk ever Jean said.

His hands previously placed gently on your hips began to tighten. The press only fueled your rapid beating of your heart. Tilting your head towards his face by lifting it with one finger on your chin, he locked eye contact with you.

Lust filled his irises. Skilfully, he unzipped your dress and pulled it off your skin. Skin that desired to be touched so badly. Skin that burned under his fingertips that grazed the surface. Under the clothes exposed the black lingerie that got Jean worked up since morning.

Even though he already saw you in it, it nevertheless felt like the first time. The same adoration that held his gape seemed to be worshiping your body.

"May I take your bra off? " Jean asked. You nodded, Jean elatedly removed it.

"Look at these perfect tits. Belonging and made only for me," cupping them in his hands, he growled against your neck.

Your mind going blanc and empty, you were left speechless. Only ravishing him. His presence. His hot breath fanning on you. As much as you wanted to take this slowly, you couldn't stop yourself from craving to feel him buried deep inside of you.

Your hand slightly sliding over his growing bulge, earning a hiss and restrained moan from him.

"No. You're not going to be the one to tease me anymore. It's my turn," biting your collarbone, he declared making you leap in his arms.

Feeling self-conscious that you were the only one in undergarment, you unbuttoned his shirt and ripped it off him while he was sloppily making out with you.

Grabbing your thighs, he insinuate for you to jump. Chest to chest, he then threw you on the bed making it sink under your weight. He was finally freed from his restraints of not laying a hand on you.

His body hovering yours, he kissed you passionately. He's never kissed you like this before. Maybe you should restrain him more often.

Jean swallowed your gasp when unknowingly his hand went down your stomach to press on your clothed clit.

"Huh? You like that?" laughs "yeah you like that don't you," he breathed his finger circling around the bud. Your response was a moan and your breath quickening. Your reaction turned Jean on more than he already was.

Going down on you, he sucked your soaked underwear, the room filled with slurping sounds. He gripped your hips by wrapping his big arms around it to prevent you from squirming away. You were practically a moaning mess. Aggressively, he ripped it off you, continuing to lick through your folds.

"Jea-Jean I think I'm going to c-cum," you manage to utter.

"Heh, not yet princess, we got so much more do," he wiped his mouth that was coated with your juices and licked the liquid off his fingers. You looked at him with pleading eyes as you were yearning for a release.

Legs trembling, you raised your body to be able to sit while Jean grabbed the body-safe paint and put a fair amount on the cloth.

"Come here my lady," he said as he picked you to lay your body gently on the canva, paint on your back.

Jean took off his pants and underwear, his hard dick slapping on his stomach whilst you were making yourself comfortable.

A brush in his one hand and a palette in another, he sauirted some paint on the flat item.

Impatience began to overcome you as you begged him to come to you.

"Wait a moment more babe, I'm just making the perfect colour," Jean finished his sentence by approaching you.

Jean maintained eye-contact with you, the brush gliding over your soft skin leaving colors behind its track. Chills ran down your skin after each stroke. Drowning in bliss, Jean slowly ran the tool down your belly to an inch higher up your pussy. You were waiting for him to pass the paint through your core but instead he stopped his actions making you internally more annoyed.

"I'm not going to let you get off so easily after what you did to me," Jean murmured.

Cold. Squeezing the paint tubes, Jean splat paint on your body, mainly on your stomach. He leaned forward and pressed his body against yours to spread the paint.

Lining his dick right outside your entrance, he thrusted in without warning. Your back arching, you let out a moan. His hands rushing behind your back, he hugged your body as he gave you time to adjust to him.

"Mmmm, fits perfectly. Look at how good you take me, yeah you see that? "Jean moaned in your ear.

" It's okay, you can move,"you bit back a groan because Jean didn't leave you a second before pumping in and out of you.

" I can't believe you're mine, all mine, no one but me knows how good you feel, just me,"Jean panted in your ears," listen to my moans, you he-ear how goo-od you're making me feel? "

"AH-yes Jean, yes," you purred.

His forehead rested on yours, mouth connected, swallowing each other's breath and sounds.

" Go faster Jeaann." This made him slow down instead of doing as you wanted.

"Oh? you want me to go faster? Go-o ahead, beg for it. Tell me how bad you need me," Jean's stroked your insides with long and slow thrusts.

"Pl-please Jean, need you so badly, you make me feel so good so take all your anger out on me bu-ut please make me cum alongside with you!"

"Lift your ass, my queen,"Jean satisfied with your answer commanded, which you did as he ordered as he pounded deeper into you mixing the paint on the canva.

"Look at you, such a good girl."

It wasn't long until Jean filled your insides with his hot seed making you scream his name loudly. Right before you could come that Jean could tell by the shaking of your breath, he lifted your body off the masterpiece so that your ejaculation wouldn't ruin it.

In his arms, you came so hard, your liquids dripping down Jean's skin.

"Y/n, I don't think you realised that but what you just did was so hot," Jean admired you.

"Also, thank you for fulfilling my fantasies as an artist," he thanked you kissing your cheeks fondly.

Walking on the towel leading to the bathroom, he put you inside the bathtub, opening the tap to let the container fill with hot water. While it was doing so, Jean got in with you between his legs and head on his chest heaving up and down.

Jean took some shampoo in his hand, and massaged your scalps with you basking. Heavenly was a word too light to describe the feeling. You were basically in paradise.

"In round two I'm not planning on going gentle now so just bite the pillow and take it," Jean sputtered against your hair.

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incorrect-missionimpossible · 3 years

Note

Uh I don't know if you're still taking prompts but I'm dying to read something where Ethan finds out Benji has tattoos (just likes Simon's) and Ethan is all ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡(ӦｖӦ｡) I even have some fanart in my blog or at Instagram @ biablioteca xoxo

hi!! thank you for the prompt :D this took me a while to answer, my apologies for that hhhhhhhh. the fanart is here if anyone wants to check it out, it's really good!!

without further ado, the fic, 1448 words long. enjoy!!

read on ao3!!

[---]

tattoos [that i didn't know you had]

“Hey,” Benji whispers. Ethan tilts his head towards Benji, acknowledging him. They’re curled up in the back of a van with Jane; Will’s driving and Ilsa’s sitting next to him. Jane is asleep on Ethan’s shoulder, the white bandages around her leg bright in the dim light of the van. They’re returning from a mission, a long, exhausting one and it required all of Ethan’s team, excluding Luther, who was on his honeymoon.

“I think I’ve been shot,” Benji tells Ethan quietly, and Ethan jerks up, all thoughts of sleep forgotten. Jane groans as he dislodges her.

“What?” Ethan hisses. “Benji-”

Benji understands. “Bullet went through me. I’m bleeding quite a lot. Um, it was numb, but not anymore. I’ve got a cloth bunched up against it.”

Ethan knocks on the sliding door between the storage and driver’s seat. “Will,” he says loudly. Ilsa slides the door open and pokes her head through.

“What?”

“Benji’s been shot. Drive faster.”

Ilsa’s eyes widen; she’s clearly too tired to police her emotions. She nods and a moment later, the van moves faster with a screech.

---

Benji’s almost passed out by the time they reach the safe house. Ilsa helps her girlfriend limp inside the house, while Will rushes inside to get the first aid kit ready. Ethan half carries Benji, stumbling through the cold night air into the house as lights flicker on inside.

Jane’s collapsed on a chair, her face pale and sweaty. Her bandages need changing, and Ilsa notes Ethan’s glance at them before grabbing a pile of bandages and handing Jane a flask of whiskey she downs in a gulp.

Ethan winces as Benji moves away the bloody cloth he’d been clutching to his side, revealing his bloody flannel. It’s soaked through.

“How did it take you so long to tell me about this,” Ethan asks, concealing his anger.

Benji shrugs. “Jane was shot. Her wound was more lethal. Forgot about mine.”

“You forgot- how did you-” Ethan runs a hand through his hair, frustrated beyond measure. How did Benji just, forget about his fucking gunshot wound. Ethan wants to punch something.

Will enters the living room, carrying a tray with needles, thread, scissors and alcohol. “Remove your flannel,” he says testily. He looks harried, in a way Will rarely does.

Benji looks up at Ethan, and Ethan, helpless in the face of his eyes, removes the flannel gently. He blinks in surprise at what it reveals, Benji has tattoos.

Ethan stares at them as Will stitches Benji up, Benji’s hand crushing his. They twine around Benji’s left shoulder and the top of his arm, not going beyond where a shirt would. They’re designs Ethan can’t quite make out, but they’re gorgeous. There’s another on Benji’s collarbone, surrounding the delicate bone. It’s partially covered by Benji’s tank top, and Ethan shocks himself with how much he wants to see the rest of it, and any other tattoos Benji might be hiding.

“Done,” Will interrupts Ethan’s train of thought, and Benji lets go of Ethan’s hand, his head falling back, exposing the long line of his neck.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, and Ethan lets out a chuckle. “I’m never getting shot again.”

“I think that would be a bit difficult, with our line of work,” Will says, amused. He lets out a yawn, and so does Benji.

“Bed?” Ethan asks softly. Benji nods. Will takes his leave, heading up to the room he’s claimed as his own. Ilsa waves at them before picking up Jane, who’s too tired to protest, and climbing up the stairs.

Ethan presumes they’re heading to the second bedroom. He smiles at Ilsa and moves to the sofa, pulling it out and working on turning it to a bed. “I didn’t know you had tattoos,” he starts, keeping his voice as casual as he can.

Benji starts. “These little things?”

Ethan wouldn’t call them little, exactly, they cover Benji’s shoulder and collarbone, and there’s another one on Benji’s right arm. “Yeah.”

“I got them at Oxford,” Benji says, a light smile dancing on his face. “Stupid dare. Asked the artist to do them so they’d be covered by my t-shirts. Looks like he did his job pretty well, huh? The best spy in the IMF didn’t know I had tattoos.”

Ethan grins at Benji, enjoying the twinkle in his eyes. “Not my fault I’ve never seen you in anything but geeky shirts and flannels.”

“You just had to ask,” Benji says, careless as anything, before turning bright red. “I- not that I would just undress for anyone, I mean, like, it’s-”

Ethan pats Benji’s shoulder. “Benj,” he says warmly, and Benji stutters to a stop.

“Thanks,” Benji says, relaxing.

Ethan helps Benji up and into the bed, before sliding in next to him. “I think they’re cool,” he whispers.

A flush overtakes Benji’s face. “Thanks,” he replies, sounding pleased.

Ethan offers him a small smile, before leaning over to flick off the lights.

---

The second time Ethan sees Benji’s tattoos, they’re on a mission slash vacation in Costa Rica. Ethan’s team had been sent to track the movements of an American on the CIA’s Most Wanted list, but he’d left before they could catch him. The hotel they’d booked was for a week, and Ethan managed to coerce the IMF into allowing them to stay and make use of the money that went into the mission.

Jane and Ilsa had their own room, of course, and Will claimed a single for himself. Ethan and Benji had a double to themselves, with two queen sized beds.

“Heaven,” Benji groans, from his bed. He’s sprawled out on it, his shirt riding up a little, revealing a sliver of skin. Ethan swallows and looks away.

“I’m going to hit the beach,” he tells Benji, who makes some grunting noises, not moving from where he looks like he’s trying to bury himself in his bed.

Ethan chuckles and shakes his head, fond, before heading to the bathroom to change and gather his things. He leaves Benji, who’s curled up in a little ball on the bed, to his own devices, and thinks he deserves some sun and a good hour or two with his paperback.

---

Ethan’s about 40 pages into his book when he sees Benji. His eyes widen, and his mouth drops a little, because, well, wow.

Benji’s shirtless, and he’s built [which isn’t a shock, really; Ethan’s always been able to see the lines of his lean body under his tighter t-shirts], but it’s the tattoos that take his breath away.

They cover his entire torso and chest, curving around the muscles carefully. Ethan is pretty sure the tattoos are vines, and they look stunning in the sunlight, enhancing Benji’s build. Ethan is up and moving towards Benji without a second thought, and Benji grins at him.

“Hey,” he says, once Ethan is in earshot. Ethan doesn’t say anything, and Benji’s smile turns a little bemused. Ethan stops once he’s close enough to Benji that if he took one more step and leant forward a little-

Anyways.

His hands flutter around Benji’s skin, not touching, just, hovering. “Little?” Ethan breathes in disbelief.

Benji realizes Ethan’s looking at his tattoos. “Oh. Yeah. Those ones happened later. Took me about five sessions to get it done. Extraordinarily painful.”

Ethan exhales slowly. “Can I-” he moves his hands jerkily. He’s just understood how close to Benji he’s standing.

“Yeah,” Benji nods, studying Ethan with a small frown on his face.

Ethan touches the beginning of the first vine with a finger, and when Benji doesn’t say anything, he continues, tracing the path of the twining plant around Benji’s body. He’s careful, avoiding the scars and bruises. Ethan ends up on the design on his collarbone, and he looks up, into Benji’s eyes.

He can’t read them; he doesn’t know what Benji is going to do or say. Ethan moves to step back, but Benji whispers “Ethan,” and he stops.

Benji slides a hand under his chin [their height difference makes it easier for him to do that,] and tilts Ethan’s head up a little.

Ethan gives in to his impulses. He leans in, and presses his lips to Benji’s.

Benji kisses back immediately, sliding his hands around Ethan’s waist and closing the tiny distance between their bodies. Ethan gets a hand on Benji’s cheek and another pressed on his chest

Later, Ethan will trace the tattoos again, Benji will tell him the stories of how he got them, and Ethan will place a light kiss to all of them. They’ll share a queen-sized bed.

But for now, they stay there, kissing deeply, the sun burning the back of Ethan’s neck.

[---]

yes i KNOW the ending isnt very great hjfhkjshdsjk but here u go anyways :)

thanks for reading!!

#benthan #mission: impossible #mission impossible #mi #benji x ethan #ethan x benji #my writing #prompt answers

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alister312 · 2 years

Note

Duo Bingo: Creek

literally i spilled my heart about them and then my laptop fucked up and deleted my post so this is going to be more condensed that it was initially

i love them <3: It’s no secret that I love Creek. I love most anything involving Craig because I love Craig but he does really shine in this ship. And it’s not that fandom hasn’t done great things with them (such as getting them canonized), but what the show has given us is so good that I don’t think I need them to really be expanded on. They’re just a perfect fit for one another, being willing to talk and work with one another even if it takes a little bit of a nudge. I just cannot imagine them NOT being in love, which makes it hard for me to find long fics of them that I enjoy. Like, what do you mean they’re hesitating? What is there to hesitate about?

romantically: OK so-- it’s not that I think they aren’t friends. I just get the impression that they are the kind of couple who can only exist when dating. If they were to ever break up, they couldn’t go back to being “just friends”. Being emotional vulnerable just isn’t a part of either of them, so they don’t know how to backtrack once they’ve reached that point. Like they can’t separate the other from the idea of love and romance, every bit of comfort done due to affection. I think this actually strengthens their bond because it means they’re always working to strengthen their relationship.

FLUFF: Sure, they can have angst, but I can’t imagine it ever lasts very long. I think they’ve already shown how healthy their relationship is, with a lot of communication and wanting to learn to understand one another. Plus, if they’ve truly been dating since they were 10? I think they learn each other so well that the develop a very competent wordless language. They come to anticipate the other’s needs before they do, which lends itself very well to domesticity. How could you ever do anything but live and love comfortably when your partner knows you so well that they’re like an extension of yourself?

[emoji]: An accurate depiction of me during the live airing of the TweekxCraig episode. I remember learning about and rush making fanart and sending it in (not that it was ever chosen lol). I cried throughout the entire episode out of happiness... my mom was there with me and I believe she was a bit concerned. Did not understand how big of a moment this was. The fact that Matt and Trey even DID that is still buckwild to me!! It’s truly insane and I thank the stars every day that it happened

#anyways its not midnight time to answer the rest of the asks #south park #sp creek #craig tucker #tweek tweak #sp headcanons #south park headcanons

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sisterofleatherfrog · 3 years

Text

The Silence Brings Me Home

Hey! This is my first fanfic so I hope you all enjoy it! I was inspired by an illustration I saw of Crosshair sobbing and holding Lula for comfort (which I cannot find for the life of me, if I do eventually I’ll link it). I meant to get his done before ep. 11 Devil’s Deal (and especially before this week’s) because we still didn’t know what Cross looked like at that point, but I’m slow and here we are. There is some fanart I did at the end, I’ve only recently gotten back into drawing after a long time, so it might be a little rough sorry!

Summary: The Batch get Crosshair back, but what he has, and almost done haunts him. Comfort is given in the simplest of ways: by being presen for the healing.

Warnings: Mention of blood/injury, killing/murder. Heavy angst with comfort. Self loathing ideation.The beginnings of a family healing together from trauma.

Word Count: 2188

It was as close as it got to silent within the Havoc Marauder. The ship always faintly hummed as it cruised through space; the engines and various systems constantly working away in the background via a complicated web of technology and wiring, maintained by the Batch’s resident genius. Rumors were, if someone listened close enough as a ship passed through hyperspace, they could faintly hear the sound of the decillions of particles out there passing around the ship. Something like sand blasting the outside of the hull, but with a bell-like, ringing, song. It was that sort of silence that found all six of the inhabitants within the Marauder.

Tech, the aforementioned genius, was nursing a new goose egg on his forehead with a cold compress while attempting to repair a hairline fracture in one of his goggles lenses. Echo sat across from him helping to guide the nearly blind man in his endeavour. Besides a myriad of small cuts and new bruises, Echo’s left leg lay detached and balanced on his lap, waiting for attention from Tech for a recently smoking blaster hole through the calf. Laying in his bunk, Wrecker was also nursing a new blaster wound: the bolt having ripped through his armour and taken a chunk out of his right bicep. He lay quietly, making sure to stay off his wound so the bacta could do its work and trying to process the events of the day. Remembering the adrenaline and the genuine moment of fear he’d had, but smiling nonetheless. Foreword in the front of the ship, Hunter sat quietly, his face kriffing hurting, his nose having to have been reset after being knocked out of joint. He’d definitely taken a beating, he’d be feeling everything that currently hurt fivefold tomorrow, but the wounds could have been worse. Everything could have been much worse. What could have been was an ache that never faded and a silence that was never filled.

Hunter’s gaze slid to the seat beside him, looking at the small girl that had so quickly become a priority in his life. Omega was curled up on the seat, her arms and legs tightly squeezing Lula to her body while her eyes peaked over her knees to watch the blue of hyperspace. She had thankfully missed all the action this time, safely tucked away within the ship by a promise Hunter had made her swear. He looked over at her, thankful she and his vode were all together here, alive, and relatively in one piece. Still needing something to comfort him though, he reached over and ruffled Omega’s short blonde hair. Her eyes, brown like his, slid over to look at him and he could see a small smile curling at the edges of her mouth. She’d been incredibly worried at the state her family had been at their return, seeing them beaten, bloody, bruised, and punctured wasn’t something a kid should ever be exposed to. They were alive though, and…

Hunter turned his head a little, gazing into the back of the ship where, almost hidden in the furthest recess of the bunks, he could see a pair of long, thin legs encased in black armour. Omega followed Hunter’s gaze and that smile wavered some as nervousness played over her face. She was happy her family was alive and she was happy that her fathers’ brother had been brought back, but the fear of all that time being hunted lingered like a dark cloud on the horizon in her mind. Omega knew it wasn’t Crosshair’s fault. The chip wasn’t something that the host could reason with; locking them far away in the back of their own minds. From the little she could get from what she’d heard, he could be mean, but wasn’t inherently malicious. Everything he’d done in his hunt for them under the Empire was a stripped version of himself- the man was gone but the shrewd soldier remained.

…

Waking up in that dingy medbay was one of the most disorientating moments of Crosshair’s life. He was… a man again, something that thought independently from orders given. But good soldiers follow orders. He wasn’t a drone though. But you are a soldier... Yes, he was, but something else guided him, rather than his superiors he’d always looked elsewhere-

“He’s awake!” The call came from nearby, as did the sound of several pairs of feet rushing in. He knew that voice, but reacted on instinct to the people closing in and jerked his head up, ready to defend, no, attack- Hunter was there, the closest, he was one of his targets-

...So follow through.

No!

Revulsion rose so strongly within himself that everything in his mind that wasn’t his own shrank back like frightened animals, leaving him gasping with an acrid taste in the back of his mouth and a feeling of bile rising in his chest. Pitching sideways he landed gracelessly twisted on the metal floor and began heaving, unable to tell if anything came up at all; not able to remember when the last time he ate was, only feeling a burning in his stomach. Hands gently touched his back but he jerked violently, seeking to remove that touch even if it wasn’t a punishment. When was the last time he’d been given that understanding? When had somebody last cared that his body needed tenderness? It felt unnatural to him now, no longer familiar, and painful.

Voices filtered through as the haze of sickness cleared: “...scans indicate the procedure was a complete success and that he should recover the same as us. Crosshair’s reaction is due to something else entirely.” Tech, he’d know that voice always rattling away with statistics and diagnostics. He’d almost silenced it forever with a single shot- how long ago was that? How long had it been since the ion engine had left him broken and the Kaminoans had pieced him back together, fit him with an eye that didn’t quite measure up to his shooting one and left him always a little off balance?

“Crosshair? Vod?” Hunter now, “Are you with us?” Crosshair felt him kneel next to him and could see his concerned face in his peripheral vision now that his initial haze had begun to fade.

He considered himself for a moment now that the remains of whatever had been in his head were gone. “Yes, I’m here.” Physically, but everything felt so strange. He could hear Wrecker roaring something nearby, probably his loud approximation of a greeting, but he made no move to meet it, didn’t (couldn’t) move himself to. At this, Hunter motioned for him and the others to back off a little before speaking again. “That’s good, we finally caught you and your inhibitor chip is gone now. You’re going to be fine, we’ve got you.” Fine? After everything Crosshair really didn’t think so.

…

Despite the best possible outcome the Batch made their way back to the Marauder, from another downed Jedi cruiser they’d managed to locate thanks to Rex, in an unwieldy silence. Back on the ship they all finally began to address their variety of wounds, and Crosshair, seeing this, froze. This was all him. This was his fault. He had hurt his vod, brought them pain, tried to kill them. He felt sick again, felt as if he was dropping out of his body while his heart constricted painfully and began to race in a clumsy gallop. Crosshair stayed where he was in the back of the ship and sat while somebody got it under way, finally feeling the vague reeling in his gut from entering hyperspace.

It was quiet, nobody made a move to approach him yet. He didn’t know if he even wanted one of them to get close. Everything felt so wrong. He was wrong. What he’d done, betrayed and tried to murder his family, all because of an order?! Him, who flicked his toothpicks at commanders and belonged with a group of defective clones, couldn’t defy an order. Kriff him. One simple pull of a trigger and it could have been any one of them. If he hadn't missed, it could have been Tech’s brain matter splattered over the hull of a downed starship. His vod who was so much like an over-eagre younger sibling. Or Wrecker, who Crosshair had teased and soothed in equal measures in his life. Or Echo who, even though he wasn’t modified like the Batch, could never be normal again and Crosshair had learned to respect him as a brother. And Hunter… he couldn’t think it, couldn’t parse a world where he was dead, where he had been responsible for his death.

Kriff him. How did he- how did he go on alongside his brothers when he’d almost done that? When he’d always be haunted by the pitiless voice in his head (his own, that had ordered the death of innocents) that had repeated his mission as a mantra. He could scrub his skin forever with the harsh scourer he used to clean his armour, but this isn’t something he could wash away. Whether it be in the new scars that had accumulated on their bodies, or the cybernetic eye that now greets him in the mirror, there would be no losing this. No taking it back or making it better. He couldn’t- he should-

A black mass came into his sight and he jumped. Lula was being offered to him in two small hands. The girl, what was her name again? She’d spoken to him when they were all in the cell on Kamino together (the last time they were all together where he wasn’t trying to kill the rest of them). She’d told him it wasn’t his fault, had she known what was working against him in his head? It didn’t matter now. The girl-Omega, that was her name- watched him partially hidden behind the tooka doll with the eyes of his brothers.

“Here” She said, her kaminoan accent still strong after all the time she’d been running, “Wrecka’ lets me borrow her when I’m upset, I don’t think he’ll mind if you do too.”

Crosshair looked at the old, scuffed doll and noticed a stitch in grey forming a cuff on it’s left arm. It had been a dumb scuffle over his and Wreckers continual rivalry and it had ended up with Lula getting the worst of it. He’d stayed up all night trying to make his stitches even and neat, not wanting to ruin the doll. He touched those stitches, gently tracing the line they made before gently grasping it and curling forward, needing to wrap the aching sore that was himself around something. Omega slipped onto the seat next to him and leaned into his left, he wanted to flinch away but something about this gave him... grace. He’d ordered the men under him to aim for her fragile little body and yet here she was offering him comfort through it’s support.

What comfort did he deserve though? What did he deserve indeed. Crosshair gazed unseeingly at the floor, trying to piece the parts of him left scattered in a thousand memories together to once again become the man he was before all this. He startled again when another body suddenly pressed itself into his right side. He turned, a masque of death greeted him, etched into a face permanently carved stern, but the eyes- Hunter’s eyes reminded him of the rail-thin cadet he used to be, not built to fight off any clones who wanted to get a piece of him on his own. He wasn’t alone back then though, three other boys were always there to back him up, and they would patch each other’s wounds together in their quarters afterwards. Hunter, their de-facto leader, was always worried about the hits they’d taken, not relaxing until every bump was seen to and bandaged. It was that look again, that same look that said: ‘I’m staying right here until I know my brothers are going to be fine.’

Some more shuffling in the ship Tech and Echo came into view, the latter still short a leg and being supported over to sit across from him. They didn’t say anything, but Tech came and sat in front of Omega on the floor, letting himself rest against Crosshair’s legs. Echo didn’t move to touch him, but remained in his presence just the same and gently smiled, his posture relaxing to lean against the wall of the berth. Just visible from behind a corner, Wrecker gingerly turned over with his injury, meeting Crosshair’s gaze with a smile already there for him. His injury prevented him from rising, but he extended a large hand towards him from his bunk. He was too far to physically reach him, but the gesture translated anyway: ‘I’m here brother, I missed you, I was worried.’

The Marauder sang through hyperspace; no words were spoken by anyone aboard for a long time. But this silence was familiar, and even though he felt a long way from having earned it, Crosshair could understand it perfectly: ‘Welcome home.’

Here’s Crosshair as in the story, I thought it would be really cool if he and Wrecker had matching cybernetic eyes. I gave him his ep. 11 haircut though because it’s cool.

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soukoku-rivals · 3 years

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Author's Note

There are so many things I would love to tell you! But, I decided to keep it short and simple. After all, Rivals is a comic, you're not here to read blocks of text.

I will address what are, in my opinion, most important issues.

1. Why is Fyodor actually alive after chapter 9?

Well, we had an 'in comic' explanation - Chuuya wants to believe Fyodor has some feelings for him after Fyodor intentionally missed all of his vital organs when stabbing him. Dazai tries to be a better person so he cannot simply kill someone who is already tied and defenseless, no matter how much he hates him.

Real life explanation - it was the best choice for the continuity. Rivals is very much an AU when it comes to Chuuya's past and quite possibly Dazai's past [I honestly know nothing about Dazai's past before 15. There might be something mentioned in Stormbringer but I avoid spoilers until we get official English translation]. However, it still takes place after season 2 of the anime and the Dead Apple movie. Which means season 3 comes after.

Basically, if you ignore the 15 episodes, you can imagine season 3 continues after Rivals and Dazai and Chuuya are somewhat dating at that point, which is also why Ranpo found it so easy to outsmart Chuuya. And then, all the events in the anime/canon slowly lead to them finding the Book and the Epilogue.

I know, you have to stretch your imagination a little to make that work, but honestly, it's fun to imagine Soukoku dating while all that stuff is going on.

Obviously, none of that could happen if Fyodor dies, so here you go!

2. Does Chuuya actually have feelings for Fyodor?

Short answer - yes. And it's not only because the author ships Fyoya. [I ship almost all Chuuya/X pairings, most notably Chuuya/Sigma, deal with it.]

As explained in the comic, Fyodor was there when Chuuya had nobody and nothing after he lost his memories. He told Chuuya they were partners and lovers, and Chuuya was his most loyal man. Obviously, that would influence Chuuya's opinion.

We, as readers, outside observers, didn't realle get to see much of their interactions [I couldn't make the chapters that long] but we did see that Fyodor is a manipulative bastard. But it wouldn't fully work if he wasn't gentle at times. As manipulative as Fyodor was, he has also shown compassion and care towards Chuuya in his state. That purposefully missed stabbing at the end only confirmed to Chuuya that Fyodor doesn't actually want him dead. Maybe he wants to hurt him to push him away, like Dazai did all those years ago? To protect him. To make sure the Mafia and Dazai know they aren't working together.

How can Chuuya not appreciate that? After all there was only one person before who hurt him not to actually hurt him but for his protection.

So yeah, Chuuya believes Fyodor has some feelings for him, he believes there might be a good person hiding in the rat, just like there was a good person hiding in Dazai. Dazai and Fyodor were too similar at one point for Chuuya not to develop any feelings for him.

I'm not saying it's healthy or logical. I'm saying this is how it happened.

3. Does Fyodor have feelings for Chuuya?

Short answer - also, surprisingly, yes! I mean, how can you not love Chuuya?

I couldn't really show it clearly in the comic. We already had so many characters and Fyodor/Fyoya weren't the focal point so I couldn't dive to deep. However, here is what I can say now.

At the start, obviously, Fyodor saw Chuuya only as a tool. Chuuya was a powerful weapon, with a powerful ability and most importantly, he served as a great distraction for Dazai.

Fyodor, however, made a mistake when he convinced Chuuya they were lovers. Because that meant he had to spend more time with him than originally planned. And as much as Fyodor hates abilities and believes they are a sin, he could not not notice all Chuuya's good qualities. Even rushing that mission to destroy some building, when he knew it was possible Chuuya wouldn't survive, was mostly because Fyodor wanted to push him away. And to push his feelings away. He knew he was growing fond of Chuuya and if he didn't stop that soon, he might grow some conscience.

Unfortunately for him, it was too late. And thus, we go back again to the train station stabbing. For all intents and purposes, the most beneficial thing for Fyodor to do was to kill Chuuya right there and there. With Chuuya dead he would have been able to leave with Atsushi, find the Book and leave Dazai broken after his love's death and Mafia without its most powerful weapon.

Fyodor just couldn't bring himself to do that.

4. Extra - unused sequel idea.

This has nothing to do with any unexplained plot points but, yeah, there was a sequel idea. A few actually. But let's go with the one that has most sense.

At the train station, after Soukoku leave, only Atsushi stays there to keep an eye on Fyodor while Loki searcher through his memories for the Book.

Unbeknownst to Atsushi, while Locke goes through Fyodor's memories, he finds something very interesting. A memory of Fyodor who looks like he's talking to his mirror reflection but his words are directed at Loki. And with a smile on his face, Fyodor informs Loki that the Book can change reality, he can destroy people and give them life. There is already a person created by the Book. From nothing! So, it is not entirely unbelievable to assume that it could bring somebody to life. Like, let's say, a certain red headed girl.

If Loki helps Fyodor escape, he will be able to bring Hela back to life.

Locke loves his daughter very much, so obviously, he agrees. And instead of lead to season 3 when Fyodor escapes, he get an Agency/Mafia vs Fyodor/Locke story.

This is not happening but it was a nice idea.

And this time, this is really it! There is nothing more left for me to say, Rivals is done!

Thank you so much for reading it, some of you were here for years, some joined only a few month ago, some will find this story in the future, but I thank you all the same! I would have never gotten this far without you. You are all very precious to me. I hope to see you soon, when @kkfil-soukoku starts updating.

And now, for a couple of unrelated announcements:

Merch design is going great. I have all die cut stickers and the second charm already finished, and most of them is already published on Kofi for supporters. Also, the Rivals sticker page is all drafted. Support me on Kofi to view them all and to get an extra sticker with your order: https://ko-fi.com/hayatepl

After Kiss Kiss Fall in <Love3 comic is done, I will be working on an original idea, to be published on Webtoons/Tapas. It's going to be a supernatural adventure story featuring a witch, a warrior and a dragon, set in modern times. For more info when that happens, follow me on @hayateart and @sylvankaart

I also started using twitter again: https://twitter.com/SylvankaArt

And instagram: https://www.instagram.com/sylvankaart/ [Yes, it's all SylvankaArt, I thought it would make it easier to remember. As for tumblr HayateArt blog will remain my fanblog for fanart but all original posts will be published on SylvankaArt.]

#bsd #rivals #soukoku #update #chuuya #dazai

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cavalierious-whim · 3 years

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Love, Misunderstood (FE3H)

Sylvix | Modern AU | Fake Dating | Teen So, here’s the thing: Felix doesn’t date anyone that isn’t his sabre.

----

A/N: I wrote this for the Sylvix Server's Secret Santa Event last year. Read here on AO3 for better quality! And follow me on Twitter here! @Satodee1 on Twitter drew an AMAZING fanart for this fic as well! I cannot believe I've been blessed so. Please take a look here and give them a follow!

----

Let go the fear of falling in love.

So, here’s the thing: Felix doesn’t date anyone that isn’t his sabre.

One, there isn’t time. By day he’s almost a professional athlete with dozens of fencing titles to his name, and by night he’s a business student double majoring in Marketing and Finance. His days are full of workouts and conditioning, a carefully maintained diet, and when the sport isn’t on his mind, his academics are.

Two, there’s no interest. None. Whatsoever. Felix has never once looked at another person and thought, Yes, I would like that one.

Which brings him to his current problem: there’s an annoyance in his face that some might think is pretty if they liked overly bleached hair and heavily lacquered nails. Gum pops in her mouth. She twirls a long tendril of hair around a finger like the love interest from a nineties sitcom.

Felix doesn’t just hate; he loathes and despises. Less so the girl and more so at being perceived as a romantic option. He feels as though he does a pretty good job selling the fact that he’s entirely off of the market, even going as far as snarling at hopefuls. Apparently, some people are just infuriatingly stubborn.

Or maybe just oblivious. Felix is starting to lean towards the latter, watching carefully as the girl stares back at him, dreamily.

“So, like,” she says, punctuating the words with a giggle, “I’m a big fan. Of you and you know, your fencing.”

Felix is a hundred percent sure that she has no idea what she’s talking about. What he says instead is, “I’m studying.” Neat and simple, and not even mean. Hopefully enough to fend her off. He’s almost proud of himself.

She blinks at him like she’s trying and failing to process what he’s just said. “So, that bout last weekend,” says the girl, relentless in her pursuit. “You really honed in the touches, winning before the time limit.”

This surprises him; maybe his earlier assessment is incorrect and she’s honestly a fencing fan. Felix meets her gaze and she stares back, smacking her gum, hair still wrapped around her finger, and eyes glinting.

Right, no, she’d just done her research.

“Thank you,” says Felix because he’s not entirely an asshole. “But as I said, I’m studying, so if you would--”

“It was truly riveting,” continues the girl, clasping her hands before her. “Your form is just exquisite.” She says the word like he’s a prized pig.

Felix is losing his patience, his fingers tightening around his pencil and squeezing tighter and tighter. It might snap under his grip. It’s happened before.

“Look,” says Felix, his tone hardening just a modicum, “I appreciate--”

“So, how about grabbing a bite to eat together?” asks the girl, batting her eyes at him in an exaggerated flourish.

Felix opens his mouth to say something rather nasty, but he’s interrupted by someone dropping into the chair next to him. “Darling.” An arm finds its way slung around his shoulder and Felix goes rigid. “I’m sorry that I’m late; got stuck in traffic. You know what rush hour is like.”

It takes everything for Felix to not grab the man’s arm and break his wrist.

Before he can do so though, the man looks to the girl and says, “A bite to eat? All of us? Group dates are always fun.”

The girl, to her credit, looks about as flabbergasted as Felix feels. “Um--”

“Unless you meant alone with my boyfriend?”

Felix immediately starts, turning to look at him incredulously. “Boyfriend--”

“My mistake,” the girl apologizes immediately. “I didn’t, um, realize that you… Anyway, thank you for the chat!” And with a wave, the bleached-blonde bimbo takes her leave.

Felix whirls onto the man next to him, immediately shrugging out of his grasp. “What do you think you’re doing?”

The man is lightly tanned, cheeks dusted with a spattering of warm freckles. His hair is auburn and unruly, curling wildly around his forehead and ears. His smile is crooked, a dimple forming at the left corner of his mouth. Handsome, if Felix likes people. He doesn’t, he reminds himself.

“Saving you,” the man says. “Really, she just wouldn’t let you go. It’s astonishing really, I could feel the leave me the fuck alone vibes radiating off of you from across the shop.”

Felix blinks at that. “I didn’t need help.”

“I think that you did.”

“I didn’t,” repeats Felix, unable to let go of his stubborn need to get the last word in. Glenn used to say that it was the best and worst part of him.

“You could have just told her no.” The man pauses, thumbing at his chin as though he’s amused. “You don’t seem the type to be nice and gently let someone down.”

Felix isn’t; he’s the type to throw books at people instead, and be brutally blunt about what he does and doesn’t want. “I was distracted,” he finally says, “I’m studying for an exam and she just caught me off guard. I promise you, had I been on my game I would have done far worse.”

The other man cocks his head to the side, watching him, and Felix already hates the calculating gaze. “You really go all in, don’t you?” he asks. “Just no fucks given as to what people think about you?”

“I’m not here to date, I’m here to go to school.”

“How boring,” says the man.

“I like boring,” says Felix.

There’s a beat and then, “I’m Sylvain.” Sylvain holds his hand out for a shake. Felix stares at it as though it might bite him, but Sylvain waits patiently. “You owe me at least yours.”

There isn’t a chance in hell that this man doesn’t know who Felix is; his face is plastered across every Garreg Mach University billboard this side of Fodlan. Still, Felix has been raised with manners and he can hear Glenn rolling over in his grave.

Felix hates manners but sucks it up.

“Felix,” he says finally, still ignoring Sylvain’s hand. “Thank you for the help, but I don’t need it. Now leave me alone. I don’t have time to entertain jockstraps like yourself.”

Sylvain eventually puts his hand down and watches Felix for a long moment. Felix doesn’t like the slightly amused grin that seems permanently attached to his face. “Got it,” says Sylvain eventually. He stands and throws his bag back over his shoulder. “Then this jockstrap will take his leave.”

Felix almost feels bad, prompting him to say, “My appreciation is honest. If you hadn’t stepped in I might’ve snapped the girl’s neck instead.” He expects him to run off at such vivid imagery, like so many do.

But instead, Sylvain just throws his head back and laughs, before leaving him be.

“Do you like Adrestian Barbecue?”

This one cuter than the last, pert little nose and wavy locks of brown framing her face nicely. Felix still isn’t remotely interested. “I’m studying,” he says, trying his best to sound at least polite. He’s not very good at it, but the woman pays it no mind.

“This’ll only take a moment,” she says. “I’m wondering if you’d like to go get lunch or something? There’s a great new place that’s just opened up off of Twenty-Fourth Street, and--”

“Babe,” someone cuts in, leaning over Felix’s shoulder, their cheeks barely inches from each other. Sylvain, Felix’s mind supplies before being annoyed that he’d remembered. Felix hadn’t seen him in the shop for a few weeks. Sylvain to his credit doesn’t sling his arm around and immediately drop into the chair without permission, he just hovers next to him. Waiting.

A slight improvement.

“Sylvain,” says Felix. Then pauses, unsure how to continue. He swallows and then, “You’re late.”

Sylvain chuckles. “Traffic.”

Felix huffs, a little emboldened. “That’s the excuse you used last time.”

“And it’s still true,” says Sylvain.

“Um,” says the woman who’s been interrupted. “I was trying to ask--”

“My boyfriend to lunch,” cuts in Sylvain. “Yes, I saw that. I can barely get him to go out with me, what makes you think that he’d have a go with you?”

Felix’s eyes nearly bulge at the aggressive raking. Sylvain seemed like a nice man the last they met, but perhaps Felix has underestimated him. It sounds like a jab straight from Felix’s book.

The woman’s mouth falls open and she gawks but quickly recovers. “Right,” she says. “My apologies, I’d thought-- Never mind that. Have a wonderful day Mr. Fraldarius.”

Felix cringes as she turns and walks away.

“Mr. Fraldarius,” drawls Sylvain, falling into the chair next to him. “I really do have a habit of coming to rescue you.”

“I didn’t need to be rescued,” says Felix, acerbically. “It isn’t my fault that you insist on butting in where you aren’t wanted.”

“So, you wanted to go grab lunch with her?”

Felix closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, and lets out a frustrated grunt. “Absolutely not.” Sylvain doesn’t say anything, just watches him with unwavering patience. Eventually, Felix says, “Look, I appreciate your willingness to help, but--”

“You know, I could just pretend to be your boyfriend and they’d leave you alone for good.”

Felix blinks and then he scowls. “What?”

Sylvain shrugs, noncommittal. “You study here nearly every day. I study here too. I finally stepped in because you seem to get attention all of the time and it does nothing but annoy you. Seriously, people have no boundaries.”

Felix wants to tell Sylvain that he has no boundaries either, but decides not to fuel the fire. Instead, he says, “There’s no reason for you to help me, you would gain nothing from it.”

“Some peace and quiet. Do you know how hard it is to focus on schoolwork here when women and men are trying to approach you? I come here for the quiet, not to watch the latest episode of Blind Date.”

Sylvain has a point; the people who approach him tend to be rather loud about it. Felix thinks about the proposition for a moment. “No,” he finally says. “You don’t have to study here. Go elsewhere.”

“It’s preferable to my dorm,” says Sylvain, not bothering to elaborate. “And, I think that’s why you study here as well. You hate people and would do anything to avoid them entirely. Even if it means studying in public.”

Felix cringes because Sylvain’s nailed it on the head; the general public is less invasive than Ashe is. His roommate is nice but needlessly curious. “I don’t need your help.”

Sylvain opens his mouth to answer but stops when the barista comes by their table. “Felix,” he says, smiling kindly. “I’ve brought you a refill, yeah?” He drops a take-out cup to the table. “Just let me know if you want more.”

Felix nods, his lips quirking the slightest bit. The boy has always been nice to him and unfussy. “Thank you,” says Felix, genuinely.

The barista leaves and as Felix reaches for the cup, Sylvain raises his eyebrows. Felix’s mood immediately sours. “What?” snaps Felix acerbically.

Sylvain points to the cardboard sleeve around the cup. Felix turns it around to find the barista’s name and number written in curling script. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” says Felix. But, at least the barista has the decency not to accost him publicly. Felix rubs at his forehead.

“Say that I take you up on your offer,” starts Felix, already wanting to pull them back, “what are you expecting in return?”

“Nothing,” says Sylvain. Felix meets his eyes, narrowing his gaze as he watches him carefully. “Honestly,” continues Sylvain under the scrutiny. “I also like to study in peace, but I don’t like to sit at tables alone. I work better when there’s someone else there, even if it’s not to talk.”

“That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard,” says Felix.

“So is every person on this campus thirsting after your mangy ass. It’s a mystery to me.” Sylvain bites back just as hard as Felix, it seems. Felix respects that, if only slightly.

“Fine,” says Felix. “But only because I’ve got tests coming up and I’m tired of being bothered.”

“It’s a deal then,” says Sylvain. “We study and pretend to be dating, reaping the benefits of a quiet and quaint coffee shop.”

“You’ll have to be convincing,” says Felix.

“So far, it’s worked.”

Sylvain holds his hand out to shake on the deal and Felix looks at it warily. Then, with a resigned sigh, he takes it. Sylvain’s hand is wide and warm, and it makes Felix want to pull away. He hates closeness and doesn’t do well with physical contact. When they part, Sylvain smiles and then finally drops his book bag from his shoulders, settling in.

Felix hopes to the Goddess above that he’s not making a mistake.

Felix wants to hate Sylvain on mere principle, but they fall into an easy companionship. Felix hates it, hates that he doesn’t dislike Sylvain. But, Felix doesn’t quite like him either, and it’s the last thread of hope that he hangs on to.

A week into the charade, Felix is still stunned by the fact that Sylvain actually studies. He expects Sylvain to joke or flirt incessantly. He hasn’t; Sylvain’s quiet when they sit at their table in the corner of the coffee shop, nose-deep in a math text.

Felix’s gaze narrows slightly when he reads the title. “You’re taking Calculus III?”

“No,” says Sylvain, eyes not leaving his book. He flips a page, looking bored. “It’s a prerequisite, so I’ve already taken it, but sometimes I have to revisit.”

“Already taken it?” Sylvain taps another textbook to the side and Felix’s eyes widened. “Ordinary and Partial Differential Mathematics?” Felix can not for the life of him, think of a degree that would require a course like this.

Sylvain hums. “Yeah, it’s my required math for this semester.”

“For a jockstrap like yourself?” The nickname has stuck and so far, Sylvain hasn’t stopped Felix from using it.

Finally, Sylvain looks up, eyes crinkling in amusement. “I like math,” he says simply, “and I’m good at it. It’s an easy course for me.”

Felix isn’t sure what’s easy about math that he doesn’t even grasp the purpose of, but Sylvain’s only proven himself to be a weird man at his core. Sylvain looks at Felix’s book in return.

“Statistics,” says Sylvain. Felix has a distinct impression that he’s not remotely impressed.

“A requirement,” says Felix. “If I had a choice, I wouldn’t take math at all. But it’s part of a Business degree.”

“Business.” Sylvain snorts. “What a boring degree. Aren’t you here for fencing?”

“On a fencing scholarship, yes. There’s no future in a sport, though.” Felix narrows his eyes at him. “Something that you should probably learn.”

Sylvain’s got the build of a footballer, though, so Felix knows that he’s likely on that track. But, Sylvain doesn’t really talk about himself much, let alone his schooling. He has a tendency to watch people carefully with a gaze that’s far too knowing.

Felix never likes that look, like Sylvain’s mind is far away and thinking. A thinking Sylvain is likely a dangerous Sylvain. It’s always the ones you least suspect. Glenn would have been best friends with this dolt.

“What?” says Felix, annoyed.

“Nothing,” says Sylvain, turning back to his textbook.

Felix frowns but doesn’t push to ask more.

As the weeks pass, things shift from a tentative, peaceful study, into an actual friendship. Felix wants to hate it; a large part of him wants to loathe it because he doesn’t like people, nor does he like it when people admire him in return.

But, Felix has learned in their brief time together that it’s not all bad. Not every person who is friendly with you wants something in return. Being a Fraldarius has severely skewed the way that he views the general public, but Sylvain seems to have no idea what his roots are, thank the Goddess.

It’s led to a low-key relationship, full of quiet jokes and genuine care. Felix grudgingly accepts it.

Like always, Felix finds Sylvain holding their table in the corner, a cup of coffee already ordered and waiting for him. Bernadetta’s handmade mugs might be odd and a little bizarre, but they serve drinks all the same, even if it loses its heat more quickly.

Sylvain once berated him for his wasteful use of to-go cups and Felix relented without much of a fight. Much to his irritation.

“One large red-eye, black as your soul,” says Sylvain, pushing the cup towards Felix. “I think he threw in an extra shot this time.”

Felix grunts, noncommittally, drops his bag to the ground and slumps into his chair. The mug is hot to the touch, so it must be fresh, and Felix leans over to inhale deeply. Sylvain makes a gagging sound which causes Felix to glare at him.

“No judgment,” says Sylvain. Then he pauses. “Actually, a lot of judgment because only stone-cold dicks can drink that dredge--”

“Go back to the field,” snaps Felix, before taking a sip. It’s dark and bitter as it burns through his veins. Perfection, really. Sylvain just has bad taste.

“Always with the jock references,” says Sylvain. “At least you haven’t called me jockstrap yet.”

“Apt name for someone like yourself.”

Sylvian blinks. “What does that even mean?”

Felix huffs. “An athlete, you dolt.” He takes another sip. “You make fun of my sport enough that it's only appropriate that I do the same.”

Sylvain is quiet for a long moment and then he bursts out laughing. “Wait, wait,” he starts. “You think I’m an athlete? Why?”

“You're built like a footballer,” says Felix. “Infuriatingly tall and broad.”

“Not to say that jocks are dumb, or anything, but with my courseload what makes you think that I even have time to think about playing a sport?”

Felix thinks for a long moment, coming to realize that even with their burgeoning friendship, he knows next to nothing about Sylvain. He’s easy to get along with, they’ve fallen into an easy routine and Felix even finds that studying flies by with little to no thought by his side. Something about Sylvain’s quiet presence in the coffee shop makes it easier to focus.

Still.

“Wait, you don’t?” asks Felix. “Why didn’t you ever say--”

“I thought that you were just insulting me, I didn’t think that you actually thought that I--” Sylvain stops, laughing again. “I’m sorry, this is hilarious. It shows just how bad you are with people. Pure comedic gold.”

“You said you were on scholarship!”

At that, Sylvain raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, an academic one. Astronomy and Astrophysics.”

“Astrophysics?” blurts Felix incredulously.

In retrospect, it’s painfully obvious, he thinks. Suddenly, the textbooks of differential calculus and other various maths and sciences he can’t pronounce make a hell of a lot more sense. He reaches out, lifting the book that Sylvain’s currently working from, eyeballing the title.

“Steller, Galactic and Extragalactic Astronomy,” Felix reads. Then he moves to the next. “Statistical Quantum Mechanics.” Felix meets Sylvain’s sheepish gaze. “You aren’t joking, are you?”

“I’ve wanted to understand the planets ever since I saw Star Trek as a kid--”

“Are you really basing your degree on a television show that you watched growing up? One that isn’t even that good?”

Sylvain’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, you did not just disrespect the best television show to ever have been created.”

“I’m not having this conversation,” says Felix. “I have an essay for Business Statistics, and it’s going to be hard enough to focus knowing that you’re doing experimental math over there.”

“Theoretical math,” says Sylvain, coyly correcting him.

“Whatever,” hisses Felix. “Honestly, being a footballer would be less annoying.”

Sylvain frowns slightly. “Than being smart?”

“What?” Felix scowls. “No, that isn’t what I meant. I don’t give a rat’s ass how smart you are, but really, Sylvain-- Star Trek?”

Sylvain lets out a long breath and Felix realizes that he must be used to being judged. Sylvain doesn’t have the typical look of a scientist when you think about it. He’s handsome and well built, looking like he spends more time on a beach than a mechanics lab.

Felix has the decency to be at least a little bit embarrassed for assuming, not that he’d publicly admit to it.

“Look, just go back to your book,” says Felix. “I’ll go back to mine. And if I have any math questions, I’m going to expect your help.”

At that, Sylvain lets out a little chuckle, different from his usual boisterous laugh. It takes Felix a moment to realize that it’s a genuine moment from Sylvain, one where he’s let down all those walls he’s carefully put up.

It seems that he’s even more guarded than Felix is, something of mild interest. If Felix took an interest in things. He doesn’t, he thinks, but it’s more like he’s trying to convince himself.

“Alright,” says Sylvain. “But I don’t know how much help I’ll be. Simple math confuses me more than this does.”

What a ridiculous thing to say, but it’s not as annoying as the way that Felix’s mouth twitches into a near smile.

In the aftermath of Felix’s assumed snafu, Sylvain makes irritating strides to get to know Felix better. Irritating, because Felix has come to learn that he likes spending time with the genius of a chump, be it lunches between classes, or dinner after their study session. A variety of low-commitment activities that are usually full of small talk that Felix is angered he doesn’t hate.

“Just to be more convincing,” said Sylvain, doing most of the talking like always. Felix was inclined to agree, considering that Annette told him that Sylvain wasn’t his type and the idea of the two of them together seemed frankly, odd.

“I don’t get what the issue is,” says Annette, one day that seems like eons after Felix struck his deal with Sylvain. It’s past winter holiday and creeping into the spring, warm enough to catch a snack at the crepe stand after Annette’s yoga class. “Are you bothered that you like to spend time with him?”

“No, that’s not--” Felix pauses. “I’m not good at making friends.”

“We’re friends,” says Annette, shoving a mouthful of crepe into her mouth.

Felix wants to remind her that they met after she asked him to dinner, and it was the one time he’d said yes. It lasted about thirty minutes before they both decided dinner was a bust and went bowling instead. Annette kicked his ass, looked pretty while doing it and he’d felt nothing in return.

Instead, he says, “You're persistent.” It’s half-hearted and he doesn’t really mean it, but Annette’s cheeks puff up anyway.

“Oh, Felix! You’re evil,” huffs Annette, but she never stays mad at him for long, turning her attention back to her food.

“Sylvain is… different,” says Felix, as they sit down on a bench.

Annette nods sagely. “I mean, yeah, isn’t that why you like him?”

“He’s sufferable.”

“I mean, I’ll admit, he’s an odd choice and definitely not your type but--”

“Wait, Annette,” says Felix. “Do you think that I actually like him? As in romantically?”

She blinks at him, confused. “I mean, don’t you?” asks Annette around a mouthful of food. She’s never been very ladylike, but it’s a breath of fresh air at the end of all things. Normally it would endear Felix. But.

“ What?” snaps Felix, eyes immediately narrowing. “Of course I don’t, this entire thing has been a ruse to get people to leave me alone.”

Annette chews at her food thoughtfully for a second and then says, “But you enjoy spending time with him.”

“I’ve made that apparent,” says Felix. “It vexes me.”

“You’ve admired how smart he is.”

“Infuriatingly so, but it’s useful when we study.” Felix pauses. “Don’t tell him that I said that.”

“You spend your free time with him,” says Annette, gesturing at Felix with her crepe. “This is the first time I’ve seen you face-to-face in like a month, but you go out of your way to see him every day.”

At that, Felix starts, mouth snapping shut as he thinks. Annette’s right, he does go out of his way to spend time with Sylvain. And if they can’t meet properly, it’s texting. Sylvain’s usually the one to greet him in the morning with a corny horoscope that neither of them believes, but still laugh about. And Felix is usually the one to say goodnight, even if it isn’t warranted.

It feels wrong if they don’t share words at least once a day.

“Annette,” says Felix.

“Hm?” hums Annette, cheeks bulging around the last bite of her crepe.

“Am I in love with him?” It’s rhetorical, of course, and dreadful in tone, but Annette answers anyway.

“Would that be a bad thing?”

“No,” says Felix, mouth parted in awe as though the heavens had just been explained to him. Or, Sylvain explained theoretical warp theory and Felix finally understood it. That’ll never happen, but--

“I love him.” The words come easier than he expects and they fill him with unexpected warmth. He wants more of it. He’s also afraid of it, but if there’s anything that Felix is good at, it’s striking something head-on with force.

He hasn’t lost a fencing match in nearly three years.

Annette, blessedly, is quiet for once, just watching him process his feelings. And when he’s done, when Felix comes to his conclusion, she asks, “Do you feel better?”

“Yes,” says Felix, and it’s honest and true, and strangely welcome. He hasn’t felt this good in years. Certainly not since Glenn passed.

“Good,” says Annette, “Now go kiss him.”

Felix’s answer is dumping the rest of his crepe directly into her lap, the loss of his snack well justified.

Because Felix’s life is apparently a romantic comedy, he expects things between him and Sylvain to become awkward.

It doesn't. In fact, everything is disgustingly normal. They keep their study dates, emphasis on the study part. Sylvain still greets him with his coffee order, and on the few occasions that Felix beats him to the shop, he greets Sylvain with his ridiculous white mocha, extra whip.

There are a few differences, Felix supposes.

When Sylvain leans over to help with a math problem, Felix turns to him. They meet eyes more often than not. Felix willingly covers Sylvain’s dinner, which raises an eyebrow because he’s notoriously stingy.

But, if Felix seems off, Sylvain never mentions it or broaches the topic. It’s aggravating, how easy it is to just keep to the routine. And it’s not that Felix doesn’t want more; ever since his talk with Annette, he finds himself entertaining the idea further.

He’s done a lot of thinking. Sylvain’s handsome, there isn’t a doubt about it, but that’s not what pulls Felix to him. Sylvain’s smart as a whip and doesn’t mince his words. And yes, he puts walls up and dances about things personal, but Felix does the same.

And lately, Sylvain’s started to pull those walls down, comfortable in Felix’s presence.

No one’s ever comfortable around him and Felix is struck by how much it means. Feelings are hard and love is even worse. Felix isn’t quite sure that it’s worth it.

But, he hasn’t written the idea entirely off.

“Felix?”

Felix blinks. “I, er--”

Sylvain’s mouth tugs slightly downward at one side. Concerned. “Are you okay? You seem distracted.”

“Fencing,” blurts Felix. “The big tourney coming up.”

“You mean the one two weeks ago?”

Okay, so, Felix has been more distracted than he cares to admit. It’s all Sylvain’s fault. “Sylvain, it’s nothing. I’m just tired. School is draining. The usual.”

“Tired,” says Sylvain, unconvinced. He leans back in his chair, arms crossed and watching Felix carefully. Curse Sylvain’s perceptiveness and his ability to look right through people.

“Look, Sylvain--”

“Felix Fraldarius,” drawls another voice. They both turn to find a familiar face framed by bleach blonde hair and twirling a lock around her fingers. There’s the snap of gum in her mouth as she chews open-mouthed and unflattering.

Immediately, Sylvain is on the defensive. “Hey--”

“Hold it, golden boy,” says the girl, “I know you aren’t really dating. Heard it one day after you grabbed a bite to eat.”

Sylvain’s face darkens. “Have you been following us?”

The girl makes a face at the accusation. “Ugh, as if. It was a coincidence, I swear, but what a wonderful one. Means that I’ve got a chance.”

Felix immediately bites back, hackles raised. “I already had little interest, but as of right now, there’s not even a remote possibility of you having a chance.”

“Is it really so hard to just give it a go? You might even like me.” She bats her eyes in a pathetic attempt to appeal to him, but all Felix can think of his tanned skin dotted with freckles and sun-kissed auburn hair.

“Doubtful,” says Felix, dryly.

It takes only a second for her features to change dramatically, from coy and shy to contemptuous and sneering. “I wonder why I even bothered,” says the girl, before nodding to Sylvain. “Clearly your taste isn’t as good as I would have thought. Haven’t you heard the rumors about him?”

Yes, ad nauseum. From friends, the general public, even Sylvain himself. His problems with women and dating, and commitment issues. His brother and father, and the pressure of family legacy. At first, from those around them who’d heard of their dating, who’d seen them hanging out. People who felt it their duty to warn Felix.

And eventually, Sylvain himself who’s recently opened up about the heavy baggage that he carries around, shouldering it without much of a complaint. If anything, Sylvain’s the one looking out for others.

So yes, Sylvain doesn’t have a stellar reputation, but there’s a lot more to a person than what’s seen on the surface. A lesson that Felix has spent the last half-year learning quite unwillingly.

“Do you think yourself superior?” asks Felix, eyes narrowing at her. “You have no concept of personal space, nor do you seem to comprehend the words ‘no’ and ‘not interested’. Sylvain could murder someone in cold blood and still have twice the worth that you hold.”

“It’s a wonder, why you would even consider him,” scoffs the girl.

“Obviously it’s because I love him and despite the terrible things the lot of you gossip about, he makes me perfectly happy.”

The table goes quiet, both the girl and Sylvain staring at him. Likely, for different reasons. Felix didn’t mean to say it so plainly, but he’s never been good at pulling his punches, even when it comes to verbal lashings.

Besides, she brought it upon herself.

And against all odds, Felix feels wholly and utterly satisfied, not a moment of regret at his confession. He takes a sip of his coffee, fingers curled around his mug tenderly, meeting her gaze head-on.

“You should leave,” says Sylvain, before the girl can even respond. She opens her mouth to retort, but stops when Sylvain smiles at her. Only it isn’t a smile, it’s a nasty-looking smirk, more like a wolf that’s about to pounce its prey.

Wisely, she backs off, huffing in annoyance as she turns and leaves.

And then there are two, sitting at a table in silence. Felix is oddly comfortable, sipping at his drink while Sylvain’s mouth opens and closes. Thinking about what he’s going to say. Felix supposes that he’s opened the inevitable can of worms.

“So,” starts Sylvain, “correct me if I’m wrong, but when you said that you love me, it sounded pretty genuine.”

Felix scoffs, he can’t help it. “I always mean the things that I say.”

He expects Sylvain to bolt, to run away, to want nothing to do with this. Instead, Sylvain smiles, small and real, regarding Felix with a kind of warmth that immediately sets him on high alert.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” asks Felix, testily. But Sylvain only chuckles, soft at first and then louder. “Really Sylvain? You’re laughing? Right now?”

“Sorry,” says Sylvain, “It’s not actually funny-- okay, that’s a lie, it’s hilarious.”

Felix frowns, sneering defensively. “Is the idea of me loving someone, least of all you, so entertaining?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Then what is it?” demands Felix, exasperated. Sylvain’s not one to beat around the bush, but he can’t seem to find his words, too busy being amused by Felix’s feelings, to his utter embarrassment.

“It’s because I love you too.”

Felix’s mouth falls open because that’s the last thing he expects Sylvain to say. He doesn’t answer, gaping openly at Sylvain, floundering for an explanation. Eventually, Sylvain finds himself, clearing his throat slightly.

Sylvain looks to Felix’s face and then his gaze drops to where his hand rests on the table. Considering. Felix really hopes that he’s not planning on taking it, but Sylvain does, fingers tugging at his palm gently.

Felix lets it happen, settling on the explanation that he’s just not like himself at the moment.

“Felix,” says Sylvain, this time quieter and more serious. He thumbs at Felix’s knuckles, the touch soft and hesitant. “I’ll admit, I’m a little bit relieved.”

“I’m annoyed,” says Felix. “I’ve been annoyed since the moment I realized it because all I’ve been able to do is think of you. It’s infuriating in the worst of ways.”

There’s a moment that passes as they watch each other, Sylvain’s hand practically burning around Felix’s. And then, Sylvain says, “Felix, can I kiss you?”

Yes, Felix thinks. It’s such a foreign feeling that he nearly pulls away but he doesn’t. He’s determined to indulge. It’s about time he’s enjoyed something in his life.

So, what he says instead is, “If you must,” the words clipped but his usual crustiness softer than normal. It makes Sylvain smile at him again, looking at Felix like he can see right through him.

Sylvain leans forward smoothly, cupping Felix’s jaw in his other hand. He’s still looking at him, like he’s some sort of treasure, paused right before Felix’s mouth. And that makes Felix impatient.

Felix is the one to close the distance, sealing their lips together like a promise. Sylvain’s mouth is soft under his, but he responds eagerly, his han moving to the back of his neck. Felix has never really put stock into the whole sparks flew and things were felt nonsense. Turns out that he’d been wrong and that kissing is kind of everything. All he can think of is Sylvain’s presence and the solid weight of him as he leans in.

Sylvain licks into the kiss, but only just barely, coaxing a tad more than just a mild response from Felix. And Felix can feel his skin burning bright red with strain, or embarrassment, or maybe just the idea that they’re doing this in public.

He doesn’t care, Felix wants more, fingers curling into Sylvain’s shirt and tugging slightly.

Eventually, they part because breathing is necessary and even Felix requires air. Regrettably. He wants to go back in, to kiss Sylvain again, just one more time before he gains his senses back and thinks better of it.

But first.

“You know, I’ll kill you if you hurt me,” says Felix, fingers tightening their grip around Sylvain’s shirt.

Sylvain laughs, leaning close to Felix's ear and pressing a soft kiss there. “I know. But that’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

#fe3h #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem fanfiction #fire emblem three houses fanfiction #felix x sylvain #sylvix #sylvain/felix #sylvain jose gautier #felix hugo fraldarius

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c-c-cherry · 4 years

Text

Part Four Headcanons!!

@tyriantyrant Father...I’m so sorry this took so long...but it is finally here. The moment has come.

@jjadegreen is and always will be my headcanon buddy and she really took the reins on this one because my stupid mushy brain could barely think of ANYTHING. Go check her out. She makes good shit. If you like headcanons you’ll love her.

Without further ado, join us on this long-awaited half-crack half-serious journey once more:

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Okuyasu

-He swallowed a spoon. Like...one of those tiny collector spoons...

-Don’t ask me how Okuyasu managed to do this, but he did.

-He was sitting in his room trying to think of something cool he could do in front of Josuke and he was like

”Bro what if I did some kickass spoon trick” (Yes, he did find a little collector’s spoon at an antique shop and bought it cause it was shiny)

-It did not go well

-He choked on it for like a solid 2 minutes before he FUCKING SWALLOWED IT and sat there for 15 minutes like “oh shit oh fuck-”

-His dad was just watching from the corner like ;-;

-At first he’s like “ahh it’ll be fine, right?”

-”Right?”

-Then he starts thinking about it a bit more and realizes how fucked he probably is

-He COULD call Josuke but he really doesn’t want to explain to him that he not only swallowed a tiny fucking spoon but he also did it while simultaneously trying to think of something cool to do in front of him

-So he doesn’t call Josuke

-Instead he paces around, trying to think of some solution:

Can I throw it back up or something?

Should I like...drink that stuff that makes metal dissolve? That’ll work, right? Shit wait-

Maybe it’ll just turn out okay?

-His chest is on FIRE and he’s absolutely convinced that this is the end for him

-He calls Josuke

-There are tears...many tears

-Our boy Josuke rushes over and starts freaking out because all he knows is “Oku’s hurt” and when he bursts through the door Okuyasu’s just sitting on the couch crying and Josuke’s just “???”

-He’s the most supportive bro tho and sits down on the couch and is like “oh shit bro did you need emotional healing instead? I gotchu either way” :’)

-He reaches over to hug him and Oku jumps back in a panic and screams “NO DUDE DON’T JOSTLE THE SPOON”

”...”

“..the spoon?”

-He tearily explains the spoon

-It ends with Josuke punching the spoon out of him with Crazy Diamond but he found the entire situation so fucking funny because Oku is so fucking mortified

-he swore not to tell a soul and keeps to his word but he buys Oku a tiny spoon every goddamn chance he gets

Rohan

-Most of the time, Rohan does not embarrass himself

-But sometimes our man slips up a bit and most of the time people don’t notice the dumb shit he does cause he’s always doing dumb shit

-But this is different

-Picture an almost empty house...instant ramen wrappers everywhere...alcohol has been consumed…things have been done...

-Rohan thought this was the best time to answer some of his fan’s FAQ’s (he puts them at the end of every new issue)

-He answers most of them fine but once he comes to the “how tall are you?” question his mushy stupid brain decides to put “about ten inches.” (GOD I'M BEGGING YOU IF YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND THIS REFERENCE OPEN GOOGLE AND LOOK UP “how tall is Rohan Kishibe?” PLEASE PLEASE I BEG)

-Just for fun

-Because his editor will just fix it, won’t they? Even if he wakes up the next morning and forgets about it, it could never get past the other stages of publishing, right?

-Wrong.

-It manages to slip past every single stage and before he knows it, the latest issue is out and it says he’s almost a foot tall

-He’s reading the one of the newly published copies at breakfast and SPITS OUT HIS FUCKING LUKEWARM SHITTY TEA

-He calls his publisher and just like “uhhh...hey...what the actual fuck guys?” and apparently NONE Of THEM NOTICED??

-They swipe them off the shelves and re-edit them but by now its far too late

-Josuke and Okuyasu have already made jokes about squishing him

-He gets fanart of him being the size of a pencil (which he’s convinced are also done by Josuke and Okuyasu)

-The banned issue where Rohan discloses his supposed “true height” is a novelty collectors item in the manga community now

-This is Rohan’s legacy now. This is how he will be remembered

Josuke

-He wanted to be super edgy when he was around 14

-And what better way to be an edgy 14 year old than with cigarettes??

-The problem is that he’s a literal fucking dumbass and doesn’t know how they work

-Like at all

-He somehow gets his hands on a pack and tries to do it in front of his friends to impress them

-He doesn’t light it. He just...sucks on it??

-He sucks really hard on the unlit cigarette while all of his friends watch and there’s this really long silence and all of them are thinking “yeah is this actually how it works though?”

-Josuke’s like “waitwaitwait I can make smoke come out of it watch” and sucks way too hard on it and IT GETS LODGED IN HIS FUCKING WINDPIPE

-He starts choking because he really really, doesn’t wanna swallow this thing and all of his friends are like “OH SHIT SHIT”

-There’s always that one homie who knows the Heimlich maneuver and on that day, the Heimlich is maneuvered.

-He coughs up a wet cigarette covered in nasty throat juices and his mouth tastes like shit

-He’s still totally shocked about what just happened and just kinda starts laughing but everyone can tell that its forced

-Everyone forgets about it and he’s too embarrassed to tell a soul but the Heimlich kid and him make eye contact in the hallways sometimes and he’s always reminded of that fateful day

-This is the soul reason why Josuke never smoked in high school and probably never will again

Koichi

-This might seem off topic to start but please just bear with me.

-why, for any reason, does Koichi know who joseph is??? Joseph is an American Real Estate agent. Why would a 15 year old Japanese kid be like “oh yeah that famous real estate agent Joseph Joestar”???

-well I present to you the most top tier headcanon: Koichi is a real estate fanboy.

-he planned to be a real estate agent before getting wrapped up into stand shenanigans

-But, being 15 and having REAL ESTATE as one of your biggest interests is not something you really want people knowing, especially considering the fact Koichi is a huge nerdy real estate fanboy for Josuke’s DAD.

-He buys these real estate magazines made for 45 year old men like once a week. They are what he looks forward to every week.

-one time Josuke and Oku come visit and see a magazine on Koichi's bed.

-He totally panics and dives for the magazine and tries to hide it, acting all nervous.

-Josuke and Oku immediately assume it’s a… y’know, NSFW, not for kids magazine.

-Because why would koichi need to be embarrassed about any other kind of magazine?

-So antics ensue of Josuke and Oku pestering koichi about the magazine, teasing him and begging to know what he was hiding

-after a few days, Koichi begrudgingly admits that the magazine is the “SPECIAL JOSEPH JOESTAR INTERVIEW ISSUE” which he bought 3 years ago and has reread countless times.

-Okuyasu laughs really hard and Josuke is like “...you mean my dad.....” and koichi wants to DIE

-They buy him real estate merchandise for his 16th birthday and EVERYONE thinks it’s some kind of joke gift but koichi is internally grateful

Jotaro

-Jotaro is not very good during social situations. That is very obvious.

-but when he hears that Koichi got a girlfriend, he decides he wants to be a cool…uncle? Nephew? Father figure? Mentor?

-so one day, Koichi and Jotaro are chatting while they go on a walk and Yukako walks by

-Koichi blushes and waves at her, she waves too

-Jotaro thinks, ‘alright. Time to show koichi I’m a cool guy’

-as Yukako walks away, Jotaro nudges koichi and sorta smirks

-Jotaro forget a few very important things about himself and Koichi:

-first of all, Koichi is so short, attempting to nudge the kid ended in Jotaro violently jabbing his elbow into Koichi’s skull

-Jotaro is much stronger than he thinks and Koichi, while he can take a hit, is very much weaker than Jotaro

-so an attempt at a simple nudge ends in Koichi being jabbed in the skull, flung into the road by the force of the hit, and hitting his head, hard, on the cement.

-needless to say Jotaro called and ambulance and Yukako tried to literally murder Jotaro

-He ended up with a mild concussion, but no long term damage.

-Jotaro is Not Good At Words so he apologizes in weird awkward ways like buying koichi stuff, quietly handing him 5,000 yen at random times, taking him out on the town, etc...

-Koichi keeps insisting it was an accident and he’s alright, but Jotaro feels AWFUL

-He NEVER lives that moment down in his mind

-It’ll be 2008 and Jotaro is visiting and he’ll just look the newly married koichi in his tiny eyes and say “hmhghggggg is your head ok”

-and koichi is like “IT WAS 9 YEARS AGO MR JOTARO PLEASE”

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

That was a wild ride I’m so sorry

Did ya’ll have a favourite? I gotta say, real estate Koichi is just...Jade, thank you for that...

Have you seen our embarrassing part 5 headcanons yet? If not, go check that out!

#jojos's bizarre adventure #diamond is unbreakable #diu #jjba #josuke higashikata #okuyasu nijimura #koichi hirose #jotaro kujo #4taro #joseph joestar #rohan kishibe #headcanons #headcanon #jjba headcanons #crack #crack treated seriously #kinda #ask-c-c-cherry

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treeni · 4 years

Text

Necessary quiet

Fanart of the absolutely lovely story as the birds love the sky by peachsneakers / @candied-peach.

Summary: Janus is just feeling down. His boyfriend comforts him.

Honestly if you’re feeling down and you need to be cheered up, I suggest checking it out. If you’ve seen any of my posts recently, you probably know I can’t praise peach enough, but their work is honestly amazing if you’re looking for suggestions.

Story time:

I had just tried to go to sleep at 6:30 am on Saturday. The sort of existential dread has been setting in recently and it was the first day I had sort of been able to fight it off and feel like myself in a while. In fact, I felt so good that I was overridden with ideas and spent the whole night jotting them down and organizing them all so I could maneuver them later. I had just laid down and at 6:45 I get a text asking for my help. Our dog Natalie needs to go to the vet. Without hesitation I got back up, threw on some clothes and my partner readily joined me. I was ready faster because I had clothes ready for the early morning walks I take the dogs on everyday. I rushed from our basement apartment to the main house as my partner finished getting ready to find that my aunt’s worry had gone from moderate to extreme.

Natalie, who looked like hell, but had been still walking around that morning, suddenly went toward her favorite room to rest. When she found the door closed, she just...collapsed against it and made no move to get up. Something was very very wrong.

We knew in the past few days she seemed a little sick with something that seemed like no more than a stomach bug. We also knew she was in decline, but was diagnosed with kidney failure, but it wasn’t complete failure yet. The vet predicted we would have a while yet because of the nature of the diagnosis. She was dying yes, but just Tuesday she had raced up the hill on our walk and scarfed not only seconds, but thirds at dinner time.

I know that every pet is important to their family, every pet is important, but Natalie was uniquely important to me in a way no other pet had been. You see just a few months after my aunt adopted her, she offered me a place in her home, a sanctuary away from the toxic situation I was in within my parent’s home. Natalie was there to welcome the hollow, broken teenager who had been barely stopped from committing suicide just months prior by a stranger. When my aunt had gotten me a special welcome dinner at my favorite bbq restaurant, me and Natalie went halvsies because she had the biggest, sweetest puppy eyes that were impossible to resist and she spent the entire day by my side, acting as the anchor as I was absolutely turbulent and lost. I was in a state where I was afraid of myself, of being in the way, afraid my existence itself was somehow a bother. Yet, Natalie sensed my hesitation was a constant source of comfort, leading me at every turn, every struggle and heart break, and admission of my past trauma, she was always there. Whenever I was upset, and I truly mean whenever, she would simply walk up to me, hovering close and patiently. She understood my touch aversion when I was distressed and so she would always wait, with big soulful brown eyes and a sweet smile. When I was ready and reached out to pet her, she would inevitably lean into the touch, then stretch her neck out in a way that was an invitation for a hug. She was absolutely brilliant and deeply empathetic.She absolutely considered herself to be as good as a human and honestly I have to agree.

She started showing GI symptoms, late Tuesday night, but we didn’t think much of it. She had been at the vet the day before and it honestly wasn’t that uncommon for one of the dogs to pick up something during their visits. Our other dog stopped eating too on Wednesday, which just confirmed the diagnosis in our minds. Thursday my aunt called the vet and couldn’t get an appointment. They said if she got worse to take her to the emergency vets.

She seemed to be doing better on Friday. She spent the day smiling and hanging around everyone. She ate a little bit and generally seemed to be back in her usual spirits. Then Friday night somehow she started getting sick again. The tropical storm was passing over us at the same time too, making rushing off that night dangerous. She was vomiting again and my aunt asked me if I’d go with her to the vet the next day, either the regular or the emergency depending on if she could get an appointment. The text asking for my help came long before the regular vet even opened.

My partner came up only two minutes after me and carried the collapsed dog into the car. To make it as easy as possible for the vets to get to her, the front passenger seat was pushed all the way forward while me and my partner drove behind. When we left, I wasn’t certain we would be coming home with her that day. I feared the vet would give us the terrible news that they would recommend putting her down. The drive was less than 20 minutes. She was dead before we arrived. They think she had undiagnosed cancer.

I didn’t even get to say goodbye.

Returning back, most of the day was spent comforting our other dog, Juno, who seemed absolutely convinced we were getting rid of her next. It didn’t give a lot of time to process.

My partner forced me to eat dinner that night and we returned to our apartment after. Having been up for the greater part of 36 hours, I finally sort of collapsed into my bed. Still absolutely shell-shocked and not completely in my own head, I messaged @candied-peach with a request for a story. The request was... generic at best with no real details beyond hurt/comfort and something I can’t imagine I would have done in a different frame of mind. I am absolutely awful at asking for things even with all of the progress I’ve made. I knew they were working on several WIPs and had several requests to plow through. I thought at best mine would be pushed to the back of the list and handled... eventually, maybe after they got through with the others? Then I closed my tablet and sobbed until I finally fell asleep.

I woke up to it already in my inbox.

It was just lovely. I read it and left a comment, that I’m sure didn’t mean much because I was trying to type through crying (I’m still trying to type through crying). A few hours later I went back to it again and then again that night. Mind you, they had also released the first chapter of a large fic we had been discussing for ages, so they absolutely must have dropped everything to write it for me and that realization just... knocked the air out of me.

It was one of the sweetest gestures anyone has ever done for me.

The picture above is the result of my overwhelming need to do something in return and pay tribute to the little story that is now my absolute favorite story.

I honestly don’t know how to say thank you enough peach. Your kindness just blows me away.

#ts roman #ts deciet #roman sanders #janus sanders #rociet #princeit #fanart #fanfiction #longpost #deceit sanders #personal story #under the break #candied-peach #after the break #cw death #cw dead animal #cw true story

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sanktnikolais · 4 years

Text

We Got Married

For @grishaversebigbang mini bang! <3

Check out the amazing fanarts of @notbynary (x) and @ninaaswaffles (x)!

Summary: Waking up with a hangover in the morning without any recollection of the night before, Zoya and Nikolai are up for another headache because of their new status.

Word count: 1821

AO3

Nikolai woke up to a throbbing pain in his head. Even opening his eyes was a challenge, everything was trying to knock him out to oblivion and slowly becoming successful, but he stood his ground.

“Fuck,” Nikolai muttered as he brought a hand up to his temple to massage it. When he finally had the strength to open his eyes, the world was still spinning and threatening to black out, but he fought to stay awake and turned to the side.

It was then he felt a breath on his neck from did he stop his movements, and the sudden weight of someone pressed tightly against his side snapped him awake fully. He turned his head slightly to the side and was greeted with a mess of ebony hair of a certain someone that he was sure he knew who it was.

Almost half of Zoya’s body was perched on top of him and her arm was sprawled over his chest, pinning him down tightly on the couch. Nikolai winced through another wave of headache that hit. How had they gotten into this position, anyway? His memories were a blur of loud laughter and endless shots of alcohol of Zoya’s birthday blast. Aside from that, there was a huge blank space in between that needed to be filled.

Nikolai carefully untangled the arm on his chest without risking to wake the raven-haired woman up because he was very much aware of her wrath when disturbed during her sleep even at the slightest state. And he was definitely going to get axed when she woke up and realize that they had been this close. He still loved his life to be cut short. Though as much as he wanted to stay in this position for much longer—probably even forever—his head needed to be soothed with painkillers.

A few gentle tugs later, Zoya involuntarily moved away from him and turned to her side, finally putting off her weight from him all the while mumbling to herself. Nikolai gave a sigh of relief and rolled to his side, only to be met with the edge of the couch and he fell right off with a string of curses.

It was a good thing that the floor was carpeted and it somehow cushioned his fall a bit. The abruptness of the act sent another wave of dizziness to him, making Nikolai struggle to sit up and using the glass table as his support. It had been a while since he got wasted like this. The last time he had, he woke up by the stairs of his unit, legs spread on the steps, and he spent most of the day in bed because of a terrible headache.

Nikolai had vowed not to do that again, but the circumstances seemed to not be on his side.

A small patch of paper on the glass surface caught his eye and he squinted to see something scribbled on it. He didn’t know if it was the font that was shitty or just his vision swimming, but he did recognize it as David’s handwriting—the messy strokes of lines adding to the swirling of his vision.

Sorry to leave the mess for a while. We’ll be back in an hour, just went out to get breakfast. If you wake up before we come back, painkillers are in the cupboard by the kitchen. – D & G

P.S.

Enjoy your new status!

New what? Nikolai frowned at the note. It didn’t make any sense at all. Or had he missed something?

As if on cue, a memory flashed in his mind of him taking off the chain around his neck that held his father’s ring, and the rest was blank. He whipped a hand up to his throat, feeling the absence of the necklace and sending his mind to a panic. What if he had been dared to do something crazy to it? Though he wasn’t that close with his family, the ring was still an heirloom, and Nikolai would never forgive himself if he lost it due to his own recklessness.

He started to pat down on the carpet just in case it fell right over when he removed it from his neck. As he was doing so, he was berating himself in his mind for being so drunk to not be able to remember anything from the previous night.

A gleam at the corner of his eye caught his attention and Nikolai turned to the direction he had seen it from, surprising him when he finally saw where it was.

It was on the ring finger of his left hand.

Nikolai narrowed his eyes on the band. It was just a simple gold one with a black cursive L engraved on it, the dark font of the letter contrasting with its light background and making it stand out. The blond breathed out another sigh of relief, even if he was confused on why he had it worn around his finger.

At least the ring was still intact.

He carefully stood up from the floor and walked towards the kitchen to try and find some painkillers, all the while Zoya was still snoring in the living room. Several minutes of rummaging through the cupboards, Nikolai was startled to a stop by a loud voice from somewhere behind him.

“Lantsov, would you keep it down? It’s like you’re trying to go to war with—what in the fuck’s name is this?”

Nikolai raised a brow at the sudden change of Zoya’s vocabulary and started to walk back to the living room. He spotted the woman at the side of the room, looking at the expanse of the wall that was covered with a carelessly hanged tarp.

Zoya turned to him, eyes focused on the papers she was holding, her brows narrowed tightly.

He tried to ignore the beautiful mess of her bed hair or the way one of her shirtsleeves almost fell off her shoulder and revealed the skin around her collarbone, but failed of course, and Nikolai was all too aware of himself gawking at the woman in front of him.

Zoya tore her gaze away from the paper and looked at him, causing Nikolai to snap out of his daze and focus on the tarp behind her. From where he was standing, he could make out huge letters written (in spray-paint?) on its surface.

Nikolai squinted and read the writings.

He was mortified with what he read.

“Married?” Zoya exclaimed, her voice still hoarse from all the drinking last night, and she hitched a thumb over her shoulder. An expression that was in between confusion and anger was evident on her face. “What the fuck?”

The writings glared back at Nikolai, and he winced at the sight of it.

Congratulations, newlyweds! it said in a sloppy handwriting, and Nikolai had to blink repeatedly to make sure his eyes weren’t playing games on him.

Another memory flashed in his mind, and he turned to Zoya with a mortified look. They were absolutely screwed. “You dared David to wed us.”

Zoya looked back at him with wide eyes. Perhaps he should savor the moment of catching her off guard, but their current situation deemed it void. “What?”

Some of the events from the previous night came to Nikolai with a wave of headache. He brought a hand up to his head. “You still wouldn’t believe that he finished his judge training this year and you—” he gestured vaguely in the air with his other hand— “made him do it.”

There was a complete silence in the room, with Zoya narrowing her eyes at him as if she were trying to remember if she really had done the said deed. Nikolai took the moment to glance at her hand and was able to catch a glimpse of the gold band around her ring finger.

She held up the papers she had been holding. “Is this even legal?”

Nikolai squinted as he made his way closer to the raven-haired woman, trying to make sense of the wordings on the paper. He gave a wince. Marriage certificate. “Maybe we should ask our friendly neighbor judge?” he offered. “As far as I remember my college days, engineering did not cover anything related to this.”

There was another silence, and Zoya’s deadpanned expression only made his wince turn into a nervous smile. “This is madness,” she said later, breathing out an annoyed huff.

Nikolai nodded in agreement. “Completely.” He sighed. This meant another complication, and he knew this could take a while for it to be fixed, so he decided to make the most out of it instead. “Though I wouldn’t mind calling you Mrs. Lantsov.”

He then felt the papers get shoved on his face and he stumbled back a few steps with a light chuckle. It started to fall from him and Nikolai barely caught the material with his hand. Zoya was already by the wall, trying to tear the tarp off from the expanse in a rush. The blond couldn’t blame her—the writings were really a sight for sore eyes.

“I wouldn’t change my last name for you in any way.”

“Ah, that’s fine. So, you don’t mind being married to me?” He was rewarded with a glare, but Nikolai had already been used to it for years. By now, it was actually safe to say that he was fond of it. “Well, you were the one who dared David to wed us, which brings me to the idea that you’ve thought of being married to me. Did you?”

Zoya quickly tore her eyes away from him and turned back to her work on the wall. “Whatever,” she muttered.

A thought came to Nikolai as he stared at the certificate in his hands. “Wait, if we got married last night, did that mean you actually kissed me?”

He saw Zoya’s fingers falter from removing the last corner of the tarp, and Nikolai almost let out a loud laugh. Maybe she remembered something about last night. “Shut your mouth, Lantsov, or I will smother you with this,” she said, voice laced with threat.

Nikolai put a hand up to his chest and feigned a hurtful expression. “You’d hurt your husband?”

“If he’s that annoying, I probably would.”

“Harsh.”

“Honest.”

Zoya finally finished removing the tarp from the wall and began to fold it in brash movements, to which Nikolai watched fondly, a small smile gracing his lips. He’d never say it aloud, but Nikolai knew to himself he didn’t mind the thought of being married to her.

Now he was left wondering if she felt the same.

The blond snapped out of his thoughts and clasped his hands together a little too enthusiastically. “So, who kissed who first?” he asked with a grin.

This time, Nikolai wasn’t able to stay upright when Zoya threw the entire tarp over to his face.

#zoyalai #nikolai lantsov #zoya nazyalensky #king of scars #grishaverse mini bang #my writing #check out those fanarts!!! uwu #grishaminibang20

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thethiefandtheairbender · 4 years

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Honestly I never really got into she ra as much as I got into atla so I never really thought of it much ans just binged it reblogged a few things and was kinda done with it. At the time catradora ending seemed so amazing, it was certainly a breakthrough in children's media but their relationship has not been healthy at all and the last season was definitely rushed, I wish catra had found redemption seprate from adora and then maybe they could have reconcilled, not necesseraly end up together 1/2

But at least work through their differences. I mean I still enjoy seeing the beautiful fanart and I certainly can't tell people what to ship nor would I want to cus I also shipped them but I did wonder for three seasons how they were ever gonna turn their relationship around after three seasons of them just hurting each other, and it was more of catra hurting adora. I love adora and her story. Idk where this is going really so feel free to ignore this. Love your blog and all your metas!!! 2/2

around s3 and s4 i started to find shera a bit of a slog to get through, but i really enjoyed the majority of s5. and i was similarly celebrant when CA became canon. i even cried a little, not only because like, new landmark for queer rep, but also because that was a relationship i had been invested in throughout the series.

two weeks after shera ended, though, i started to think about how healthy CA is as well as the issues i had with it previously - even just when i thought they were nitpicks, like being displeased that catra tried to abandon adora without saying goodbye two episodes before they were kissing each other. at the time i thought it just wasn’t my personal ship dynamic preferences.

and it’s not like a ship has to be 100% healthy for me to ship it - i have a couple of exceptions where the dysfunctional state of the relationship is the point and what’s enjoyable. the main one is hans/elsa from frozen because they have a weirdly fascinating foil relationship in the first film. the difference, though, is that i would never want them to be canon, ever, i do not want or think hans should have any sort of redemption arc if he ever shows up in canon, and it’s something i want to ship entirely in fanon.

which is the exact opposite of a canon endgame ship literally saving the world through their “grand epic love for each other.” the main thing CA needed, imo, was time to show that catra’s turn around wasn’t just the “good part” in a textbook emotionally abusive cycle... especially when catra had been clearly emotionally abusive towards scorpia and the narrative had 100% framed leaving as the right thing for scorpia to do.

but CA isn’t given time. there is no epilogue (and adora’s future wish fulfilment doesn’t count). and the fact that catra acts, once adora leaves, the way a lot of abusers do? manic, obsessed, intent on punishing their former victim as much as possible? that adora is rewarded for never giving up on someone who routinely treated her terribly for four seasons? someone who actively kidnapped her friends and had them tortured, actively tried to kill adora multiple times and tried to destroy the entire world so adora couldn’t “win”?

catra’s redemption arc should’ve started, independently of adora, at the beginning of s4. it should’ve taken longer for them to reconcile. not everyone - particularly scorpia (who was strangely, conveniently absent in s5 as a protagonist who could interact with catra) - should have forgiven her. scorpia never even gets a full apology.

and i’ve never been someone who likes villains all that much, or is willing to them much (if any) slack. if you’re angry and mean 90% of the time? if it takes seasons for you to start acting like a decent person, regardless of whatever sort of backstory you’ve had? yeah, happy for you, character, but it doesn’t impress me much. did i always have sympathy for catra? yeah, a ton. does that mean i think she should be friends or lovers with all the people she actively hurt in the past? no. unless the story had been changed in s4, just going off the first four seasons i would’ve preferred a very intense redemption where catra does everything on her own - or at least with other people, not adora, and definitely not dependent on adora believing in her - and then they meet up like, seven episodes in and start putting in a fuck ton of work and that’s the focus. or them deciding to come back to each other, if, they’re better for each other someday.

the route s5 took never surprised me at all, down to a kiss to confirm them, but that doesn’t mean any of it was extraordinarily well written. a lot of people in my life have been in multiple emotionally abusive relationships. CA, even in s5, just hits way too close to home for me to enjoy it / be comfortable with it anymore, per their own words, too, and that’s my personal stance. doesn’t have to be anyone else’s, although again, i wish the crew had like, thought through the implications and remedied them way better (or at all).

which really just boils down to, upon further reflection, CA’s messed up abusive past is too much for me to well, look past for them to share the rest of their lives together. i wish they had been better written because i do think premise wise there is a way to make it work. but i think shera combining an exploration of abuse + all abusers getting redeemed in some way + everyone forgiving them + love can save broken people is a tricky, if not easily dangerous, narrative that has to be handled very sensitively... and shera just didn’t.

the most frustrating thing about it all, honestly, is that this isn’t even my biggest complaint with shera (that would be a lack of cohesive worldbuilding and consistent tone) but that... if you take CA out of the equation - which i know may be a big ask for some people, bc they love it and it’s a canon queer ship and an admittedly big part of the series throughout, or whatever - shera has... no good rep, really. or at least no rep that hasn’t been done in any shows.

and i don’t actually think representation is the most important thing. i want a good, solid story once and for all - which is why i love trollhunters, even if it is incredibly white and straight; even if its whiteness and straightness are flaws, tbh - but representation is shera’s main selling point and... it falls pretty flat when held up under brighter lights of examination.

in ten years i don’t think CA is going to be looked on favourably at all.

#thanks for asking #anonymous #spop critical #anti catradora #it's funny bc glimmer/adora is the one shera ship i couldn't see / couldn't really get behind ever #but post-s5 i seem to agree with those shippers' POVs on the show the most #although people still seem to be hesitant to call out the ableism and racism in the series too #shera

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bookwyrminspiration · 3 years

Note

hello hello its been a few days but i, the dream nonsie, am back! (also my name actually means "dream" irl 👀) personally, i think a silveny flavored popsicle would be cinnamon-y as u said, but also... sparkly? in a way? not- not like actual glitter, thats disgusting, but.. when u eat it it just *feels* magical. not sure if im making sense lol ^^ aww, glad my crazy dream made you happy! :D ask word limit is getting close so imma continue in another ask if thats okay with you! <3 1/?

hello!! welcome back--i gotta admit I was not expecting this, but it's so nice of you and I really appreciate it <33. I hope you don't mind me compiling this all into one post, that way it's just a little more organized. you're entirely welcome to send as many asks as you want, so don't worry about continuing in others! I don't mind at all!

1. oo that's a really cool name meaning!! I always think it's interesting to hear what other people's name mean, or they meanings they've chosen to associate with them (as some have more that one). Quil doesn't really have a meaning, so I love hearing others'!! The only thing I miss about my dead name is the meaning, tbh, because it was pretty !!

also, I can totally imagine the cinnamon/sparkly popsicle. when you say that I immediately think of sparkling water for some reason, like it's not a taste it's a feeling. you put it in your mouth and it's an experience. you're wild dream was probably the highlight of my day!! something about it just stood out and I kept coming back to think about it. long silveny popsicles can do that to you, i guess

2. oopsie! my bad! when someone says writing I usually just default to the wings au, because that's the writing most people know me for. but!! i'm glad you like all the analyses I've done! I don't think they'll be stopping anytime soon--it's like everytime I answer an ask I get two more, which means there will be a steady stream of them for the forseable future. I really enjoy doing them, so I love hearing that people enjoy reading them! they're mostly just me rambling until I find a pattern or connection to latch onto, and then I build from there. and depending on the ask I might grab a book from my shelf to reference something if needed

also: thank you! The wings au is a pretty big project I've wanted to take on for a while, so it's absolutely thrilling to see people interact with it and talk about it--even if they haven't read it. There's absolutely no pressure on you to read it, just so you know! Honestly sometimes baffles me that I've gotten fanart and so many asks and comments on it, enough so that people who haven't read it still know what it is. like?? my wings au?? silly little idea I had all because of one stray thought one day?

as for writing it while taking college classes: yes! that's what I've been doing! I think i've had a combined total of like three weeks of break since January (i don't get summer), but aside from that i've had four or five classes while writing the au. Actually was taking an A&P class (which are notoriously difficult, even more so on summer schedule) this summer while working on it, which was wild. But a lot of the excited comments and theories and general interaction helped motivate me to keep going.

3. it's not dissapointing at all! I don't expect for anyone to read it, it's not something you have to do in order to interact with me and the stuff on my blog. it's just something I happen to be doing so if you like it you're welcome to engage with it! I actually don't read fanfic very often either, which may be surprising as I write it. Occasionally I binge a bunch of fics in a certain ship when I'm in the mood, but that's only once every few months. Ships just don't hold huge appeal for me, so I don't find a lot of fic that interests me. Also wow! mine was one of the first you've heard of?? that's a huge accomplishment to me, thank you! Where did you hear about it? I honestly don't know where people find my au, so I'm curious.

speaking of reading fanfic, Nattie's (theunmappedstar) fic is one of the few I've read! I haven't talked to them in a while, but they're very accomplished and it's an honor to be considered alongside them in terms of writing!

as for committing to mine, feel free to take your time! no rush! it's always going to be there! although I will say it does just keep getting longer, so be prepared for that. I update every two weeks on sunday, so you've got time. if you do read it, I'd love to hear your thoughts. truly, comments and just hearing what people think are the best motivation. it also enriches the story! I never know what's going to stick out to people or what they'll remember, so hearing from people gives me ideas for scenes in the future! I have a general idea of where this au is heading, but a lot of the details have been impacted by theories and comments. You absolutely don't have to though, just if you'd like I'd love to hear

4. thank you so much <33. I'd love to get back more into traditional art, as i've been focusing on digital recently. I just love how watercolors look! I actually have a few art requests from an embarrasingly long time ago (April) that I'd like to do in a traditional style. I also just haven't posted as much art recently, so I'd love to get back into that. Coloring and lighting were mostly me just winging it, trying to imagine a few colors that would look nice next to each other and then just going for it. Also, i cant even count how many times I would accidentally switch up the light source in in the middle of a piece. I actually took an art class a few semesters ago, so I have leftover supplies from that I could use for some keeper pieces! I've had a few ideas, so hopefully your encouragement can help me get back into that <33

the writer and artist thing: thank you!! both writing and art are interests of mine, so it's so cool to get recognized for both!! I remember when I started posting art I was doing it as a "I'll do this for now until I get to the writing" thing and then i accidentally became fairly well-known as an fanartist and i was just there like wait a minute this wasn't supposed to happen. But I love it!! I love doing fanart and I'd love to do more. But I also love writing! i have some ideas for aus and other one shots I'd like to do when the wings au is done, not that I'm trying to hurry that along. I thoroughly enjoy working on the wings au, and i'm not in any rush to get through it.

and don't worry, you have nothing to apologize for!! i'm glad you feel comfortable talking to me! You don't need to be concise or anything, you're welcome to take up as much space and use as many words as you'd like. I think it'd be a little hypocritical if i didn't believe that, considering how long my responses to the asks i get are (partially why they sometimes take a bit to answer). it was very much so a fun read!! I really appreciate you and wasn't even sure how to respond to everything in a way that conveyed that. I absolutely blown away by how genuine and sweet you are

i really loved this ask, and I've reread it several times because it's just so kind. thank you so much <33

#it's currently afternoon so I will try to have a good day!#I hope you have one too!#I've got some homework and a class in a few hours #but aside from that I'll kinda just chill #I know it's monday but we can try to have a good one!#I'm probably repeating myself but I don't know what else to say #i'm speechless /pos #quil's queries #long post #dream nonsie #nonsie love

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