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ghoulodont · 5 months

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Held at a Knife's Point

Dewdrop invites Rain on an unconventional date.

Relationship: Raindrop / Characters: Dewdrop, Rain Tags: Ear Piercing, Ghoul Lore (just a little), sweet & supportive Dew Words: 3511

Read below or on AO3

Dewdrop asks him as they’re cleaning up after a practice session that day, just the two of them in the instrument storage room.

“By the way, I’m going into the city tomorrow, want to come with me?”

The abbey’s locale meets most of their day-to-day retail needs, but for some things, more specialized purchases, they tend to go to the nearest major city. There’s a big record store they all like to browse, and a music store that stocks all sorts of gear that’s better tried in person.

“Sure,” Rain says. “Guitar pedals?”

“Getting my ear pierced.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“You could get one too, if you want.”

Rain reaches up and touches his own ear without any conscious intention. “I’ve never thought about it.”

“No pressure, you could come with me either way.”

“No, I mean, I’m just not sure what kind I would get.” Dew has a few piercings already, in a scattering of different places across his ears — a body part which is quite intricate, actually. It seems there might be dozens of possibilities. Rain runs his fingers over the loops and curves of his own, as of yet unaltered.

“I think you should get one here.” Dew reaches up and places his fingertip on a spot just inside the round inner hollow of Rain’s ear. If that hollow were a globe, a planet rotating on the long axis of his ear, Dew’s finger could be on its equator.

Rain puts his own finger there, nestled against Dew’s for a moment.

Dew pulls his hand away, then leans back a bit and watches Rain as if he’s visualizing, considering how it would look on him.

“Won’t it get in the way of the in-ear monitor?” Rain asks.

Dew hums thoughtfully. “I don’t think it will. You could always change the jewelry if it did, though. To something flat.”

Rain pinches his ear between his fingernails. It stings. He imagines what it would feel like if they went all the way through.

“You can get whatever you like, though.” Dew puts his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “You don’t have to get anything at all. It’s up to you.”

“What are you getting?”

“One that goes across, like this.” He pulls one hand back out of his pocket and drags his finger horizontally across the flat plane of Rain’s upper ear. Rain places his own fingers on that blank canvas of a space. His and Dew’s hands bump together. “Through..?”

“Here,” Dew gently pinches the rim of Rain’s ear between his fingertip and the pad of his thumb, above where it attaches to his head in the front, then a similar place on the opposite edge. “And here. The jewelry goes across.” He drags his finger horizontally again, connecting the two points.

“Oh.” Rain rolls the rim of his ear between his fingers. It’s fleshier, the cartilage thinner.

“You can think about it, yeah? No pressure or anything.”

He’ll think about it, sure, but he’s already made up his mind.

—

Around noon the next day, the two of them board a train into the city. As it pulls out of the station, the trees and houses next to the tracks start to creep by, then accelerate faster and faster until Rain can’t focus his eyes on any single feature anymore. Once the train makes it far enough from the residential area, the trees fall away to reveal the slow-moving landscape beyond.

“Have you decided?” In the next seat over, Dew is watching out the window too.

“Yeah. I’m going to get what you suggested.”

“Nice.”

“By the way, are they going to notice...” Rain taps the pointed tip of his ear.

“Nah, just don’t mention it and she won’t say anything.”

“Really?”

Dew hums in assent. “It’s like the horns.”

“Even up close?”

“Yep. The power of confirmation bias or something.”

Despite whatever power that allows them to function in human society, be it mystical or psychological, Rain still feels skeptical. For a human to look directly at his ear, touch it, even alter it, seems riskier than going to the grocery store, or any other day-to-day activity he’s used to. But Dew has done this before, so it must be okay.

Their destination is a fifteen minute walk from the train station. Dew knows the way without any maps or directions. They pass restaurants and cafes, department stores, shops selling clothes and furniture. Eventually they arrive at an unassuming storefront — a door listing operating hours next to a single display window, set into brown stone. Dew pushes open the door and holds it for Rain to follow behind.

Inside, a woman behind a display case greets them. Rain finds himself distracted by his surroundings while Dew talks to her. The store is bright, artificial light compensating for the cloudy weather and shadows of buildings through the window. It’s neat, too, orderly and immaculately clean, every surface polished and free of dust. The ambiance is something between high end retail and a dentist’s office.

“Do you have time for a walk-in?” Dew places his hand on Rain’s upper arm. Rain smiles politely as he’s being displayed.

“Of course.”

Dew seems to have some sort of ability to get things he wants. He doesn’t beg or argue, at least not in this context — he might pout lightheartedly in private, with Rain, with the other ghouls, but that’s the extent of it. When he isn’t pulling his punches, he just asks for things directly with a high rate of success.

The woman turns to Rain. “What are you thinking of getting?”

“Oh, um—” He points to the spot on his ear that Dew pressed his finger against yesterday. If he really focuses on it, he can still feel the heat there. “Just here.”

“Great. For your jewelry, you can pick from any of these,” she says, tapping a fingernail on one of the glass cases between them. “Or any of the ones over there, if you’re looking for something fancier.”

Of course, standing in the middle of what he now understands to be a very specialized jewelry store, he should have anticipated this would be part of the process, but it still catches him off guard. All of Dew’s jewelry is plain silver, little round beads and hoops. It would seem he always skips this step.

Rain peers into the case in front of him. Within it are rows and rows of gems and charms, arranged in orderly grids on stark display stands. There are faceted jewels in a rainbow of colors, all kinds of decorative metal shapes, intricate designs, gold and silver, large and small and every size in between. His head spins.

A cloudy gray-green stone, smooth and round and flecked with black, catches his eye where it’s lined up amid other natural-looking options. It gleams, almost iridescent, blue and bronze, when he moves his head.

He points with one finger against the glass. “The gray one.”

She reaches in through the back of the case and pulls out the display stand. She points at the stone. “This one?”

Rain nods.

She plucks it from its slot on the stand. It glints again under the LED ceiling fixtures, reflecting light from within, like an animal’s eye, a deer in the headlights.

Before she disappears into the back of the shop to prepare things, she hands them each a form on a clipboard. The two of them sit next to each other on a leather couch and fill out their names and demographic details, and confirm their willingness to participate by signing at the bottom of the page. It barely takes a fraction of the time that she’s gone, leaving them waiting and unoccupied. Rain taps his feet nervously. Dew bumps their shoulders together.

When the piercer returns, she leads them into a smaller room with a counter along one side and a black padded table in the center. It’s windowless, but just as bright as the front, and just as clean.

“Whoever is going first, you can have a seat up here.” She gestures to the table.

Rain glances over at Dew, who is already looking at him, watching his face.

“Want me to..?” Dew speaks softly.

Rain nods. This will be a first for him either way.

Dew hops up onto the table. He folds his hands loosely in his lap. His boots dangle above the tile floor.

At the counter, the piercer peels open blue and white sterile envelopes with gloved hands and lets their contents fall onto a paper-lined tray table next to her. She picks supplies from drawers and sundry jars — gauze, alcohol wipes, a marker, a small cork like the kind used as a stopper for a bottle. She wheels the tray over to where Dew is sitting.

She scrubs his ear with alcohol, then marks two spots on it with a purple pen — the same two spots he showed Rain yesterday. She offers Dew a hand mirror. He examines his ear, holding the mirror off to the side, and then nods.

From her prepared supplies she picks up a needle, unadorned steel and intimidatingly thick, the broad teardrop shape of its beveled end clearly visible from a distance. With her other hand she picks up a cork. She lines them both up against Dew’s ear, the needle on one side and the cork on the other, framing one purple mark.

“Breathe in,” she tells Dew.

He complies, his chest rising slightly.

“Breathe out.”

He does, his chest sinking back down.

As soon as he begins to exhale, she presses the needle through his ear and into the cork on the other side. Dew doesn’t even blink. She slides a metal bar into the newly created hole in his ear, using it to push the end of the needle all the way through.

She repositions the cork and the needle on either side of the second purple mark and repeats the same process — inhale, exhale, needle, jewelry. She screws a metal ball on each end of the bar, which is now threaded through both sides of his upper ear.

“All set.” She peels off her gloves.

Dew hops down from the table and checks out his ear in a large mirror hanging on the wall. The bar is longer than the width of flesh that it spans, sticking out a bit on either side. The entire top half of his ear is pink. It clearly looks new, fresh, but conceptually it fits in well with the other metal there. In time, once those indications of newness dissipate, it will look like it’s always been there, just like the rest.

Dew returns to where Rain is standing, off to the side of the table, out of the way.

“Ready?” The piercer is putting on a new pair of gloves.

Rain is the one who is supposed to be ready. He doesn’t feel ready, but time is moving forward on its own. He sits on the padded table, now in Dew’s place, with Dew where Rain was before, their positions swapped.

When the piercer brings over the tray, it has the same things as it did for Dew’s piercing — gauze, alcohol, a marker, a cork, a needle. She tips Rain’s head slightly with her gloved hands and draws a dot on his ear with the marker.

She passes him the hand mirror. “Let me know if this looks good.”

He tries to imagine the purple dot replaced by a piece of metal and stone. He can’t really close the conceptual gap — it’s just a dot. Regardless, he nods.

“Great.” She picks up the needle and the cork.

Rain’s breath catches in his throat. The needle is so much bigger up close. He glances up at Dew and imagines standing where he is again. The distance isn’t far, but somehow it made a huge difference.

Dew steps forward and closes that distance without saying anything. He eases the mirror from Rain’s tight grip and places it on the table. Then he offers his own hand, palm up and welcoming, in its stead.

Even just the invitation is a relief, a logical and straightforward improvement to the situation that Rain wouldn’t have thought of by himself in this state. He takes Dew’s hand in a firm grip. It’s warm, and the pressure is grounding.

The piercer brings her hands to the side of his face. She’s working so close to his head he can’t see anything, only the blur of her glove in his peripheral vision and her expression of concentration off to his side.

“Breathe in,” she instructs.

Rain can feel the sharp tip of the needle where she places it against his skin, just resting there lightly, painlessly. He knows what’s going to happen. He breathes in.

“Breathe out.”

He breathes out.

More than pain, there’s pressure. And more than pressure, there’s sound — a loud pop, almost a crunch, of the needle penetrating his cartilage.

She takes something from the table nearby and performs what he assumes must be the same dance between needle and jewelry as she did for Dew. He still can’t see what’s happening, only hear the rustle of nitrile as her fingers move.

Dew gives his hand one tight squeeze and then releases it.

“Feeling okay?”

“Yeah.” Actually, he feels giddy. It’s unclear if it’s just from the sudden relief after a very long day of anticipating an impending unknown, or if it’s a rush of endorphins precipitated by the needle itself.

“Want to take a look?” She takes a step back and nods at the mirror on the wall. Her gloves snap as she peels them off.

Rain slides off the table and walks the two steps to the mirror. He leans in and tilts the side of his head toward it, holding his hair back with one hand. There, in the inner shell of his ear, right where he pointed to, and exactly where the purple mark was, is the gray-green stone from earlier. It shines when he tips his head just a few degrees.

He leans back, standing up normally. He realizes that his face, outside of his control, has composed itself into an expression of pleasant surprise, with his jaw dropped just slightly and his eyes bright. At this distance, the jewelry is subtle — not too flashy or too colorful or too large. He lets his hair fall the way it normally does, tucked partially behind his ear, and it’s barely noticeable until it glints with his motion.

Behind him, Dew is watching the mirror too.

The piercer leads them to the cash register at the front of the shop. Cool midday sun is shining through the window now, brightening the space even more. Rain pulls his wallet out of his pocket but Dew waves it away and taps his card on the reader before Rain has a chance to protest, or to see what the total is.

The piercer sees them off with a paper copy of the aftercare instructions for their piercings. Dew folds it neatly in thirds and slides it into an interior pocket of his jacket, and then the two of them set out for the train station.

They stop for ice cream on their way. It’s too early in the year for it, really; the sun warms the ground but there’s a petulant breeze in the cool air. Packed-down piles of plowed snow remain unmelted on street corners, tucked into alleys, at the end of the occasional parking lot, all dripping sluggishly onto damp asphalt. Sidewalks are littered with a crusty patchwork of the same.

Nevertheless, Rain’s eyes linger on the shop window as they walk by. The freezer case with its cheery selection of flavors, assorted colors in big tubs marked by little handwritten labels, is visible within. When he turns his head back towards the direction they’re walking, Dew’s eye contact tugs on him with an unspoken question. Both of their steps falter, and then they’re turning around.

A bell hanging from the door greets them with a hearty jingle as they step inside. The interior of the store is warm, almost stiflingly so, and empty of other customers. The syrupy smell of waffle cones is so dense it might as well be visible in the air, condensing near the ceiling in cotton candy clouds. Sweat forms on the back of Rain’s neck like liquid caramel beading on the surface of a torched crème brûlée. His limbs sag like pulled taffy.

After they make their selections and after Dew pays — for both of them, again, as if they’re on their first date instead of their hundredth, as if they’re counting, as if an ordinal number could represent an infinitesimal sum of continuous time — they file past bistro tables and metal chairs tucked along one wall and head back out the door, which bids them farewell with the same jingle.

The early springtime air is a refreshing contrast, freezing the sugary haze on their jackets and in their hair. They trade spoonfuls of ice cream while waiting at the crosswalk. Rain ducks his head down just slightly to reach Dew’s raised spoon. The traffic signal changes.

Rain’s ear is starting to ache now, pulsing out a nagging heat in time with his heartbeat. Without much forethought he places the cold ice cream cup, held in fingers that are rapidly becoming numb, against his ear. Immediately, he jerks it away with a sharp, involuntary inhale.

Dew chuckles. His eyes are warm, glimmering with a knowing spark.

“Ow,” is all Rain can think to say.

“Yeah,” Dew laughs. When he speaks again, he’s suddenly much more serious. “Not that bad though, right?”

Rain glances over and Dew is looking at him with his brow furrowed, and with the big, sad eyes that he can never quite replicate when he tries to as a joke. Rain considers how best to downplay his reaction. “It’s...” he starts, and finally settles on, “distracting.”

Dew nods once. He doesn’t say anything, nor does he provide any other indication of what he thinks about that.

A couple blocks later, he makes a sudden turn into a pharmacy.

“Wait, where—” Rain stutters as he follows his lead. Dew never mentioned making another stop.

“Just want to grab something.”

The two of them weave through a maze of aisles stocked with neat rows of medicines and first aid supplies and vitamins. Dew leads them to the selection of over-the-counter pain relievers. The thing Dew wanted to grab, apparently, is a package of ibuprofen, which he bends down to select from a lower shelf.

They return to the front of the store to check out. On the way, Dew grabs a bottle of water from behind the glass door of a refrigerator case. It swings closed with a snap.

Back outside, Dew pauses mere steps from the door. He slides open the flimsy cardboard flap of the ibuprofen box and pulls the blister pack of pills from within. He holds the plastic and foil sheet out towards Rain.

The chain of cause and effect snaps into a straight line, orderly like the rows of pills in the package. Rain thought that he succeeded in alleviating this particular concern. “Wait, it’s not that bad.”

“It’s not a big deal, and it’s good for the swelling anyway.” Dew presses the sheet closer.

Resigned, Rain holds out his hand to take it.

Instead of handing over the entire sheet, Dew holds it over Rain’s outstretched palm and presses one dose out of the individual cells with his thumb, breaking through the foil backing. Then he twists off the top of the water bottle and hands it to him as well.

Rain swallows the ibuprofen with a sip of water. He sighs quietly. He feels sort of like a party foul, the one who needs their hair held back in the bathroom at a bar, maybe. The one who couldn’t handle what they signed up for.

Next to him, Dew pops another dose of ibuprofen out into his own palm, then drops it into his mouth. He reaches out for the water bottle. It takes Rain a second to catch up with what’s happening and hand it back. Dew drinks from the bottle and then screws the cap back on. He stuffs the remaining ibuprofen into his jacket pocket.

When Dew looks back up, Rain is still staring, gears in his head turning. His eyebrows are probably raised just a little, he realizes.

Dew shrugs at him, nonchalant.

When they start walking again, Rain reaches out and bumps the back of his hand against Dew’s. Rain doesn’t need to say anything; Dew clasps their hands together without hesitation.

He pulls his and Rain’s hands into his pocket. It’s a comfortable fit with the two of them, not too tight — Dew’s jacket is oversized in every aspect, including, or maybe especially, the pockets. There’s nothing else inside this one, just them. It’s warm from Dew’s body heat.

Rain squeezes their hands closer together.

#ghost band fanfic #fic i wrote #raindrop ghost #how do i tag them #raindrop

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staryuee · 3 years

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becoming their sugar mommy — genshin hcs ⸝⸝

꩜ warning[s]: mentions of gambling / casinos , slightly nsfw ?? , reader is still gender neutral :)

𖥻 synopsis: they lose a gambling bet to you and now you can’t help but spoil them <3 (modern au!)

ᜊ characters: childe , zhongli , lisa , diluc

childe / tartaglia

power couple except you’re the only one who holds power and he’s just there to look pretty

i feel like he’d want to be coddled when in a relationship so having someone who constantly spends money on him instead of vice versa makes him feel warm

definitely teases you !!! especially if you send him a gift with a note attached saying “reminded me of you <3” but in reality he loves it sm he doesn’t know what to say

felt very flustered the first time you sent him some expensive champagne — since yk after that tragic loss in the casino he was sure you’d ridicule him

not that he’d complain tbh, being humiliated by you is the best way to go down in his opinion-

one of the gifts had a note attached with your number and boy was he ecstatic ! he could finally talk to his not so secret sugar mommy (i want to use the term glucose parent so bad)

the convo started off slow but as each day progressed you both became more friendly with each other and longer conversations were common

managed to turn gift-giving into a competition :]

it got out of hand, there were literal stockpiles of different luxurious brands from all around the globe and as much as you both appreciated it you would rather have places to walk in your own house

when you sent him a bunny boy costume with some of his favourite flowers though, you didn’t hear from him for a while - dw he loved it

from that point forward the gifts got more,, risqué

most likely had a one night stand with you and caught feelings lol

he will be your malewife if you asked btw , say the word and he will be in the kitchen cooking up some pierogis , rosł and katsudon , to spice it up a bit , all the while you’re doing your own thing

zhongli

unfortunately lady luck wasn’t on zhongli’s side , but maybe she had a change of heart since he managed to meet you

losing to you must’ve been the biggest blessing on zhongli’s part as when he woke up the next morning with a massive headache, he found a gift basket at his door

a pastel yellow note that was attached to the flowers within said basket explained that after his massive loss at the casino you drove him home to help him clear his head a bit <33

that explains how you got his address - but doesn’t explain why you decided to show such kindness

very appreciative about each gift that you give him no matter what it is , in his eyes if it’s from you it holds more value than any precious gem

though his elegant and assertive demeanour can fool the public eye , he will most definitely use you to get things he wants while being bratty

you’re happy to satisfy his needs of course , just as long as he satisfies yours in return ;>

he’s your personal play toy with each expensive item that you so graciously provide him with

the luxuries he receives from you can’t compare to the nights of repayment which you can imagine as you wish

however he does truly worry for your well-being at times , last week you gave him a cute beige coloured dragon plushie, but then yesterday you bought him cow print lingerie ??

he still never questions you no matter the obscurity of your gift

occasionally , he will drop by and gift you something of his own , it’s very sweet he especially loves just making you different beverages whilst your working

your personal malewife !! <3

lisa

her ? losing ? no ones ever heard of that like ever !!

her good looks are an easy way to appeal to the side of good fortune , yet it also allows her to use deception

by that i mean, you managed to call out the fact she was cheating from the get-go - unlike the previous people - but you let her have her fun for some entertainment

a pretty and sophisticated lady like her shouldn’t be hanging around in a place with lowlife drunkards is what you told her, by the second she drew in closer and closer almost to where your lips were touching

honestly the sexual tension between the two of you was making everyone else uncomfortable but in a good way [ if ykyk ]

the first gift you gave her was a golden necklace with a detailed rose at the end , in return she took you on a date to a high end restaurant

she asked you if you decided to take pity on her due to her losing or if it was just her looks that drew your attention — and if you’re being honest it’s more the fact she scammed so many men without getting caught

it was impressive and hilarious that people were so easy to manipulate with good looks , men are truly naïve creatures /hj

who doesn’t want to spoil an irresistible lady ??

she would definitely give you something in return for the luxuries you give her , whether it be a unique and ancient book , a kiss , hug etc etc.

falls in love with you 100% <3 it’s not just bc of the things you gift her tho ! she loves your company and the fact you don’t really want anything in return

diluc

the news of this happening spread like literal wildfire , it was on every news station possible that a CEO of the biggest company in germany, mondstadt (let’s just say mondstadt is the city and not the actual nation) lost to a rival CEO

the smug aura that you radiated pissed diluc off , he stormed out yet still managed to look professional and calm

wasn’t very pleased to find an unlabelled gift sitting on his work desk with no prior knowledge and was even less happy to find out it was specially delivered by you

honestly the gifts started off as taunts to make fun of him , trying to get that precious reaction out of the ever so stoic diluc

the final straw was when you asked him on a dinner date to talk things through - he accepted just so he could scold you about your childish behavior

the date didn’t go according to his plan , you managed to fluster him with a few lingering glances and a batch of roses that matched the CEO’s fiery hair <3 he didn’t appreciate that .. only to some extent

hates to admit it but he genuinely enjoyed the date with you as he got to know more about you outside of a work setting

let the obvious romance between two CEO’s commence !!

both yours and diluc’s employees started to get irritated by the vast amount of presents that laid around carelessly around the departments

the number of letters from you respectively made his workplace look absolutely different from what it was months ago (why cant you just send an email like a normal person,,,)

the media caught on faster than u did tbh

oh yh, you 100% have fights over who pays for the dinner but you always manage to win since you’re you

you hold the power over diluc , you can decide what to do with that <3

©IHEARTGANYU do not copy, steal or repost <33

notes: ahhh tysm for 180+ followers <33 mwah mwah ily lot !!

#i start school soon and i’m so nervous-#whoever made that baal trailer needs their ass ate #the transitions were so smooth-??!#genshin x gnreader #genshin x reader #genshin x gn!reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #zhongli x reader #lisa minci x reader #lisa x reader #diluc x reader #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin x you #genshin impact #genshin #genshin fluff

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mysmegrace · 3 years

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i recently installed mystic messenger again after like a month or more of not playing (was afraid of someone finding the game in my phone) , and it felt good to "see" the characters again , so can i please request headcanons of the rfa seeing mc after a long time ?

hello, that's completely understandable lol. i remember back in 2016 when i played it the first time around (i deleted it after the first bad ending and didn't play again until 2019 lol) and was worried people would look on my phone and see it. oh how times have changed lol. but of course!

RFA Seeing MC After a Long Time

---

yoosung kim:

you attended the rfa party during the last summer you had before going to college.

life was looking up for you.

you found an amazing boyfriend, started becoming independent, and got a good summer job.

things only got better when you found out you had gotten accepted to college.

only problem was that the college was in the US, and your friends and lover were in South Korea.

as much as you loved your new life here, you reminded yourself of your feelings before meeting the rfa.

how everything you created here would only be temporary.

but now, you didn’t want to stick to that anymore.

your life was going so well, and you knew yoosung wouldn’t be happy about you leaving to go across the globe.

however, it was too good of an opportunity to let it go.

this was what you were to planning to do for the last decade.

if you were to give up now, all your hard work would be for nothing.

you were incredibly conflicted, but eventually choose to follow your passion at college overseas.

and yoosung was frantic about it.

he wouldn’t be able to see you, protect you, help you, feed you, walk with you, the list went on.

however as he’s gotten more mature over the past few days, he knew he didn’t have the power to stop you, nor should he guilt you about it.

besides, he wanted you to pursue something you were passionate in and become successful.

some sacrifices would just have to be made.

that didn’t mean he would let you go either.

the two of you made a promise to call, facetime, and visit each other as often as possible.

you’d make it work.

so with much regret, you left to the states.

and when the holidays approached, you decided to bring yourself to him as a gift.

it had been months since he saw you at this point.

you both could enjoy the holidays together while relaxing.

it was a win win.

and what better way to carry out your surprise than by showing up to his front door at 10pm?

and that’s exactly what you did.

giving the door a good few knocks, you waited until you were greeted by yoosung standing in his unwashed pajamas, staring at you.

it took a few seconds for it to click who you are, yet once that processed, he was overcome with joy.

you thought it was adorable how his hands flew to his face as he began to pull you into a hug shortly after.

you were met with only parts of words as yoosung couldn’t explain his excitement fast enough.

and you were ecstatic as well.

you never realized how much you missed him until you were reunited with him again.

hence why after you two spent the holidays together, you found it incredibly difficult to leave again.

however with his encouragement, you went off to work your hardest so he could meet a successful you the next time you reunited.

hyun ryu / zen:

much like zen, you were an actor too.

you were a much lesser known actress, but you had began building connections.

and those connections all paid off when you were offered a new role in a movie that was predicted to be going big.

you couldn’t be more grateful.

yet as you began reading farther into the offer, your heart slowly sunk.

if you were to take the role, you would have to relocate to germany for the next 9 months.

you wanted this so bad, but you didn’t want to leave zen alone for 9 months.

he if could, he would join you in germany.

but he already had a role to work on in south korea.

as much as you wanted him to join you, you didn’t want him to give up his role he had been working so hard on for the past year.

you were conflicted, and knew it would be best to talk about it to zen.

not only to see what he thinks, but to ease your feelings.

and once you had the discuss about it with you, you came to a conclusion.

you would could, keeping in contact with him everyday.

though zen was heartbroken about it, he knew how much you wanted this and how much this would advance your career.

so with a heavy heart, he sent you off.

the moment you left on the plane, he was already longing for your reunion.

9 months never went by so slow.

when you were with him, there was never enough time to bask in each others love.

but without him, everyday had an extra 8 hours.

even though you were working 24/7, time stayed still for days on end.

yet when the production ended a month early, all your worries and stresses eased as you could finally reunite with your love in person.

without thinking, you packed all your stuff up once you got back to your trailer to get the next plane back to seoul.

you hadn’t even thought to tell zen until you boarded the plane.

too late now though, as you weren’t aloud your phone on the plane.

what an idiotic rule, you thought.

but perhaps it was better this way, as you could surprise zen with your return sooner than expected.

you gave into the tiredness that followed you around for the months prior, awakening to the speaker saying you’ve landed.

in your half awake state, you got off the plane and called for a cab.

it only took an hour to reach your destination, in which you got more sleep on the way there.

you thanked the driver before heading out, practically running to the front door.

you knocked, hoping to make zen believe you were only a door salesman or a mailman.

you heard some footsteps approaching behind the door in a hurried state, before the door opened and you were greeted with your future husband.

his expression changed in the speed of light once he quickly realized who you were.

you were met with a tight embrace, doubting if you could breath for a second.

zen pulled away not too long after, his excitement getting to him as he said “i didn’t think you were supposed to be home so soon!”

to that, you could only giggle as you admitted the reason behind your surprise.

zen was more than happy to see you home earlier than discussed before.

“this day is too important, we have to do something now!” zen said as he got dressed up to go out in the christmas weather.

with a small laugh, you agreed.

the rest of your day was spent going out to cafes and buying presents for the other rfa members.

and to your luck, the movie turned out a huge success.

not only in germany, but in korea as well.

things worked out for the best, you thought.

but one thing was for sure, you weren’t doing that again.

jaehee kang:

jaehee had brought up the idea of opening a cafe, to which you were 100% in on.

however, in korea you had to have a culinary certificate to own a cafe.

i dont know if thats legit or not i completely made that up

but if you had to get a certificate, you were going to get it in the best way you could.

and a college you had come across was perfect for that.

it was a good price and had a great reputation.

there was one problem however, and that was that it was located in france.

which was a 12 hour flight away from seoul.

you knew there was no opportunity like it, but you couldn’t stop yourself from being on the edge about it.

you didn’t want to leave your friends and family here for 2 years while you went off to another country on your own.

plus who knew if something would happen to you while you were aboard?

your concerns were slightly lessened after you brought up your worries to jaehee, and the encouragement she gave you was overwhelming.

she suggested for you to go for it and that she would hold everything down in seoul while helping the rfa in planning future parties.

on the upside, it would give her more time to save up more money for the opening just in cause it was needed.

with hesitation, you decided to go along with her words and study in france for some time.

you would miss each other, but you both knew it was what you two needed to ensure a sucessful future.

while you were aboard, jaehee would attend culinary classes in korea here and there.

you would keep in contact frequently, but never had the money to go back to seoul on holidays to reunite.

so once those two years had passed, you were out as fast as possible.

you loved france, but you loved your girlfriend more.

you hopped on the plane home, eager to see everyone again.

and once you arrived at the airport in seoul, the first thing you saw as you exited the plane was your girlfriend standing there, eyes focused on the doorway waiting for your arrival.

and once your eyes met, you were quick to run up to her while opening your arms to hug her strongly.

two years was such a long time to be apart, but all was well now.

shortly after, the two of you opened the cafe and were met with an incredible amount of support from the community and rfa.

now you were content to settle down in seoul with the love of your life.

jumin han:

you were very business driven, which jumin liked about you.

even having your own fashion company.

you were unlike many other women he had come across before in various ways.

but the downside to your business focused mind were your frequent business trips.

some would last a day while others would last a week.

though this recent one you were expected to take was unlike anything you had ever had to do before for work.

it suggested you stayed in china for a month as you worked out many business issues and proposals.

while your company had began trending recently, you had never expected this.

the first thing that came to your mind once reading the email was your husband.

you felt horrible when you had to leave him alone for a day, but a month?

you couldn’t even imagine how much that would hurt him.

however, this wasn’t something you could just refuse.

if you did, you weren’t sure if your company would continue standing.

and so later that night, you told jumin everything over wine.

how you didn’t want to but knew your company wouldn’t survive without it.

he didn’t know what to make of everything.

this came at the worst timing.

he needed to stay in korea for the time being for business, so he couldn’t join you in china either.

reluctantly, he supported you in your travels.

he understood your situation, but made you promise to call him every night.

which you had no problem with.

and so with a sad smile, you had left a few days later.

things were frustrating in beijing, but you at least had the comfort of your husbands voice to fall asleep to.

everyone at the office noticed jumins shift in mood as soon as your left.

yet without a voice of concern, things carried on as if nothing happened.

the day you were set to come back, jumin cancelled all plans to spend the day with you.

you needed to make up for the time the two of you lost, and you needed to rest in the comfort of your own home again.

thankfully, your company didn’t meet it’s downfall just yet.

in fact, it was now prospering.

saeyoung choi:

your day was going as it normally would.

well, as normal as a day with saeyoung can go.

yet it all changed when you got a call that your brother had gotten into a bad car accident, and the situation wasn’t looking good.

you didn’t know how to react, so many emotions and fears were overwhelming you.

you knew you were your brothers emergency contact, as he had no one else close to him in his life, so it was no question about why they called you while you were in seoul and he was in brazil.

but after learning about the situation, you quickly realized that you needed to get back to brazil as soon as possible.

they didn’t know how long he had left, and the remainder of his days would require for him to get help to do everyday things.

with your eyes barely spilling over, you told saeyoung everything.

you were met with a hug as he comforted you.

when you brought up the fact of needing to leave, he didn’t think twice before giving you his blessing (though he knew you didn’t need it).

it would be hard on him because he wouldn’t be able to join you as he was in an active mission, but he would keep in touch and make sure of your safety from countries away.

after all, he would do the same if saeran were in your brothers position.

the next day, you backed your flight to brazil, packing only what you needed.

your days in brazil passed in pain, as you watched your brother fight for his life daily.

until one day, his body gave up on him and he passed.

you were devastated.

you were on autopilot in public and breaking down in your hotel room when no one was around.

after attending your brothers funeral and a week of mourning, you began to book your ticket back to seoul.

yet in your state of heart ache, you didn’t realize the change in the countries health as the coronavirus started running through every town in the nation.

planes were unavailable and travel was banned.

now you were stuck here for the next 6 months, always hopping the next month would be better and you’d finally be able to go home.

saeyoung was on his toes all the time, not feeling the same without you.

and you missed him more and more as the days went on.

when the time finally came, you rushed to buy a ticket, though most people weren’t flying due to their fears surrounding the situation.

the plane was empty, allowing you to sneak your phone, sending a text to saeyoung.

“i’m on the plane home now” you typed.

saeyoung was overcome with joy to see your message.

though you had to isolate for 14 days, at least you were in the country and close to him.

once you got off the plane, went into isolation, and tested negative for covid, you ran to your shared home.

opening the door to be greeted with the same old smile that teased you every morning was a refreshing sight.

you ran up as he lifted you in a tight embrace, swaying you side to side in a wave of excitement.

after months of stress and anxiety, you could finally breath.

that realization alone was enough to make you burst out into tears of relief.

your feelings were contagious, as you saw saeyoungs eyes starting to water as well.

you were finally safe and sound in his protection, and that was all he could’ve asked for..

---

01:51 AST - 09/01/21

#mystic messenger #mysme #juminhan #jumin #jumin x mc #707 #saeyoung choi #saeyoung x mc #luciel choi #yoosung x mc #yoosung kim #zen #hyun ryu #jaehee kang #jaehee x mc #mystic messenger headcanons

173 notes · View notes

mrs-gucci · 3 years

Text

A Different Kind of Urgent {Charlie Barber x Reader}

author’s notes: hellooooo! my penpal friend, a fellow adam driver rat, sent me a print of a charlie picture (that I’d seen a gajillion times before, mind you) and for some reason, I thirsted hard. so, naturally, I wrote a fic inspired by the picture. the reader in this story is a college professor, but it doesn’t really contribute to any ‘essential’ parts of the story (aka the smutty parts). it’s just her job lol

warnings: smut. some fluff. masturbation. semi-public smut. the sending of nudes (well, lingerie pics, to be specific). charlie’s dad outfits™️. cigarette smoking during sex. uhh tennis shoe kink??

(possible) tw’s: semi-public sex. semi-public masturbation. tobacco use (as is canon for Charlie’s character). implied age gap (everyone’s over 21, no more than 10 years).

You’re in the middle of class when Charlie texts you. Your phone buzzes and buzzes on your desk so much so that you have to stop your lecture for a few seconds, worried that something urgent has happened.

Well, something did happen, and it was pretty urgent, but not exactly in the way you’d expected.

-Charlie: I know you’re teaching class right now kid.- -Charlie: But I need you.- -Charlie: Right now.-

A shiver runs down your spine as you read his words on the screen.

-Y/N: I’ve got like 45 more minutes of lecture, baby, I can’t.-

He growls under his breath, cock straining in his tan khakis.

-Charlie: Fuck.- -Charlie: Can you send me a picture? Just need to see your pretty body, kid.-

-Y/N: Say please, Charlie.-

Charlie groans in sexual frustration, hips bucking up in his desk chair.

-Charlie: Jesus fucking christ, fucking brat. PLEASE! PLEASE send me a picture!-

You smirk, picking out one of the lingerie photos you’d taken when you were home alone one night. You’ve been waiting for the right time to whip them out and...well, this seems like the right time.

-Y/N: Attachment 1 image- -Y/N: Knock yourself out. Take a picture when you’re done, and I’ll be over as soon as class is finished.-

His shaky hands scramble to type in his phone passcode and click on your message, a strangled moan leaving his lips at the picture you chose. He’d never seen this one before, never seen this set of lingerie before. He unbuckles his belt and almost tears the button clean off his khakis as he pulls his cock out, tip already red and drooling with precum.

Before he starts anything, he quickly runs over to his office door, locking it to keep anyone from walking in.

His navy cardigan suddenly feels almost suffocating and he sheds it without hesitation, unbuttoning his dress shirt and parting it, revealing his undershirt.

Wait...you want a picture. Fuck.

An idea comes to him and he whimpers, equal parts aroused and nervous about giving it a try. God he hasn’t touched himself since the divorce proceedings, just needing to blow off some fucking steam, but you’ve reignited his sexual passion, overwhelmingly so, and seemingly even more than before. Maybe even more than ever, if he’s honest with himself.

He feels like a teenager again, both completely smitten with you while at the same time incredibly horny for you.

Charlie stands up on shaky legs and shoves all the paperwork off his desk, clearing a roomy spot right in the center. He bites his lip as he props his phone up on his desktop computer with the picture of you pulled up. Jerking off with just his hand wouldn’t be enough this time around, a small part of him just knew it. He needs to fuck you, fuck something.

He positions his hands around the edge of his desk, leaving his thumbs right at the top, putting them in a wonky sort of ‘o’ shape. He adjusts so that the sharp edge is pressing against his palm before experimentally thrusting his length forward into the hole he’s created with his thumbs, immediately groaning in pleasure.

“O-Oh, kid.”

He whispers, picking up a slow thrusting rhythm, eyes squeezed shut as he imagines your pussy.

“Such a good little pussy, my good f-fucking girl.” A line of sweat has already begun forming on his forehead as he moves a bit quicker, growling wildly with each thrust. He’s embarrassingly close already. “God, j-jesus fucking christ, gonna make me cum so f-fast, kid. I’m already s-so close, damnit.”

His hips grow desperate, bucking erratically into his grip. The drag of his cock against the faux wood surface feels absolutely incredible, and he barely even hears the desk begin to groan and shift against the floor of his office, too consumed with his impending orgasm.

“Yeah, you ready? Y-You fuckin’ ready for my big fat--fuck!--load in this pretty little--shit!--k-kitty?”

Just hearing him say the word aloud, his nickname for your cunt, has him cumming within moments. His vision blacks out for a second as his hips rut forward, a seemingly continuous stream of warm white cum painting his desktop.

“Ahhhhh, fuuuuuuuck.”

He has to bury his mouth into his shirt arm to hide the cries that come from him, eyebrows knitted at the center of his forehead. His breathing is heavy as he begins coming down from his high, eyes flitting open and looking down at the mess he’d made.

His load had gone across the entire width of his desk, and his eyes widened for a moment as his brain somehow comprehended to grab his phone and take a picture of the spread.

-Charlie: Attachment 1 image- -Charlie: Come straight to my office when you get to the theater.-

You take a quick peek at the message from Charlie as your students pull out their workbooks, jaw dropping when you open the picture full-screen. Holy shit, he really did need it.

-Y/N: You sure you still have enough to fill me up with when I get there?-

-Charlie: I always have enough for you, kid. Gonna have it leaking out of you when you leave.-

You chew your lip, thinking of a quick yet clever response.

-Y/N: Is that a promise?-

He groans under his breath, chuckling lightly with a small smile.

-Charlie: Absolutely. Can’t wait to see you, kid.-

-Y/N: I’m excited too. I’ll be there in 20.-

The twenty minutes it takes for you to finish class and walk over to Exit Ghost feels like some of the longest in Charlie’s life, knee bouncing impatiently and eyes glued to the door. He twirls the Marlboro package in his hand, the clock behind his desk tick-tick-ticking the seconds away.

Finally, a soft knock comes and, just in case it isn’t you, he stuffs the carton into his pocket. “Come in.”

Your head pokes through the door and you smile at him as you walk in, shutting and locking the door behind you. You immediately notice his outfit, specifically his shoes, which are propped up on his desk.

He knows that you like how he dresses, especially when he dresses very dad-like. And those sneakers he has, the white ones with the blue lines on them...god, they drive you absolutely crazy and you have no idea why.

Your bags are quickly shoved off your shoulder by the impatient director, pulling you into his body as his lips attack yours fiercely. He notices the way you’re eyeing his outfit, and it’s then that he realizes what shoes he has on, the pair that you like so much. Oh, he could use that.

His grip on the meat of your hips tightens increasingly as the kiss heats up, lips eventually moving down to your neck.

“Well, hello to you too.”

You say, laughing softly.

“Mmmm,” He hums onto your skin, lips littering kisses and small nibbles everywhere they can reach. “I missed you, kiddo, feels like forever since we’ve had time for something like this.”

Charlie’s large body presses you up against the door, hands eager to rid you of your pants. He quickly yanks them down to your ankles, fingers finding your clothed folds.

“I’ve got a staff meeting at two, baby. We h-have to be kind of quick...sorry.” You breathe, hand wrapping in his hair, tugging at the silky raven locks.

A small and slightly disappointed sigh leaves his lips, but nothing more is said on the matter. His movements do become a bit more rushed, though, digits dipping beneath the fabric to shove up into your entrance.

Your legs spread instinctively, knees shaking as he finger-fucks you, thick digits scissoring inside you to prepare for his girth. Meanwhile, you try to focus on getting his belt and pants undone, but it’s awfully hard when his fingers feel so damn good.

He pulls away suddenly, sucking the juices off his fingers as his hungry eyes roam your figure. The carton of cigarettes presses against his thigh and he smirks, pulling his digits out with a lewd pop.

Charlie suddenly pulls you off the door, putting himself in your spot instead. He smirks, fingers running under your chin, keeping your head tilted up at him.

“Will you go open the window for me please, beautiful?”

You nod, rushing over to push it open, then come back over to stand in front of him.

“Good girl. Thank you.”

His pointer finger twirls and points to the floor while the other hand grabs the pack and lighter from his pants pocket.

“Now, turn around and bend over right here, hold your ankles or feet, or whatever.”

As you position yourself accordingly, he leans back against the door, legs spread and sneaker-clad feet planted on either side of you, right within your line of vision. He’s almost fully hard again already as he moves to free his cock from its khaki confines, undoing his pants just enough to have it out.

Again, his cardigan feels suffocatingly hot, so he quickly pulls it off and tosses it away. He rolls the sleeves up on his button-up, a sight that makes your insides clench.

He jams a cigarette between his teeth, jaw clenching when he looks up and realizes that you’re bent over for him, in just the way he asked. Your glistening pussy’s on full display as you wiggle your ass a bit, his cock bobbing and twitching with excitement.

“Oh kid, you’re dripping.” Charlie whispers, almost to himself, hand kneading one of the globes of your ass.

You chuckle softly. “Hey, baby? As much as I love hearing and feeling you, my legs are getting kinda tired.”

Laughing, Charlie says a quick ‘sorry’ before holding and pulling your hips back, lining himself up with your soaked entrance. He pulls you back some more, impaling you on his cock, head falling back against the door as he does so.

His hands shakily ignited the small flame on his lighter, bringing it up until the tip of the cigarette turned orange before flipping the cap back on and shoving it back in his pocket. He takes a long drag, groaning on the exhale.

He keeps one hand on your hip while the other spreads out on your lower back, guiding you back and forth over his shaft slowly, gently.

“Thaaat’s it, just like this, kid.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, the impossibly deep angle created with this new position has it feeling like he’s reaching into your guts. Plus, with the natural up-curve of his cock, he’s brushing all the right spots inside you.

“C-Charlie…”

The familiar and comforting scent of Charlie’s cigarettes fills your nostrils, a haze of smoke surrounds your joined bodies. He continues to move you up and down on his length, buttocks clenching as his hips naturally rock forward, burying himself to the hilt each time you sink down.

“God...jesus christ...love this little pussy of yours, kid.” He breathes through his gritted teeth. “Taking me so nicely, always wrapped around me so goddamn tight.”

You quickly begin moving yourself up and down his stiff rod, bouncing as fast as you can manage. The sweet burn in your thighs only grows more prominent with each passing second, but you don’t care, too consumed in pleasure.

“Mmmmmyyyeah, baby, all for you.”

His hand comes down on your ass, giving it a firm smack before taking another quick drag, exhaling through his nose.

“That’s f-fucking right, all mine. You love being a little slut for this cock, huh? I know you do, you love when I bring you in my office and fuck your pretty cunt in the middle of the goddamn work day, can’t even wait until I get home, this f-filthy slut cunt needs to be split open and stuffed nice and full. Can’t go one fucking day without my cum fucked in you, always needs to be filled up and leaking, hm?”

Charlie was never able to do stuff like this or talk to Nicole like this. She was pretty vanilla when it came to sex, just like to be fucked quietly in bed. He called her a ‘slut’ once and she almost cried, lecturing him for half an hour afterwards on how disrespectful it was.

But now, he gets to explore everything he hasn’t gotten the chance to with you. You love it all, love the way he talks filth in your ear, calls you naughty names. You love getting fucked in all sorts of places, which at first made him a little nervous, cheeks and the tips of his ears bright red when you asked him to fuck you in your classroom or finger you under your dress on the subway. But, after almost a year and a half together, you can safely say that he’s a full-on exhibitionist deviant.

Your walls clamp down around him, eyes still squeezed shut as you feel his hips begin to thrust forward. Soon, he holds you almost completely still, moving his hips as fast as he can. His cigarette is almost ashes at this point, and he kicks himself for not thinking of a good disposal plan beforehand.

“Oh baby, oh baby...f-fuck!” You whine, hips squirming and gyrating as your impending orgasm grows closer. “Y-Yeah, I love it, love everything you do to me. Wanna take every s-single fucking drop of your cum, Charlie, want it inside me, want it dripping down my thighs.”

He almost loses his mind over your comments, drilling into you at an impossibly hard and fast rate, the lewd slapping squelching sound of your hips colliding overwhelmingly prominent in the space around you.

“You’ll go back to work with so much cum shoved into you, make you sit through your stupid fucking meeting with my cum dripping out of you. B-Better hope no one notices, huh? Better hope your boss doesn’t find out what a good little cockslut you are, how much you love having a pussy-full of your boyfriends f-fucking cum.”

A few muted cries leave your lips as he pounds you harder, his own words spurring him on. He can feel your walls pulsing around him, a sure-fire sign that you’re about to cum.

“C-Charlie! Charlie, I...I’m close.”

“K-Know you are, kid, I know you are. You’re doing so f-fucking well for me, Y/N, squeezing my big cock like a fuckin champ.” Charlie growls, quickly tossing his spent cigarette in a coffee mug on a nearby table. “And now you’re gonna rub your little clit and cum for me like I know you want to. C’mon, kid, wanna feel you come undone around me.”

You quickly begin rubbing your clit and, despite the odd angle, it brings you right up to the edge. You just need something, just a little something, to push you over the edge. Your eyes flutter open to look up at him, but then, you’re met with the sight of his sneakers.

“Goddamnit!” You’re cumming almost instantly, flooding his shaft with your release. “Yes! Oh god, yeah, c-cumming for you baby!”

His hips keep pumping, taking you right through your climax before abruptly coming to a halt when they’re buried as deep inside you as they can possibly be. His eyes go wide before squeezing shut, a guttural groan ripping through his chest as he pumps and shoves his thick creamy load into you.

“T-Take it, f-filthy whore!” He groans, rutting his hips the whole way through, making sure every drop is put inside you.

Once he’s finished, having ridden out his high to its fullest, he tucks himself back into his pants before helping you stand back up. He holds you close, looking down at you with a bright, genuine smile.

“You’re amazing, incredible...just so perfect.” He kisses all over your face before landing on your lips.

Your cheeks heat up at his compliments, hands weaving through his hair as the kiss deepens.

Suddenly, someone knocks on your office door, jiggling the doorknob.

“Charlie?”

His eyes fly open and he pulls away. Shit.

“Yeah, I’m h-here, just give me a minute!”

You quickly pull your pants up and jump under his desk to hide just as he opens the door, running a hand through his hair.

He talks to the person on the other side of the door in a rushed voice, answering their multitude of questions before quickly shutting the door, sighing as you crawl out from under the desk.

“At least we both got to cum, unlike last time.” You walk up and put your hands on his pecs, rubbing them over the fabric. “I gotta get going though, baby. I wanna grab lunch from the deli before my staff meeting.”

Charlie nods, dipping his head down to kiss you one last time, nuzzling his large nose against yours.

“Come over tonight, though? Nicole’s in town and she’s got Henry, so we’ll have the house to ourselves. I feel like we haven’t spent any quality time together lately.”

Nodding, you smile. “I would love to come over. I’ll text you when I get home.”

“Great.” He smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll see you later, kid. Have a good meeting.”

You laugh as you grab your bag and head out, turning back to wave and flash him a soft smile.

“See you tonight.”

187 notes · View notes

evarcana · 3 years

Text

I See the Moon

Oh when you are looking at the sun

Ev wears some very impractical shoes and learns that she does not know the city quite as well as she thought.

characters: the usual cast of Ev and consul Valerius

words: 2,4k

warnings: none!

notes: I wanted to write something short and sweet to act as a placeholder between the previous part and what is coming next, but I think I got a bit too emotionally attached in the process. The title is from “Be the One” by Dua Lipa and I will leave it open for interpretations.

Darkness strikes Ev’s eyes as she steps out of the theatre doors and for a moment she is completely lost in time and space, staring at her surroundings as if seeing everything for the first time - the disorientation which comes with returning to reality after the magic of the theatre wears off.

A few myopic street lanterns glimmer faintly and the moon, pitched extraordinarily high, is covered by the ragged organza of thin clouds and barely available to light the streets below. Passing groups of people turn into clusters of dark silhouettes, and Ev watches the collars being lifted and scarfs wrapped tighter, as the theatregoers hide themselves from the wind moist with the cool evening dew and disappear into the shadows, leaving only trails of soft footsteps and animated chatter behind them. It is this time of the year when night falls suddenly and way quicker than anyone anticipates.

The impatient tug on Ev’s arm cuts through the hazy darkness. “Are you going to let me leave or what?!” Valerius sounds desperate in his exasperation.

“Just a moment and you are free.” Still watching the dark street, Ev reaches for her bag and throws a pair of flat pointy mules decorated with golden beads and tassels on the ground in front of her. Using Valerius’s arm for support, she lifts one leg to untie the ribbons on her ankle. Somebody behind them helpfully holds the theatre door open, letting the light out, and they both stare at Ev’s bright red toenails as she steps out of her shoes. Ev frowns to herself and curls her toes - it is hard to be an intimidating opponent when you wear a cute sparkly little ring on your fourth toe, when she feels another tug and catches her breath in surprise, losing her balance. The arm slips from under her hand causing her to immediately crash into Valerius. Well, no chance of looking like a menace now. At least Valerius can’t run away, she thinks, because her entire face is smashed into his chest. “So impatient,” Ev rolls her eyes and tucks her heels in the bag.

Valerius hurries to brush off something invisible from his coat and then looks down at Ev’s feet with cynical interest, “Going on a hike?”

She contemplates telling that it took her a very detoured walk from the palace and four nervous circles around the Town Square to finally burn all that destructive energy her body generated in their morning argument, and that right now she is dying to rub her sore ankles, but decides against it. After all, wounded animals are easy prey. “Looks like it,” Ev says, shifting her weight from one foot to another. She scans the road once again and clicks her tongue. There is a carriage pulling away, two people inside, and another one rolling on towards the theatre, the coachman already waving to somebody, but most of the theatre crowd chooses to walk. They all must be locals, or heading to the closest tavern, Ev realises.

“Don’t tell me, -” Valerius’s voice says and Ev looks up, surprised that he is still standing there, “you don’t have a carriage because you were hoping to find a date to continue the night. You shall forgive me for ruining this little plan of yours.” His words are dripping with distaste.

She realises that Valerius must have been following her eyeline. The nervous lough blasts out of her but she manages to catch it and it turns to sound like a cough. A lucky guess on his part? Or did he take inspiration from his own plans? Ev refuses to think about the whole theatre fiasco. The sinking feeling in her chest has started and she puts her hands on her hips in annoyance. “I thought there would be carriages waiting,” she manages to say.

Valerius arches his brow in response, “...how pathetic.” Ev gives him her best withering look and turns away.

The last carriage departs with the din of wheels hitting the worn edges of the stones. Valerius’s eyes are still set on Ev’s face and his brow begins to crease slowly. He is clearly deliberating something but Ev cannot see it. She is watching clouds moving slowly across the moon. “Where do you live?”, he finally asks.

“By the Town Square,” Ev responds automatically, squinting at the sky above her.

“Not in the Heart District?” It sounds like a genuine question at first but the edge of his mouth lifts in a wry grin. “Didn’t you say I wasn’t the only one with the money here?”

“Too close to you,” she smirks back, “the urge of leaving a dead fish by your gate at least weekly would be -,” she leans in closer, turning her voice into syrupy sweet hush, “- irresistible”. This is getting weird. “Anyway,” Ev hurriedly looks behind her shoulder at the theatre doors, “I think it is going to rain later. Have a good night,” the words come in a flat orderly row, she is already concerned with something else, “I will see whether the theatre director can fetch me a carriage.”

“My carriage is waiting down the road.”

“Mm good,” Ev mutters to herself but then the realisation hits and she turns to the consul, eyes wide. “Are you offering me a lift home?” A ‘thank you’ sign lights inside her head but she crashes it with a wave of suspicion. It’s Valerius out of all people. He has no reason to offer her a ride in his carriage besides plotting to murder her and then ditch the body somewhere in the forest. Ev gives him a hard stare.

Valerius breaks the staring game first - his eyes flash with the new unidentified emotion before he regains his usual dismissive look. “Not home,” he snorts, “to the Town Square,this should suffice for a favour.”

“No no, hold on,” Ev raises her hand in protest. “I haven’t asked you anything yet, and hospitality is not a favour.”

“What hospitality are you talking about?”

“You repeat that it is your city all the time! Technically, I am still a guest.” Inside her head Ev is thanking all the available gods for her ability to just keep talking, regardless of whether it makes sense or not, because she definitely has not processed what happened yet.

“Yes, well, just keep your mouth shut,” Valerius says and walks off without a backward glance, his back soon disappearing in the darkness of the narrow lane.

Ev’s eyes follow his path and then she throws another look at the theatre building. The light in one of its rounded windows goes down. She watches the emptying street and feels the goose bumps scatter her forearms. The air is beginning to chill. She looks down at her feet. Ev decides that the consul is the kind of man who would rather pay somebody if he wanted to get rid of her than being involved himself and for the second time this evening she rushes after Valerius. This is so weird.

She is about to call him out to slow down because the sound of duck feet that her ‘emergency’ shoes make is getting on her nerves when she hears a loud thud and a curse. In the darkness of the path Ev is not sure how close Valerius is to her but she knows that he stumbled and it makes her giggle in delight. She stretches her hand out glancing at the strips of warm candlelight coming from the gaps in the window shutters and the ivory glare of the moon. A small globe of light, the size of a plum, forms above her hand. Its light is delicate and warm, as if filtered through the frosted glass, but bright enough to fill the space between the two of them.

The consul straightens up quickly, “Why -”

“I don’t know about you but I like my toes all intact,” Ev walks over to him. “It’s only a small trick, here,” she raises her hand and the light gets brighter, “you can touch it, it’s not hot.”

Valerius takes a step back, looking at the ball of light suspiciously. “You are full of tricks, aren’t you?” he says.

“Don't even make me start on what you are full of.” She bunches her hand in a fist and the light sphere drops down but, before hitting the ground, it bounces back in the air like a small ball and splits into a dozen of smaller lights, startling Valerius. They hover in the air along the path similar to a garland of lanterns as they walk in silence until the lane ends, opening to the canal, and Ev asks, “Is it your carriage there?”

***

The servant opens the carriage door and much to Ev’s astonishment, Valerius waits for her to get in first. She gives him a confused look but complies. There is no evening chill inside and the cushioned seats are invitingly soft, so Ev’s immediately decides that regardless of what is going to happen it was a good idea not to walk home. Valerius takes a seat opposite her and reaches to unbutton his coat and pull his long loose braid from under the collar. His head rolls gently to the side and Ev sees a couple of inches of the neck, soft lines and the glowing skin. She feels her cheeks beginning to heat, suddenly remembering the warmth and the bitter almond fragrance she breathed in every time she got too close to the man, and gods did she get too close tonight.

This is about as far from the real world as Ev can imagine. The carriage is small and the little triangle of her beaded slipper somehow ended up between the consul’s leather boots. If she was to stretch her leg, the bareskin on the side her foot would brush along his shin. They have never sat this close together. Ev thinks about the old lady from the theatre. How would she feel if she knew that she was the only thin barrier stopping them from recognising each other and fully succumbing to the mutual hostility, claiming at least half of the theatre as casualties in the process. This could have been a disaster.

Ev looks at Valerius again and tries to understand how could she not recognise these features straight away. The signature crease between the dark brows and the sulky mouth. Valerius sits in silence, and his eyes are definitely not the ones she knows. They are so wistful and lonely, and so golden under the lamp light, Ev has to look away.

She puts a hand under her chin and leans to the window. A fine mist of rain has started to grit on the glass, and behind the sparks of its tiny drops - a bridge arches over the canal’s silver curve, both ends of which are clipped by infinity, which, in the dim light of the early night, is only ten feet away. The backdrop is all in flashes of the lit windows and the black outlines of pointed rooftops, round cupolas and slender towers, all together resembling a crown adorned by a single grand jewel of the moon, burning bright white. Then, the skyline and even the moon gets momentarily obscured by the huge wall, deprived of any lights, looking ghostly in the tempered gloom.

“That massive rounded building, what is it?” Ev is surprised with herself for striking a conversation.

“Have you not seen it before?”

“No, I have not really been to this part of the city,” she says, turning to Valerius, “What is it? A hippodrome?”

“It's the coliseum. The count’s favourite place,” he gives a chuckle which sounds bitter. “The man loved... performances.”

“What kind of performances?” Ev asks, watching his mouth twisting in distaste. Something about his look makes her frown.

“Gladiators. Bloodshed which lacked any order or purpose besides the count’s own entertainment,” Valerius rubs the bridge of his nose and glances to the window. Ev cannot tell whether he is looking at the moon or the looming coliseum, considering something. “But it’s not what this place was intended for,” he pauses. He turns back to Ev and the expression in his eyes is softer. “It was built before Lucio became a count, although it was slightly less grand back then. The rituals and ceremonies were conducted there during the festivities and the previous count used to reenact scenes of the famous battles there, using the actors. It brought the whole city together. Nobody wants to remember those days anymore.”

Ev feels a weird tremble inside and she is not sure what has caused it until she realises that it is a strange, unusual affection in his voice. She crosses her arms and seats back to contain the feeling. It’s so freaking strange to talk to him when his face is not a mask of boredom. “Did you use to come to watch?” she asks.

“Only when I had to. As if I would mix myself with the roaring crowd of plebeians. Besides, it was terribly distatestful and the smell inside was disgusting.” His mouth tightens, and a strange shadow clouds his expression this time. “Pointless waste of human life.”

“Oh,” is all Ev can manage. She cannot stop staring at Valerius. There is some kindness beneath this asshole facade, human decency, fairness even. It is not the perspective that she has been prepared for. “I meant before that,” she adds faintly.

“Yes I did, when I was much younger.”

“I cannot believe I have never heard of it.”

“Did you do any research before you came here?” The consul is back to his dismissive tone.

“Honestly? I had other things to worry about.” Ev turns back to the window, suddenly unable to look at him anymore.

She hears an irritated snort from Valerius but then, after a brief silence, he starts talking again, and it is not about Ev’s inadequacy. He talks about the canals named after constellations, traditions which Vesuvia used to have, and what you could find in the city before the plague. His voice is calm and steady, and has this velvet quality to it, which fits the night perfectly. Ev closes her eyes and thinks that maybe if she asked Valerius, as that favour she got from him, to continue his stories sitting by her bedside, she would finally be able to fall asleep before the sunrise.

#omg if there is such a thing as MY writing style it is writing things where nothing is happening #but I promise they will kiss..maybe…eventually #I wrote something chronological do I need like a master list now #the arcana #consul valerius #the arcana Valerius #evpanopolis #ev x valerius #the arcana fanfiction #writing #valerius x mc #the arcana fanfic #the arcana fic

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atruththatyoudeny · 3 years

Text

Happy 28th! I’ve read so many awesome fics this month! Make sure to check them all out. As always, all my love to all the authors in this fandom ♥

➻ don't want to fight you | starryharry | enemies to lovers - enemies to friends to lovers - pining - mutual pining - angst - fluff slow burn - no smut - 124k Louis hates that it’s familiar. He hates that sparring Harry is familiar because they train together. He hates that he even has to spar Harry at all, because Harry is good. Louis wonders what his life would be like if him and Harry didn’t hate each other. He can’t picture it, really. The incessant bickering that often turns into real arguing, the nasty looks, the eye rolls, the middle fingers. It all feels very necessary at this point. Or, the one where two fighters can also be lovers because routines are never permanent.

➻ we are ghosts amongst these hills | louisgaynkles | Soulmates - reincarnation - historical - slow burn - angst - fluff - 84k Harry spontaneously buys a house in Yorkshire because the universe, or fate, keeps leading him to it. What he didn’t know, is that his new house comes with a past that seems to be mysteriously tied to his own life. Before he knows it he finds himself travelling back in time, stuck in the middle of a century old love story. Featuring Louis as a farmer with a passion for gardening, Zayn as the heir to the local manor, Niall as a pub owner with a secret, and a truly underappreciated Liam. Based on Mariana by Susanna Kearsley

➻ through the wheatfields and the coastlines | thepolourryexpress | farms - cowboys - angst - implied/referenced homophobia - implied/referenced gun use - humor - smut - 53k “You’re not from around here, are ya?” Hot Cowboy asks, tracking his little lamb with his eyes. Louis frowns slightly, having thought he was doing pretty well at not sticking out like a sore thumb. It’s not like he’s not from around here — it’s not his first summer he’s spent at his grandparents'. But he supposes that the Manhattan city lifestyle that he’s used to is always going to shine through. “I’m visiting family for the summer,” Louis explains, cheeks a little pink. “Trying to get some work done without distractions.” Or, alternatively, the one where Louis needs inspiration, and a certain cowboy and his lamb are the perfect distraction.

➻ An Irrationally Strong Bond Between Two People | jishler | dystopia - friends to lovers - angst - first time - 18k Before The Advancement, most human lives and careers were plagued by irrationality and a lack of productivity. This was largely the symptom of what scientists refer to as “interpersonal passion,” which included two separate (though often conjointly occurring) phenomena: “love,” and “sex.” “Love” was a pre-Advancement word which referred to an irrationally strong bond between two people, which caused its sufferers to prioritise their fellow “lover,” as well as the integrity of the malignant bond itself, over vital things such as workplace productivity. Taken every two weeks in pill form, The Drug immediately removes interpersonal passion from the human psyche. Children’s friendships do not have the capacity to develop into full-fledged “love” since they are not yet adults. Every person over eighteen takes The Drug gladly, grateful that it allows them to be productive, clear-headed, and rational members of society. A few weeks before Louis’ eighteenth birthday, Harry and Louis fall in love. (Based on the book Louis writes in indiaalphawhiskey's Our Lives, Non-Fiction.)

➻ And When It's Time | larryftnoctrl | Soulmates - soulmate-identifying timers - 6k Louis wants a soulmate, Harry loves his free will. They don't exactly go hand in hand. Prompt: AU where you have a countdown on your wrist for when you're going to meet your soulmate and if you miss it the time will reset. Louis/Harry keep having awful luck and always are missing their time until one day they don't. Maybe the other one is scared/has anxiety about meeting their soulmate? Maybe one time they're in a relationship so they intentionally miss their time? Who knows! But they finally meet :D

➻ made for lovin' you | cuddlerlouis | a/b/o - enemies to lovers - hate to love - soulmates - hurt/comfort - angst - fluff smut - 53k “I’m in,” is all Louis receives. He blinks a few times, making sure he’s reading this right. “For real?” he asks, just to be a hundred percent sure. “Yes,” pops up. “How do you wanna pursue?” The alpha adds, like he’s on a special mission or something. “I’m gonna call us a cab to go to mine. Once I know it’s here, I’ll leave and join you there,” Louis explains. “I’ll text you to go around five minutes before it arrives, so it doesn’t look suspicious, and our friends don’t notice us leaving together.” “Noted.” So Louis does, and ten minutes later, he’s sat in the backseat of a cab, next to Harry Styles, the person he hates the most but unfortunately still finds attractive. They’re on their way to fuck in Louis’ flat. Splendid. - Or the one where a quick, horny decision ruins Louis’ summer plans, but may also lead to unexpected discoveries. Featuring the road trip of dreams, misunderstandings, and a bit of fate.

➻ deFENCEless | solvetheminourdreams | neighbors - enemies to lovers enemies to friends to lovers - gardening - fluff - humor - banter - no smut - 27k "I moved here first," Louis says with finality, crossing his arms over his chest. Harry shoots him an unimpressed look before leaning forward, leaving only a tiny gap between them. "Then get the fence first," he whispers, lips a mere inch or two away from Louis'. When Louis butts heads with his new neighbor who loves to garden a little too much, all he can do to protect his yard (and heart), is keep on building up his fence(s).

➻ Canyon Moon | delsicle | a/b/o - werewolf - soulmates - childhood friends - friends to lovers - arranged marriage - mutual pining - hurt/comfort - angst - 41k For as long as Louis has remembered, he has been promised to be mated to Harry, his best friend and the future pack alpha. But Louis’s heart belonged to the forest and to the hunt more than he could ever imagine it belonging to Harry. Then Harry’s father dies in a violent accident, and Louis’s future alpha disappears on the wind. An A/B/O Lion King AU

➻ only guilty of loving you | sweetrevenge | a/b/o - strangers to lovers - blind date - soulmates - fluff - angst - mutual pining - smut - 22k After Harry gets set up with his co-worker's alpha friend Louis, he's expecting some pleasant conversation, free dinner, and maybe a new friend. What he doesn't expect, however, is that Louis' arrival in his life begins a life of crime Harry never knew he had in him. A You've Got Mail!AU with a twist.

➻ 'Til Everything Changes | lovelarry10 | a/b/o - older characters - brokend bond - loss - falling in love - fluff - implied mpreg - smut - 57k Harry’s nose twitched as he caught a scent on the breeze, one that sent a shudder through his whole body. His eyes closed subconsciously, and he lost himself in the heady scent, the vanilla top notes, and the more woody undertones, making every hair on Harry’s body stand on end. That was how Harry discovered this man was an Alpha. “Jaz, Harry, this is my Uncle Louis. Lou, this is my girlfriend Jasmine, and her dad Harry.” "Lovely to meet you,” Louis grinned, leaning in and kissing Jasmine’s cheek quickly, a respectful Alpha gesture. Harry held his breath as Louis stuck out a hand, taking it almost reluctantly, certain the Alpha would pick up on his own scent and the nerves flowing through it. “Hi, Harry.” “Hi,” Harry said, his voice low and raspy, still affected by Louis’ scent. “Nice to meet you.” ~~~~ Harry’s an Omega who has been alone for too long. Louis’ an Alpha who is scared to find love again. Thanks to the meddling of Harry’s teenage daughter and her boyfriend, the two seem destined to meet, and it might just change everything they thought they knew about their lives. Will they find what they didn’t realise they’ve always wanted in each other?

➻ Mind Over Matter (You Under Me) | youreyesonlarry | ice hockey - hurt/comfort - angst - fluff - major character injury - pining - unrequited love hospitalization - smut - 74k It’s dark outside when Harry finishes practice for the day. -------- Prompt 21: Harry stopped playing hockey (after 10 years of a professional career) because of a severe injury. The dream he worked so hard for vanished in the blink of an eye. His family insisted that he had to go to physical therapy, even if it only helped his health. Cue to personal assistant Louis, the most efficient and kind PA one could hire

➻ Rooms on Fire | softfonds | a/b/o - actors - famous/famous - friends with benefits - secret relationship - 34k Ten years ago, Louis helping Harry through a heat was the start of a romance that ended in heartbreak. Now, Harry's marriage is over thanks to his husband's very public infidelity, and Louis is fresh off a Golden Globe win. The last thing they both expect is to be cast in the same movie.

➻ Stumbling Into Your Arms | sunshineandthemoonlight | a/b/o - strangers to lovers - college/university - fluff - 7k Suddenly, Harry’s nose was brushing against Louis' neck, where his scent was overwhelming. Harry jerked his head to the side and took a deep breath of air, trying to clear his nose of Louis’ scent. ‘Don’t get slick, don’t get hard, don’t get slick’, he repeated to himself in his head, like a mantra. Louis and Harry are university students heading home for the holidays. Harry quickly becomes enraptured by the attractive alpha standing across from him in the train carriage, who has a heavenly scent and a gentle smile.

➻ Little by Little | nonsensedarling | mpreg - non traditional a/b/o - exploring sexuality - exploring secondary gender norms - gender identity strangers to friends to lovers - mutual pining - fluff - slow burn - 65k Harry Styles is an omega who works at the London Planetarium, has lived in the same flat for ages, and is happy enough on his own. When he gets home from his first (horrible) attempt at dating in years, a new pregnant neighbor knocks on his door after smelling his cooking. He and Louis quickly become close, but their friendship gets complicated when Harry begins questioning who he is and what he likes. Or Harry discovers figuring out who you are is more complicated than a potato metaphor.

#28th appreciation #fic rec #monthly reads #monthly fic rec #my reads #larry fics #completed fics

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yespolkadotkitty · 3 years

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i think it’s fair to say that i’ve fallen far too in love with your zach one shots — not only do you capture his persona so well, it genuinely feels like i’m watching an episode of brothers & sisters

also, your ricky one shot was also so so so good!! you have no idea how grateful we all are that you pluck these characters from obscurity and portray their defining characteristics so accurately while also adding the loveliest fluffiest fluff of all time

i was wondering if you would consider writing a jealous!zach one shot? ngl, the (mutual) pining mixed with jealousy trope is my guilty pleasure and i feel like jealous zach would be 11/10

anyway, just wanted to say you’re fucking amazing and i adore your writing — i hope you’re having a great day!!

THANK YOU FOR THIS LOVELY ASK

(NB: Ok I know this is not Zach but it COULD be. It’s the right year. There are SO FEW pics of Zach so let’s just go with it).

Words: 1700 ~ Warnings: jealousy, pining, angst, fluff, one awesome kiss

Pairing: Zach Wellison x gn!reader

************

YOU: Is it wrong to be attracted to the super in my building?

BFF: Why would it be wrong? Use it to curry favour! Get stuff fixed faster! What is he/she like?

YOU: Tall. Tanned. Dark blond. Has a tattoo - military maybe? Sexiest voice ever.

BFF: If you don’t get him, I will.

You set your phone down and smiled.

Maybe I should say something.

Zach had been the building super of your apartment block for the last three months. He was a massive improvement on the last guy, who spent his days playing Zelda and smoking weed and very occasionally getting off his ass to fix stuff.

He’d been to your place - conveniently next door to his, he had a live-in type gig - four times. The garbage disposal, the leaky faucet, the faucet again, and then the window.

Notes could be left in his mailbox downstairs by tenants who needed assistance. He always responded the same day, the next day at the very latest, and he always tried to arrange a time with the occupant that suited them.

He’d gotten all greasy and wet fixing the faucet, his plaid button-down clinging to him, and eventually he’d stripped it off, revealing a tattoo you hadn’t been brave enough to try and examine properly, and some serious biceps.

Next time I see him, you promise yourself.

BFF: Btw, what’s happening with the dude at no 16?

YOU: Nothing.

You’d engaged in a mild flirtation with the well-built guy across the hall. Sometimes he got your mail in his box by mistake and he dropped it off, but lately he hadn’t engaged with you, and you began to think he was just being friendly.

The next day, before you could properly think of what to write down for Zach, the washing machine that came with your place started to leak. You noticed when trying to take your clothes out of it.

“Crap!”

Rather than put a note in his box, you knocked on Zach’s door.

He opened it after a minute, surprise sketched on his handsome face, hair ruffled, sweat beading at the neck of his t-shirt. Past him, you could see weight lifting equipment on the floor, along with a small speaker playing 70s rock.

“Fleetwood Mac?” You ask, smiling. “They’re my favourite.”

“No kidding?” A smile tipped up one corner of his mouth. “So... “ His brown eyes met yours, warm, concerned. “Are you okay?”

“I hate to bother you directly, but my washer’s busted - leaking.”

“It’s no bother.” He glanced behind him. “Give me five, okay? I’ll be right there.”

“Thanks so much, Zach.”

He nods and closes the door. You’re about to turn back to your apartment when Well Built Guy - Damon, you think his name is - comes out of his own apartment.

“Hey,” he greets you.

“Oh, hey. How are you?”

He pushes a hand through his short, black hair. His single earring glints in the daylight; gives him a pleasingly piratical look. “I’m good. How are you?”

“Yeah, good - thanks.” You move again.

“Wait.” He takes a step closer in the small hall. “I was wondering if you - if you wanted to get coffee sometime? This place two blocks over does an amazing dark roast.”

“Oh, well-”

You’re cut off when Zach’s door swings open. He’s changed into a clean shirt, a forest-green henley, and he carries a faded red toolbox. His gaze darts between you and Damon, wary, and for a second, his mouth turns down.

As quickly as you see it, it’s gone.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he mutters, to you. “Can I go in?”

“I’ll let you in, Zach.” You turn your attention to Damon.”Catch you later?”

“Sure, sweet thing.”

He’s called you the nickname before but it’s never chafed until today.

Zach doesn’t react as you come to the door and let him in.

“Thanks for coming by so quickly.”

He doesn’t look at you. “You didn’t have to cut your time with your boyfriend short.” He sets his toolbox down by the washer and kneels, unbothered by the pool of water that begins to leech into the pale denim of his jeans.

“He isn’t my boyfriend.”

Zach sets about exploring the washer. “Okay.”

“He isn’t.” You stuff your hands in your pockets. “You want some coffee?”

For the first time, he looks up at you, and the expression in his honey-brown eyes is scraped bare, and then he looks away and the connection is lost. “Sure. Thanks. Black, one sugar.”

You busy yourself, just a few feet away - your kitchen is not big by any stretch of the imagination.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks.” He’s absorbed, only his waist and ass sticking out from the drum of the washer.

You potter off to do some work.

An half hour later, Zach knocks on the door of your tiny office - the only other “room” of your studio aside from the bathroom.

“All fixed.”

“Thank you so much, Zach.”

He swipes the back of his hand over his forehead, leaving a smear of grease. “No problem.”

“You’ve got a-” You reach up, every nerve on end, wanting to touch him.

A knock sounds at your door.

Dammit.

“Sorry,” you mutter.

You swing the door open and Damon is there with two coffees.

“I was on my way back from the office,” he says. “I thought you might like to - oh, the super’s still there. Not fixed yet, pal?”

Damon says it innocuously but you see Zach’s shoulders tense.

“Nope, all good.” He rubs the palms of his hands together in a “that’s done” gesture. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“... Place next door is this amazing Italian,” Damon is saying, oblivious. “It’s pretty pricey but I’d love to take you there.”

Zach pushes between you and out of the door, but you see the crestfallen set of his shoulders as he goes.

The door swings shut behind him and you turn back to Damon, resigned to see this conversation out, and to make it clear that he’s kind, but you aren’t interested.

*******

That evening, you take the stairs down to the communal gym in your building. Well. Gym is stretching it. There’s one ancient rowing machine, one treadmill, a barbell that has seen much better days, and a CRT TV that only shows Judge Judy. But, you don’t have to pay for it, so it beats a gym contract elsewhere in the city.

When you push through the door, Zach is on the treadmill, earphones in. He’s wearing a sleeveless vest and your gaze is drawn to his intricate tattoo - an eagle perched on a world, an anchor hugging the globe. Marines.

Wow, you think - wow.

Sweat trickles down the back of his neck, and his thick, dark gold hair curls around his nape.

Now or never.

You walk over to the treadmill and drop your gym bag to announce your presence.

Zach turns, does a double take, and then presses a button on the treadmill to slow it down. He pulls his earphones out.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Zach.”

Curiosity flits across his features. “Something you need?”

You swallow. He looks so good, his pale gold skin slick with clean sweat, his breath coming in soft pants, his chest rising and falling, lean muscles delineated by the clinging vest.

“No. I mean, yes.”

“And you can’t get the guy at 16 to help?” he snarks.

You step back.

“Sorry,” Zach says, immediately. “I just…”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you assure Zach.

Above his head, on the TV, Judge Judy silently reprimands a woman with six face piercings.

“He could be. Guy like him. Good job. He’d take you to fancy Italian places.”

You curl your hand around the arm of the treadmill. “Maybe I don’t want to go to fancy Italian places.”

Zach huffs out a breath, but you have his interest.

“Maybe I’d just like to hang out with you.”

Suspicion narrows his eyes. “Why?”

“Maybe I like you? Did you consider that? Maybe, for some bizarre reason, I think you’re nice and attractive?” you wave your arms, frustrated.

Zach folds his arms across his chest, pursing his lips. “I used to be a Marine, but I had to resign my commission because I got hit hard with PTSD. I lived on the street for two years.”

You hold his gaze as he speaks.

“Why are you telling me this?”

But then you know. He’s telling you so you’ll turn tail and go back to Damon, with his suits and fancy haircut and ability to take you out for $100 dinners.

He expects you to turn him down.

Because that’s what happens. What has happened and what he thinks will happen now.

Zach firms his lips and shakes his head slightly.

“Just go,” he says, so softly, mistaking your silence for pity, rather than resolve.

“No.” Instead, you lean up on your toes and touch your lips to his.

He starts, and then holds perfectly still. You break the kiss, and look up into his face, and he’s gazing at you like you hung the moon and all the stars.

“I like you, Zach,” you whisper. “And I don’t care if our first date is a picnic in the park.”

He blinks, turning away from you for a second, and then he ducks under the arm of the treadmill, and he’s so close that you breath catches.

“I’ve thought about this,” he murmurs, and then he cups your face in his hands and kisses you like he means it, lips and teeth and tongue, and it’s everything.

You spear your fingers into his hair and breathe him in, press yourself against the hard wall of his chest, sigh his name against his lips.

“I gotta shower,” he says, with clear reluctance, his voice half an octave lower, unsteady from a kiss that has rocked both your worlds. “Then, let’s see about that picnic.”

**********

Zach Pit & permanent taglist: @mrschiltoncat @astroboots @songsformonkeys @biblioworm @aeryntheofficial @thirstworldproblemss @wheresarizona @pedropascalito @knittingqueen13 @alwaysbethewest @agirllovespancakes @f0rever15elf @heatherbel @frannyzooey @lannister-slings-and-arrows @sarahjkl82-blog @thedazeinmylife @holographic-carmen @idreamofboobear @fromthedeskoftheraven @disgruntledspacedad @chicken-nugget-puta @miulola @nelba @alienprincesspoop @tardisfangurl @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @mylonelylittleappreciation @filthybookworm @absurdthirst @thestrawberry-thief @lilangeldevil006 @marydjarin @jedi-mando @havenforafrazzledmind @myoxisbroken @10-96dispatcher @stormtrooperofficerbrowneyes @mrsparknuts @roxypeanut

#zach wellison x reader #zach wellison x gn reader #sfw fic #brothers and sisters fic

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addictedtoeddie · 4 years

Photo

The full Esquire Spain interview translated from Spanish:

Eddie Redmayne trial: guilty of being the most talented (and stylish) actor of his generation

The Oscar winner talks about what it means to premiere a film with Aaron Sorkin (The Chicago 7th Trial on Netflix) and filming the new part of the most famous saga of all time under the watchful eye of its author, J.K. Rowling.

By Alba Díaz (text) / JUANKR (photos and video) / Álvaro de Juan (styling) 10/23/2020

At the Kettle’s Yard Gallery in Cambridge, stands alone and leaning on a piano Prometheus, a marble head made by Constantin Brâncusi, and the only piece of art that Eddie Redmayne (London, 1982) would save from possible massive destruction. He tells me about it as he leaves the filming set of the third installment of Fantastic Beasts in the early days of an autumn that, we suspect, we will never forget. It begins to get dark as the actor nods seriously: "I promise to do my best in this interview."

Eddie Redmayne made himself in the theater despite some voices warning him that he could not survive in it. "Many people were in charge to tell me that it would never work, that only extraordinary cases make it and that I would not be able to live from this professionally." Even his father came home one day with a list of statistics on unemployed young actors. Redmayne, who is extremely modest, polite and funny, adds: “But I enjoyed theater so much that I got to the point of thinking that if I could only do one play a year for the rest of my life… I would do it. And that would fill me completely.

Spoiler: since then until today he has participated in many more. He set his first foot in the industry when he debuted at the Shakespeare’s Globe Theater and won over critics and audiences. He then landed his first major role in My Week with Marilyn opposite Michelle Williams. And then came one of the roles of his life, the character he wanted to become an actor for, Marius. With him he sang, led a revolution and broke Cosette's heart in Les Miserables. “I found out about the Les Misérables auditions when I was shooting a movie in Illinois. Dressed like a cowboy. I picked up the iPhone and videotaped myself singing the Marius song. I always wanted to be him ”.

Now Redmayne is an Oscar winner - thanks to his portrayal of Stephen Hawking in The Theory of Everything - and the protagonist of one of the most important sagas in history, Fantastic Beasts. He plays the magizoologist Newt Scamander in it. When I ask him what it means to him to be the protagonist of a magical world that is so important to millions of people, Eddie sighs and takes a few seconds to answer. “I have always loved the Harry Potter universe. Some people like The Lord of the Rings or Star Wars ... But, for me, the idea that there is a magical world that happens right in front of you, that happens without going any further on the streets of London, that. .. That exploded my imagination in another way.

During the quarantine, J. K. Rowling, who has been in charge of the script of the film, sparked a controversy through a series of tweets about transgender women. Redmayne assures that he does not agree with these statements but that it does not approve of the attacks of some people through social networks. The actor was one of the first to position himself against Rowling alongside Daniel Radcliffe, Emma Watson and other protagonists of her films. "Trans women are women, trans men are men, and non-binary identities are valid."

After having spent a while talking, Redmayne confesses to me that he has never been a big dreamer not to maintain certain aspirations that ended up disappointing him. So he has always kept a handful of dreams to himself. One of them was fulfilled just a few weeks ago with the premiere of The Trial of the Chicago 7, a film written and directed by Aaron Sorkin that can already be seen on Netflix and in some - few - cinemas. “I was on vacation with my wife in Morocco and the script arrived. I think I called my agent before I even read it and said yes, I would. She probably thought the obvious, that I'm stupid. After that, of course I read the script, which is about a specific moment in history that I knew very little about. I found it exciting and a very relevant drama in today's times. "

And it is that having a script by Aaron Sorkin in your hands is no small thing. Eddie Redmayne has been a fan of his work ever since he saw The West Wing of the White House. “His scripts have delicious language and dialogue. As an actor, it's fun to play characters that are much smarter than you are in real life. That virtuosity is hard to come by. I really hope that audiences enjoy this movie and feel that there is always hope. " He remembers that since he released The Theory of Everything he has recorded, to a large extent, English period dramas, “and although the new Aaron Sorkin is not strictly contemporary,” says Redmayne, “to be able to wear jeans and shirts and sweaters instead of so much tweed is great ”.

Besides acting, art was the only thing the actor was interested in, so he ended up studying Art History at Cambridge University. “My parents are quite traditional and when I told them I wanted to act they gave me free rein but on the condition that I study a career. And I'm very grateful for that because ... Look, beyond that, when I play a real character I usually go to the National Portrait Gallery in London quite often. There I lock myself up. Now, for Sorkin's film, I went through a lot of photographs and videotapes. Art helps me to be more creative, to get into paper ”. If he were not an actor, he would be, he says decidedly, a historian or perhaps a curator. "Although I think he would be a very bad art curator."

Against all logic, Eddie Redmayne is color blind. But there is a color that you can distinguish anywhere and on any surface: klein blue. He wrote his thesis on the French artist Yves Klein and the only shade of blue he used in his works. He wrote up to 30,000 words talking about that color with which he became obsessed. “It is surprising that a color can be so emotional. One can only hope to achieve that intensity in acting. "

Like his taste for art, which encompasses the refined and compact, Redmayne seems to be in the same balance when it comes to the roles he chooses. When I ask him what aspects a character he wants to play should have, he takes a few seconds again before answering: “I wish I had a more ingenious answer but I will tell you that I know when my belly hurts. It's that feeling that I trust. In my mind I transport him to imagine myself playing that character. When I read a script I have to really enjoy it. You never fully regret those instincts. It's like when you connect with something emotionally. "

So we come to the conclusion that all his characters have some traits in common. "You know what? I never look back, and this is something personal, but I do believe that there is a parallel between Marius in Les Misérables trying to be a revolutionary, someone who is quite prone to being distracted by love but at the same time is willing to die for his cause, and Tom Hayden from The Chicago Trial of the 7 who was a man who had integrity and was passionate and fought for the things he believed in. So I suppose there may also be similarities between a young Stephen Hawking and Newt Scamander. There are traits in common in all of them that I don't really know where they come from ”.

When we talk about the year we are living in, in which it is increasingly difficult to find hope, we both let out a nervous laugh. "There must be," Redmayne says. “There is something very nice that Tom Hayden, the character I play in Sorkin's film, said to his former wife, actress Jane Fonda, just the day before she passed away. He told her that watching people die for their beliefs changed his life forever. In that sense, I also think about what Kennedy Jr. wrote about how democracy is messy, tough and never easy ... As is believing in something to fight for. I look at history and how they were willing to live their lives with that integrity to change the world and I realize that somehow that spirit still remains with us. " We fell silent thinking about it. "There must be hope."

I tell him about my love for Nick Cave's blog, The Red Hand, and one of the posts that I have liked the most in recent weeks. In it, the singer affirms that his response to a crisis has always been to create, an impulse that has saved him many times. For Redmayne there are two activities that can silence noise: drawing and playing the piano. “When you play the piano your concentration is so consumed by trying to hit that note that you can't think of anything else. Similarly, when you draw something, the focus is between the paper and what you are trying to recreate ... There I try to calm my mind.

Before saying goodbye, I drop a question that I thought I knew the answer to, but failed. What work of art would you save from mass destruction? "How difficult! I could name my favorite artists but still couldn't choose a work. Only one piece? Let me think. I am very obsessed with Yves Klein, but I would stick with a work by Brancusi. There is a sculpture of him, a small head called Prometheus, in Cambridge's Kettle’s Yard, on a dark mahogany piano. The truth is that I find it very ... beautiful ”.

Before leaving, he confesses to me - with a childish and slow voice - that he would like to direct something one day. We said goodbye, saying that we will talk about his next project. Next, the first thing I do is open the Google search engine. "P-r-o-m-e-t-h-e-u-s". Although Eddie Redmayne has trouble distinguishing violet from blue, he doesn't have them when choosing a good piece. He's right, that work deserves to be saved.

* This article appears in the November 2020 issue of Esquire magazine

Source: esquire.com/es/actualidad/cine/a34434114/eddie-redmayne-juicio-7-chicago-netflix-entrevista/

#eddie redmayne #esquire2020 #esquirespain2020nov #esquire spain #chicago7promo #chicago7interview #interview2020 #photoshoot2020 #juankr #my translation

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lailannajacobs · 4 years

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A Truthful Devil and a Lying Demon | Counterfeit Criminals pt. 11

Pairing: Loki x fem!reader

Chapter Summary: Loki decides you need to take a pit stop somewhere you’ve never seen before. Things don’t exactly go as planned.

Warnings: Angsty my friends!

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: These characters really have a life of their own because they did not follow the outline I had planned for them, but I think you’ll enjoy this chapter even though it wasn’t at all what I had planned! Love to know what you think! <3

Counterfeit Criminals | Chapter Eleven

“The only reason I’m trusting you with this is because you said it’s imperative to finding the Faberge,” You said begrudgingly, sitting on your hands so that you wouldn’t shove him aside, “Don’t think this is the new normal.”

“I wouldn’t dare. People trusting me has never been normal,” He murmured, steering your ship with ease as if you’d been sitting shotgun to Loki all her life.

His words sent a pang of guilt through you. You had trusted him, once upon a time, and the funny thing was that trusting him felt as normal as driving you own ship. You sighed. He didn’t deserve your harsh critique now, no matter what had happened between you two. You were on edge because he had refused to tell you where you were going, and you were taking your nerves out on him.

Wanting to keep your promise to yourself and let go of your anger, you knew you had to apologize - no matter how much it hurt your pride to do so.

“I’m sorry,” You mumbled, fiddling with the hem of your sweater.

“I’m not asking for trust,” He murmured, “Just a little faith.”

“Isn’t that the same?” You countered, unable to help yourself.

Despite your tone, the corner of his mouth pulled up a little, “If it is, then a little patience. We’re almost there.”

You nodded thoughtfully, “That I can manage.”

He raised a brow as if to say he’d never been witness to your patience. You almost smacked him on the arm then realized he might have a point.

“It’s hard to be patient with that look on your face,” You growled.

His lips spread further into an infuriating grin, “I never said a word.”

“Just keep driving.”

He steered the ship away from one of the main routes you’d taken almost a hundred times and off toward an astroid field. The whole way through, your body was tense, and you weren’t sure you were breathing, but the shop never came close to any of the giant rocks that would surely tear your ship apart. The more you watched on, the more it looked like they parted for him. If it had been anyone other than Loki, you would have dismissed the notion immediately.

The astroids cleared to reveal a tiny planet, about the size of the Earth’s moon. Using the ship’s inter-galaxy information system, you tried to look up the planet, but nothing came up - not even a name.

“What is this place?” You asked as he steered the ship into the planet’s orbit.

He led the ship to the brighter side of the planet, where the sun hadn’t set yet, luscious trees set aglow in the fading light as if they were emeralds. The ground was so dark it almost appeared black, with streaks of gold flashing across it which you quickly realized were massive birds swooping over the plains.

“Loki,” You repeated, a little breathless at the oddly familiar sight, “What is this planet?”

He kept his eyes out front, focusing on landing the ship, “It’s mine.”

“What do you mean, it’s yours?”

But even as you asked the question, you knew exactly what he meant. The landscape was so familiar because it felt entirely like he did. Some people bought a house. It seemed that the Prince of Asgard bought a planet.

“It belongs to me,” He paused, and you thought he wasn’t going to say more, but then continued with a deep breath, “I found it when I was looking for - when I was looking for something else. I decided to make it mine.”

You shot him a curious look, “Who knows you have it?”

He finally looked at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “No one. So, if you would be so kind as to not tell a soul what you’ve seen here, that would be greatly appreciated.”

Nodding, you remained speechless.

He brought the ship down not far from what you presumed to be - for lack of a better word - his house. Unlike the ostentatious gold palaces of Asgard, his home reminded you of a cross between something like a large barn and a gothic church. The look was unlike anything you had ever seen before, but somehow it came across as elegant and completely fitting.

Setting the ship down with care and precision, he sucked in a deliberately slow breath. You said nothing, caught between not being sure what to say and wanting to hear what he would said without your provocation.

Eventually, he spoke up, “If you’d like, we could take a moment’s rest and have something to eat here as well.”

His mouth was pinched tight as if he’d bitten something sour, and his posture was rigid. If you didn’t know any better, you might have said he was nervous. Oddly enough, the feeling put you more at ease and you wanted to do the same for him.

“What,” You asked with a smile, “You don’t like the food I keep on the ship?”

He leaned back in the chair, “Is that what it’s called? Because I’ve had food before, and I can’t quite say I see any resemblance.”

“I think that’s just because you’re a food snob,” You said, rolling your eyes.

He chuckled and you smiled back.

“All right Loki, I guess you’ll have to show me what real food is.”

“I supposed I will,” He murmured.

You followed him out of the ship, the cool air crisp and refreshing as if you were standing at the top of a mountain. A long sigh escaped your lips as if you’d been holding in for longer than you’d ever realized, the smell of pine and lemon soothing your earlier temper. Loki didn’t look back at you, but you noticed his shoulders set lower as well.

The doors opened at your approach and Loki put a hand on the small of your back, guiding you into the beautiful home. The dark woods and sparse furniture gave the open space a sleek look though it was hard to imagine anyone living here.

“And I was thinking,” He continued, looking almost sheepish, “That we could eat our meal on the roof. The view from this planet is quite spectacular.”

You smiled up at him, “That sounds nice.”

He let out a small sigh and motioned for you to follow him.

“How long ago did you say you found this place?” You asked, fingers brushing along the soft wood.

He motioned for you to come through another door, “It feels like forever ago.”

It didn’t slip your notice that it wasn’t a real answer to your question, but you didn’t think you had it in you to ask again. Letting go of your anger meant accepting that there were things Loki wouldn’t want to tell you. The two of you were slowly becoming friends again and that was all you wanted.

“Where are we headed?” You asked, head on a swivel as you tried to take in all your surroundings.

You almost missed the amused look he shot you being so busy observing a globe hanging in the corner of the room that you were pretty sure depicted Earth’s activities in real time.

“What?” You demanded, the look on his face never failing to rile you up.

He shrugged, pausing in front of a modest, wooden door, “It’s been a while since you’ve asked me so many questions without that look in your eyes.”

“What look?”

The amusement faded from his eyes and he whispered, “The one that makes me think you’d like to kill me.”

Annoyed, you tried to shove past him, open the door to whatever lay on the other side, but he blocked your passage. With a sigh, you looked up at him expectantly.

He raised a brow as if he was waiting for an answer, and in a way, you supposed he was.

You rolled your eyes, “Is this your way of asking if I still want to kill you?”

He nodded.

But really, there were a million other questions running through both of your minds, neither of you brave enough to voice any of them aloud. Your breathing shallowed at the look on his face, the intensity of those eyes threatening to root you to the spot forever.

Refusing to make a big deal of anything that might have rightfully deserved it, you opened the door and breezed past him into a kitchen.

You were just as impressed by the kitchen as you were the rest of the place, but you couldn’t forget that you hadn’t answered his question.

Turning to face him, you leaned your elbows back against the counter, “I don’t want to kill you, but knowing you, that could easily change in the future.”

His face clouded over, and it was as if all the air was sucked from the room. He took several quick steps, moving with the speed and grace of a skilled predator. He stopped just far enough away that he could say your bodies weren’t touching, the distance so close that you had no choice but to tip your head back if you wanted to see anything other than his chest. You could feel the air drop a few degrees, icy air rolling off him in waves.

“Loki-”

“Is it because you’re afraid?” The anger in his whisper was barely controlled, the war to keep the composure on his face evident in the reel of emotions playing in his eyes.

It took you a second to realize what he was talking about, and when you understood, you stood up and got in his face before realizing what you were doing, anger clouding your judgement.

“When have I ever been afraid of you?” You jabbed him in the chest knowing it was the only thing you could do to stop yourself from smacking him upside the head, “When are you going to get it through your thick skull that I’m not like everyone else? You don’t scare me, Loki. I’m pissed at you because you left me to die!”

Your shrill voice bounced off the walls, the last word echoing on and on in the second of silence that seemed to last an eternity. He opened his mouth to speak but you didn’t let him. You’d broken the dam with that word and there was no holding back the flood now.

“You left me to die, Loki,” Your voice cracked but you pushed on, “Whatever scheme you had planned was worth leaving me to die. All while pretending you had-” You cut yourself short before you could give voice to feelings you knew he’d never had in the first place, “You pretended we were friends and that you were honouring our agreement when really you were just serving your selfish needs. My escape was nothing more than a diversion and you couldn’t have care less if I died.”

He clenched his teeth, jaw working as he sucked in a breath, “You’re right, Midgardian, I was selfish. But I do no regret actions and I never will, even if you leave right now and never say another word to me again.”

“I don’t-”

“Let me finish,” He growled, backing you up into the counter, “Would you like to know why I did what I did? What scheme I had concocted that was worth putting your life at risk?”

“Why should I let you finish?” You spat back, “I know damn well all you’ve ever wanted was the crown.”

“That was true until I met…” He stumbled on his words, eyes widening as if he was afraid of what was going to come out of his mouth.

“Don’t lie to me. You’ve always wanted the crown,” You whispered angrily.

He raised a brow, some of his composure returning, “Maybe so, but do you really believe that was the best way for me to go about it? Think about it, Midgardian. What do you think I was doing when you found me bloody and injured in the hallway that day? Did you think I had risked my life for a simplistic plan that was so easily foiled?”

Whatever you were about to say next died in your mouth and you stared up at him, his words tugging on something in your mind. You almost wanted to believe him. His words rang true in some way, but he had always been good with words. You’d seen it time and time again at the parties the two of you had gone to together. Believing him the first time had been a mistake. Believing him a second time would only be stupid.

“Find your own way to Asgard,” You muttered.

Shaking your head, you pushed past him, tears burning behind your eyes. Loki didn’t move to stop you. You tried not to run out of there, taking measured steps until you burst out of the house into the cool night air. Choking on a sob, you managed to hold it together, but every step was shaky over the smooth ground. The faint sound of alarm caught your attention, but the sound disappeared before you could think anything of it.

You marched on, your energy draining with every step closer to your ship and the thought of never seeing Loki again. Vaguely you couldn’t help but notice the rainbow of shooting stars streaking across the sky and that the view really would have been nice from his roof. You shoved the thought aside and stumbled onto your ship. What you really wanted to do was collapse onto your bed and sleep until you could forget everything, but you knew you had to get off this planet. If you stayed here any longer, you might be tempted to believe Loki and you couldn’t let that happen.

Every one of your movements was a blur, your body acting on autopilot until you were lifted off the ground and out of the astroid field.

Then Loki burst onto your ship out of thin air, eyes wild, frantically searching the ship. When his eyes locked onto yours, he crossed the distance before you realized what was happening. His hands gripped either sides of your arms and held on tight as if he was afraid something bad would happen if he let go.

“YN you need to listen to me.”

You tried to shake him off, but he held on, “I don’t want to hear your excuse.”

“This is not an excuse, there are-”

“Loki I don’t care,” You snapped, trying to return to navigating your ship.

“That’s not why I’m here,” He growled, “You’re in danger.”

You scoffed, “Is this really your way of avoiding the truth?”

He looked murderous and desperate all at once, “I can give you the truth later as you long as you listen to me now!”

You’d never seen him act this way, but you were still to hurt to think rationally - to listen to the part of your gut that was telling you something was wrong. Whatever it was that he wanted, you weren’t going to give it to him. Not this time.

Jutting your chin up, you crossed your arms, “I’m not letting you pull me along this time. Tell me the truth now and then I’ll think about listening to you.”

“Fine,” He ground out, eyes fiery, “I did what I did because Odin-”

You never got to hear what Odin had done because a shot blasted into the side of your ship and everything went black.

#loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #Loki Angst #loki x you #loki x reader #loki x female reader #marvel fic #MCU fic #fan fiction #fanfic #reader insert #counterfeit criminals

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jehaatiade · 4 years

Text

Knight in Tarnished Armor

An Ezra x OFC fic

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Violence, blood, description of injuries, drug misuse.

Summary: Ezra makes a new friend under fortuitous but less than fortunate circumstances.

“Eight men,” Ezra mutters to himself as he slogs through the hip-high fronds of ferns heavy with sporangia. “I came to this hellacious veridian globe with eight men. Fourteen days from planetfall, and how many of them are left? Not a one. Just me.”

He kicks a fallen log in passing, trying to vent his frustration. The rotten wood crumbles unsatisfyingly under his boot, and tiny pseudocrustaceans flee for cover as their shelter is destroyed. “Somehow,” he tells the absconding insectoids, “I imagined being the monster to be more gratifying than that.”

He plods on, moving through the small clearing and back into the dense arboraceous embrace of the forest. “No one to blame but myself, I suppose,” he says, continuing his monologue. “I should’ve known better than to sign on with a crew of kips. But they promised me a twenty-percent stake just to teach them how to dig. That could hardly be a herculean task, could it?”

He huffs out a short laugh at his own foolishness, and almost misses the brief crackle of static from his comm. Almost, but not quite. As he fiddles with the modulation settings, the conversation slowly becomes coherent.

“- told you it was a fifty-fifty chance of the cat blowing, and you said hit it!” A woman’s voice, irate, is the first to come through clearly.

“I swear to Kevva, woman, if you don’t fix this then I’m gonna carve you up like an aurelac sac and use your guts for fishing line,” a man growls back at her.

“Oh, fuck you!”

Ezra keys his transmitter, cutting in before the man can reply. “Loath as I am to interrupt a spirited debate, I could not help overhearing your dilemma. It so happens I have some mechanical equipment I am seeking to exchange for supplies.”

“Get the fuck off our channel, floater!” the man yells.

“What is your problem, Pásovec? You’re gonna tell somebody who might have parts we need to get lost just because you’re in a bad mood?” the woman asks. “You’re welcome to join us, friend. We’re at eight-oh-four point fifteen by thirty-seven point twenty-” The number is cut short by a yelp. “What are you doing? Get off me!”

“I have had it with your big fucking mouth,” Pásovec snarls. His statement is quickly followed by a cry from the woman. Ezra’s already at eight-oh-four point one by thirty-six point five; he can make it to their location in under three minutes if he drops his heavy supply-filled pack. “And your bleeding fucking heart!” Pásovec continues. Another cry, this one a short, high scream of pain. “You’re useless to me, and I’m sick of you using up the oxygen I paid for!”

Ezra shoves the pack under the bole of a toppled stump and runs.

The Green has never been more of an adversary than it is now. Vines underfoot grasp at his ankles. Broken branches snatch at his protective suit as he pushes through the trees. Dangling moss leaves protoplasmic ooze in smears across the faceplate of his helmet. Pásovec is muttering in a language Ezra doesn’t understand, but rage needs no translation. Every few breaths, the man’s rant is interspersed with another cry from his victim. Ezra is almost to the site, able to see a small ship through the trees, when her exclamations turn to desperate gasps: “No! No! Get off! No, don’t!”

He skids into the clearing, thrower already drawn, and sizes up what he sees in less than a second: one figure sprawled on the ground, and one figure kneeling on the other’s chest, trying to wrench the other’s helmet from them. He shoots the one on top, and they topple to the side in graceless languor mortis. The violent cacophony over the comms stops abruptly, leaving only the sound of someone hyperventilating.

“Are you all right?” Ezra asks. He holds his position, scanning the clearing for any other crew.

“Y-Yeah.” The woman’s voice belies her claim, shaking like a sapling in a high wind. The figure on the ground starts to leverage themselves into a sitting position, and she grunts with the effort. “You s-saved my life.”

The Green is still, other than the omnipresent dust, with no indication that there’s other living beings within any near distance. Ezra lowers his thrower and starts to approach. “It seemed in my own best interest to assist the individual amenable to trade,” he says as he moves closer.

She gives a sharp bark of laughter, then shudders and makes a noise akin to a sob. “He was gonna kill me,” she gasps. “F-Fuck, I knew he was an asshole but I didn’t th-think he was that crazy.”

“I dare say we have all misjudged someone’s character at some point.” He takes a knee beside the woman, his thrower pistol still in his hand but held casually at his side. She lifts her head to look at him. The inside of her faceplate is smeared with red from a bloody nose that still drips across her lips to trail toward her chin. Beneath the blood, her face is pale. She’s pretty in an angular fashion, especially with those sea-and-sky blue eyes. “Would I be far off the mark to surmise you’d welcome further aid?”

She swallows and shakes her head. “Help me get inside. I’ll make you a- a mutually beneficial proposition, how about that?”

“I do like a bold woman.” Ezra grins, holstering his thrower before he offers his hand to her. “Such a prodigious vocabulary is a marvelous supplement.”

“Oh, fuck you,” she says without malice. She clasps his forearm, and he stands to heave her to her feet. Something in the effort goes awry, alas, and she collapses into his arms with a scream that escapes from gritted teeth. “My knee,” she groans. “I can’t put any weight on it.”

“Don’t fret, now, little bird,” Ezra says, trying to reassure her as he draws her arm over his shoulders. He clasps his arm around her waist, taking as much of her weight as he can. “We’ll have you flying again in no time. Left foot first, now.” Her movement forward on her good leg is more like a hop than a step, but she makes it with only a stifled gasp.

Under mundane circumstances, the walk to the ship’s airlock and the lone step up would be a matter of no more than half a minute. Instead it’s a torturously slow process, punctuated with suppressed sounds of suffering from his new acquaintance. At last, the airlock doors close behind them and the filters begin to cycle.

“You know, you haven’t done me the courtesy of telling me your name,” Ezra says in the dimly red-lit closeness.

She’s still panting from the struggle of motion, and he counts her breaths, reaching four before she answers. “Leda.”

“A fine appellation, heavy with mythology. I myself am Ezra.”

“Ezra,” she repeats. The airlock doors in front of them hiss open, and she gestures forward with a nod of her head. “The med bay’s right there.”

“Then we had best proceed.”

The med bay door opens at a touch of Leda’s hand, and Ezra can’t help but take in the bounty with raised eyebrows. Spotless, sterile, and stocked with enough supplies for years, he can only imagine the amount of aurelac that harvesters would hand over for this level of medical attention. It’s far easier to picture the kind of violence they’d do to get access.

Leda shifts forward when he doesn’t move, listing precariously toward the examination table. Reminded of why he’s here, he helps her put her back to the table and then lifts her bodily to sit on it. She undoes the seals on her helmet, setting it aside, and Ezra follows suit. Free from the confines of the cover, her dark blonde hair just barely brushes her shoulders, and the evidence of her bloody nose is smeared all the way down her throat.

“I’m gonna need your help getting this off.” She pops the pressure seals on her suit, unzipping it down to her belly and shrugging out of the upper half. Underneath, she wears only a white tank top. Ezra notes with appreciation the corded muscles of her shoulders and arms; no mere miner’s mascot, this one. “I can push myself up, and you can pull it over my hips, yeah?”

“A sound plan,” he agrees. He moves closer, unzipping the suit a little more before he grasps the fabric at either side of her waist. “On three?” She nods briskly. He gives the count. On three, she pushes herself up off the cot, creating a few scant measures of space for Ezra to yank her suit down to her thighs. Without being asked, he crouches to remove her boots and free her legs from the heavy tangle. When he looks up, he’s on a level with her knees. He grimaces at the sight; her right knee is already swollen to half again the size of her left, and a dark angry red that heralds catastrophic bruising. “This is bad.”

“No fucking kidding!” she snaps, high and breathless. He raises a single eyebrow and stands once more. “Fuck, I’m sorry. That was uncalled-for.”

He accepts her apology with a nod. “It was hardly the most astute observation I’ve ever made.”

Leda returns his nod before she reaches for an item stored in a case on the wall. He recognizes it when she sets it in her lap: a diagnostor, latest generation, ten leads and a battery life of six months. It’s worth fifty thousand, at least. She unspools the leads from the body of the instrument, placing the unipolar heads on and around her knee gingerly. For the last lead, she pulls up the hem of her shorts to place the head on her inner thigh at her femoral vein.

Ezra catches himself watching and turns away before she looks up, stepping back and starting to remove his own protective suit. The further he undresses, the more he feels out of place; his clothes are grubby and stained, and he stinks of dirt and sweat. One day I’ll have all this, he tells himself, same as he always does when he measures up against the rich and successful and finds himself falling short. One day I’ll have all this, and we’ll see who’s out of place then.

“Hey, would you do me a favor?” Leda’s question pulls him out of his thoughts.

“I suppose that would be contingent upon the specific request.” Ezra tucks his thrower into the waistband of his pants before he steps out of his boots and sets his suit aside. Turning back to face her, he finds himself trying to measure her up. Is this her ship? Her riches? What woman with this kind of money would come to the Green Moon to grub for more?

“There’s gauze in the first drawer on the right over there,” she says, pointing at the cabinets along the wall. “Would you grab a square and get it damp for me? I’d like to clean up.”

He does as she asks, removing the gauze from its packaging and wetting it with water from a squeeze bottle before bringing it over to her. She thanks him, taking it and starting to remove the drying blood from her face. Still in her lap, the diagnostor beeps quietly to itself as it works. “I find myself overcome with curiosity,” Ezra says as he watches Leda methodically wash her jaw and throat. “This breathtaking craft. Is it yours?”

“No, Pásovec’s,” she answers without the hesitation that would betray a lie. “But when I make it out of here, a few thousand in the right pockets will put the registration in my name.” She meets Ezra’s eyes and gives him a wolfish smile. “I knew one way or another, I was making a fortune on this job.”

“Speaking of a fortune, I believe you said something about a mutually beneficial proposition?”

Leda nods and sets the dirty square of gauze aside. “To borrow your turn of phrase in return, would I be far off the mark to surmise you’re out here on your own?”

Ezra crosses his arms, considering his answer before he gives it. Trusting a stranger in the Green is the surest way to get to Kevva quick. But she’s unarmed, unless she wants to hit him over the head with the diagnostor, and he’s sanguine about his odds of outrunning her. “I might be,” he finally allows.

“This isn’t my first time in the Green, handsome. You wouldn’t be looking to trade components for comestibles if you weren’t neck-deep in some form of bad luck.” She raises her brows expectantly.

Ezra sighs and rubs the back of his neck. Caught out by a pretty face. “The crew I came with got themselves killed, to a man, and got our ship blasted beyond use while they were at it. I’ve been looking to barter aurelac for a ride.”

“I’ve got supplies for twelve weeks, enough for me and a partner,” Leda says. He blinks at her, taken aback by her forthrightness. Sharing information on your supplies is akin to hanging a sign around your neck saying This is how much you’ll get if you kill me. “I can pilot, I can repair, and I can harvest. But the way my knee looks, I think it’s going to be a while before I can dig. I don’t want to leave here empty-handed. And as thanks for saving my life, I’m willing to go sixty-forty in your favor on takings before overhead.”

A smile slowly creeps across Ezra’s face. “I suppose it is my deed that has put you in the market for a new partner. Perhaps it would be only equitable to fill the position myself.”

“Shake on it?” Leda asks, holding out her hand. Ezra clasps it and gives her a firm shake. As soon as he releases her, the diagnostor trills to announce the completion of its task. Leda picks it up and starts to read from the screen: “Grade three medial collateral ligament injury. No surgical intervention required, estimated six weeks recovery time. Son of a bitch.”

The last, Ezra presumes, is her own judgement. “What do you need?”

Leda huffs and starts to remove the diagnostor’s leads from her leg. “There should be crutches in that locker,” she says, pointing. “I need to get into the workspace and get the printer started on a brace. That’s going to take a couple of hours.”

“Anything else?” he asks as he retrieves the crutches.

“There’s a cryotherapy unit in the locker two to the left of that one,” she continues. The unit is about the size of a shoebox, but considerably heavier; Ezra tucks it under his arm to carry it and the crutches over to his new partner. Leda sets the unit on the cot and accepts the crutches with a sigh. “And a painkiller shot, in case I fall off these things. First cupboard, bottom shelf, on the right.”

Ezra finds the box of syrettes easily and gives a low, appreciative whistle as he digs one out. “The good stuff. You are exceptionally well-stocked, my friend.”

“When Pásovec hired me, he said to send him a list of supplies. I wasn’t expecting him to buy everything on it. Not exactly an unpleasant surprise, though.” Leda takes the syrette and raises it in a parody of a toast. “Here’s to rich idiots, huh?”

“To rich idiots and the riches they leave behind,” Ezra agrees.

“I like you,” Leda says, and slams the syrette into her thigh with no further ceremony. She gives a groan and rolls her eyes as the medicine dispenses automatically. When the cartridge is empty, she removes it and places it in a sharps bin on the wall. “Okay. I need you to carry this-” She holds out the diagnostor. When Ezra takes it, she taps the case of the cryo-unit beside her. “And this, please.”

“Reduced to menial labor so early in our relationship,” Ezra sighs dramatically as he tucks the unit under his arm again. “This could bode ill for our continued collaboration.”

“Maybe I ought to bat my lashes and say how I find myself in desperate need of a big, strong man,” Leda replies. She shifts forward as Ezra laughs, carefully putting her weight on the crutches. After testing her balance, she moves toward the door, her gait punctuated by the click of the crutches. In the narrow ingress beyond, she turns to the right and limps through another door.

Ezra bites his tongue to keep from whistling again at the workspace. It’s state-of-the-art, more something he’d expect to see in a slick hi-tech zine than in any ship to set landing pads on the Green Moon. In the near corner, a printer large enough to fit a small child in its bay hums quietly to itself. There’s a workbench along the same wall, the space above it taken by shelves of neatly organized bins. Opposite the workbench is a modest kitchen unit, more storage, and a plush-looking L-shaped couch. A sturdy metal table stands in the middle of the room, flanked by plastic-and-steel-tube chairs.

“Do you know how to plug the diagnostor into the printer and tell it to make the recommended brace?” Leda asks, pulling his attention away from the extravagant accommodations.

Ezra eyes the printer. “At a guess, connect the printer’s data input cable to the diagnostor’s cat-six port and hit the big green button?”

“Look at that, beauty and brains.” Leda turns away and starts to click toward the couch. Ezra, in turn, approaches the printer. He’s only just taken the input cable from its slot beside the controls when there’s a thump and a groan behind him. He glances over his shoulder to see Leda slumped on the couch, her injured leg stretched across the cushions. He looks back to his work, but he’s still able to hear her speak, softly enough that he isn’t sure if she’s talking to him or to herself. “I should be more useful. I’m making a bad impression. First day back on the job, my boss breaks my leg and I make friends with the guy who shot him to death. At least I get the ship for my troubles.”

The printer cheerfully beeps confirmation of the design order and whirs to life. Ezra sets the diagnostor down and hefts the cryo-unit before he crosses the room to Leda’s side. “Where do you want this?” he asks.

“Just on the floor is good,” she says, still speaking softly. “I’m sorry, that shot was a lot stronger than I thought it was. I should’ve only done half.”

Ezra chuckles. “Flying high, little bird?” he teases as he pulls the tubing and straps from the unit. Leda sits up with a grunt when he places them in her lap, and starts to wrap the apparatus around her knee. “If you don’t need anything else, I had best head out and retrieve my pack. Won’t take me but a little while.”

“If you want a clean filter, they’re, um-” She gestures vaguely at the storage on the near wall. “Um. Third shelf, on the… left.” Instead of going to grab a filter, Ezra sits on the low metal caf table, watching Leda thread and tighten the straps with the excessive caution of the intoxicated. When she completes the task, he switches on the unit rather than make her lean over to get it. She hisses as the pressure in the tubing increases, the cryo-unit pumping ice-cold gel through the tubes and over her injury. “Thanks.”

“I do happen to have a few inquiries before I go, if you wouldn’t be troubled to resolve them.” Ezra cocks his head and gives a winning smile; Leda glances at him and gives a vague nod before she lays back down. “Now, I would be the first to confess that I rarely lay all my cards on the table in a negotiation, and it is not so much an accusation as a recognition of good business practice when I insinuate you may have done the same.”

Leda only blinks at him. It seems if he wants to take advantage of her brief pharmaceutical-induced vulnerability to interrogate her, he has to pander to her temporarily reduced faculties.

“What haven’t you told me?” he rephrases. “Do you have other crew?”

“No, it was just me and the asshole. He was convinced there was a deposit near here worth hundreds of millions, but he needed somebody to do the prospecting.” She sighs and closes her eyes. “I figured he might try to kill me if I found the deposit, but I didn’t think he’d try before then.”

“What else? You were arguing when I found your channel.”

“The LXH catalyzer is bust,” Leda says, eyes still closed. “I can put something together to replace it, it’ll just take me a few days. I wouldn’t want to try and break high orbit on it, but it’ll get us up to the transport.”

“And the deposit? Do you know where it is?”

Leda shakes her head slowly. “It was Pásovec’s secret. He had a notebook he always kept on him.”

“Anything else? Anyone going to come looking for Pásovec?”

She opens her eyes to blink up at him for a moment before she shakes her head again. “Nobody knew anything. I’m pretty sure he killed the guy who told him about the deposit.”

“I’ll look for that notebook, then,” Ezra says. “You gonna be all right here on your own? Want me to grab you a thrower in case any uninvited visitors drop in?”

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Armory’s over there.” Ezra stands and retrieves a pistol from the locker beside the workbench. When he gives it over to his new partner, she checks the cassette with the swift muscle-memory of a professional. She sets the pistol on her stomach, her hand draped over it with a feigned nonchalance that conceals her readiness to draw. “I might fall asleep before you get back. Just shout when you come in so I don’t shoot you.”

“I will most certainly do that,” he promises.

Leda watches as he moves over to the nearby shelves to search out a new filter. The one currently hooked into his suit is adequate for a few more hours, but being forced to repeatedly purge and re-use the handful of functional filters he salvaged from the destroyed pod has left him with a vexatious persistent cough. A clean filter, fresh out of the packaging, is just what the non-existent physician ordered. “Would you do me another favor?” Leda asks as he starts to comb through the other storage bins to see what else he can find.

“I offer no guarantee but an inquisitive ear.” Ezra delves deeper into one container, digging out a shiny new hunter’s knife with a sheath that should attach nicely to the leg of his suit.

“If you’re going to take care of Pásovec’s body, would you give him a kick in the ribs on my behalf?” The request startles a laugh out of Ezra. “I know he won’t feel it, but it’ll make me feel better.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he assures her as he shoves the crate back into its place.

“Okay,” Leda says quietly. When he glances over at her, her eyes are closed again and the thrower on her belly rises and falls with her slow, even breaths. “I hope you don’t rob or murder me. You seem nice. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

“There’s no call to impugn my honor, now,” Ezra scolds, no more sincerely than she had spoken. “We shook on the deal, didn’t we?”

She smiles faintly. “You’re right. We did.”

(If you liked this fic, the best way to show it is by sending me prompts and requests! Tagging a few friends: @rzrcrst @tarrevizslas @lannister-slings-and-arrows @pascalisthepunkest )

#ezra #prospect #jehaatific

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thorne93 · 4 years

Text

Unforeseen Chasm (Part 63)

Prompt: Two sisters fall for men that are absolute enemies. The love they have could tear all of them apart, or it could bring them together.

Word Count:4309

Warnings: Lift in spirits for reader, a year after the snap,feelings exposed again, arguing, angry Tony, Bruce vs. Tony, fighting, a change in life, surgery/transplant, happiness and fluff for the OFC. life goes by for reader,looming darkness, Song for this part: Is there somewhere - Halsey Note: This is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written (including my novels). It’s a collaboration with the amazing @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo. It started as a funny “What if…?” and it evolved and got huge. This took two years to write. We are both proud and happy and we hope you enjoy it. It follows from Thor 1 to Endgame in the MCU. Some of the timelines may be off in order to fit certain people, and some characters may show up earlier or in different ways than they have in the movie. But for the most part, it follows the MCU. It also has a bit of crossover with some other Marvel characters throughout the story.

Masterlist for Unforeseen Chasm

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the following morning that you ran into Remy on the way out of the hotel, just outside the doors.

“Didn’t expect you to still be around, not after my killjoy session last night.”

“Oh, don’t take all the glory. You aren’t the soul reason for all the heartache going around,” he assured jovially.

You stopped and turned to face him. “Remy, I know what you’re trying to do, and I appreciate it, I do. You’re trying to act like everything is okay, or that everything is gonna be okay, and I know that’s just your nature. I know you don’t want to seem down, but you’re going to have to, for me. I left because of the optimism. I don’t have it in me, okay?” you begged softly, grabbing his arm and squeezing. “For me, just… dwell in the harsh reality. Think of me as misery and you’re my company, alright?”

He nodded, a sweet smile on his face. “Alright. I’ll stop with the cheerful talk.”

You thanked him and the two of you began walking to your first sight to visit today. “And besides… it is my fault. It’s all my fault.”

“Oh, come on now,” he started, scoffing and you threw a daring look his way.

“No, it really is. I was out on the battlefield. I should’ve been there to stop Thanos. Instead, I was too focused on everyone else. I wanted to make sure they were safe. By the time I realized Thanos was here, it was too late.”

“Cher, I don’t think you could’ve taken him alone,’ he offered gently. “You said he went up against Cap’n Rogers, Romanoff, Banner--”

“Right. All mortals. Wanda slowed him down, tremendously. Thor nearly killed him the first time. Can you imagine what I could do? I’m Thor and Wanda and you rolled into one. I could’ve killed him. It might not have been easy, but if someone had my back, made sure I didn’t get interrupted, I could’ve done it.”

“I think you’re bein’ a little hard on yourself.”

“I think you’re being ignorant to the facts,” you retorted.

He sighed. “Well that may be, but it doesn’t change the fact that when the snapped happened, you were the first person I thought of.”

“That so?” you challenged, keeping your eyes down to the ground. “Why didn’t I get a call then?”

“I figured you’d be busy. I wasn’t sure about you and Loki, or Shannon. I wanted to check on you, but if things were bad, I didn’t want to come barging in. Besides, we had the mess at the mansion to take care of. I couldn’t just drop all that. I wanted to but…”

“No, I’m glad you didn’t. I was busy. I was busy trying not to fall apart, trying to be there for Shannon, in the small capacity I could be anyway.”

“It seems we found each other at the right time, then.”

“Found each other? You tracked me across the globe. It’s not exactly a coincidence,” you reminded, a touch of humor in your voice.

The two of you set off then, quietly. You went all around the city. Remy took photos for you and of you, so that you could focus on the beauty here and now, be in the moment. When nightfall happened and you started walking back to your hotel, you began talking. It was nice to have someone to talk to.

“We had all these plans, you know?” you started suddenly. “I don’t know how to live without him. Here or back in New York. he’s been such a huge part of my life, my every day life for years…”

“I bet that’s hard.”

“It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to live through,” you admitted.

With that, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you in close as you two walked.

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

Things had begun to die down for what had happened. You were still missing and that didn't stop Shannon from continuing her search. At some point she and Tony had left the compound and had gone to find a peaceful place to start a new chapter in their marriage. It was time to start a family. Everyone had gone their separate ways so it was only natural that they wanted to bring some happiness to this point in their lives.

Bruce had come to terms with the fact that Shannon wouldn’t be leaving Tony anytime soon but that didn't stop him from confessing his feelings. Things had gotten heated after that, seeing as when Bruce said those words Tony had just been walking in. This created a fight. They ended up going a few rounds and Shannon had ultimately had to use her powers to rip the men apart from each other.

“You two are acting like savages, this needs to stop!” she growled, holding them both back. “Now, Bruce, you know I’m married to Tony and I love him very much and yes I do love you too but, I’m not sure there’s something that can be done.” She turned over to the other man. “Tony, what in God’s name is wrong with you?! He’s your friend, not some stranger.” She lets them go and huffs. “You two need to figure this out, okay? And no more fighting.”

She walked away and both men walked off to the bar and had a long talk about what would happen.

“Listen, Tony I never wanted to get to this point but I love Shannon just as you do and I would never do anything to hurt her.” He holds his drink up to the cut on his eyebrow. “I know this isn’t conventional but would you be willing to have a polyamorous relationship so that I can be with her?” Bruce hoped that the other man would agree.

“I gotta say Bruce you have some courage to confess your feelings to a married woman, but my wife!” He shook his head. “I mean I kinda knew you had those feelings from when you had been helping her at the mansion, but I’m not sure if I can be okay with that type of situation and it’s not up to me. It’s up to Shannon on whether or not she wants that.” He refilled his glass. “I’ll have to talk with Shannon and then we can all sit down to figure this out.”

“See, I didn’t think I would get this far.” He sighed. “But you’re right, Shannon should be the one who decides.”

Upon returning to the compound, the three sat down and talked about what would happen next. She agreed to open up the relationship to have her husband and now, Bruce, her boyfriend. Once it was all decided, the next thing that happened was having the cabin built to accommodate the three of them and the potential future.

Life was as normal as it could get for Shannon, Bruce and Tony they’d all found a way to make their relationship work. Who would be with Shannon which nights and things like that. One thing that was a major change was that after searching she was finally able to get a uterus transplant. Which would come to bring a change in their life with the hopes of her having a child. There were dozens of attempts after her body had accepted the new organ, but to no avail was she able to get pregnant right away, needless to say they didn’t stop trying. There had been a point where Shannon believed that she would never be able to get pregnant but she was pleasantly surprised when she took a home test and it had come out positive. She had done her own at the tower’s lab to confirm what the test had said. Knowing that she was finally able to carry her own child was the best moment she could live through. It was nearing the end of October and she hadn’t figured out how to tell him yet but she knew she’d figure it out.

It’d been about a year since Y/N had left and the search for her still continued. She also began to see which X-men still remained. The one person that she hadn’t thought would survive would be Wade Wilson, formerly known as Deadpool.

Shannon figured he’d be a good bet if any in finding you.

“Come on, Wade, pick up the phone,” she mumbled, waiting for the phone to stop ringing.

A second later on the other line all she heard was, “Shut it, tin balls, I’m on the phone! Hello?”

“Hey, Wade, it’s Shannon,” she said. “Are you busy?”

“Well, hello there, Mrs. Stark. What a pleasure.” He mocked formality. “I’m pretty free, what’s up?”

“I was hoping we could meet,so we can talk about this in person.”

“Sure thing. Send me your coordinates and I’ll be there soon. Can’t wait to see what you’ve been up to!” And with that the call ended

About half an hour later there was a knock at the door. Bruce had gone out for a jog and Tony, like always, was hiding in the garage working on who knows what. Which gave Shannon the perfect timing to talk to Wade.

“Coming!” she yelled from the kitchen. She grabbed a hand towel and wiped the water off them and opened the door. “Hey, Wade, come on in.” She moved to let him in.

“Aww what no hug?” He stood there with his arms open. “Whoa wait! I see that glow Shan, are you pregnant?” he teased.

“Hush, Wade, I haven’t told Tony yet!” she pulled him further into the house and peers out to the garage making sure her husband hadn’t heard. “Now what’s with the suit what happened to you being comfortable around me?” she motions with her hand.

“Listen here, lady! No one tells me when I can and can’t wear my suit!” he exclaimed.

“You done with the tantrum?”

“Uh… no, but anyways how’s it been?” He leaned in closer. “Besides the bun in the oven?”

“Haha funny, it’s been going good with my life but that’s the reason I called you.” She headed towards the living room and he followed. “Everything is going good but one part. My best friend, well more like sister, has gone off the radar and I haven’t for the life of me been able to find her and at this point I need someone like to be able to go out and bring her back for me. Considering--” she points down at her belly. “--once I tell Tony he’ll definitely be against me going out to look for her.”

“And what would I get out of it?” He got serious when he heard the reason why. “Normally there’s a contract that gets written up and a price given but since it’s you, Shannon, I’m going to work something different out.”

He sat there for a moment just thinking of what he could potentially get from them. He didn’t really need much. Until a lightbulb lit up since becoming Deadpool he knew his chances of having children were down to zero and with his friend being pregnant he’d like to be in the kid’s life somehow. “Alright so here’s how it’s going to go. I’ll do you this favor in exchange for two things.” He held up two fingers.

“Just two things?” she repeated. “And what exactly are those two things?”

“Great question!” He got giddy. “First, I’d like to be part of that kid’s life.” He pointed to her stomach. “And second, I’d like unlimited chimichangas and not the crappy kind, you guys got the money for the good stuff.”

“Okay first of all why the heck would you want to be part of MY child’s life? And second, okay we can do the chimichangas.” She shook her head.

“Well ever since I became DP I came to realize that I will never get the chance to have my own kids you know?” His voice lowered towards the end but it was enough for her to hear.

Knowing the reason behind asking such a thing pulled at her heartstrings because she knew what it’s like, knowing that there was a chance she could never be a mom. Granted, Peter Parker was hers biologically but was done through surrogacy.

“Okay, Wade, I know what it’s like to be in that position. You can be their god father, okay? And occasional babysitter, how’s that?” She hoped she could complete part of his life like this miracle baby had done for her. “So it’s a deal then, when can you start?”

“We can go over the specifics later, for now just enjoy this moment and let me know if you need help planning the reveal to the hubby.” He leaned closer to her.

“Of course, Wade, thank you.” she leaned her head on his. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

From then on it had been Wade being around constantly and getting on Tony’s nerves but he knew why and it broke his heart to see his wife like that. Between all of that they all got to see how the wonders of Shannon became a mother to their daughter Morgan. Then during their fifth year since the snap, she had gotten serious with Bruce as well and even though she couldn’t marry him through the church, she figured she could at some point later on. They did agree on having a child, so she gave it a shot with Bruce. They had gotten more than they could have asked for, not only was she pregnant again, but this time with twins. It equaled out to two children with Bruce and two with Tony.

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

One Year Later…

After three months all over the world, you’d seen and done everything you could possibly think of, with Remy right by your side. Part of you felt guilty, having him there. The other part was so thankful that you weren’t going through this alone.

When you finished, you had no idea where to go, no direction. When the snap happened, a small part of you hoped there was a way to find Thanos and bring everyone back. When that hope died out with Thanos, you could go see the world in Loki’s honor. Then, when that finished, you had nothing left. You still couldn’t return to New York. You weren’t in any mindset to be around Shannon and everyone else.

“Well, that’s it,” you said with finality as you looked down at your phone, checking the list. “We’ve done everything.”

Remy smiled down at you. “Wow. Time flies, right? What next?”

“I have absolutely no idea,” you admitted as you stood, staring out over a river. “I’ve never felt this way before… Directionless. Even when I was in prison, there was a plan. Hopefully one day to get out, but even then I knew at least I’d be in prison the next day. But as of this moment, I don’t know what I’ll do in twenty seconds. It’s a bit unnerving for me.”

“What do you say we… well… settled down?” he asked carefully.

Your face whipped to him, surprised. “Settle down? What do you mean?”

“Well I don’t imagine you wanna keep jumping from country to country,” he surmised, putting his elbows on the railing.

“No, I don’t,” you agreed slowly.

“Then I suggest we take this somewhere permanently. Maybe… start to rebuild our lives. We’ve lived in the past, maybe it’s time we start looking at the future.”

“I don’t know…” you started, looking down and shaking your head.

“What’s got you hesitatin’, cheri?” he wondered, standing to put a finger under your chin to force you to look at him.

You sighed. “I’m not sure I know how to move on.”

“I’m not asking you to move forward, or to forget him, or forget anyone. All I’m saying is to make it easier on both of us. I know I’m a hell of a lot happier when I’m around you, and despite your initial complaints I think you like my company.”

You nodded.

“So maybe...we find us a place, and start to live again. It might be easier to focus on healing if we aren’t acting as if we’re on the run.”

You sighed in agreement. “You’re right… but where would we go? If we stay in one place too long, Shannon will find me.”

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe not. How about we go home? Maybe she’s already looked there.”

“Home? Like…” you asked, prompting him with a questioning look.

“Like New Orleans, darlin’.”

And that was how he easily convinced you to follow him. The two of you found a house slightly out of the way in New Orleans. It wasn’t in the country, but it was private enough that you weren’t in a neighborhood with prying neighbors.

Remy picked up a job as a bartender, and when he wasn’t tending to the drinks, he was playing cards for money. As for you, you found a job in healing. You worked with a mobile clinic that went to a rather large area due to the snap, the patients were widely spread out. It was nice, to give back, to help heal people, when you’d caused so much heartache. Your job was to use your electrical powers to keep equipment from failing. Sometimes you were at the hospital, other times you joined nurses on the road. It was an odd interview, but these were trying times and they didn’t turn their noses up at your request.

If you weren’t working, the two of you were building a home together. The two of you had found pieces of art you loved, began to buy dish sets, furniture. You didn’t have too many momentos, either one of you to go through, but it made it nice. None of it was anything you had to be reminded of, to try and hold back some form of grief. You two painted every room in the house you’d bought. You’d hand selected wallpaper, paint, decor, everything. You weren’t sure if you were doing it as a distraction or what -- but it felt like life was starting again. You two even cooked together most nights, trying out recipes on each other.

Now, it’d been a year since the snap. No word to or from Shannon, but you were sure she was doing fine. Remy had called Logan a couple of times to check on the mansion, but no new students had shown up. Despite missing the vanished and those you left behind in New York, this was as close to happy as you could get.

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

One night, you stopped in at the bar Remy worked at, to help him close up.

“Hey, there,” he greeted with a wide grin. “What can I getcha?”

“Just a coke,” you answered. “How’s business been?”

He worked on getting you your drink as he answered, “Kinda slow. But that gave me a chance to do this new trick.”

“Oh? Can I see?” you asked somewhat excited. Remy’s tricks were always something you loved, even as kids. It was a way to be entertained, to make you forget about the other ugliness in the world, and you supposed he was doing that again this time around.

“Sure thing. Let me get it set up.” He reached under the bar for a second, making you curious. ”Alright, so I’ll draw ‘em in like this,” he explained as he leaned over, looking handsome.

You nodded. “Mhm.”

“Then, I’ll do a little ol’ razzle dazzle with the hands,” he continued slowly as he made meaningless motions in the air before making his fingers dance around a space on the bar. “And abracadabra, alakazam…”

Then as if it materialized in thin air, there was a red velvet box on the bar and your heart began pounding.

“Now you may be wonderin’ what’s inside that there box. I’ll show ya.” He opened the box before glancing up at you with a grin. Inside the box was a stunning, unique ring. ”Y/N, will you do me the great honor of--”

Thought escaped you though. The sight of that box. Remy’s words. They catapulted you to that day on the battlefield with Loki. Every emotion of grief and loss slammed into you, taking breath and thought with it. All you could do was grab Remy by the edges of his silk vest and kiss him to get him to stop talking.

You couldn’t hear another man say those words to you. It felt so wrong. So utterly wrong.

You hadn’t kissed Remy once or even done anything remotely romantic together. In all reality, you were just two roommates. You did everything together, you lived together, had outings together, but you never kissed, held hands, slept in the same bed… Nothing was romantic between you two.

Remy sank into the kiss easily before you let him go. You couldn’t hide the tears streaking down your face but you did your best to hide the thickness of your voice.

“I think maybe… maybe we should take things slow, at first, you know?” you offered easily. You didn’t want to lose Remy, he’s all you had. But you couldn’t give him what he wanted.

“You mean like, actually courtin’ each other?”

“Precisely,” you agreed with a nod and smile. “Then we can talk marriage. What do you say?”

“I say that sounds like a plan,” he responded before leaning over to kiss you again, slower and more tenderly.

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

So life went on like normal, for another year, the only change was the romance. It seemed a small price to pay to not have to hear another marriage proposal or pledge your commitment to him. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with Remy. It just felt like a betrayal of every level to promise yourself to Remy when Loki didn’t get that chance.

To an outsider, this was domestic bliss. You two looked, seemed, and acted happy. You tried to be anyway. But every day was a battle. Even after two years, he was the first thing you thought of when you woke up and the last thing you thought about before you drifted off.

Remy was patient and kind. He never tried to erase Loki’s memory. Never mentioned putting his pictures away, or tried to quiet you when you brought him up. He understood how much he meant to you and he didn’t want to ruin that.

But on the inside, you were hollow and empty. Remy and your life provided excellent distractions. You loved helping those in need, and you loved having your friend around. He kept the majority of the darkness at bay.

You couldn’t hide it anymore though. This cookie cutter life wasn’t cutting it. Not anymore. You had so much sorrow and anger pent up in you. No closure, no answers… you still blamed yourself for the snap, for not killing Thanos properly. You still wanted Loki back. You missed Shannon and the Avengers but you couldn’t be around them. Ultimately, you were living a lie with Remy. He thought you were moving on, falling in love with him, letting it all go, but you weren’t. You were just as broken as the day Loki vanished. No part of you had healed or moved on in any way.

He didn’t deserve this.

So you packed your things, not leaving a note, about to head out the door in the middle of the night before his voice stopped you

“Where ya goin’?” he asked.

Damn, you mentally hissed. You didn’t want him to see you leave.

Your hand was already on the door knob. “I’m leaving. I think it’s best...for both of us.”

“Well thank you for makin’ my decisions for me,” he sarcastically said as he sauntered up behind you.

“You know what I mean. You deserve someone who isn’t broken like I am. Someone who can give you their whole heart.”

He moved himself to be in front of you, cupping his hands on your face. “Chere, I never asked for your whole heart. I don’t expect it. I just wanna be here for you. I love you and I want to see you happy. I don’t wanna be with you so that you can love me back. Ideally, sure, but realistically…” He let the idea hang in the air. “I just wanna to be with you, is all. Now where were you plannin’ on goin?”

“I’ve got a talent for making others hurt, I was gonna put that talent to use. To be honest, I have a lot of pent up rage I’d like to get out of me.”

“I see,” he said with a bit of sorrow.

“I don’t want you to see me like that, either.”

“I told you years ago I found you to help protect you and keep you safe, now whether that’s from yourself or others you plan on going after, I still believe it,” he vowed. “I’m comin’ with you.”

“Why?” you breathed, confused.

“Because I love you, and I want to be with you, whether we’re baking cookies together for Christmas or off doing whatever it is you’re about to do. I’m with you -- always.”

You smiled at him, sadness filling the expression. “I can’t stop you. If you want to come… We'll go.”

‘Alright. Give me some time to pack, and we’ll go.”

Roughly an hour later, Remy was ready to leave with you. Something in you told you he shouldn’t come with you, whether it was for his safety or so he didn’t see what you were about to turn in to, you weren’t sure. But the bigger, more selfish part of you allowed him to come.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#unforeseen chasm #loki fic #loki x reader #Past!loki x reader #Loki Laufeyson #tony stark x ofc #tony stark fic #tony stark #endgame #remy #gambit #deadpool #wade wilson #bruce banner x ofc x tony stark #gambit x reader #morgan stark

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lapinbunwrites · 4 years

Text

One Love Spans Lifetimes

Rating: T

Warnings: Major Character Death, Blood

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Relationship: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier

Word Count” 9.649

Ao3 Link

It had only been months since the war had ended. It had only been months since Sylvain had inherited his title as Margrave. That was the last time he had seen his dearest friend...his love, Felix. He knew that he would leave. Not that he could blame him, with no prince...without their childhood friend, there wasn’t much of a reason to stay. And with no father to have pride in him, what was the point? It was only natural for him to become a mercenary, Sylvain could only wonder what would have happened if the Professor didn’t persuade the two of them into their class. One could only wonder.

Sylvain walked through Fhirdiad markets, making his way towards a flower shop. Due to Faerghus’ harsh winter conditions, it was always hard to grow flowers. But when spring came, and when the weather was warmer, people were able to plant some pretty flowers. There were a bunch that caught his eye. He knew they all had a meaning to them. He kept looking around until he found a mixture of flowers that he liked. Sylvain walked to the graveyard in the forest behind the castle. There were two graves he stood in front of.

“Mercedes von Martritz”

“Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd”

He placed Amaranth Globes, Plumerias, and Gardenias on both of their graves. He knew that they loved each other. He knew that. Everyone knew that. They would do anything for each other, much like how he would do anything for Felix. Sylvain looked at his left hand. He wore a gold wedding band. It was something Felix promised him. To be married in the midst of a war, it was crazy. Sylvain laughed. The two were crazy enough to do it. He loved Felix so much, but he knew that he couldn’t stay idle forever. He knew that he would come home to him eventually. When exactly, he never knew.

Sylvain let out a sigh as he held his hand closer to his lips. “Was it something I said,” he sang. “Was there something I should’ve said.” He breathed. His voice started to quiver as tears started to roll down his face. He wanted to see Felix again. He wanted to see his love. His little Blue Giggle. “I miss your eyes, your smile,” he sighed. “I miss your laugh.”

Felix felt the cold rain drop onto his face. It had been so long since he had seen his beloved Sylvain. The day he left, the day he renounced his title as a noble, he had been fighting all over Fodlan. It was the only thing he knew he was good at. And with every fight, Sylvain’s words rang in his ears. He couldn’t keep fighting. And when the fighting was done and said, what then? He looked at his hand, looking at his wedding band. He was the one to propose...And the one to leave first. He knew that he was going to be the one to leave first.

He took a deep breath and exhaled, seeing the cloud of fog. He wanted to go home, but he was needed to stop all of these bandits and fights. He fought day in and day out. Sleeping on the ground and uncomfortable inn beds. It was a different life than the one he grew up with. A house with a comfy bed, meals, and snacks every day, a better promise for another day of life, caring parents, caring friends. Now...Now there was no promise for tomorrow, moving around from inn to inn, no parents, no friends….No Sylvain. He destroyed all the relationships that he had. He destroyed all the relationships people were trying to fix.

His father, Dimitri, Ingrid, everyone. And...And Sylvain. And the worst part about him, he wouldn’t hold it against him. Felix sniffed. He could imagine his face when he would arrive back home. A smile that would beat the sun. A pure and cheerful smile that would be bigger than the sun. It would be warm, caring. He missed his stupid smile, his stupid heart. He missed him. Felix felt sorrow bubbling into his chest. One day...One day he’ll make it back to Sylvain. One day he’ll make it back home. But today was not the day.

Felix made his way to an inn, following someone to his room. He looked at it. It was a bit tight but managed to fit a bed, a dresser, and a desk. It was a lot like his room at Garegg Mach. Thanks to this, all of his memories started to flood back to him. The days he spent training, studying, and even the rare days that he had to clean up Sylvain’s messes. Man, was he furious. A small smile appeared on his face as he remembered those days. Oh, how he missed them.

Felix rummaged through his pouch, grabbing his journal, ink, and owl feather. He sat at his desk, flipping through the book filled with words. He stopped when he found a blank page to write on. He sighed, looking blankly at the page. What was he supposed to write? “I’m sorry?” That wasn’t going to cut it. Felix wrote it plenty of times. How was he going to write this letter to Sylvain? This journal was filled with many others that he tried to write and to send to him. He never did have the courage to send any. He was never good with words, especially ones filled with flowers and love.

He felt something swell inside. He wrote down whatever he felt was in his heart. He wanted to get everything off his mind...and his chest. Whatever came to mind, he wrote down. No word, no feeling was spared. And with each and every word he wrote, he could feel himself inch closer to crying. It wasn’t like him to do so, but he was in pain. It was only a matter of time where he put down his quill. He covered his face with his hand and started to cry silently. His tears falling onto the pages.

He woke up late into the night. Felix didn’t even realize he cried himself to sleep. He lit up a few candles, placing them on his desk so he could finish his letter. He took it slow and careful, not wanting to cry again. Even though he was writing, even though he knew he wasn’t going to send this to Sylvain, he could understand why he did it. It just...It just felt right. Maybe him writing the words down felt like Sylvain could feel it in his heart. At the end of the letter, he wrote a song for him. Or added more lyrics to a song that he would sing.

The next morning, Felix left the inn to finish his trek to Derdriu, the old aquatic capitol to the fallen Leicester Alliance. He was hired to help quell a small rebellion from a bandit group. Nothing too hard. He, and a few others, went to the bandits base. They were smoked out of the building, only leaving them to fight. It didn’t take them more than two hours to defeat these guys and give them a make-shift funeral. After everything was said and done, he took out his journal and started to write to Sylvain about the battle and that he was okay.

“Whatcha doing there,” one of the soldiers smirked.

“None of your business,” Felix replied.

“Writing to your girlfriend,” they teased, ignoring his words.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he sighed in irritation.

“Oh, your wifey then?”

He sighed again. “Who I love is none of your business. Quit talking to me.”

He stormed off, not caring what other ridiculous nonsense that came out of their mouth. He was married to Sylvain. How did they not know that? It wasn’t like they kept it a secret. Surely word about it spread. He shook his head, not putting much more thought into it. It wasn’t like he was going to see the soldier again. He started to walk back to the old Faerghus Kingdom. He had to report back to his employer about this if he wanted to receive some sort of payment. Maybe now he could return back to Sylvain. It had been a long while since he had.

Sylvain sat in a boring meeting about the New Kingdom of Fodlan. This meeting was just matters of cleaning up the old Adrestian Empire. Why did he have to be a part of this? He had other things to attend to, fixing the Sreng problem that his father left him, and more importantly, worrying about Felix. Where was he? He was supposed to be back by now. The mission he had shouldn’t have taken as long as it was. Either way, Sylvain was still worried that he was in harm's way. He had to remind himself that he was a capable man that he needed to be patient for his beloved to return. He can wait a lifetime for him. He would wait for him in every life that they spent together.

After the meeting, he talked to Byleth about some policies that they had. It was a short discussion since someone had interrupted them to give Sylvain some information on Felix. His heart became full and warm when he heard he was alive and still kicking. The soldier handed him a journal that Felix wrote in. He smiled as he flipped through the pages of the book. He could feel his heart beat faster as he skimmed some of the words. He knew Felix wasn’t good with words, but he knew each word that he wrote was filled with love.

He pressed the book against his lips, giving it a kiss before mouthing “I love you, Felix.” Sylvain happily walked out of Garegg Mach, reading some of the things that he said. Some of the words made him laugh, some made him cry, but he wouldn’t ask anything otherwise. He put the journal away so he could get on his horse. It was going to be a long couple of days, but at least he knew that Felix was thinking about him. It made the trek back home a little more bearable.

Sylvain got back home and rushed to his room, he lit up some candles to help him read the words that Felix left him. He wanted to stay up all night to read as much as he could. Though, it did not work out. He fell asleep an hour after he came home. Within the next few days, and in between reading the journal, Sylvain had meetings with the people in town to get it up and running again. He talked to people in Sreng to see if he could help out with anything. He also made sure to talk to his people, and other powerful lords, about how Crests weren’t that important. He didn’t hate doing these things, nor did he like them, they were just exhausting. With days like these, he wished and hoped that Felix would come home any minute and help him and to talk to him, to help ease the pain. But he waited. He waited as patiently as he could. He waited for him every day.

Under a lot of stress from the past couple of weeks, Sylvain took it upon himself to take a few days off and take a trip to Fraldarius territory. It wouldn’t be a good idea for him to die so early in life due to stress. Especially not when you promised your husband you would die together. It would just break Felix’s heart to see that he broke his promise. Before he went to Felix’s old house, he stopped at a flower shop to pick some up. After that, it wasn’t long before he was at the Fraldarius family home, and it wasn’t long before he was at their graveyard. Sylvain placed blue violets on Rodrigue’s grave and put blue stars near Glenn’s armour.

He offered his prayers to them and kept silent afterward. He let the wind do all of the talking. He missed this family. He wanted to be a part of it for as long as he could remember. By the time he was able to, he lost his brother-in-law and on his way to losing his father-in-law. Rodrigue died shortly after the two got married. Felix wouldn’t admit it, but Sylvain knew that he was devastated when he found his father had died. Maybe in another path, he could have lived and that they could be a happy family once more. Once the wind quieted down, Sylvain could hear light footsteps from someone. He stood up to face her.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you, Sylvain,” she said.

“A long time indeed, Lady Fraldarius,” he smiled. He walked over to her and handed her some pink carnations. “For you.”

She smiled, taking the flowers from him. “Thank you.” It was silent for a few seconds so she could offer her own prayers to her son and her beloved husband. “What brings you here?”

“Paying my respects.”

“Is that all?”

Sylvain sighed. “I’m a little stressed right now and I just wanted to get away from everything.”

“So you come here of all places,” she chuckled.

“Yeah,” he faintly smiled. “I really miss this place,” he sniffed.

“I know, dear. It would have been better to have Felix here.”

“Agreed. I just wish I knew where he was.”

“He was always an ornery child. He could never sit still.”

A smile crept upon Sylvain’s face. “That’s too true. He always wanted to do something with me, Dimitri, Glenn, Ingrid. Anyone he got close to.”

Lady Fraldarius chuckled. “Why don’t you go inside and walk around for a while. Let it bring back the memories.”

“Thank you,” he said, giving her a kiss on her cheek.

“Sylvain,” she called out before he went back inside.

“Yes?” He asked.

“Wherever Felix is, he will always be in our hearts. And wherever you are, he’ll know you will be there for him. He knows where his home is.”

Sylvain’s smile grew bigger. Of course, he was, Felix always said that Sylvain was his home and that he would never leave him. He always had been his home. He walked back into the estate, walking through all its rooms and halls. He heard the laughter of children running around the house. It was their laughter. He felt so warm inside. He came across a large room, a room where he would play with Felix. They would fight about toys, they would make up and start to laugh again. Sylvain kept on walking around, making his way to the kitchen. He remembered him and Felix cooking with Lady Faldarius. The faces they would make when his mother would cook something yummy, it was priceless. She was one of the few people in Faerghus that could cook.

Finally, Sylvain made it to Felix’s old room; the room that he barely left when his brother died. He could remember all of his tears that he cried. He remembered both of their tears. He remembered Felix begging him not to leave him. Not then, not now, not ever. Sylvain sat at his desk and started to read more of the journal. He broke down. He finally broke down. The words he wrote in one entry, who knows how long ago. He could feel those words in every inch of his body.

“To my dearly beloved Sylvain,” his lips quivered. “I miss you so very dearly, with my whole heart.” He stopped. He took a breath. He wanted to get through the passage, to be able to read his heart. “I love you and all that you are. I wish I could be near you right now, but we both know that’s not possible.” Sylvain’s voice broke into a cry. It took a few minutes to read again. “I miss your red hair, brown eyes, your voice.” He said, breaking through his cry. “I miss all of you. Know that, with every step I take, with every heartbeat that I have, you are always on my mind...and in my heart. Signed your Little Blue Giggle, Felix Hugo Fraldarius.”

It was hard for him to stop crying after reading the passage. He was being patient as he possibly could with him. He wanted Felix with him now more than ever. Things were stressful enough, but being alone hurt even more. He wiped the last of the tears off of his face before he read over the pages again. He traced his fingers over the pages and felt the places where Felix had cried himself. And on the last page of the entry, he found a song that he wrote for him. It warmed his aching heart.

“Do you remember all those winter nights,” he smiled. “Sitting by the fire. All those snowball fights.” He tried to sing. He wasn’t great at it, but it was enough for Felix to love. “Do you remember? I watched as you go. All I wanted to do was grow. With you.” He let out a small yawn. “Felix, please come home.” He said before falling asleep at his desk.

Felix could feel the chill of the air starting to set in. Winter was right around the corner. He spent many winters in Faerghus, and with what he was doing, he spent few winters in Old Alliance territory and they could never compare to the ones he grew up with. He was so close to being home, he was so close. His heart felt heavy with guilt when he realized he lied to Sylvain when he said he would be back home after one more job. It hurt worse when it was never just ‘one’ more job. One more turned into five more, then ten more, then twenty.

All those sleepless nights made him lose track of time. Fighting bandits made him lose sight of what he really wanted. Moving from inn to inn took a toll on his body. His life was wearing thin and it was starting to show. He needed to rest and feel the warmth and energy from the one he loved. But it was never going to happen. As long as there were bandits, thieves, any horrible person he had to cut down, he was never going to stop fighting. Even if he had lost sight of seeing Sylvain ever again, he always felt an inkling that he would see him again. He had his wedding ring and all of the love letters that were sent to him are with him. He faintly smiled as he walked to his next battle.

A decade or so have passed and countless love letters from each other, the two were finally set to reunite with one another. In Felix’s cold, almost dead heart, felt a flame burn bright. He knew he could go home anytime, but he felt less guilty going home when he was requested to. He would feel guiltiest if Sylvain didn’t scold him and let the matter drop. Truth was, he would rather that happen than have to face a long scolding from him. He would rather feel his fleeting warmth than face everlasting sorrow.

Felix held his left hand close to his mouth, kissing his wedding ring in joy. He felt a little warmer inside knowing that he wouldn’t be much longer before returning to Sylvain. He had one more mission he needed to complete beforehand, then he will be home. He couldn’t wait to be home. Maybe this time, he will stay and never leave.

When Sylvain received his love letter, he was instantly filled with love. He became increasingly excited the more he read and he jumped for joy when Felix stated he wouldn’t be much longer to return. His enthusiasm was starting to become overbearing for the people who were employed under him. It was one thing to gush over the letters, but it became unbearable when he would not shut up about Felix coming home. Most of everyone, especially his knights, would avoid in every instance they could. He paid no mind to it and talked off many ears of other people. Every day since he received the letter, and when he had downtime, he would wait by his front door so he could be the first person Felix could see when he returned. Always with a smile and always sing the song that his beloved wrote. The day he was said to arrive, Sylvain reread as many letters he had before falling asleep.

It was late at night when Felix arrived. He smiled as he walked through the estate trying to find his love. He found him in the first place he looked, sleeping in their room, at his desk. He grabbed him, carrying him to their bed. Felix covered him in the blankets, making sure he was comfortable, before grabbing some clothes so he could take a quick bath. He placed Sylvain’s head in his lap as he started to sing a familiar tune. He shifted around, moving his arms around his waist and placing his head on his chest. Good, his heart was still beating.

“You’re home earlier than expected,” Sylvain said in a low, groggy tone.

Felix snorted. “Yeah, and I’m happy to be home.”

Sylvain pulled him closer, holding him tight. Felix missed these quiet nights. Cuddling the man he loved, being embraced by him, feeling his warmth. It felt nice, relaxing...it felt right. Right where he belonged. And with Sylvain’s warmth, he was able to fall asleep. For the first time in forever, Felix was able to fall asleep instantly, it felt refreshing. It was the best night of sleep he had in a long while.

Unusual as it was, Sylvain was the first one to get up in the morning. His Little Blue Giggle usually was the first one up. He would be in the training grounds, leaving him in the dust, by now. It was a sight to behold watching Felix sleep. He was like a cat basking in the warmth of the sun. Sylvain leaned down to give a light kiss on Felix’s forehead only to wake him. That wasn’t something he wanted to do.

“Morning sleepyhead,” Sylvain said softly.

Felix grunted as he took a hold of his Little Ray of Sunshine.

He laughed. “You want more sleep, don’t you? Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.” He started to lull him back to sleep.

No Gautier knight, no maid, no kitchen staff, no one saw the two of them for the rest of the day. The next few days everyone saw the two stick together, spending it together, whether it was for a date, training, or planning their next move dealing with an uprising near the Fodlan and Sreng borders. Always together, inseparable, like when they were children.

“Hello, My Love,” Sylvain said.

“Hello,” Felix smiled.

“Are you almost done repairing your sword?”

Felix moved a whetstone back and forth a couple of times before placing it next to him. He sheathed his sword and stood up to look at his husband. “I’m done.”

“Oh good!” Sylvain beamed.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m going to take you on a date!”

“Shouldn’t we focus on the matter at hand? The bandits.”

“I know you want to get this job done as soon as possible, but we are carrying out the plan in a couple of days.” Sylvain looked at Felix’s contorted face. “You agreed to this plan and it’s set in stone so you can’t change it.”

Felix grunted in irritation. He was right and he couldn’t do anything about it.

“Get changed! We are going into town. I’m going to surprise you!”

“Sylvain,” he sighed.

“I know, I know, you don’t like surprises. Trust me on this. You’ll love it!”

Felix let out a faint smile before giving Sylvain a kiss on his lips. It didn’t take long before him to change and meet back up with his husband. The two of them rode far into town, where a sports fest was being held. It brought back memories to Felix. When they were children, he, Sylvain, Ingrid, and Dimitri would come to these every year. Only if the other two were here, but it was only Felix and Sylvain. Felix both loved being here and he hated it. The warm memories that were covered in bloodstained hands filled his head.

Sylvain hugged Felix from behind and started to sway him back and forth. “There is nothing we could have done to save them.”

Felix breathed out. “I feel as though I could have done something.”

“So could I, but you know as well as me, you can’t bring back the dead. It’s what you’ve constantly said to everyone, especially your father.” Sylvain said. There was nothing he could say to wash away their regrets. “Live on. It’s the only thing you can do for them. That’s the best you can do.”

“Yeah.”

“Now come on, let’s enjoy today.”

Felix followed Sylvain to the horse races. Sylvain laughed loud when his husband couldn’t get on a horse. He could tell it’s been awhile since he rode one by himself. He laughed, even more, when Felix became frustrated with the help he had received getting a top of the horse. In every race, they competed against each other and everyone who participated, Sylvain would always win. After the horse races, and for the rest of the day, they walked around town watching greyhound races, show jumping, hurling, everything that they used to participate in when they were children.

Sylvain stopped by a vendor, buying something for Felix. “Here,” he said, handing him a gift.

“A journal?” Felix questioned.

“Yeah. I’ve been with you long enough to know you’re better at expressing yourself on paper. I thought I would get a journal to write them all out, especially words you don’t want anybody but me to hear.”

Felix smiled, giving him a kiss. “Thank you.”

Sylvain took a deep breath. He wanted to ask one question he knew that Felix didn’t want to answer, but he had to know. “Felix, after this, will you stay?”

He sighed. He knew this discussion was going to come eventually, though he knew that he couldn’t avoid it forever. “I will,” he replied after a few seconds of silence. “I will stay after this mission,” he said in confidence.

Sylvain’s frown flipped into a smile that was warmer and kinder than the sun’s ever will be. He picked up Felix twirling him around. He heard his irritation and placed back on the ground.

“With a smile like that, I can’t stay mad at you,” he sighed.

His smile only grew bigger.

“Hahaha, your face looks so stupid,” he laughed.

Sylvain started to laugh which prompted Felix to laugh even more. He stopped to watch the man he loved laugh uncontrollably. It had been so long since Sylvain had seen him laugh like this. Maybe thirty or so years since he has seen this sight without someone getting seriously injured. It was a fantastic sight to see. When Felix caught his breath, Sylvain pulled him close to give him a kiss. Neither Felix nor Sylvain stopped kissing each other, and when it was time for them to stop, no more words were spoken.

They rode back home in silence. They ate in silence. Bathed in silence. The only sounds that were made were when they were in bed where Sylvain hummed Felix to sleep. He cuddled and held him close. He was cold, he always had been, but he wouldn’t change it.

After a couple of days of preparations, Sylvain, Felix, and a few of the Gautier knights headed to the border near Sreng. There were plenty of bandits there, but there wasn’t enough to overwhelm any of them. Most of the day was spent putting an end to the bandit group. Felix, Sylvain, and the knights lived, only getting nicks and bruises. Nothing too serious. That night everyone headed back home. With a few hours left to spare before going to bed, Felix headed to the training grounds to train.

“Always training,” Sylvain said. “That’s never changed.”

“No. It never will.”

“I’m worried that you might die training,” he said, placing his hands on his sword arm.

“Heh, maybe so. At least it’ll be here with you.”

Sylvain smiled. “Do you remember…”

“Our promise? How could I not? I remember our childhood well.”

“And it…”

“It was also in our vows. Sylvain, I’m not leaving. Not unless I have to. Even if I were to leave, I will come back.” Felix smiled, giving him a kiss of reassurance.

Sylvain’s heart felt warm and full. He knew Felix was telling the truth, even if a part of him knew that he was going to leave soon. And if he was going from place to place again, he knew Felix would send him letters, journals worth of love. He knew he was going to be in his heart. Sylvain took hold of Felix’s face and started to kiss him all over.

“Hahaha, Sylvain, stop,” he laughed.

“No,” he kissed some more.

“Sylvain!”

“One more,” he said, kissing his lips.

“Since you won’t leave me alone, you can train with me, you fool.”

“Fine, fine.”

Sylvain grabbed his lance and sparred with Felix for a few hours before they took a bath and went to bed. Only if they could have more days like these. More days like Felix returning home, days like the date they had, more days sparring with each other. They could only wish. The next day, one of the royal knights came to ask for help from Sylvain and Felix.

“Margrave, Felix, I have to ask you something important on behalf of Their Majesties,” the knight said.

“What is it,” Sylvain asked.

“Both Noble Byleth and King Claude said you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“Spit it out,” Felix demanded.

“S-Sorry! They want your help to squash the rest of the TWISTED! They have been causing trouble again! They’ve been acting like bandits, pillaging, stealing, killing, and kidnapping people! Please, we ask for your assistance!”

Felix breathed in and exhaled. He knew that he had to leave. He couldn’t let this happen. Sylvain looked over to his husband and saw the determination on his face. He knew he was going to leave and there was nothing he could do to stop him. But he had to at least try to.

“I’ll go,” Felix responded.

“Felix!”

“I have to.”

The knight nodded, and by the looks of it, they knew Sylvain wasn’t going to help. They waited by the door for Felix when he was ready.

Sylvain followed Felix throughout the house. “Felix wait!” No matter what he did, he was always chasing after him. “Please wait!”

“What,” he asked, grabbing a few knives and his sword.

“You can’t leave!” Sylvain grabbed his weapons, only stalling him for a few seconds. “Felix please, you don’t have to go.” He sighed as he looked at him grabbing his weapons again.

Felix rummaged around their desks, looking for his journal. “And what, let these people run around and keep kidnapping people, destroying their lives and properties?” He found his journal, placing it in the satchel that was on his hips.

“Their Majesties said we don’t have to help them if we don’t want to!”

Felix looked Sylvain dead in the eyes. Both of them were about to cry. “Don’t you remember what happened to Flayn? I can’t allow them to do it again. I can’t just let them go.” He then walked off, making his way back to the knight.

“They have other capable fighters!” He yelled. “Like Shamir, Hilda, and Lysithea!”

Felix knows that and he knows that everyone is strong, but maybe, just maybe with his strength, it’ll be enough to end everything.

“Felix wait!” Sylvain ran after him. “Please!” He watched as Felix and the knight walked out into the pouring rain. With one last-ditch effort, he ran after him. He grabbed his arm and turned him around. “Please stay with me,” he pleaded.

“Don’t you dare cry!” Felix saw Sylvain’s tears roll down his cheek as he felt the cold rain hit their faces. It only led him to do the same thing. “You can come with me.”

“You know I can’t. I have to protect my territory...our territory,” he said, pulling Felix in for a kiss.

Feeling his soft, caring lips, and feeling his warm breath against his own, Felix repeatedly pressed his lips against Sylvain’s, not giving him any room to breathe. Deep down in their hearts, in their souls, they knew this would be their last kiss for this lifetime that they spent together. Sylvain could only watch as his Little Blue Giggle walked with the knight disappearing into the heavy rain. He constantly reassured himself that he would come back. He knew that he would come back...one day.

Felix met up with Byleth and Claude, getting the rundown of what was going on. He looked over their plans on how to finally defeat these bastards. It was going to be a long arduous battle, almost like he was going to fight in another war. After every squabble, after every battle, after every council meeting, Felix could feel his heart becoming colder and colder. The only solace, the only warmth that he found was sending love letters to Sylvain, writing words of love and hatred he felt in the journal his beloved gave to him.

All the happy memories that he had, all the sad memories that he had, filled his head. They were slowly becoming dark and all the bloodstained faces, all the bloodstained hands, all the bloodstained swords were filling his blank mind. He knew that he didn’t deserve those memories, he only deserved to see the blood of the people he cut down and only see their faces. He was becoming more and more like Dimitri.

From one fight to the next, it became harder and harder to win. Everyone knew this would happen. Felix especially knew that, and even though he was losing sight of Sylvain, he would still be cautious when fighting. The promise he had was slowly slipping out of his hands and no matter how much it seeped out of his bloodstained hands, he would always try to catch it. No one was going to take it away from him.

This particular fight, it would cost him everything. He foolishly left himself open for someone to attack him. Felix placed his hand on his chest, feeling the blood flow down his body. Everything started to look blurry as he looked at his hand. He spit out blood as he collapsed to the ground, lying in a pool of his own blood.

“Syl...Sylvain...I’m sorry.” He muttered out as the salt of his tears filled his eyes before everything became black and he drew his last breath.

Years upon years have passed since Sylvain had seen Felix. His heart was warm when he received letters and the journal that Felix had sent him. But his heart also felt knives of pain when he read that his beloved was suffering when he was away. Sylvain never regretted his decisions, but not being able to be near Felix, whether it was to convince him to stay, or have the courage to go with him, was the only one that he had. He would wait for him everyday by his front door in hopes that he would return. He watched many springs, many summers, many winters go by before he never returned. Sylvain, foolishly, believed that his beloved would return home to him, even in his old age. In the distance, he saw people he had never seen before. Maybe his beloved Felix was amongst them, but that was not the case.

“Lord Sylvain,” one of the knights said. “We have a sword here for you.”

Sylvain shakingly held out his arms to receive the weapon and unwrap it. The hilt was gold and the blade itself was straight. It also had the Crest of Fraldarius on it. It could only mean that it was Felix’s.

“Oh, Felix,” Sylvain said shakenly as tears poured down his cheeks.

“We are sorry, sir.”

“It’s quite alright. I knew this was going to happen.”

Sylvain turned around, walked through the house, to the backyard. He stood before a tree with flowers growing near it. He placed the sword in the flowers before sitting under the tree.

“Do you remember all those winter nights,” he sang, shakily and low as he felt the cool summer breeze. “Sitting by the fire. All those snowball fights. Do you remember? All I did was watch you go,” he last breathed.

Felix woke up in a cold sweat from a nightmare that had been recurring. Because of these nightmares, he would wake up in the middle of the night and he would get very little sleep, if any sleep at all. He had dreams of times where he was in a war, or he was a child playing with his friends, or relaxing under a tree after a long training session. And in every dream, there was this one boy he always hung out with. He was a couple of years older than him, taller than he was, had red hair and brown eyes. He could see him, hear him so vividly, but he never knew his name. He would play with him on summer days, playing in cool waters, training with each other in a field. And every time that Felix would wake up from these dreams, these nightmares, his heart always felt heavy, it always hurt, it always ached for those days to come back.

He sat up, taking a hold of his clock, it was three in the morning. He sighed, knowing that he wasn’t going back to sleep. Felix got out of bed, walking to the kitchen to find his brother, Glenn, on his laptop doing who knows what. Ignoring him, he put some leftovers into the microwave. Once it was done, he sat on the countertop and ate his food while he tried to decipher all the nightmares and dreams that he had. What could they possibly mean?

“Why are you up,” Glenn asked, finally realizing that Felix was in the room.

“Took you long enough,” he mocked.

“Oh sorry that I’m studying real hard to pass a bar exam and told my little brother that I wouldn’t have time for him for the next couple of weeks,” he said sarcastically.

“Ha-ha.”

“Anyway, nightmares again?”

“Yup.”

“Did you get any new ones?”

“Nope.”

“There are a bunch of letters and journals in the attic. It might help.”

“What? Why do we have letters and journals in the attic?”

“Beats me. Read the information, maybe it’ll give you the answers that you’re looking for.”

“Stop patronizing me.”

Glenn smirked as he watched his brother wald out of the kitchen. “Hehhehe, maybe I should have not told him to go to the attic until the morning. This is going to be fun in the morning.”

Felix grabbed his phone from his room and made his way upstairs. He pulled on the string to pull down the ladder. He freaked out a little when the ladder made a loud creaking sound. He looked around and let out a sigh of relief, no one was woken up. He turned on his phones’ flashlight as he walked up to the attic. It was filled with boxes of letters and journals. Felix didn’t know where to start, there were so many boxes. Why do they even have these?

He started with the box closest to him. As he slowly started to read, he slowly started to feel his heart become heavy. It felt as though his heart ripped apart. It felt like these letters were meant for him and it only hurt him more when he couldn’t figure out who wrote them. He couldn’t remember who, but he can remember the warmth, the happiness, and the love that was put into the letters. Every last one of the letters he read were like knives to his heart. And with every letter that he read, he felt like he was stabbing the person in their heart. It all felt terrible.

The next morning, Rodrigue walked out of his room only to be confused as to why the ladder to the attic was down. He walked up the steps to find his youngest child asleep on the ground covered with paper. He sighed in irritation as he picked his son up. He placed him back in his room where he could rest properly. It was one in the afternoon by the time Felix truly woke up. He yawned as he walked out of his room and back to the kitchen. He heard his father scold him and his brother passed out at the table, nothing new. He grabbed a plate of food that his mother made, and walked back to the attic.

Before he fell asleep at the end of the night, he read a fourth of letters. He couldn’t believe there were so many love letters and he wanted to read all of them. Felix spent the next day feeling his heart be torn into pieces. He stopped reading, his heart couldn’t take much more. He put all the letters that he read, back into the boxes, labeling them, and placing them in a corner of the attic so he knew that he already read them. As he shifted around, a couple of journals and books fell to the ground along with a gold wedding ring. Felix inspected it, finding that it was engraved with the words “Little Blue Giggle.” No one called him that but his family. He left the attic, hunting down Rodrigue.

“Dad, why do you have a wedding ring with my nickname on it,” Felix asked irritably.

“I don’t know,” he replied.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“It was something my mother gave me. She said something about it being a family heirloom.”

“Why didn’t you give it to mom?”

“I wanted to give her a ring from my heart and it didn’t feel right giving her this one. When I look at it, the ring feels like it was given from someone who promised someone they would return but never did.”

Felix became confused by the last of his father’s words. They felt all too familiar. He foggily remembers telling someone he would return only to lie about it.

“I have no need for it. You can keep it if you want.”

“Thanks,” he said softly.

Felix placed the ring on one of his fingers. He walked back to his room and laid down on his bed. He stared at his hand. “It didn’t feel right” rang through his ears. It felt right when he wore it. Now he just needs to know who gave it to him. He soon started to sing a song that he would hear in his sleep. While singing it, he was able to sing himself to sleep and within his dream, he saw a man stand before him, promising him something. He was smiling and crying tears of joy. Felix could hear himself promising the same thing the man had said to him and promising that they would be at each others’ sides until the day they die. Everything about this dream was happy and warm. It was pleasant.

Felix woke up the next morning well rested for the first time in forever. Maybe he will get more sleep when he goes back to college. He started to pack his clothes, his books, his notebooks, and everything else he needed. When he was done, he walked up to the attic, grabbing a couple of boxes to take with him. He spent all day preparing for his drive back to campus. The next couple of days, he spent all day traveling and unpacking. Felix came back a day early so he spent the day reading some of the letters. He felt embarrassed reading them, how could someone be so mushy?

The next day, classes resumed and people filled the campus buildings. While walking through the hallways, Sylvain saw a certain man with blue hair and golden-brown eyes. Even if their eyes only met for a second, it felt like he has known him his whole life. He could start to feel his heart swell with pain while his eyes started to swell with tears. He wiped his tears away before he entered his classroom. It felt very odd, who was that man? Maybe if he got closer to him, he would know. Sylvain smiled and thought it would be a good idea to try to befriend him.

When classes were all done for the day, it was late and he went back to his dorm room to rest. He didn’t want to do much, not even go on a date with a pretty lady. Not that he could, though, his “girlfriend” dumped him over text because she found out that he “cheated” on him. He didn’t, he was just hanging out with Ingrid. He let out an irritated sigh, there was nothing he could have done about it. Sylvain looked over at his desk, seeing the book he brought with him. It was old and worn down by time. He placed his finger under the pages, where he left his bookmark, and opened the book. He took his time as he read through the book, feeling the love and warmth from the person who wrote it and left behind. Sylvain came across a letter where the paper was a bit more distorted than the rest. As he felt the pages, where tears once fell, he felt the pain and anguish, of not only the writers’ but an old pain he once knew.

With his pained heart, and the tears in his eyes, Sylvain fell asleep, he once again cried himself asleep. In his dreams, he saw a country blanketed with heavy, glimmering snow. He saw little children playing together, having a snowball fight. He could hear one child calling out to him to come play with him. He had dark blue hair and golden-brown eyes. Sylvain called out to him in return, rushing over to him to join the fun. After all the fun, him and the blue haired boy snuggled up in a blanket, sitting by a fire. It was warm, calming, but it was quickly burned by the ravages of war. Sylvain tossed and turned in his sleep, slicing down enemies, seeing their blood and when he fought alongside the man he loved only to lose him after the war. He felt the pain as he waited for the man he loved to come home.

Sylvain woke up the next morning in a cold sweat and a heavy chest. He took a few moments to let out a few tears. He wanted those days of playing in the snow with the man he could barely remember. After he composed himself, he looked at his clock, realizing that he missed a class and he didn’t care much about attending his other classes. He yawned and stretched before he got cleaned up before going to get some lunch. Sylvain sat at a table, by himself, and ate a fish sandwich as he reminisced about the nightmares that he had. He thought about the man in his dream only to look up and see him a few feet away. His heart felt heavy.

For the next couple of weeks, he kept having nightmares of him and that man in war time. It became worse when Sylvain asked for more of those journals and letters from his father. His heart ripped into pieces when he received a gold wedding ring that was engraved with “Little Ray of Sunshine” on it. When he looked at the ring, he instantly remembered his wedding day in a past life. He was dressed in a black suit, standing in front of the blue haired man. Their hands were held together in braided chords, promising each other to be together forever. He put the ring away to hide the pain of remembering the memories of always waiting for the man he could barely remember to come home. He couldn’t even remember his love’s name.

Sylvain walked off campus to get himself some lunch and while he ate by himself, he saw a couple of classmates walk into the building. It was Dimitri and the man in his dreams. His heart sank as Dimitri passed a glance over to him, giving him a small wave. After the two ordered their food, and against Felix’s protests, the two sat with Sylvain. Sylvain and Felix could feel their hearts break.

“Hello, Sylvain,” Dimitri greeted with a smile.

“What’s up,” Sylvain asked.

“Do you mind if me and Felix sit with you?”

“Fe...lix,” he softly said as tears rolled down his face.

Dimitri became confused when he saw his friend start to cry. He turned to Felix and saw that his head was turned away so neither of them could see his own tears. Dimitri had no idea what was going on. They sat in silence as they ate their food before walking back to campus in silence.

“W-Well,” Dimitri said nervously. “I should get going. I will see you both later.”

“Wait! What about the notes?!” Sylvain asked.

He turned around, yelling “I will give them to you later,” before hastily walking away.

Sylvain sighed, not knowing what to do, he walked away.

“Where are you going,” Felix asked.

“To my dorm room. Being near you hurts my heart.”

Felix felt his heart shatter as he watched him walk away. It didn’t feel good when he watched him leave. It felt like he was losing someone he loved. He sighed, who was he kidding he lost him before and it was all his fault.

The next couple of months, the two barely talked to each other. They only interacted with each other when they were with their mutual friends. And within the next couple of months, their dreams, their nightmares were only filled with one another. Soon, their dreams, their nightmares became clearer and clearer. They were memories of a past lifetime they once shared together.

After everything, it only made Felix avoid Sylvain even more. At every chance they got to be with each other, Felix refused to be around Sylvain. It only added to their pain. Many nights Felix wondered if he deserved to be near Sylvain. Many nights he wondered if he would ever forgive him for never returning. Many nights he wondered why he still cared. Many days Sylvain tried to be near Felix to get answers. Many days Sylvain spent thinking what he could to get Felix to notice him. Many days Sylvain spent wondering if he loved him. One day, Felix didn’t have much of a choice to face his feelings. It was thanks to a couple of their friends shoving Felix into Sylvain’s room and leaving him there.

Sylvain let out a sorrowful sigh, feeling tears welling in his eyes. “Why won’t you talk to me.”

“I left you many times, hurting you each time,” Felix replied, crying himself. “Do you really think I deserve to be with you?”

“Felix,” he said softly, tenderly placing his hand on his cheek. “I’ve waited many lifetimes for you. We were born again so we could be together,” he said, finally crying. “After all the hell we went through, after all we went through,” he choked, “our will to be together brought us back so we deserve to be at each other's sides.”

With every word he spoke, Felix could tell Sylvain was wearing his heart on his sleeve. With his words, his tears dripped onto Sylvain’s hand. He pulled it closer to his lips, gently kissing his hand. His lips were soft and tender as he felt it against his skin. Sylvain pulled Felix closer, giving him a kiss before any of his doubts took control of him again. At the end of the night, Sylvain’s head was on Felix’s lap and Felix was fidgeting with his hair.

“Felix,” Sylvain said softly.

“Hm,” he replied.

“Can you sing me your song?”

“It’s our song.”

Sylvain chuckled. “Can you sing all of it?”

Felix smiled. “Do you remember all those winter nights, sitting by the fire?~ All those snowball fights?~ Do you remember?~ I watched as you go!~ All I wanted to do was grow,” he sang. He let out a breath. “With you!~” He looked down at Sylvain to see his smile. “Do you remember all those summer days outside in the waters,” he sang as Sylvain around.

He moved his arms around his waist, placing his head on his chest to feel the vibrations of his song and to listen to his heartbeat.

“We would play,” he paused to breathe, “for hours. Do you remember?~” Felix’s voice became a little lower and softer. “Was it something I said?~ Was there something I could’ve said?~ I want you near me!~”

He stopped singing when he thought Sylvain fell asleep.

“Why did you stop,” he smiled.

He smiled softly. “I love your eyes!~ I love your smile!~ I love your laugh!~ Please don’t go,” he sang again. He took one last breath before he sang the last bit of the song. “Do you remember those spring evenings?~ Riding horses, picking red roses!~ Do those have meaning?~ I will let you go!~ I love you!~”

Sylvain’s heart filled with warmth when he finished the song. Their song.

“Hey Felix?”

“Yes?”

“Will you marry me?”

“Sylvain,” he said, letting out an irritated sigh.

“What?” He chuckled.

“We haven’t dated in this lifetime.”

“You are going to make me wait even more?”

“You won’t be since we are together.”

“Hehehe, true. Fine, we’ll date some more before we tie the knot.”

“Thank you,” Felix said, giving him a kiss on his forehead.

Many months later and many dates later, the two were constantly making wedding arrangements, making sure everything for their big day was perfect. Their wedding day was a nice, cool, and a fresh day after an early morning rain. The leaves have changed from bright green to bright red, yellow, brown and burnt orange as they littered both sky and earth. Every guest followed a path of grass, lavenders, and leaves to the altar where they were led to a field. Chairs were set up on the sides to leave an aisle for the grooms to walk down with a tree, with lights on it, used as an altar.

Before the wedding, the two shook off last minute jitters. So long they have waited to spend every minute together. So long they have waited to finally be together and not have to worry about waiting. With the last of the preparations complete, their ceremony started. Everyone stood up when both grooms walked down the aisle and when the music started to play. Sylvain smiled joyously when he saw Felix stand a few inches from him looking dashing in his navy blue suit. Felix did the same when he saw his beloved look stunning in a boysenberry suit.

“Dearly beloved,” Rodrigue said looking over to his son, giving him a smile. “Nothing brings me more joy to wed my son to the man he loves. Love is always everlasting and spans over many lifetimes, reaching to everyone, including these two.” Rodrigue smiled, looking over to his wife and his son Glenn. “Relationships are everlasting and bound by love. To be together means to love one another, to grow with one another, to face every hardship and to spend every moment of happiness together. Now please join hands.”

While Sylvain and Felix held each other’s hands, Rodrigue took out braided cords.

“In your vows, you said you will grow with each other, to feel each other’s pain and happiness, and the most important vow that you had was to die together,” Rodrigue said wrapping a cord around their hands for each vow that they had. “Was there anything either of you would like to say?”

“Sylvain,” Felix said softly, smiling at him, “I love you with my whole heart. I want to be by your side, to love you, to hold you, to care for you. I want to grow old with you and to die with you. You are my love, you are my home. I will stand by you for every lifetime we spend together.”

Sylvain cried tears of joy hearing his heart.

“Sylvain, would you like to say something to him?”

“Yes,” he smiled. “Felix, no matter what you put me through, no matter the pain, no matter the happiness, no matter where you go, I will forever be at your side. I love you with every inch of my body. I will die by your side.”

“Felix Hugo Fraldarius, do you take Sylvain Jose Gautier as your husband?”

“I do,” he smiled and blushed.

“And Sylvain Jose Gautier, do you take Felix Hugo Fraldarius as your husband?”

“I do,” Sylvain cried more tears of joy.

“Then you may kiss your husband.”

Sylvain and Felix kissed each other. They took a few steps away from each other, making their cords into a knot before they put on their engraved golden wedding rings. Everyone stood up, cheered and clapped as the two walked, hand-in-hand, down the aisle, walking into the nice autumn scenery.

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I got to participate in the Sylvix Big Bang with @radeeum and I really enjoyed participating in this bang with them! It was really fun and they drew some really lovely and amazing art for this! Also, the lovel @ava-artist14 on tumblr beta read this for me!

#my writing #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #sylvix #sylvixbigbang2020 #felix hugo fraldarius #sylvain jose gautier

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spawnoftyphon · 3 years

Photo

Hi,

I've been working on my mythology racing board game, Monster Marathon, and I recently finished the main image.

It's not the most professional artwork, but it is distinctly me. I'm satisfied with the way it turned out. I wanted it to be adorable, yet horrifying. It is a mixture of all the adoration I have for the ancient monsters and all of the rage that they hold dear. I'm thinking of launching on Kickstarter soon (most likely 11/12/2020). Imagine a raceway that begins in the woodlands. Typhon, Angrboda, Arachne, Tiamat, Grendel, and Qilin are lined up and ready to compete in a marathon to the volcano. The breeze seems to rot and die from the festering tension, sensing the oncoming rampage that will shake the world. Typhon bursts from the forest with his hundred dragon heads scrambling over each other, creating havoc to disrupt his competitors. Angrboda wields her frost giantess magic to freeze the others with Fimbulwinter cold. Arachne, ever patient, takes her time to weave and scatter web traps far in the distance, beyond the sight of those without eight eyes. Tiamat, unwilling to risk another defeat, unleashes her ten monstrous children throughout the battlefield to ambush her foes and help her when she needs them most. Grendel, the living dreadnought, bashes his way past the others, refusing to be slowed. And the Qilin, well…this dragon deer doesn’t care about the violence, opting to prance ahead, helping whoever it feels like, swaying the tide of the race with benevolent magic. Who wins? What do they do at the end? That’s up to you to decide. Now imagine that with any combination of 225 monsters from all across the globe. (All of the characters and components are complete and ready for production.) Monster Marathon is the wild 3-6 player race to set back your friends. Each character has 6 abilities that match your dice roll, so you’ll have to use what you get to survive the 40 spaces to the end. As a solo indie creator, I don't have a strong following, so I'd appreciate any help I can get to spread the word to bring my monstrosity to life. If you're interested in meeting me at the starting line, you can find and follow it here:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/spawnoftyphon/monster-marathon

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haleruby · 3 years

Text

Forget Me Not

Characters/Pairings: established Malia/Lydia/Reader (Quim), Malia, Lydia, Scott, Stiles, lots of snow, and I never say it but the literal yeti.

Summary: Amnesia makes the mind go brrr, but in a bad way...brr (sad). [This not being a published imagine for my followers means I can mess with the summary and other info as much as I want. XD]

Word Count: 5.9k

Notes: I am using a sideblog that is empty and not tagging bc this is only for your eyes (hopefully and technically the gif maker’s...thank you @ gifmaker for the gif), so no need to reblog/like, etc.

Hope you enjoy and it gives you a boost for dealing with your aunt. :-)

I wrote this around October 11th 2019, so apologies about the style not being quite as fluid as my other writing. My other stuff is a bit more recent, if you maybe wanna read it. Most of my teen wolf phase was around here and then it re-sparked in 2020 towards the fall so I added a tiny bit to that one story I told you about with the warnings.

Also, apologies for the ending, lol. >.>

- - - - -

She is cold... So cold. It feels like a slab of ice is being used for a bed; her back aches all the way down to the individual vertebrae that compose her spine. Pain is slowly causing her other senses to return, enlivening them in cruel way so feeling anything means to hurt to some degree. A whooshing sound makes it hard to think, it rips across her mind dashing the thoughts that slowly trickle in through the haze and the ache. What happened...? Whipping wind continues to bear down on wherever here is. There is hardness under her, so she is probably on the ground and outside based on the frigid temperature. Moving an arm to check the hypothesis causes pain to lance through her shoulder so sharply a feeling of vertigo sets in. The firm ground suddenly tilts slightly. The leverage is increased almost mockingly, it edges up bit by bit like she is about to be slid off a cold metal tray to join the next batch of suffering. A choked whimper leaves her at the odd sensation of slipping. Just before the final plummet, she snaps back into herself viciously. Jolting does nothing good for her body, but now her eyes snap open with a slight burn as if they were sealed shut previously with chilled glue...At least she thinks they are open. Blinking confirms that her eyelids still function, which is good because she is trying not to think about how her arms and legs are not, though she can still mostly feel them. Everything is white. A flurry of white is all she sees after staring long enough to detect movement in what was thought to be a static image. Snow from what may be an impending blizzard continues to beat down on the surroundings, coating them in freezing rain, smatterings of hail, and ice. Why isn't she buried yet...? How long has she been here? A large conglomerate of flurries landing on her cheek causes her to wince, because it will not melt for a time, but the question remains. The left side of her face is stinging brutally, while the rest of her exposed skin only feels like a wind chap is starting to set in. Frowning makes it seem like there is something frozen to her skin; the downward curl is not reaching the left corner of her lips as if they are stuck. Is there something on her face? Staring blankly at the sky is not helping any of this make sense. Turning her head a miniscule amount causes her to feel sick, so she stops, trying to breathe evenly although the slight shaking is making it difficult. Being still is not an option, but the jolts of pain makes her wish it was. Evergreen trees were glimpsed in her peripheral vision; they looked towering and dark, not all fit for a happy Christmas. Woods plus winter with injuries does not sound good. Why is she even here? Working up the will power to try and get up is not something she has even entertained, since moving a single appendage hurt way too much. The snow fall is becoming less like the interior of a cheap snow globe and more like sheets of rain are freezing and then coating the forest solidly. Her right arm is no longer visible. Maybe getting under a tree would provide some protective covering? Don't get up, just shuffle. She can do that. Her feet ache in a disconcerting way like they fell half asleep. Digging her heels into whatever frozen packed dirt or snow is under her takes a few minutes, but little divets were clumsily formed. Now, she just has to leverage it. Her left arm is tucked close after what happened when she moved it. Shakily drawing her legs up again allows her to try and push back slowly, more so scrambling a few inches than moving back with purpose. Sliding against snow should be easy. The rocks and sticks that litter the ground seem to dig into her when she attempts the awkward dragging motion that causes a pull of tension across her body.

It hurts. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," she mumbles hoarsely. Anger at not knowing why, where, or what lead to this prompts the pain signals to be ignored, instead she attempts to continue the mutilated crab walk back. Powdery snow sticks to the black of her pants with less finding purchase on the plastic shell of the navy jacket. A bit of red is spotted in the snow, but checking for the source of bleeding is secondary to getting away from the flurries. A trail of blood spottily forms from where she started to where she has hauled herself to. She is practically panting, which causes the cold air to stab her lungs like multiple knifes each time a ragged breath is drawn in. Her movements become out of sync, bordering on frantic. Less than a few meters of progress has been made... A foot digging in is mistimed with the curl of her back and placement of her arm, so that the stretch wracks through her painfully. A gasp muffles the cry of pain. She ends up off balance, crashing to her side heavily. Snow forces her to reflexively turn her head slightly to the side, but she still feels it burning in a way only ice can against her cheek. Throbbing stemming from her left temple encapsulates her head in a vice and is likely what makes the white dance with undulating blots of black for a while until her vision slowly clears back up. She could just rest and then try again. Maybe she should just close her eyes... Lean back and try to conserve warmth until the effort to move again seems possible. A cat nap could work? She tried and is tired; it's deserved. A sudden shrill howl barely stirs her, but a primal part of her mind urges her to become slightly more alert. That kind of sound belongs to a predator. Laying semi-buried in the snow with the inability to move may as well be an open invitation for dinner to whatever can survive the harsh conditions of the forest; it is probably a wolf or something canine. The tree line is watched between too slow blinks for whatever just made that noise. Nothing happens... She didn't imagine it. The cold has penetrated her gloves, it has penetrated her to the very center of her being, but fingers weakly search for something of use. A large rock? A stick? A phone? A conveniently placed gun? There is nothing she can use for defense, so her right arm stops extending outwards from her side to come to rest with her useless left one. Guarding her vital organs may at least help a little... Another howl sounds, but this one sounds deeper and echoes across the space; it sounds low, haunting, and mournful. There is more than one... They could play tug-a-war with her. She can barely make it to a tree for makeshift shelter, so climbing one to impede them locating her is also a 'no'. No weapon or means to deter the animal was magically found in the snow. The state she is in is yet another limitation, because she could not fend one off in perfect health either. ...What does she do? A short yip sounds like an announcement that her time to wrack her weary mind for a solution has trickled away. The source of the sound is located immediately as a small wolf with large, rounded ears makes a bee line for her. She vaguely thought it would have white fur or maybe a light gray, but a tawny brown sticks out against the snowy surroundings and looks distinctly out of place; it should be in a rich pine forest with browns and greens. Mentally critiquing the animal is not what she should be doing. Fear laced adrenaline causes her to clench her right fist tightly as she attempts to shift upwards to appear less prone—less weak. Gathering snow in her palm is so she has something to throw, even if a snow ball is a poor choice against a predator. The animal skids to a stop a little ways away, raising its head towards the sky to scent the air. Is it smelling her blood and judging that she is easy prey?

Teeth grit at the thought, because she has no idea about wolves or whatever dog thing this is. Could noise scare it away or only incite it further? How do you deter a canine? Looking it in the eye may be taken as a challenge or as a warning, but she still stares into its' eyes sharply, trying to project an intimidating aura as she narrows her own. The little quakes racking her paired with the fact she is on her back does not make her cut an imposing figure. A slow step forward is taken as the small wolf lowers its body more to the ground; it must be savoring how easy a kill this will be. Her arm draws back in warning. Will the wolf call her bluff and edge closer? "Go away," she seethes, knowing that saying something to it is a lost cause, but it is eyeing her oddly for an animal, almost thoughtfully. Lunging for her throat or springing forward to pounce should have occurred by now. Why isn't it attacking? Ears fall back, almost dropping at the tone, rather than being pressed flat against the skull in anger. Another step forward is taken and then another, until the wolf is close enough that she thinks she can hit it...The snowball is poorly compacted and falls apart, but some of it lands on its fur, which causes the wolf to shake its head at the action, giving a disgruntled chuff at the coldness. ...Did she expect that to go any better in her head? No. But it was her only real projectile. The wolf does something unexpected, it sits down like a dog and stares at her with those too human eyes. The forest in summer again comes to mind; a rich hazel that borders on brown like wood bark aside from the lightness around the iris is trained on her. She glares right back. Maybe its not a wolf, because it looks small and lean with a body that seems more agile than powerful. A long snout reminds her of a fox, and those ears that are still down are not really that wolf like either, too floppy... Maybe it's a special breed to this area or something else, not that it matters when it definitely has vicious claws, sharp teeth, and she can't get away. A decision must have been made as it creeps closer with tentative footfalls that barely displace the snow. Her arm is pinwheeled to kick up the remaining snow at her side at it in a last ditch effort for distance, but it keeps coming closer heedless of the weak icy barrage. The coolness likely does not seep through its thick fur. "Stop! Please, just go back!" She raises her voice sharply, distilling a hardness to her tone that causes the near hyperventilating quality of her breathing to abate for a moment as she tries to issue a command to a wild animal. Surprisingly, the wolf does halt its progress, but what it does next has her trying to get away as if the promise of being eaten was only a slight offense. Hazel just flashed a brilliant, glowing electric blue that seemed to pierce through her. Its an unnatural wolf thing. There may be worse things than death. Scrambling away using both hands and legs was a mistake, one that was made more than once as she groans. Her jaw locks like a steel trap as she continues, now on her stomach rather than side to crawl away. Tears feel momentarily warm against her frozen cheeks, before causing the burning to redouble from the wind. Everything hurts. She claws desperately at the snow, trying to get away, because there is no explanation for what she just saw or how odd the creature is in general. Her vision seems to be becoming the view used for wide screen movies; darkness creeps around the edges. She is struggling to make sense of things other than the need to move away, because that creature goes against the natural order.

Its too intelligent, it knows too much. Those eyes. It won't just kill her... Something grabs a fistful of her jacket, tugging backwards to prevent the flagging forward motion. It must have a mouthful of her jacket. She kicks out. Her legs feel like lead weights that she only has a minor degree of control over and no contact was made with a furry body, instead only the inevitable collision back with the hard ground occurs. The additional jolt is nothing compared to the rest of the pain that is maddening at this point, because the adrenaline rush is failing at dampening it. Her actions are catching up with her. An angry sob leaves her when she inelegantly falls face first in the snow. Her arms are shaking and she can't support herself anymore while also resisting the wolf. The grip on her jacket is suddenly replaced by a clamping sensation on her shoulder. There is no tearing or teeth burrowing. What feels like fingers squeeze her shoulder, until another hand is placed flatly on her back. What the Hell? What. The. Fuck. Being turned over slowly causes her to whimper; her eyes screw shut because nothing makes sense and she hates it all. Fighting has gotten her nowhere. Something warm settles on her cheek, and she should look to see what is going on, but she is too cold and tired to care. The whipping wind gains an additional sound, though she can't process what it is except that is softer and more pleasing to the ear. A voice? No, that isn't possible. The falling sensation comes again; this time she does not try and stay upright or grounded against it, allowing herself to go along with it. She gives up. . . . . . . "-the blizzard is only increasing; it took out the power lines. We can't go out in that." "You can't, but I can." A dull bang sounds like someone hit something wooden with their fist. "We can't!" This is half shouted in clear exasperation that may be hiding anger. "Losing anyone else isn't an option, ok? I want to know where he is too, but you can't see, smell, or even hear when it's this bad out, and we don't know what is out there that did that to her. You're not thinking it through, Scott." "He's a part of the pack." Listening to the argument unfolding any further is prevented when warm fingers graze her neck. She stops playing possum. Her eyes snap open to meet startled green ones that reminds her of emerald gemstones. A strawberry blonde girl is sitting on the burgundy upholstered couch she lays on, and may just be checking her pulse, but her right hand wraps tightly around her wrist just in case the action is not so innocent. Only a cursory glance is given to the surroundings, since she feels on edge. Where is she? A ski lodge... Thick wooden logs make up the walls, though it is hard to tell how large the space is when only candle light provides light. She does spot the underside of the A-line architectural support that is made of exposed beams. A few mounted deer heads leer at her with glassy black eyes. One wall boasts a large crackling stone fire place that has ancient crossed ski poles above it as a decoration; this is the main source of warmth and brightens the large 'U' of couches that could fit a dozen or more comfortably. This must be a lobby, not a home, based on the few informational areas and posters she saw. Was she out skiing? Returning her attention to the girl has her pausing, because she is being watched so closely, but there may be fear to that gaze too. Pale skin seems to lack much color, even though the fire is casting warmth on both of them and making the red to her hair more vibrant. Her grip is not that tight, and she was touched first, so why is she being looked at like that? Releasing the hold after moving those probing fingers away occurs; she did not mean to frighten her... "She's up! Thank God." The sudden announcement breaks the silent stare off. A guy with spiked brown hair dashes over to the couch alongside a taller guy with black hair that is somewhat obscured by a beanie. These were the two who were arguing. She simply observes them, unwilling to be the first one to speak, because she has no clue how she got here and would rather not be at a deficit by admitting that. Letting them do the informing is a smart move. "We set your arm back in place, but you may need surgery for the cuff," Stiles explains, coming to kneel beside the couch. Soft brown eyes sweep over her form that has less snow and blood caked on it; however, he is still worried about the injuries, especially when they only have a small first aid kit and makeshift sling on hand. "We bandaged what we could. Also, you will probably need a CT scan because your head has a crack in it like Humpty Dumpty. We will figure it all out, Quimmie." He seems pretty caring, so she nods stiltedly in agreement for him to continue speaking. The taller one, who must be Scott, draws closer, fiddling with a walkie talkie in his hand, before sighing. She waits for him to muster up the will to speak. "I know you're hurting, and I'm sorry, but where is Liam?" Once one question is asked it seems that it breaks the dam so a deluge of them come forward as his dark brown eyes narrow at the faint popping of static that comes from the device. There has not been a check-in in a while. "What happened to your team? Was it the ridge that you investigated or did it come after you on a trail? Were the hikers right, and it's just a crazed wolf or something else?" "You can't ask her all that at once." "Stiles, the temperature is dropping further and he is still out in it." "Yeah, and she just woke up, Scott. So back off." A hand finding her own diverts her focus from another brewing argument between the two. Fingers interlace with her own one at a time with a gentleness that confuses her after how hard everything else has been, so she doesn't immediately resist it. A pinky edges over the row of her digits until her hand is covered and then a hold is formed that she does not return. The question must be evident on her features, because a sad smile of understanding is given; it looks like the girl is trying not to crumble, which she accomplishes, but the underlying cracks are still there for all to see. What did she do to be looked at like that? "Malia is right..." Stiles practically rounds on both of them, knocking his knees against the edge of the couch at the softly spoken statement. "No, Lyds," he disagrees immediately, before locking eyes with impassive (Y/E/C) that watch him, but do not really take him in or express much emotion. He thought it was from the pain and shock, not because... "What is my name?" "Stiles," she answers correctly, because it was spoken already.

"Scott said it earlier," Lydia points it out calmly. Stiles runs a hand down his face, not wanting to test the theory that Malia suggested because of what it could mean, but he also knows he needs to. There is a reason the werecoyote is listening from behind the couch and not present with the rest. The earlier fear towards her cut her to the bone. Explaining it away as confusion or discombobulation did not convince Malia, who he tries to not glance directly at, even though he can see the glowing blue to her eyes, because this is upsetting to her. He balls his hands into fists; it can't be that. "What school do we all go to?" She says nothing, but wishes the couch cushions would absorb her into it. "What does our dad do for a living?" He asks it more sharply at the silence that seems to say more than any answer could. No, no, no. A hand is placed on the edge of the couch to keep balance as he sinks to his knees, rather than kneel; he meets her eyes squarely. "Come on, try and answer." Her brows furrow at this, because she does not look particularly like him for them to be blood related. His features are mentally compared to what she intuitively knows to be her appearance. The skepticism is not voiced. Being stared in outright disbelief by Stiles makes it clear that anything she could say about the situation would make it worse. "What is your name? Where are we from? What is the year? Who is she-" A hand gestures quickly to Lydia, though he quickly unfolds his fingers so he is not rudely pointing at her, but his palm shakes, "-to you? Malia, come over here and-" "Stiles." Lydia's voice holds a firm warning as she places a hand on his shoulder, pushing him slightly away from the couch edge before he looms closer. She scoots to be blocking his stare that practically tears into them with its desperate edge. He probably does not even realize he was raising his voice, almost shouting out each question so it warped into a demand. "Don't push her; it's not her fault." "She isn't saying anything!" Stiles counters. "It wouldn't be what you all want to hear..." That causes the pack to grow quiet for a moment as they each consider the matter of fact statement. "So, what? You were just going to go along with it?" Scott asks, confused. The realization that they have no idea what they are facing or how Liam is doing also weighs on him in addition to how this amnesia will affect the pack. Did they just lose two friends tonight? He sits down heavily on the coffee table, shooting Malia a sympathetic look to try and silently communicate she needs to dim down. "There are five of you and one of me, not great odds, so-" "We aren't going to hurt you." The vehement interjection causes her to reword the point, though green eyes practically blaze as they meet her own; any of that fear has burned away, replaced with conviction. "I don't know anything about anything," she admits softly, glancing at the red and black plaid blanket draped over her legs to cope with so many people staring at her. Her head still aches and this is tiring. "Waiting to see what you had to say was the logical thing to do. I don't know your intentions, but I wasn't going to lie to you. Thanks for helping me out of the snow..." "That was Malia," Scott supplies automatically. She has the feeling that none of the ones in the seating area is this Malia person, so a nod is given. Stiles rises from the stone floor, trying to figure out how to fix the situation. This is no broken bone that can be set or a cut that needs to be stitched up; her memories are not murky or mixed up, but are completely gone. "Can you please tell us what you do remember?" "Why?"

"So we can help you and our other friend." Scott answers honestly, before Stiles losses the bit of composure he just re-gained. He is in older, adopted brother mode and is obviously upset. "We can answer your questions too." "I didn't say I had any..." "You don't know anything, so you should. Unless being amnesiac is how you want to reinvent yourself before senior year." Stiles snipes, but backs off when his best friend gives him a warning look that does not compare to the one he will get from Lydia and Malia, if he keeps pressing it. He is mad at what happened not her...But she is not acting like his adopted sister, who has been with him for years, but someone else entirely. Fingers pull at the worn tassels of the blanket for a moment as she considers the alternatives, turning them over in her head given how tense things are and her own deficit. They did help her, so being difficult is not her goal. She can't shake that there is something not quite right about them, especially Scott, it makes her feel on guard like there is a potentially hidden deadliness. Why are they in an empty ski lodge? The owners should be present or at least the other customers. She is mostly laying down aside from a pillow that elevates her back, sitting upright would put them more on equal terms, but the pain that will come with moving is considered. "Okay, one quick question: why are you all here alone? This place does not seem to be in operation, so did you break in...?" Scott shares a look with Stiles. Telling the full truth would only work with someone acquainted with the supernatural and all of that must have been wiped away too. He runs his hands down his thighs to stall. "We got, er, permission to come up. There's an unsolved mystery that we are trying to crack. The resort is temporarily closed down, because of it and the blizzard..." He trails off, trying to balance the truth with the lies. "We are trying to help." "You do seem the helpful type," she observes dubiously, before crossing her right arm carefully with her sling encased left. The position helps her feel a bit more distant from their prying eyes; it feels like they are judging her, though that makes sense when she is expected to actually be someone, not a blank slate. She turns her attention to the fire. "I don't know a Liam. I don't know why we were on a team or what our objective was. All I remember is snow: white, cold, burning snow. I was on the ground trying to get up, but failed because everything ached. I actually felt like I was falling..." She presses her lips together, mulling over what else can be said. Those glowing, unnaturally blue eyes come to mind so vividly, it feels like she is staring at the creature again. They probably already think she is crazy enough without mentioning it. "There was a wolf, or maybe it wasn't a wolf, that kept coming towards me. I assumed it would maul me, but it didn't...I'm not sure how it was going to kill me, it seemed too patient and smart, not really like a typical animal. I freaked out and tried to crawl away when it got too close, which made all the pain a lot worse. I fainted. I'm assuming Malia scared it off or dealt with it, because I think I would remember it biting into me...Then I woke up here." Lydia wants to reach out to her, but prevents the urge with how previous attempts were received. She can tell that she is still struggling with the pain on top of everything else; however, the far off look in her eyes must mean something is not being voiced. They still have not shared her name...

"Okay, so everything before the snow is blank?" Stiles confirms, getting a curt nod in response that makes him want to throw something into the flames of the fireplace. This is not how the weekend's mission was meant to go. He is pacing in front of the hearth, chewing on the cap end of a pen as he thinks about where to go from here. She was also their only lead with Liam and the creature. How will his dad react? He's older--the older sibling, and feels responsible for her, and now she's a very familiar stranger..."You're sure that's it? So like an hour or so comprises your entire, new existence?" "Yes, Stiles." He ignores the slight irritation to her tone, because he is busy thinking. "Maybe we can jog her memory?" This is posed to the pack, like his sister is another murder case or mystery that he can add to his pin and red string laden board to puzzle out the connections and causes. He can solve this. "We should wait until my mom sees her and the doctors run legit tests. There may be rules on how to deal with head trauma patients," Scott disagrees gently. "Maybe the head trauma is not the cause...It could be something else?" "She is still healing and we don't know how bad everything is." Scott sees the way Stiles crosses his arm abruptly at the disagreement, annoyed. "I want to help her. We need to find Liam too." "The answer could lie with her if we just try and remind her who she is!" "That could make it worse." Lydia is unsure who she sides with between the two guys, but knows talking about the one in question like she is not present in the room is almost always a bad idea. Malia getting up from the wooden chair that was pulled from behind the receptionist's to rest behind the couch is mostly ignored. Supple leather comprises her winter boots that only make a faint clack against the wood floor. She moves purposefully, ignoring Lydia's questioning look as she rounds the couch and stands in front of it to peer down at its occupant. The lack of recognition causes her to feel a deep ache in her heart, while the early fear left a ragged wound behind. Taking a knee, she tilts her head slightly as she watches (Y/E/C) eyes look her over cautiously, rather than softly, because the one in front of her does not know her. "Uhm, thank you for saving me?" Malia ignores the tentative gratitude. "Malia, I-" Scott's concerned warning is stopped short when Stiles holds up a hand, silently asking for him to let whatever is about to happen unfold. He locks his jaw, knowing how affected his beta was when she arrived back at the lodge. She was practically incoherent in describing what happened, instead whimpering and growling when anyone got too close to the two and unwilling to let go of the one bundled up in her arms. She was more coyote than human... Scott slides to the very edge of the coffee table to intervene, if needed, as a precaution. She looks kind of angry...Hazel eyes are not nearly as searching as the green ones that were first on her, rather they seem to be invasively prying without hesitation. The shoulder length cut to her brown locks frames her face nicely, which makes her gaze that much harder to look away from. Being stared at like some sort of freak show is grating on her patience, so she eventually manages to glance away to look back at the fire, though her view is soon occupied by Malia shifting closer with a challenging look. A lightly tanned hand rests on the back of the couch, effectively caging her in. "If you have something to say, then please go ahead," she requests calmly. "How could you forget about me?"

"It wasn't a choice." "Then why aren't you remembering?" Malia almost snaps out the question. A scoff almost leaves her at the presumption, because this girl is really blaming her...Are they all placing the fault on her alone? Maybe the inkling that something is not right with some of them is because they are actually a threat; the lodge is becoming more inhospitable by the second. "I can't. It's not like I'm repressing it," she replies sternly. "I don't know my own name, so it's definitely not personal. Get over yourself." "Quim. That is your name" Lydia offers, trying to mediate between the two, though she knows this is hard for Malia. It is hard for her too, but someone has to be on Quim's side as a source of support. "Oh, okay..." Fingers burrow deeply into the upholstery of the couch, nails threaten to extend and rip out the plush stuffing. Her coyote aspect howls in her mind. Malia grits her teeth against the hurt those words just stirred, trying to let anger mask it because she would have never thought this would happen to them. This is not how it should be. Relying on instinct, she surges forward, placing a hand firmly over Quim's heart to pin her in place as she joins their lips without asking for permission. She is her's, so she should not have to. The kiss is forceful, demanding and not at all how a kiss should be...It is also one sided. She is doing all the action, while her partner is frozen and unresponsive, though that stasis eventually breaks for Quim to turn her head away abruptly, before a hand is against her shoulder, pushing away. Trying to move away from Malia causes a sharp pull in her back that earns a wince. Fucking oww. "What the hell are you doing?!" "I was trying to jog your memory!" Malia counters. "You can't just kiss people!" "We've done way more than kiss, Quim!" That causes the indignation to leave her in a rush, making the anger feel unwieldy and too large for her to handle. She retracts her hand from Malia, re-crossing her arms as best she can to serve as a barrier between the two of them. Now, she is more confused. "What...?" "Maybe now isn't the time for this..." Scott attempts to reason with his beta. "Mal-" "My soulmate forgot me!" "Not on purpose." Lydia pipes up, earning a huff from the werecoyote, but at least she is listening to her. She links their hands to try and pull Malia away from the couch edge. "We need to be patient." "How are you handling this well? She forgot you too--both of us!" "Not. By. Choice." "I have two girlfriends...?" Stiles runs a hand down his face at the turn in conversation; this is not going to fix her memory, but of course that is what his sister takes away from the conversation. "Yes," he answers at the perplexed expression, rolling up his shirt sleeve to show his blank wrist. "Soul identifying marks. Ring any bells? No, well, you have two of them, so you have two soulmates, even though it is rare to have even one. Lucky you." Oh... Green and hazel eyes no longer meet in a silent, tense stare off, settling back on the occupant of the couch. Quim falls silent under their attention, unsure what could be said when forgetting your literal fated other halves.

#for quim who is awesome and nice!#i could just put gibberish in these tags #i also use this side blog for my very few pics in AO3 for fics.#alsoooo bc i had a fixation on ruby hale and that is what sparked that super long OC laden work i mentioned to you...kind of OC.#really i adapted different characters from different things and put them in one verse. anyway.

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