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bbugyu · 4 years ago

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of all the views you had seen, there was little that could compare to him.

6.2k | cavalry captain!jeonghan x gn pyro!reader, genshin impact au, fluff, adventure, drinking, so much flirting, mentions of trauma, honestly this is the sweetest i'm ever gonna write jeonghan

happy inazuma release day!!! it's your local kaeya trash, because i predictably fall for gay bastards that lie straight to my face (example: jeonghan), and i'm here to give you a fic i wrote AGES ago and just polished up a bit to celebrate the release of what is likely going to be my FAVORITE region in genshin impact. i'm japanese so 😅 i have a soft spot. if there's any other gaymer carats out there, enjoy this one. if not, sorry! you can actually probably still read this and understand it for the most part, though you might miss a bit of context of the landscape and the lore.

ps. go tell @babiemingoo that wonwoo xinqiu 🤭

your work with the adventurer's guild was always efficient. you received your commissions, you carried them out, then returned for your reward, usually before the sun had even peaked. the rest of your day was generally spent either basking in the eternal sun of mondstadt, feeding cats in inazuma, or enjoying a hard earned meal in liyue, depending on where you decided to stay that week, finding board and paying for it with the commission you had earned that day. your tendency to wander came less from choice and more from nature - you could call yourself a nomad, but generally, you just got bored, and preferred seeing everything teyvat had to offer rather than settling in one place. adventuring was simply what you were meant to do, your mother had told you at a young age.

she, too, had wandered for most of her youth, and didn't stop just because you had come into her life. you remembered getting scooped up because you had wandered off a bit too close to the railing at wangshu inn as a toddler, playing with dogs at the docks of liyue harbor. you remembered the ludi harpastum and the first time you had ever had a sweet honey roast, and the way it made your eyes grow ten times in size before you dug in for more.

when your vision was bestowed upon you, you already knew how to use a sword. it was important, your mother told you, that you knew how to protect yourself. she had a vision as well, younger even than you had, and you had come to recognize the static in the air as a sign that she was angry - whether it was because of an altercation with someone on your journey or because you had secretly eaten the last hashbrown without consulting her first.

she used her vision and a sturdy blade she had owned since before you were born to protect the two of you on the road, but when she felt you were old enough, she taught you how to weild. a two handed weapon that was far too big for you when you were only fourteen, but when your reckless abandon got paired with a spark, you suddenly became far more dangerous than even your own mother. she scolded you for nearly starting a forest fire when you tried to pair the two skills for the first time after receiving your vision, and you both agreed that training was a beach activity from then on.

your mother settled eventually, after you were old and skilled enough to take on the road alone, pulling the many favors she had gathered in her travels to build a home in a small neighborhood south of liyue harbor, nestled in the foothills of mount tianheng, where you visited as often as your wandering allowed.

you had become much better with your vision. more careful but just as hot. quick to scan situations and strategize in the moment, hardly taking a second before jumping into action, slaying hilichurls like you were getting paid. well, you were, you supposed, but you had been doing this long before you had discovered the benefit of joining the guild. you were good at it. you were built for adventure, but revelled in leisure. there was good reason you were able to take afternoons off, and you milked every last second of it.

"you're back in town?"

you grinned, leaning your sword against the wall and dropping your bag off your shoulders before settling at the bar. "for now."

rubin often served you alcohol - when you were in mondstadt, at least, however often that may be - but never questioned you deeply. he would ask how your travels were, and listen to your stories from regions beyond his knowledge, of the cultures that he had only heard of from people like you. he enjoyed them just about as much as any, if not a little more, purely because your tenacious personality brought something more to the table. he wondered, though, how long you intended to keep living day by day, sleeping in different beds every week.

"what's wrong with sleeping in different beds?" you teased, laughing into your wine glass. "if i didn't know any better, i'd think you were shaming me, rube."

rubin simply laughed, knowing your tone by now. "i just wonder if you ever intend on digging in your roots, or if you'll continue travelling forever."

"if i dig roots, you may never see me again. is that what you want?"

"what," he said. "you don't like mondstadt?"

"i love monstadt," you assured him. "but i also love inazuma. and my mother is in liyue, though she might be upset with me if i try to settle too close to her. perhaps natlan would suit me more?" you shrugged finally, the door behind you opening as you finished with "i suppose i'll settle when i've found a reason to love one place more than the rest."

rubin shook his head, a chuckle falling from his lips. "a wanderer through and through." his attention was quickly drawn to the man entering the bar. "ah, captain! the usual?"

"please," the decorated man said, quickly taking a seat beside you despite the rest of the bar being available. "would you like another, wanderer?"

you eyed him cautiously, studying what you could see if his face around the black eyepatch, gaze skimming down his elaborate clothing before looking down at your emptied drink. "sure."

"another for your wandering friend, rubin, on my tab, please." your brain swirled, considering the brief information you had been given and wondered how you had never managed to meet this regular during your past visits. "are you just drinking dandelion wine, or something more fun?"

"more fun?" you asked. "what are you drinking, then?"

"well, a death after noon, of course," he stated. "don't tell me you haven't had one."

you blinked at him. "i haven't."

you turned towards rubin when he laughed at the back and forth. "shall i make two, then?"

"definitely," your new drinking buddy said, then gestured to you. "you trust my taste, right?"

you said nothing, but he accepted your silent smile as an agreeance. "captain," you said finally, thinking of how rubin had addressed him. "of?"

the man turned towards you, his elbow planted on the bar and his cheek on a fist. despite his get up, he had a playful smirk across his lips. "you mean, my reputation doesn't precede me? you really are a wanderer. everyone in mondstadt knows my name."

"everyone but me," you corrected. "as i'm currently in mondstadt."

his teeth shone behind his smirking lips before he sat up straight. "well, allow me to introduce myself." he saluted, his arm extending from his side at an angle - a salute you recognized from the guards around the city. "i am jeonghan, the cavalry captain of the knights of favonius."

"ah, the knights," you smiled briefly, before letting your eyes wander as you thought, crossing your arms over the bar. "i don't see much of a cavalry in the city, though."

he let out an amused exhale. "so i have a bit more free time these days."

"i'm sure the acting grand master is jealous of all your free time," you teased. "poor guy, looks like he's staving off a panic attack every time i see him. you should probably help him more."

"so," he sighed, leaning against the bar again. "you know of the acting grand master but not me?"

"jihoon?" you asked. "of course i know of him. he's all anyone ever talks about around here."

jeonghan nodded once, thanking rubin when he placed two drinks before you. "people talk about me, also, you know."

your lips stuck out in a pout. "jeonghan, you said? doesn't ring a bell."

he rolled his eyes and picked up his drink, holding it out for you to cheers against. you giggled, clinking your glass against his before taking a sip. the golden liquid was sweet, but not like the dandelion wine you had grown to love in this region. it had more depth, a subtle bitterness to it, and a refreshing bubble. you stared after the glass when it left your lips, then looked over to find jeonghan grinning at you.

"i see why it's your usual," you said, taking another sip before placing the glass on the bar. "i could drink too many."

"will you?" he asked.

"not tonight," you replied coolly. "i haven't asked sana to put me up at the guild yet, and if i get there too late, i'll get a cot instead of a bed. unless rubin finally wants to come clean about something?"

the bartender laughed. "how many times do i have to tell you? we don't even have rooms to board."

you squinted at him. "i know there's something upstairs. i'll learn your secrets one day, rube."

"i wouldn't be a very good bartender if i didn't know how to keep them."

"so you're in the guild?" jeonghan asked as rubin attended to another patron. "an adventuring wanderer."

you smiled vaguely at him. "i am. i have to pay for my travels somehow."

he shrugged. "there's other ways to make money. probably more profitable, too."

you eyed his teasing smirk. "i'm not sure i know what you're implying."

"as a captain of the knights of favonius, i assure you, i'm implying nothing at all," he said, exhaling sharply and adjusting on his stool. he leaned over towards you before speaking in a quieter tone. "but as jeonghan, i think you know exactly what i'm implying."

you only laughed, recognizing the thinly veiled attempt to worm a secret out of you. "i outgrew those means a long time ago. besides, when mora gets tight, i can always board up with my mother. i like liyue enough."

jeonghan studied you as you drank again. "liyue's home, is it?'

"for her, yes," you said, looking over to him, but you found yourself looking away again when his steely blue gaze met yours. you thought carefully about how much of yourself you were willing to reveal to this stranger, especially considering how important he was in the rule of the city. "she was a wanderer, too, and ended up falling in love with liyue harbor."

jeonghan made note of the way your face softened as you spoke about your mother. "and what about you?"

you met his intent look again, thinking about how his covered eye somehow made him even more intimidating. perhaps that was its purpose. "what about me?"

"what have you fallen in love with?"

a smile crept onto your lips as you processed his question. "oh, archons, what have i not fallen in love with? the smell of the open ocean in inazuma, the breathtaking temples in sumeru - have you ever been to waterfall city?"

jeonghan merely shook his head at you, the corners of his mouth turning upwards as he put his cheek on a fist again, leaning against the bar. "beautiful?"

you exhaled, eyes wide as you thought of the towering falls and the light mist that covered the city, trying to come up with an apt description. "humbling. there's nothing like it."

he watched your expression, head tilting further. "what a wonderful way to describe a place. tell me more."

your gaze went to him, then away briefly, feeling suddenly shy as you noticed his look. "about waterfall city?"

he shrugged a fur covered shoulder, shaking his head lightly. "about anywhere. describe your world, wanderer. i'd like to hear whatever you have to say."

you wondered if the heat that ran through you was because of the alcohol or the man, but you just took another drink and cleared your throat lightly, thinking of more places you had discovered in your travels. you thought of qingce village, one of your favorite places to visit, because the people are kind and welcoming and the fields are so beautiful. you told him about a tea shop owned by an old man - he insisted you call him pops so fiercely that you weren't even sure you had caught his given name - and it was probably the most relaxing cup of tea you ever had.

"it's been a while since i've gone," you sighed. "i think i'm overdue for a chat with pops and his tea."

jeonghan was smiling when you looked at him again. "the tea in liyue is unmatched," he said, reaching for his drink. before taking another sip, he gestured for you to continue.

so you did. you told him about sakura pond, about celestia city, about the volcanic black beaches. you told him liyue had your favorite people, but inazuma had your favorite food. he clicked his tongue at you.

"what about mondstadt? do we have one of your favorites?"

you smiled, genuinely. "sunsets. the night sky is different here than it is anywhere else. i think mondstadt is the closest we can get to the stars without joining the archons."

jeonghan studied you briefly, his blue eye flicking over your face as you finished your drink. "i think that's an apt observation. it seems your eyes are always wide."

"i travel for the views," you exhaled. "i don't plan on missing any."

he thought a second. "have you been to starsnatch cliff?"

your eyes lit up. "not in years," you said, in complete shock that you could have forgotten such a place. you pushed from the bar slightly, turning towards him, and he noticed the flash of a red gem strapped to your right thigh for the first time. "my mother took me there when i was a kid, but i haven't gone since."

"it never gets old," he said, sipping at the end of his drink. "i've yet to see that view and not be in awe."

"i'll go before i leave mondstadt again," you decided.

he looked to you. "when will that be?"

you sighed. "not sure, yet."

he just chuckled. "would you like another drink?"

"oh, no," you said, standing and stretching your spine. "i should make my leave. i don't like sleeping on cots. i just came by to let my ol' pal rube know i was in town again."

jeonghan watched you pull your pack onto your back, grabbing the handle of your sheathed claymore from where it was leaning against the wall next to the bar. "perhaps i'll see you again tomorrow?"

you looked at him, a vague smile on your lips as you strapped your sword back on. "perhaps you will, captain."

"jeonghan," he corrected. "but i don't believe you ever shared your name?"

"that was by design, captain," you said, and he swore he caught a glint in your eye as you bid rubin a farewell and stepped out of the angel's share.

jeonghan spun back around on his stool, immediately looking to rubin. "do you know their name?"

"no, sir," he said, looking at the closed door. "they've never said."

jeonghan's gaze went to the empty glass you had left behind, thinking about your stories, your sword, and the signifier of your vision on your thigh. "fascinating."

you got lucky - sana had a private room for you, and said you were welcome to rent it for your stay. she said not many people were travelling to mondstadt these days, and that more often than not, the adventurer's barracks in headquarters went unused. ever since the fatui had holed up in the grand goth hotel, it had been harder for you to make extended stays in mondstadt, but it seemed that something was telling you to stick around longer than usual. you laid on the hard mattress - a feeling that was more comforting than most, thanks to your continuous travels - and thought of the charming captain that had made a night of questioning you. you wondered if he really had any interest in anything you had to say, or if he had been hoping for details about something pertinent to an investigation.

you packed a lighter bag in the morning, only bringing along the essentials as you set out for your commissions for the day. that afternoon, you wandered around mondstadt and asked questions. questions about the simultaneously well-discussed and mysterious cavalry captain that had listened to your tales of travel, and answers came easier than expected, though they didn't contain all the details you were looking for. that night, you waited up at the angel's share to brag about your newfound knowledge to the captain that never showed, and you did your best to not let that hurt your ego.

the next day, you made a detour on your way back to the city after completing your commissions, stopping by springvale to enjoy a well deserved lunch and catch up with some locals. you sat in the grass with a skewer of grilled meat, watching the windmills of mondstadt steadily spin in the distance as time passed, thinking about how rubin had asked you if you didn't like it here.

you did, you decided. mondstadt felt different than anywhere else you had been. untouched, almost. wilder. freer. despite being born in inazuma, your first memories being in celestia, or your mother being in liyue, mondstadt felt comfortable. felt like a home. you wondered to yourself what that might mean.

sana greeted you happily when you returned much later than you normally did. she told you to go ahead to the guild and come back, filing away your reports and retrieving your rewards. you dropped off your things in your rented room, quickly, practically galloping back down the steps towards the entrance of the city to continue your conversation with the adventurer guilds' mighty receptionist without your sword weighing you down. you crossed your arms on the counter, comfortably lounging as you chatted with her, having always enjoyed her conversations more than most. like rubin, she was a reason mondstadt always felt comfortable.

"fancy meeting you here," an all too familiar voice said, and you pulled your eyes from sana to find jeonghan leaning his side against the counter next to you.

"good evening, cavalry captain!" sana chirped, placing your reward - your room free already removed - on the counter and bowing politely. "can i help you with anything today?"

his icy gaze flickered from your lightly curved lips towards sana. "oh, no, my dear. i'm just coming back from an investigation near springvale"

"interesting," you said, eyeing him. "i was just there and didn't see you."

"i wouldn't be very good at my job if you did, wanderer," he grinned. "knight business, you wouldn't understand. got the assignment yesterday."

"ah," you shifted to your side to face him, making him eye the vision on your thigh. "is that why you never showed? rubin was worried."

he looked you up and down. "rubin was, huh?"

you rolled your eyes and adjusted your posture to face away from his smirk. sana looked between the two of you twice before clearing her throat as quietly as possible, making jeonghan let out a chuckle before he directed his attention to the guild's receptionist.

"how goes holding the post, sana?"

she looked almost frightened when the attention was directed back to her. "good, captain! in fact, one of our most capable adventurers-" she gestured to you, "-just returned from taking care of some of our more difficult commissions - no one else would take them."

jeonghan looked at you. "why did sana have to tell your secret?"

your eyebrows quirked upwards. "what secret?"

"that you're good at this. shouldn't you be bragging?"

a chuckle spilled from your lips, and jeonghan watched you as you looked away. "i'm not the bragging type."

he studied you a moment. "what type are you, then?"

you considered the question, wondering exactly how to answer. what type were you? if not a teller, than surely you must be a shower, but that didn't seem right either. you exhaled. "the quiet type. see you later, sana."

he laughed, pushing off the counter as you tucked your mora into your waist bag, wishing sana a good evening and following you towards the fountain. "you sure talk a lot for being the quiet type."

a smirk landed itself on your lips as he fell into step beside you. "maybe private is a better description."

"that one i can see," jeonghan said, looking over to you. he thought of how you had spent nearly an hour telling him about the best views in teyvat, yet he still didn't know the most basic information about you. "do you share your name with anyone?"

you thought. "my mother."

he scoffed. "anyone else?"

you looked to the sky. "rubin."

"wrong," he retorted. "he doesn't know your name, either."

you laughed, looking over to him as you came up to the fountain, spinning and sitting back on the ledge. "you asked?"

"of course i asked," he said, planting one foot on the ledge beside you and placing his arms on his knee. "i asked other people, too. almost everyone knows you, but they don't know anything about you. bits and pieces, but never the full picture."

you just smiled up at him from your relaxed posture on the concrete. "what's wrong with a little intrigue?"

he just smiled back at you. "nothing. i tend to keep a bit myself. did you know there's a large number of people in this city that were shocked when i said you wield a claymore?"

you hummed, dipping the tips of your fingers into the fountain. "did you know there's a large number of people in this city that consider you the most eligible bachelor in not only mondstadt, but in all of teyvat?"

his lips parted slightly as you spoke. "so you snooped, too."

"i was bored yesterday. it wasn't hard," you exhaled. you flicked a drop of water towards his foot. "jeonghan yoon, the cavalry captain of the knights of favonius since he was only nineteen. who loves wine and whose adopted brother runs the biggest winery in teyvat, yet they're hardly ever seen speaking. who comes from a far off land on a different continent, but has come to love mondstadt like it was his home. who wears an eyepatch but has never told anyone why."

he chuckled at the assessment and pulled his foot off the ledge to sit beside you. "so when do i get to learn about you?"

"i told you about me yesterday," you said.

"you told me about teyvat," he corrected. "and while i was able to infer some things about your character, i still know close to nothing about you."

you thought for a moment, realizing no one had ever noticed how little you truly shared despite always being willing to tell stories. "sometimes it feels like i am teyvat. it's hard to think of things that are just about me."

"you could start with that vision," he said, nodding at the strap across your thigh. you looked down at it, exhaling.

"what's there to tell? you know what it means, and that's more teyvat than me, too."

he leaned back on a hand, looking you up and down in curiosity. "how old were you."

you chewed your cheek. "fourteen. you?"

his lip quirked upwards. "sixteen."

you bumped his shoulder with yours playfully. "beat you."

he laughed. "how'd it happen?"

you paused. "you go first."

he just chuckled and looked away, watching a dog wander past the general store. "another day, then."

"no fun," you sighed, brushing your hands together as you leaned forward. "what about the eyepatch?"

he met your eyes, mouth slanted in a smirk. "another day."

you clicked your tongue. "if you wanna learn about me, you have to be willing to give up some details, too. i value a fair trade."

"then stop asking questions that you know i won't share the answer to." jeonghan noticed the color of the sky, then suddenly pulled a pocket watch out, checking it quickly to confirm that there was enough time and stood. "come with me?"

you stared up at him. "where?"

he grinned, extending a hand to help you to your feet. "you said mondstadt's sunsets were your favorite, correct?"

you generally weren't prone to following mysterious men into back corridors, but jeonghan easily convinced you with no words at all that sneaking around the sight line of the acting grand master was completely normal behavior, sushing you with a grin as you giggled, taking refuge around a corner after the two of you made it up to the second floor of the favonius headquarters. he tugged your hand with his, pulling you into a steep maintenance staircase behind a door.

"this feels like it's against some rules," you said, climbing the stairs behind him.

"nonsense," he said, looking back at you and grinning. "are you suggesting that a knight of favonius would break rules just to impress a mysterious traveler?"

you laughed quietly, wondering if he really meant that he wanted to impress you. "not most, but maybe this one."

he only thought for a split second. "if anyone asks, we're on official knight business."

he opened the door and you found the sky again, beginning to glow orange as the edge of the sun began to hide behind the cliffs. you stared in awe at the way the few fluffy clouds reflected pink and gold, then readjusted your focus when jeonghan spoke again.

"i hope you aren't afraid of heights," he said, walking over to the parapets that surrounded you. "the best view requires a bit of a climb."

you looked up at the tower, and while it wasn't much higher than where you stood, you also recognized that you were well above most of mondstadt already. "you climb up there?"

he paused, studying you. "we don't have to, we can just sit on a merlon-"

"no, we can climb," you said, walking over to where he was and eyeing the small gap between the parapet and the adjacent roof. "hop over?"

he laughed, stepping over the gap and holding a hand out for you. "watch your step."

and though you didn't need it, you accepted the hand anyways, and it stayed on yours as you walked over the roof to the tower, as if making sure you didn't misstep several stories in the air.

"would you like to go first?" he asked. "i'll catch you if you fall."

you rolled your eyes at him, dropping your hand from his grip. "you go first. i want to see where the handholds are."

he just grinned at you. "very well," he said, tugging on the wrists of his fingerless gloves to make sure they were taught against his skin before taking hold of a brick. you watched him as he took foothold after foothold, and he resisted the urge to show off by speedily scaling the wall in favor of making sure you had the chance to see where he gripped. when he reached the opening in the tower, he pulled himself up and spun around, exhaling with a grin as he seated himself at the ledge with his legs dangling above you.

"your turn."

you adjusted your waist bag as you sighed in amused annoyance, spinning it to be behind you and out of your hips' way to climb the wall. it wasn't much - a couple meters, maybe - and you had definitely climbed further, but jeonghan's presence made you slightly nervous. that nervousness, however, just fueled you to prove yourself.

you scaled the wall easily, making jeonghan whistle and jokingly call you some kind of adventurer, and your only hesitation came when his hand was in your face. despite your initial inclination to ignore it, you put your left hand in his, allowing him to help you pull yourself up on the ledge and sit beside him.

"impressive," he commented.

you laughed, brushing off your hands. "you, too."

"c'mon," he said, gesturing his head over his shoulder before making moves to stand. "the view's on the other side."

you sighed, looking over the view of mondstadt shrouded in golden light as he stood and walked to the other ledge. "never a moment of rest with you."

"if you want to miss the sunset, be my guest."

you leaned back on your hands and laughed, pulling your gaze away from the city to look at where jeonghan had seated himself on the other end of the tower, and subsequently the view of the rolling hills beyond him that were glowing golden in the evening sun. you blinked for a second, realizing you hadn't seen the sunset the night before, and quickly got to your feet to join him before you missed this one, too.

he gave you a soft smile when you sat beside him, and you briefly wondered how many he had in his repertoire. the wind was stronger higher, whipping gently through his hair and alleviating any uncomfortable warmth you may have had from exerting yourself on the way up. you watched the dregs of sunlight skip across the grassy hills and the sky turn deep orange and bright pink, feet swinging lightly over the edge of the tower.

"i was fighting with my brother," he said suddenly, causing you to look at him with a start before you realized he was telling you about his vision. there was a slight smile on his face as he looked out on the fields. "hyungwon. it was bad. he already had his - he's a pyro, like you - and we were both young and stupid and just lost our dad. we were sword fighting and it came to me when i needed it. it probably saved my life, honestly."

you blinked at him. "you think he would have killed you?'

he exhaled, leaning back on his hands. "i think if the roles had been reversed, i would have tried to kill him, too. i'm grateful it didn't go that way, though." he coughed abruptly, clearing his throat. "we're on speaking terms, and i do love him as a brother, but i generally avoid him."

you let that thought ruminate as you watched the sun sink, halfway beyond the horizon. "my father was in a gang in inazuma, but my mom ran away when she found out she was pregnant. didn't want to raise a kid in that world, i guess? we ran into him when i got older and he wasn't very understanding." you paused, remembering the detail too well. "they were going to take her vision. that's what they did to traitors. probably take me, too. they weren't expecting me to start setting fires."

jeonghan's gaze was on you as yours was on the horizon. "just a couple of survivors."

you looked over at him, a smirk on your lips. "a couple?"

he laughed waving at your implication, thinking he would have said the same thing in an attempt to fluster you just as you were to him. "like, more than one and less than four."

you only laughed back. "fortune favors the weak, i suppose. the archons saw we needed help and extended a fig branch."

"is that what it was?" he asked, a laugh on his lips. "we were both fighting people. that's hardly an offer of peace."

"look for the deeper meaning, jeonghan. we were fighting for our lives," you pointed out, and he realized it was the first time you had addressed him by his name rather than his title. "i was fighting for family. for freedom. is that not the greatest pursuit of peace?"

he watched you as you pulled your knees to your chest, putting your feet on the edge of the stonework surface you sat on. he studied the way the golden rays lit your skin and made your eyes sparkle. "i suppose so."

you paused in that moment for a long while, and jeonghan allowed the comfortable silence as the two of you watched the sun disappear beyond the cliffs of mondstadt. the sky was turning a deep shade of purple when you told him your name, and jeonghan thought that it was quite possibly the best news he had ever received, but he kept that joy to himself as he confirmed your name, and you rolled your eyes.

"are you gonna answer my other question now?"

he scoffed. "about the eyepatch? is it really that interesting?"

"not any more interesting than my name," you retorted.

"completely untrue," jeonghan insisted. "i've never been so excited to be told a secret, and i get told a lot of secrets."

you eyed his smile warily. "my name may be unknown, but it's no secret."

he sighed and shook his head lightly. "you really wanna know the reason i wear it? it's probably not as dramatic as you're hoping."

"yet you hide it?"

he laughed. "what's wrong with a little intrigue?"

you looked away, recognizing the parrot of your own words. "whatever you say, captain."

"no!" he whined and grabbed your arm, making you start and look at him with big eyes. "you just started calling me jeonghan, don't go back to captain."

you stared at him, only breaking to laugh, dropping your legs over the edge again. "you won't show me what's under the eyepatch, so i thought we weren't on first name basis."

his hand on your bicep was warm and gentle, but his gaze was piercing as he thought it over for a bit longer. you did your best to hold it, but you felt yourself shrinking when he quietly muttered, "go on, then."

it took you a second to register what he meant, and you reached out slowly, fingers hesitating before they brushed upon his cheekbone. jeonghan closed his eyes, resigning to your touch as you gently lifted the eyepatch. his eyes opened again, slowly, and you thought your heart might have skipped a beat.

"like chocolate," you commented, and a smile spread across his lips.

"that's the kindest reaction i've gotten."

your fingers fell upon his temple, brushing down gently as you inspected his singular brown eye. "since birth?"

he nodded, his eyes flicking down to your lips briefly before he spoke. "heterochromia. it's a characteristic of my family."

you studied his face. "not the one here?"

he sighed. "not the one here."

the icy blue of jeonghan's eye had always struck something in you. it made him mysterious. commanding. it felt like he saw more than you despite having one eye covered. but now, you felt warm. you felt his gentleness. there was comfort hidden away behind that black patch, and you told him that you understood why the cavalry captain had chosen to hide the eye he did.

but to you, he was willing to show anything that would keep you around longer, he said.

"why me?" you asked, studying his expression when he looked away. the sun had retreated behind the hills, leaving the sky a deep blue.

jeonghan didn't respond right away, and you wondered if he himself even knew the answer. "we're birds of a feather, you and i."

you looked out to the view again, watching the subtle movements of the wild hills. "did you travel much before you came here?"

"it was all i knew," he told you. "i was thirteen when my father left me here."

your neck snapped, your eyes on his profile when he leaned back on his hands. "left you?"

he almost laughed, a smile on his lips when his eyes met yours. "i was slowing him down, i suppose. hyungwon's father found me and took me in."

"so you stayed?"

"i didn't always want to," he assured you. "i had the itch to leave for years. as soon as i was able, i always told myself." he paused, eyes dropping. "then father died. then hyungwon turned down his position with the knights. and i was their second choice."

you pursed your lips. "you stayed for a job."

he laughed. "it's not that simple."

you smiled at him, enjoying the warmth of his eyes on yours as the sky cooled. "are you sure we're birds of a feather?"

"listen," he said, getting off his hands and brushing them off on his thighs. "i accepted the job so that i could set the story straight. i didn't want to run from the people that believed that hyungwon tried to kill me to avenge our father."

you studied him. "i'm sorry."

"don't be," he said, nudging your shoulder. "i was still planning on leaving, but then i fell in love."

you looked away, trying to sort out the way your stomach flipped. "are they still around?"

"not with a person," he laughed, then nodded towards the now dark hills. "with the views. besides, i get free reign whenever i leave for missions. i have fun adventuring, and come home to the best sunsets in teyvat. there are worse places to call home."

your eyes scanned the horizon, remembering the brilliant rays of sun you had just seen skip across it. "that is tempting."

"how tempting?" he asked.

you thought on that for a moment. "almost as much as a death after noon right now."

jeonghan laughed, slightly proud that he had hooked you on his favorite drink. "shall we go see rubin, then?"

you hummed, smiling at the captain. "as long as i don't have to sit alone again."

"that's a promise," he told you as he stood, holding out a hand that you took without hesitation, though he withheld his intention to make sure you were never alone again.

#hehe i came up with a whole thing #this was basically me wanting to write kaeya fanfic but knowing i would wanna post it so writing it about jeonghan instead #caratwritersclub #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #hannie #genshin impact au #jeonghan is kaeya and im just right #i wrote dis

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anxiousgaypanicking · 4 years ago

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ever since i posted that thing about logan playing volleyball and remus being a “fan,” its been stuck in my head. so... here’s a lil story about it. it’s been a year since i’ve played, but i remember the rules semi-decently ;) Setting and Swooning

“Set,” Roman shouts, setting the volleyball over his head, and into the middle.

There comes a yell of “mine” before Logan rapidly approaches the ball, jumps up, and swings, spiking it over the net. He barely listens to the scattered yelling of the other team before the referee blows his whistle and straightens his arm on Roman and Logan’s side, indicating a point had been scored for their team.

Roman cheers, and so do the people on the bleachers who were rooting for their team. All except for one. A certain bored brother, who was watching the whole game with unamused and frankly uninterested eyes. He didn’t care enough to learn the rules, and thus watching the game was practically a confusing mess.

Or, that’s what it would be, if Remus actually cared enough to watch the game. Instead, he was more focused on leaning back in the bleachers and eyeing the lower half of the players on the court.

He knew it was considered disrespectful, but the outline of their asses shown clear through the flexible spandex.

Besides, he actually had the consent of one teammate. Initially, he did stare solely because he was bored and perverted in what else could entertain him besides guys and ass, but, after some none too subtle stares, and a whole shocking reveal as Remus found out who that player was, he finally asked if he felt comfortable with Remus continuing to stare.

And surprisingly, he had said yes!

So, he spent his current time staring at the lower half of the player who’s jersey displayed a proud “3″ on the back. Logan.

Most people didn’t realize Logan was even on the volleyball team. He seemed more the reserved and studious type, and while yes, he was, he still liked to keep his body as healthy as his mind.

Plus, sports were a good way to get anger out.

Volleyball specifically showed off his body though. Logan was surprisingly muscular, with rather defined legs and, in Remus’s opinion, a great ass. All the squatting that had to be done in volleyball definitely played a part in both.

When the players start moving again (as there was a pause for rotations, and then as the next server got themselves ready), Remus groans, earning a glare from his mother.

If only she knew his peril. Due to their seats, whenever the players moved, he couldn’t focus entirely on their bodies.

Which, admittedly, wasn’t the point, as one was instead suppose to focus on the literal game being played, but that was irrelevant.

There’s a pause, before a kid tosses the ball up, runs, jumps, and hits it, serving it over the net. There’s a yell of “serve” from the other team, before they all practically go for it at once. Poor communication leads to a poor game being played, and that showed here.

The ball hit the floor, not even being touched by any of the other players, which earned frustrated groans from them, and their coach.

The home team on the other hand, aka Logan and Roman’s team, grinned, and did a short stomp while cheering “A-C-E; ace!” Despite having asked Roman what that meant, he had forgotten. All he really cared about was seeing Logan’s normally so neutral face soften slightly into a slightly proud, slightly relieved smile.

It only really happened during volleyball games. Logan really only emoted during games, whether it be through angry scowls, or pleased cheers. It was unfairly cute.

Deciding he was quite tempted to just run onto the court and scoop Logan up, he sneaks a glance at the scoreboard. 19-7, the home team in the lead, although that wasn’t surprising in the slightest.

The first game had already been played, with the home team winning that as well, which means he only has to wait until one of them (probably the home team) got to twenty-five.

Unfortunately, he was impatient, so he groans again, as his leg bounces rapidly. He was so bored, but he’d rather stare at Logan than his phone, even if the more he stared, the more he wanted to jump onto the court.

Stupid impulses. Stupid urges. Stupid sexy Logan.

There’s another serve, another scramble, another point to the home team, and another cheer from them. Remus could only hope that this one person serves the rest of the game.

And, he almost gets his wish, up until the other time finally bumps the ball, sending a free ball back over. Normally, that would provide an excellent start to an eventual set and spike, but Roman misses his set, the ball not going up high enough, and Logan ends up spiking into the net.

The other team cheers, and the home team looks bitter. Remus watches as the coach pulls them to the side (specifically Roman and Logan) to scold them. It was an easy ball that should have ended with a point for their side. And even if the ball was too low, Logan should know to try setting it or tipping it over the net.

He watches Roman shift his weight back and forth on his feet, presumably ashamed, and watch as Logan’s foot taps rapidly against the ground, annoyed, but focused on receiving the pointers nonetheless.

While he didn’t like hearing that he had messed up or done bad, Logan still enjoyed feedback.

After a few more moments, Roman and Logan run back to their positions, Roman lightly nudging Logan before they stay still and watch the serve.

If Remus didn’t know any better, he’d assume Roman was crushing on the athletic nerd. And, in all honesty, Roman had before. But after being turned down, Roman forced himself to get over it.

Remus likes thinking about that moment. It was upsetting for his brother, of course, but that meant Remus’s sexual (and, he supposed, romantic) feelings had the potential to be returned.

Although, he highly doubted it.

Even if they never would be, at least he still got to stare at that ass every time he was dragged to one of these boring games.

The serve goes over, and Roman shouts “serve!” The libero gets it, bumping it to the front row, where Roman sets it to the front left player. They tip it over, and it hits the ground right past the net, earning cheers for the home team again. Another point is added to their side

The team rotates around again, and as Logan’s rotated back to serve, the libero is rotated out, the middle front player taking their place.

Roman shoots Logan a thumbs up, and Remus leans forward in his seat. He may find volleyball boring, but Logan was an impressive player. And while he jump served, Remus was more focused on the way he approached the jump, before serving the ball over the net.

Roman always gushed about how Logan had such good control, and as Logan’s hard serve barely landed past the net on the opposing team’s side, Remus could low-key see what he meant. A point is given to the home team, and the ball is rolled back to him. Logan adjusts his glasses, before he bounces the ball a few times. He tosses it up, and lets it fall and bounce back against the floor.

He glances to the refs, and one of them whistles, before motioning to the net, indicating Logan was free to serve.

He bounces the ball once more, before tossing it up and jump serving yet again. It’s another short serve, that once again lands right past the net.

There’s angry groans from the opposing team, before Roman hears somebody say “he serves short!”

He watches as they adjust their position accordingly, and Roman turns around to nod to Logan, who nods in return. He serves again, this time regularly, and the ball goes past the front row, and a little past the back. There’s exasperated noises, as they miss it again. 23-8.

“Two more, Logan!” Roman shouts, as they bring it in for another quick ace cheer. The other team members also playfully pat his back and encourage him, and Logan backs up behind the serving line.

“Two more,” he repeats to himself, drawing in a deep breath, before tossing the ball up into the air again, serving it over. The other team hits it, bumps it, specifically, but person they bump it to bumps it over. Logan bumps the free ball to Roman, who serves it to the current middle front player, who tips it over. One of the front row players on the other team tries to get it, but they can’t manage to bump it up, and the ball falls to the floor.

There’s loud cheering. Logan didn’t join in in the premature celebrating, instead shaking his arms and head in an attempt to cure the end of the game jitters.

“One more,” he says, and Roman smiles.

“One more,” the setter repeats. “You’ve got this.”

“One more,” Remus says to himself, staring at the scoreboard, and then looking back at Logan. Logan hits the ball against the ground a few times, before looking over to the bleachers. He makes eye contact with Remus, who grins at him. Even from a distance, Logan can tell Remus is rooting for him.

He never would have expected that the class-clown, and honestly the class hindrance, to genuinely cheer for him (let alone attend a volleyball game, but Remus didn’t have much choice), and it honestly amuses him.

The whistle blows, and Logan takes a deep breath, before tossing the serve up and jump serving it over.

There’s shouts from the other team, as the ball gets just barely bumped up from the floor as a result of a dive, before bumped up again. One of the opposing middle front players jumps up to spike it, and Roman and the middle front player jump up to block it. It hits their hands, before falling back on the opposing side, bumping against the player before falling to the floor. The whistle blows, and there’s a moment of silence as it seems like everyone holds their breaths, waiting for a result.

Did it count? Or were they going to call it a violation.

After what seemed like an eternity, the refs nodding back and forth to each other, they extend their arm to the home team’s side. The final score read 25-8.

Cheering erupted in the gym, with Roman picking Logan up in a hug. Logan looks proud in his own way, a smile over his face. Teammates slap his shoulder and pull him in for hugs, before they line up to shake hands with the opposing team. Afterwards, the coach calls them over to congratulate them.

After that talk, the coach orders them to put away the net and get changed.

Parents and fans stand and cheer, and some of them run out onto the court, Remus included. He wasn’t running to Roman, however, and Roman didn’t expect him to. He runs to Logan instead, immediately hugging him and picking him up. He happily spins him around, cheering “you did it! You fucking did it!”

There’s hardly time to reprimand him for disturbing Logan as he tried to put away the net, before Remus’s has set him down and has immediately moved to running his hands over Logan’s body.

“You’re such a good player,” he says, eyes drifting from Logan’s legs, to his eyes, and then back to his legs. “I mean, I don’t understand the game much, but you’re very strong and you seem to be very good at playing.”

Normally, anyone would grow quickly annoyed with Remus’s rambling, especially if he was both feeling someone up and checking them out while doing so, but Logan didn’t seem to particularly mind. If anything, he was rather amused.

“I appreciate the compliments,” Logan says, running a hand through his sweat-slicked hair in an attempt to brush it out of his face. “I need to finish getting down the net, but afterwards I planned to grab some food and head home. Would you care to come with me?”

His parents worked late, so he’d be home alone. He lived within walking distance, and also had the money on him to grab some food, and he decided that walking with Remus would be more fun than walking alone.

“Sure,” Remus replies with a shrug, his hands coming to rest against Logan’s ass. “As long as you promise not to change out of your uniform.”

“What about the knee pads?”

“I suppose you can take off the knee pads.” He groans as he responds, and it earns a soft, and rather cute, laugh from Logan.

“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

Remus was practically swooning as he watched Logan walk away. He appears to effortlessly carry the metal poles back to the storage closet, before he heads to the locker room with a fellow teammate.

And Remus has to admit, he’s started going to the volleyball games willingly, specifically to have interactions like this.

To get the chance to spend time with Logan.

#sanders sides #intrulogical #sanders sides volleyball au?#potential volleyball au?#sanders sides volleyball au #intrulogical volleyball au #remus sanders #logan sanders #thomas sanders #was this an excuse to basically write about how much i miss volleyball?#yes #sanders sides fluff #agp fluff

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kumeko · 4 years ago

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A/N: For the Gracefield Sun zine! I wanted to take a little walk through that dark time after Norman’s death but before the escape started.

…

Despite the dark shadows and poorly lit underbrush, the expansive forest hemming the orphanage was inviting. Emma rocked back and forth on her feet, staring into the cool shadows out of the corner of her eyes. She’d wandered the shaded paths more times than she could count, memorized the unruly tree roots and low hanging branches. Ray could immediately tell you the product of any two numbers, Norman knew every path to victory in chess, and for Emma, the forest was her domain. She could navigate it with her eyes closed, if she had to.

“Emma.”

At the sound of her name, Emma tore her eyes from the trees and returned her attention to her two best friends. Norman chuckled softly, his eyes crinkled just so, while Ray gave her a moody glare.

“Could you pay attention for two seconds?” Ray grumbled, tapping his foot impatiently.

“Sorry.” Sheepish, she flushed a bright red and rubbed the back of her neck. “What’re the rules again?”

“From there?” Ray’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“It’s fine.” Finally, Norman stopped laughing. After wiping the tears from his eyes, he squeezed Emma’s shoulder. “You’ve always been better at doing than listening, right?”

Emma burned a brighter red. It wasn’t that he was wrong, per se, but did he have to put it that way? “Y-yeah,” she admitted reluctantly, scuffing her shoe against the dirt.

“So, the simple version,” Norman decided, letting go. Gesturing at the woods, he explained, “Ray and I will hide, you’ll catch us. It’ll be a game to keep you away from the hidden kids.”

“Hidden.” Emma blinked and cocked her head. Now that she thought about it, the field was oddly empty. Not even the littles ones were running across the sloping lawn. “So they’re already in the woods?”

“Yep. We need to practice distracting our pursuers.” Norman straightened his posture, rolling back his shoulders. He glanced at the morning sun. “We’ll do it for an hour and then switch positions.”

“Remember to use that brain of yours,” Ray added scathingly, and she wasn’t sure if he meant to help or insult with that comment. Either way, it was rude, and she stuck her tongue at him.

“Guys,” Norman sighed, trying to placate them. He stepped in between them, “Come on, we need to start. We don’t have much time as it is.” With a gentle push, he directed Ray to the forest. “You’ll need the head start.”

“Like you don’t?” Ray scoffed, but he started to run into the woods nonetheless.

He shook his head, watching him go. As Ray disappeared into the woods, the white of shirt fading into the dark undergrowth, Norman turned to Emma. “Alright, you got this?”

“I don’t like being it,” Emma griped, frowning. She didn’t like chasing, being the demon, the scary monster. Crossing an arm across her chest, she clutched her forearm, her fingers digging into her skin. “But I’ll do it.” She turned away from the woods. “To a hundred, right?”

“Right.” Norman stepped beside her and gently removed her hand from her arm. Uncurling her fingers, he looked at her. “You got this, okay?”

His hand was warm on her skin. She studied it for a moment before looking up at his sorrow-tinged smile. Something didn��t feel right. “Norman?”

“Just…just remember that, okay?” Without waiting for her to reply, Norman let go and started to jog into the woods. “No peeking, okay?”

Her hand still felt warm. “Norman!”

He didn’t reply, giving a simple wave before disappearing. Fine. She’d just have to ask him after she caught him. Turning away, Emma glared at the orphanage and counted to a hundred. Somewhere in there, she was certain Mama was making her plans. Well, whatever they were, they couldn’t stand up to Ray’s and Norman’s smarts.

“100,” she uttered and like a lion on the hunt, she sprang forward. Running down the hill, she burst into the forest. It didn’t take long for her eyes to adjust to the gloom, for her ears to pick out every cracking twig and rustling leaf. Her feet automatically stepped over the gnarly tree roots, making sure she didn’t trip as she kept her eyes peeled for her family.

A fake set of footprints led to the right. Several more were hastily wiped away to her left. Another trick? Probably not—she’d seen Norman do set this trap before, playing with expectations until you didn’t know what was true or not. The breeze picked up, blowing through the trees, and Emma hastily looked up just in case her younger siblings were hiding up in the higher branches. Nothing. A flash of white crossed her vision and Emma looked down just in time to catch Norman sprinting away.

“Norman?” Emma stood stock still for a moment, bemused. It wasn’t like him at all to be so forward. Maybe he was trying something new. Well then, she was willing to test it out. Pushing powerfully off the ground, Emma chased after him. Down the forest path she ran, nimbly leaping over fallen logs and jutting rocks. Norman didn’t look back once, just straight on rushing through the forest.

Neither Norman nor Ray had her stamina and Emma started to close the gap. Just ahead, she could see a break in the trees, sunlight filtering through. They’d run in a circle, almost, and she pushed forward. “I’m going to catch you!” she shouted, forcing herself to pick up the pace.

Racing past the boundary between forest and field, Emma eagerly looked left and right for her prey. What she found instead was an empty field. “Norman?” How did she miss him? She looked back, but there was no one there. “Norman!”

A cup landed at her feet, a long string attached to the bottom. Immediately, she recognized it. The ‘phone’ she used to call Norman when he’d been sick. She looked up, but the string winded far into the distance, and she couldn’t see who was on the other side. “This isn’t funny!”

There still wasn’t a response. Not even a giggle from her younger siblings. Gingerly, Emma picked up the cup, not understanding this strange new plan. Holding it to her ear, she waited for a message.

“I’m sorry, Emma,” Norman apologized.

The string brushed against her arm and she looked down to find it was cut.

-x-

Emma woke up with a start. Her hand was above her, stretching for something just out of reach. Drenched in sweat, she stared up at the dark ceiling. A dream. It was just a dream. The bed beneath her was hard, the room dark, and it was just a dream. Around her, her sisters slept soundly, their breathing soft and steady. Someone snored, like a loud bee buzzing.

This was safe. No, even half-asleep, Emma knew that was wrong. It wasn’t safe, just manageable for the moment. Blinking her eyes awake, she slowly got up and glanced out the window. There was only the slightest sliver of moonlight spilling into the room, just enough light to make out people and nothing more.

A dream. Emma laid back down. It was a dream. Despite reassuring herself, her heart continued to race. Clicking her teeth, she softly sprang out of bed. There was an easy fix to all this—she just had to go to the boys’ room. A quick peek and she’d see that it was alright, everything was fine. There was nothing to worry about.

Quietly, she stalked across the hallway, keeping to the wall to prevent creaking. She’d done this often enough as a child, sneaking into the Ray’s and Norman’s beds when she didn’t want to sleep alone. This time was no different, they were just a little bigger. As she slipped into the boys’ room, it was easy enough to spot Ray. His messy bed hair stuck up at all angles, defying gravity almost. Emma smiled fondly at his instantly recognizably profile.

And Norman—

Emma stared at the empty bed. The mattress was gone, leaving behind only the box spring.

“No,” she uttered, sliding down the wall as she remembered.. “No.”

Norman was gone. Norman was dead.

Mama had won.

-x-

Seated under the big oak tree, Emma shivered as the breeze played with her hair. It was chilly this morning. She should pull her jacket on tighter. She should move back inside. She should do something. Anything.

It all felt like too much effort. Even without Mama watching her like a hawk, her body was heavy. The world was a dark cloud and whether she moved or stayed still, nothing would change the fact that Norman was dead. Norman was gone and, in a month, so would Ray. Emma thought she’d known sadness before this, but it didn’t hold a candle to the bottomless despair she felt now. Grief, she found, was an endless well, constantly over spilling.

“You’ll get sick like that!” Catching sight of her, Gilda ran over and admonished her.

Emma looked up at her, then back at the grey-greens of the lawn.

“Here, I’ll fix your buttons,” Gilda offered kindly, kneeling in front of her. She leaned forward to adjust Emma’s collar. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she continued, “We’ve almost got the supplies ready. Don’s just gathering some more food while he’s on kitchen duty.”

Emma stayed still. “It’s cold.”

“You should go inside,” Gilda added aloud. She dusted Emma’s shoulders once, twice, before gripping them tight. Quietly, she murmured, “We’ll be ready. Don’t worry. So just…take care of yourself, okay?” Gilda was staring at her, watching her, her teeth worrying her lips. Her hands trembled as they held Emma. “Please.”

It wasn’t good to leave her sister like this, scared and uncertain. There were words she should say, words she could say: Good job, I know you can do this, or even just Thank you. What had she said, before everything had fallen beneath her feet? How had she talked to Gilda without the layer of subterfuge and farce? At the very least, she wanted to reassure her, to give her some small piece of comfort as the clock steadily counted down to Ray’s birthday.

You got this.

Unbidden, tears formed at the corners of her eyes. Norman was good at that, at comfort, at keeping the pieces together. Even now, she remembered his hand in hers as they ran from Connie’s death, his warmth seeping through her clothes and grounding her. If there was one good thing about Mama, it was that it gave Emma an excuse to slip into grief. To let it wrap around her like a thick blanket.

An understanding look crossed Gilda’s face and she stood up. Holding out a hand, she smiled gently. “Here, let’s go in.”

“That’s…” Emma tried, but the words wouldn’t form. She leaned back into the tree, her back hitting the gnarled trunk. “You…”

Gilda offered her hand still. A few weeks ago, the position would have been reversed, Emma reaching out to drag Ray to his feet. This is the view he saw, she thought, following Gilda’s hand up to her face. This was Ray’s seat and Ray’s tree and the lump in her throat burned hotter.

It wasn’t just Norman she was missing.

-x-

Emma woke up with a start. Nightmares, again. Or should she call them sweet dreams—it the was the only way she saw Norman now. In the span of weeks, his presence had been completely scrubbed from the orphanage, as though Mama couldn’t bear to feel his lingering presence either.

Pressing her hands to her face, Emma moaned quietly. It hurt. It hurt. In the darkness of the night, with only the stars as her witness, she could admit the truth of her charade: everything was painful. Living. Breathing. Figuring out a plan.

You got this, Norman had told her. Be strong and keep moving forward.

And she would, she had to, her family was at stake. They’d all live, even if she had to fight off the monsters herself. As much as she wanted to curl up and give into grief, there wasn’t time for that.

Not by day, at least.

Now, in the middle of the night, she wearily swung her legs off her bed. Despite how painful it was to see Norman’s empty bed, the only way she could get any sleep was by checking up on Ray and the others. To watch the steady rise and fall of their chests, to hear the rustling of sheets as they turned in their sleep. To see Ray’s bed hair defy gravity, a rare source of levity in the otherwise serious boy.

She wondered if he smiled anymore. They had been rare enough even with Norman around; without him, she had a sinking feeling it was impossible. Not that it was any different for her. It took every effort to tug her lips into a smile, to look at Don and Gilda and let them know they were great.

You were right, Emma wanted to tell Ray. We can’t save everyone.

Don and Gilda are working really hard. Phil’s being brave

Do you miss Norman?

She stared at Ray’s sleeping face, her tongue heavy with the words she couldn’t say. Slipping back into the hall, she sat down next to the door and leaned against the wall. She didn’t have to ask that last question to know the answer to it. Closing her eyes, she steadied her breathing. What was she looking for, anyways, coming out in the middle of the night?

A soft clatter next to her and she snapped open her eyes, tensing as she scanned her surroundings for Mama or the sister. Nothing. No one. She glanced to her right and spotted a small paper cup, wire attached to the back.

A paper-cup-phone. Emma stared at the white cup, her heart in her throat. Norman? She thought immediately, but that was impossible, he was dead. Her fingers trembled as she picked up the cup, her fingers sliding against the rim. Unlike the dream, the string stayed attached.

A paper-cup phone. Hesitantly, she placed it against her ear.

“Emma.” Ray’s voice came over, calm and clear.

Emma tried not to cry at the sound of his familiar voice. It had been too long. Quickly she pressed the cup to her mouth, muffling her voice. “Ray.”

“Good.” He sighed on the other end and she marveled at the noise, at the sound of it all. At how his voice sounded just as worn and broken as hers. “You’re safe?”

It was a stupid question. “Yeah.” Before she could stop herself, she said, “I miss Norman.”

There was silence on the other end for a long minute, so long she thought he’d fallen asleep. A quiet voice, quieter than she thought possible. “Me too.”

Part of her wanted to poke her head through the door and catch the expression on Ray’s face. She was certain it matched the one she saw in the mirror. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she leaned back against the wall. “Sometimes, I forget he’s dead,” she confessed.

“I wish I could forget,” Ray replied blithely.

There was something soothing about that familiar scorn. Emma leaned back. “She’s still watching us.”

“Yeah. She won’t stop till I’m gone.”

Fear shot up her back. His birthday was soon, too soon. There was a creak down the hall and Emma sat straight, holding her breath. After counting to thirty, it was apparently that Mama had just rolled over. Still, she had to go. “You’re not joining him, she growled. “I’ll protect you. “

She didn’t want to know how badly it’d hurt if she failed again.

#the promised neverland #tpn #norman #emma #ray #fanfic

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bullshittierlists · 5 years ago

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Spoiler Warning!!! - This review will contain spoilers for all of SDR2 and the first chapter of DRV3 as well as slight spoilers for DR1. You’ve been warned.

I see no god up here other than me

Gundham Tanaka- His name is GUNDHam TaNAKA

Sonia Nevermind- This is my third time typing this rant. I literally don’t know why people hate her so much?? There are two main arguments that I’ve come across. The first is that she is boring and shouldn’t have survived, but that’s the same as Asahina and everyone seems to love her. (Don’t get me wrong, I also love her, but all she had were donuts and her relationship with Sakura) She’s just a cute girl with some occult-ish quirks and I don’t see why that has to be such a bad thing. The other, more prevalent, argument is that since she’s at the center of the infamous love triangle, she must be the root of all its problems. It’s really frustrating when people blame her for Kazuichi’s faults. I’ll talk more about Kazuichi later, but his terrible qualities are a result of his own actions, and Sonia shouldn’t be blamed for being the object of his affections. It’s honestly blaming the victim and I’m sick of it. Obviously, she hasn’t treated him perfectly and I understand why people are frustrated with it. The only example of this, though, is in chapter four when she goes back-and-forth between treating him coldly and praising him when she should’ve just rejected him a long time ago. However, I think I can understand where she’s coming from in this chapter. I think it was kind of a Shuichi/Kaede situation. She had already figured out that Gundham was the killer, but didn’t want to admit it to herself, and definitely didn’t want to tell everyone else even though he was more than ready to admit it. Therefore, she treated Kazuichi coldly whenever he was getting close to the truth (or treating her poorly) and praised him whenever he was leading the group in the wrong direction. I don’t have any evidence that these were the times she treated him this way, but that’s how I remember it. Anyway, Kazuichi should stop being a creep, and apologists should stop rationalizing it. Her one slip-up in this case when she was panicked and worried for her closest friend does not make up for all of the other times Kazuichi treated her terribly.

You’re the best

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu- Boss baby boss baby boss baby. Also, he’s a fantastically fleshed out character and his relationship with Peko makes me cry literally every time :) I just wish his character development had been a bit more stretched out, instead of on-the-spot like it was. I also kinda wish his sudden development had been a result of the despair disease, but you can’t have everything.

Nagito Komaeda- Recently, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how SimpleFlips calls softlocking in SM64 “gay baby jail” and Komaeda makes me think of that.

Chiaki Nanami- I’m not quite as attached to her as everyone else seems to be, but I totally see the appeal. Cute girl, cute backpack, and plot-relevant??? Incredible.

Ibuki Mioda- She’s just so fun. I don’t typically like characters who are loud for the sake of being loud, but I can’t help but love her. This was the first game I fully voice-acted for fun (the girls, at least) and Ibuki was definitely one of my favorites. It just feels good to yell sometimes, you know?

Hey, I think you’re pretty cool, I like you a lot

Peko Pekoyama- I’m a simple woman. I think of chapter two, I cry. At least, the epilogue of that case. I wasn’t the biggest fan of Twilight Syndrome Murder Case and I definitely didn’t like the, albeit fake, serial killer twist. It didn’t feel natural and just felt bad. Loved hearing Sonia say “Sparkling Justice!”, though.

Hiyoko Saionji- I totally understand why people hate her. I get it, I do. But I just can’t bring myself to hate her. She’s obviously not a good person, but I have shit taste. Byakuya and Kokichi aren’t good people, but everyone loves them anyway. I just think she’s so funny and terrible, I can’t help but get attached. I’m not usually the type to like little sister characters, or even bullies, but she’s just such a perfect combination of the two that I can’t help but love her. I also obviously am not the biggest fan of Mikan (I’ll explain, I swear) so the bullying didn’t really affect me too much.

Hajime Hinata- He’s the protagonist. I don’t really know what to tell you. I used to believe in Hajime supremacy, but I’m starting to understand the Shuichi supremacy now, so idk, Hajime might end up lower after I finish V3.

Byakuya Togami/Ultimate Imposter- He’s just such a good guy. I know that the real Byakuya is an ass, but the imposter is so nice and supportive. I can’t even take him seriously as Byakuya anymore because of how supportive he is. The real Byakuya could never. I just finished his last free-time event and he really feels like his own person now, which I can imagine is all he’s ever wanted. He isn’t Byakuya to me anymore, he’s himself. I just don’t have a unique name to call him by.

I remember you

Mahiru Koizumi- Her photography thing was cute, I liked it a lot. I don’t know the basic stance people take on her crush on Hajime, but I thought it was really cute and believable. I don’t know if I ship it, but I can see it in canon. It makes sense and works well.

Akane Owari- She’s a jock. I feel pretty neutral about jocks unless they have another prevalent thing that fits my interests.

Nekomaru Nidai- Again, a jock. I’m just not the biggest fan. I know that his backstory makes up for a lot of his inherent jock boringness, but I just can’t get into him as much as some other people can. I definitely see the appeal, though.

Usami/Monomi- She’s a mascot. Cool. Honestly preferred Monophanie.

You are literally the worst. Actual scum. Leave this planet and never return

Mikan Tsumiki- I told you I’d explain. First, I need to explain some personal reasons I didn’t like her, rather than objective characteristics. Like I mentioned with Ibuki, I voice-acted the whole game with each of the girls. Never before has a voice physically affected me as much as Mikan’s. In order to make her voice so high and quiet, I have to close my throat and tighten my jaw. It makes my throat, jaw, and head hurt all at the same time and it feels awful. The only time this wasn’t the case was during her breakdown and that’s because I couldn’t make her say those things with that voice, it didn’t make sense. Which brings me to my next point: her breakdown. I didn’t like it. At all. It wasn’t interesting and it didn’t make sense. I know that everyone else was sad because she was bullied a bunch and began to romanticize it, and yeah, I feel bad, but it wasn’t enough to make me like her. Her breakdown made a little more sense after watching the anime, believe it or not, but it was still not great. She could’ve been easily redeemed for me if she had a different motive for killing Hiyoko. I don’t really have an opinion on whether or not Ibuki should’ve lived longer, or even survived, but I definitely agree with Hiyoko dying during the third case, I just wish the motive had been different. It would’ve been so powerful if Mikan’s despair disease had made her remember her past with the bullying, and then she realized how much she hated it. She started to notice how Hiyoko was treating her and finally snaps. She kills Hiyoko in cold blood on purpose, instead of on accident, and covers it up in a more reasonable way instead the literal impossibility that we actually got. Then, in her breakdown, instead of pleading for forgiveness, she tries to rationalize her actions and convince everyone else that she was in the right by killing her. It would’ve been much more interesting and would’ve made much more sense. I also wish she had made use of Ibuki’s despair disease (which made her gullible) and commanded her to hang herself instead of staging the other thing, because it was a lot of extra work that was really unnecessary and it would’ve made more use of the despair disease other than a plot contrivance for Junko’s entrance. This kind of turned into my review for the third chapter, but still. Killers are always more fleshed out in their respective chapters, so their existence is often pretty much tied to the events of that chapter, since everything typically revolves around them. I might as well add here that her execution was really basic and underwhelming, but as far as I’ve seen, I’m not alone in that opinion.

Monokuma- It’s kind of an ironic hate with Monokuma. Sure, he makes me laugh, but he’s also fuel for the killing game, so... I don’t know. He pisses me off sometimes, but he’s also pretty funny at other times.

Kazuichi Souda- This is basically a continuation of the Sonia rant, so here we go. I would like to preface this by saying that in the context of Kazuichi’s free-time events, he’s one of my favorite characters. However, in the main story, I placed him here. I would normally average out my opinions of his different forms, but his optional events don’t make up for his actions that are required to be experienced. While some of his quips toward Sonia made me laugh, they still made me uncomfortable to some extent. It’s honestly frustrating to see him try so hard when she obviously isn’t interested in him. Some people choose to see this as an underdog story, but I think it’s just annoying and low-key creepy. He’s constantly fetishizing Sonia and keeps making moves on her even after she treats him coldly. He isn’t brave or cool for doing this, like the media would like you to believe, he’s creepy and persistent, and not in a good way. While I do agree that Sonia should’ve just turned him down from the very beginning, I still don’t put all of that blame on her. I’m sure she’s had her fair share of creepy guys making advances on her and she’s just had to take it, since she’s a princess and it would hurt her noble reputation. Kazuichi should also be able to think for himself and see that she’s not interested. It shouldn’t be completely up to her to get him to stop. He should be able to take a hint and back off, whether she tells him directly or otherwise. She definitely hints to him that she’s not interested in some of the later chapters, but he completely ignores it and keeps trying anyway. I wouldn’t have such a problem with him if he didn’t represent a very real issue that we are facing in the world today. Nice guys will, unfortunately, always be plaguing our society and it doesn’t look like they’re getting any better. It doesn’t help that the media continually raises them up and convinces them that they are in the right, even though they definitely aren’t. No man is entitled to any woman and people need to stop sympathizing with men who are rejected and keep pushing. In almost every post I’ve seen from Kazuichi apologists, they explain that Sonia should’ve given him a chance. Really? She did give him a chance. She gave him several chances, in fact, more than she was entitled to. The first time she acted coldly towards him was at the end of chapter 4. That’s four entire chapters, plus a prologue, of chances that she gave him. She was always polite and talked to him when he approached her. Maybe she saw this as her noble duty, but either way, she didn’t reject him outright the first time she saw him. She tried to be friends, he was creepy, and then she started to hint that she wasn’t interested. This is a natural progression for her character and is in no way wrong of her. He is not entitled to her attention and should learn to back off when he’s not wanted. The other big reason I see that people don’t like Sonia is because she basically ruined any chance of Kazuichi and Gundham having any sort of relationship other than rivals. Again, it’s not Sonia’s fault that they both liked her. It’s also not her fault for choosing Gundham over Kazuichi, since he treated her respectfully and they also shared interests. She also didn’t need a specific reason to choose Gundham over Kazuichi, because she is free to make her own choices based on anything she wants, including nothing. Even though I said all of this, I do actually wish that Gundham and Kazuichi could’ve had some kind of relationship. I think it could’ve been very interesting, but it didn’t need to be devoid of Sonia. I think it would’ve been just as interesting for Gundham and Kazuichi to talk with Sonia as it would’ve been for her to introduce them to each other more formally and get them to become friends. I think it could’ve been fun for Kazuichi to have a little playful resentment towards Gundham for getting the girl, but instead, he went completely off the deep end. If he had just backed off like I suggested earlier, maybe they could’ve had that relationship that everyone longed for. I am also obligated to say here that I think all of his free-time events were absolutely adorable and the fact that he gets motion sickness is the single best piece of comedy every written.

Teruteru Hanamura- I’ve been doing a lot of rants and I’m kind of tired of it. You know why I don’t like him, I don’t need to explain it. He’s shitty, blah blah blah. His tiny bit of plot with his mother didn’t really do anything to redeem him for me and I just plain don’t like him. Sorry, not sorry.

Wow, this took way too long. I forgot I had so many opinions on these characters. I would’ve said a lot more about Gundham, but it’s kind of my thing here to say more about my second favorite characters and characters that I don’t like than my favorite characters, and I knew there were going to be several rants, so I decided to keep his very short. My definitive favorites list is Gundham and then Sonia, with a pending Fuyuhiko in third. The four dark devas are the best characters and I’m so upset they weren’t on here. I would apologize for my Kazuichi rant, since it had two parts, both of which were very long, but it all needed to be said because I’m sick and tired of Kazuichi apologists. They keep coming across my dash and I would like to be rid of them. If you like Kazuichi, that’s fine, I actually quite like him, too, you just need to acknowledge his faults instead of just rationalizing them in a bad way. If someone wants to send me reasons why Sonia is terrible, I’ll listen, because I’m sure I’m probably being a bit of a Sonia apologist, although I feel like her actions were a lot less impactful. Sondam supremacy, thank you, goodnight.

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for-a-muse-of-fire · 5 years ago

Text

oh, but you’re good to me

the wench and the witcher

"oh, but you’re good to me”

Fandom: The Witcher (2019)

Paring: Geralt of Rivia x Black!OFC - Zahra Auberel. Platonic!Jaskier x Zahra.

Summary: Midaëte brings the height of summer, and a reconciliation.

Warnings: Rated Mature due to brief mention of sex. Please don’t interact if you are under the age of 18.

A/N: Well, what started as a simple reader insert character grew into a fully-formed OC through the course of this series. And now we have reached the end! Well, mostly. I have some random outtakes and drabbles that I’m sure will crop up, but my (eventual) multi-chapter will feature Geralt and Zahra as they navigate some... interesting magical developments.

But, for now, I call this the end of The Wench and The Witcher. Thank you guys so much for your kind words, reblogs, likes - this is honestly the most I’ve written in years and knowing that y’all have enjoyed it warms the cockles of my heart. Title and lyrics under the cut from Hozier’s “Would That I” which I think might be my favorite Hozier song full-stop, hands down.

@coconutxraikage - @onyour-right - @ly–canthrope - @kianya-loves - @c-s-stars - @gczanetti1 - @alwaysnatz - @agniavateira - @owillofthewisps - @hina-chans-stuff - @yespolkadotkitty - @wastingmypotential - @inber

With each love I cut loose, I was never the same Watching still-living roots be consumed by the flame I was fixed on your hand of gold Layin' waste to my lovin' long ago

“Contracts from the butcher and the miller,” Lucja rattles off. “And Jaskier returned your message – says he’s very much looking forward to performing for the solstice festival.”

She gives a hum as she thumbs through the stack of papers on the desk. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you, as well,” she teases.

Lucja’s pretty round face goes pink, making her employer grin. The older woman pauses when she finds an unfamiliar piece of folded parchment among the stack of invoices. Slim brown fingers unfold the sharply folded letter and suddenly her heart is in her throat. “Lucja… where did this come from?”

“Oh… it, ah, came with Jaskier’s reply. Do you want me to get rid of it?”

Though half-tempted to let Lucja burn the letter, she bites her lip and shakes her head. “No,” she murmurs. “Thank you, Lu’ – that will be all.”

Her young barmaid flashes a sympathetic smile and closes the door behind her. The neatly looped scrawl of the letter makes something around her heart ache. She’d always been surprised by how tidy the Witcher’s handwriting was:

I don’t

This isn’t what

I’m not – fucking shit fuck

The first time I saw you, it was like walking into the light of the sun after half a lifetime in the cold. And it was so fucking cold that night.

You were like summer.

It’s cold again now, without you. I don’t know what I’m doing

Two weeks later:

I wanted want wanted to bring you to see Kaer Mohren. I know you said you like the ocean more than the mountains, but I think this place could change your mind. You would get on with Eskel like a house on fire. He’s more of a southerner, like you.

I told him about the time you tried to teach me to cook and he nearly pissed himself laughing.

Lambert’s a shit. Vesemir already likes you.

You’d like it here. The kitchen is nearly as big as the whole front room of the tavern. Library’s bigger.

Garden’s a fucking nightmare, though.

We could go to the ocean, too. Anywhere you want.

The missives don’t come with any real regularity. A few at a time, a week-long gap, but they never stop. She thinks about writing back, at first, but deciphering where the Witcher is would likely be impossible and… gods, she’s still so damned angry. The White Wolf receives no reply.

Regardless, the letters keep coming.

The thing is, I don’t know what else there is besides The Path - this life of slaying monsters and getting paid in coin. I was told that was all I needed and I believed it for a very long time. There was nothing to challenge that, not until I met you.

You were are so fucking beautiful. And warm, and bright, and vulgar, and kind, and a pain in my ass and I should have told you how much you meant to me, but I couldn’t parse it out until just now, and I am an idiot. And a coward. I thought that telling myself you were an amusement would be enough, that I would be content with warming your bed, but I can’t do that anymore. I can’t keep lying about how much I need you.

I need you, Zee. It feels like I’m missing my fucking sword arm.

The words on the page blur together. She brushes them with her fingertips, almost smiling even as the tears catch in her lashes:

I miss the way you laugh at Jaskier’s dirty songs.

I miss the way you used my legs to keep your feet warm at night.

I miss that fucking rabbit stew.

I miss the way you’d look at me when I walked in the door.

I miss the sounds you make when I’m inside of you. The way you taste.

I miss your eyes. And your smile.

Your voice. Your terrible fucking singing.

You are my home. You’re my harbor and my safe haven.

I love you. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.

---

Midaëte approaches. With it, a week’s worth of festivities, and food and drink, leading up to the day of the solstice. It means early mornings in the kitchen and late nights in the tavern. The evenings are balmy, windows and doors thrown open to allow the scent of summer air and night-blooming flowers to drift through.

For a time, she is so busy that she forgets to be heartsore. Geralt’s letters – page after yellowing page – sit tied with a gold ribbon in her desk drawer. Confessions and apologies, promises and rambling stories that she keeps picking up to read again and again. It’s a veritable book, more than he’d ever seen fit to say in person and she’s not sure whether to be infuriated or hopeful, but there’s barely time. Thank the gods.

Business booms, between trades-folk coming in for the market day, then musicians, then families. She drinks a little, dances when there is time; she lets Lucja weave tiny yellow purple flowers into her hair for Midaëte Eve and dresses in white and yellow to enjoy the evening. Or try to, at least. The main room is full almost to bursting, patrons laughing, carousing, and eventually spilling out into the courtyard to dance in the falling dusk.

Zahra watches from the doorway. A few try to tempt her into the circle for a reel and they receive a grateful smile with her refusal. Jaskier, however, will not be deterred.

“You, dear lady,” he croons. “Look too lovely to be hiding in the shadows.”

“Jas…”

“One dance. Just one – you might even have fun by mistake.”

She rolls her eyes, but the bard just grins and lifts her hand for a kiss. He leads her, hand-in-hand out to the courtyard; Jaskier gives a nod to his fellow players and they begin with a sharp beat that eases into a lovely, familiar melody.

“You know this one, ducky?” Jaskier queries with a smile. She nods and he takes the lead.

It’s a simple step, to start with. A sweet back and forth to match the sweet, flowing verse of the song. The touch of Jaskier’s hand on her low back offers guidance, keeps her moving in gentle circles around him until the real movement begins. Swinging, agile steps carry Zahra and her partner around in wide loops. The mingle with other dancers, threading hands to spin back together and then apart.

Jaskier grips her waist across the front, and she follows suit. The dizzying spin turns the world into a wash of summer colors for a moment and she can’t help but laugh. It feels good to be light again.

The bard turns her under his arm and into the hands of the next man. There’s a moment of hesitation, a moment where she considers bowing out and going back to her corner, but the tabor still thrums in her blood and it’s such a beautiful night.

Still smiling, she curtsies, and is lead back through the steps again. Her partner leads easily, light of foot and loose of tongue – from her ale, more like than not – but he’s kind, and sweet, and so funny that she’s nearly in tears when she’s suddenly spun away to her next partner. She catches the fabric of her skirts to add a flourish to the spin; the soft yellow cotton dances with her.

When spins to a stop, she sees black, at first. Matte black buttons, black tunic shirt – worn, but cleaner than it usually is. The silver wolf’s head medallion sparks in the torchlight.

Zahra looks up into the face of Geralt of Rivia and the music goes dull behind the roar of blood in her ears. It feels a bit like standing on a ledge cliff and looking down to gauge the fall. She feels dizzy, and terrified, and wonderfully breathless. Heart in her mouth, she spies Jaskier out of the corner of her eye.

The bard grins. Bastard.

“Zahra…”

The Witcher’s voice rumbles through her like soft summer thunder. Strong fingers grip hers, and he lifts her knuckles to his lips. His honey-gold eyes are more earnest and honest than she’s ever seen them – he asks the question without moving his lips. Zahra nods.

Geralt leads her in the dance and everything falls away.

She hears the music, feels it sing through her, but her focus remains on the white-haired mutant at her side. His hand spans her back, warm through her dress and stays; the lightest pressure of his fingertips, or palm, guides her to turn, or step, or pivot in time with him. It shouldn’t be surprising to her, how well he moves – she’s seen him fight, and his grace with a sword, and how would dancing be any different? He doesn’t look away from her once and the heat of his gaze flushes over her. The Witcher very nearly smiles.

Geralt turns her under his arm, guides her through the last few measures of the song. He steps away, takes his warmth with him, and bows. Zahra curtsies in return.

The crowd, the rest of the world, rushes back over them. The townsfolk whistle, and stomp, for a moment determined to swarm in and start up another country dance, and Geralt grips her hand tight for a moment. She sees him hesitate before he asks, simply, “Can we talk?”

Most of the party has spilled into the streets, leaving the tavern itself practically empty. Lucja still keeps to her spot behind the bar, green eyes going wide when she spies Zahra and her guest in tow. The girl’s pretty face splits into a knowing smile that makes Zahra’s face go hot.

It’s mostly dark in her study. The small hearth fire has gone to smoldering embers, and it gives her the opportunity to light a few candles and collect her utterly scattered thoughts. She flicks out the last taper and finally looks up at Geralt. He stands just inside the closed door, just as he used to. It’s familiar – it feels like it’s been years, or decades, or maybe just a few hours. His honey-colored gaze still holds a heat that sings over her skin. She drops her eyes to the desk.

The last letter sits there, creased and folded from how many times she’s read it. Zahra picks at the parchment. Keeping her focus on Geralt’s neat lettering seems easier than looking at the Witcher himself. “Did Jaskier put you up to this?” she teases half-heartedly.

Geralt exhales on a chuckle. “Something like. Threatened to garrote me with a lute string.”

She smiles, in spite of herself. When she lifts her head and meets his eyes, it takes a moment to catch her breath. For a few heartbeats, she simply stares. Gods, he is still so beautiful. She swallows hard and feels her throat go dry.

“Did you mean what you wrote?” she asks.

“You know I did, Zee.”

Gold eyes go guarded again. He doesn’t go totally cold, but she can see the way he builds up his walls to prepare for the worst. He steps forward. Second-guesses – stops.

“What I do – what I am – I can’t change it,” he rumbles. “I’m still a Witcher, Zahra. A mutant. I can’t… I can’t give you normal, sweetheart – ”

“Gods, Geralt - fuck normal.”

---

“Fuck normal.”

She says it with such passionate certainty that it startles a laugh out of him. The soft yellow of her skirt floats like woven sunlight around her legs. Like the sun, it almost hurts to look at her, but fuck all, that’s all he wants to do. He watches her face, watches her chew her lip; feels his slow pulse try to speed up when she steps closer. His fingers itch to curl around her waist.

“I never asked for normal, Geralt,” she whispers. The way her voice cracks pulls tight around his heart. “I don’t want normal. I want you. That’s it. Can… can you give me that, or no?”

The Witcher’s footfalls carry him to her. He studies her face; re-acquaints himself with the curve of her cheek and the dimple that presses there. She all but melts into his touch when his thumb brushes her cheek. He pulls her into the circle of his arms. She’s still soft, and warm; he closes his eyes, feels his muscles go lax with relief when she holds fast, locking her arms around his back. Geralt presses his face against the smooth curve of her shoulder.

It feels like stepping into the light of the sun after ages in cold and rain. “I love you, Zahra,” he breathes.

Her soft, tearful laugh settles warm into his heart. “I love you, Geralt.”

He gives a pleased murmur, lets the tip of his nose trail lazy circles over her shoulder. When he inhales, the warm, soft smell of her skin eases back into his lungs. From shoulder to neck, the Witcher draws in slow breaths and ghosts his lips over the exposed skin he finds until Zahra shivers. “What are you doing, Witcher?” she whispers, breathless.

“Hmm… taking your scent back,” he mumbles. “I missed this smell.”

His lips ease along the shell of her ear. She still gasps when he nips at the crux of her jaw. “I missed you, love,” he growls.

Geralt takes his time. He savors the smell and the taste of her skin, humming lowly when Zahra’s hands grip at his back. The sweetness of her begins to bloom with heat, with the richness of desire – want – and when he sets his teeth gently against her pulse point, she moans delicately. Insistent fingers tangle in his hair; she whispers his name and pulls him to her lips. She kisses him like a woman starved and it feels like his heart might thunder its way free of his chest. He lifts her onto the edge of the desk and comes to stand between her parted thighs, gathering the soft yellow cotton of her skirts up. Her fingers yank at the buttons on his trousers.

It’s a quick, desperate of coupling. Mingled breath and bitten off sighs – greedy kisses with fingers gripped in the front of his shirt. She flutters hotly around his cock with a whimper and a curse. He groans against her mouth when he comes. Zahra drinks down the noise with a grin on her lips.

Geralt stays put for more than a year. It’s good.

The Path still calls, and he still follows, but she finds she’s able to let go of the fear. It’s no longer a question of ‘if’ but ‘when’ in terms of Geralt’s return. And if he knows it’s going to be a long journey, or if the mood simply strikes him, he writes -

I miss you.

I love you.

Sometimes no more than a line, sometimes full paragraphs – even pages – but he always tells her when he plans to return. When he’ll be home.

It’s nearly spring next time he rides back in, market day in full swing as he passes through the township gate with Roach at his side. Vendors call their wares, families and merchants wander the stalls as he peers out from the shadow of his cloak. He finds the trail of Zahra’s scent past the cloying smell of cut flowers and rounds to corner to find her chatting with the butcher’s daughter.

The younger woman catches his gaze. Geralt watches the girl grin and give his woman – his woman – a nudge, nodding in his direction. Zahra is already smiling when she turns, and the Witcher has the pleasure of watching her face flash from surprise to joy in the space of a heartbeat. She moves to him, a walk that becomes a jog, and then a final sprint that launches her into his arms. He curls his free arm tight around her waist. Immediately, he has his face pressed to her hair. Zahra’s laughter rings softly in his ears when she draws back, just enough to look up into his face.

At her throat, the polished wolf’s tooth is bright against her brown skin. “Welcome home, my love,” she murmurs.

The greeting settles warm over him like the sunlight. Geralt pulls her close again, kissing her in full view of half the town. She shivers sweetly in his arms and pulls her fingers through his hair. He hears a wolf-whistle, and a smattering of applause that makes Zahra giggle against his mouth.

“People are staring,” she teases softly.

He smirks. “Let them,” he tells her before kissing her once more. She tastes of clover honey.

She smells of sunshine.

She feels like home.

#geralt of rivia #geralt x oc #geralt of rivia x ofc #geralt x ofc #the witcher #oc: zahra auberel #orignal character #the witcher netflix #fanfic #fanfiction #the wench and the witcher #tutu scribbles

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choupichoups · 6 years ago

Photo

Press F (Instagram/College AU) Ch.14

Eliott may be all that; rich, handsome, instagram famous— but the basic plebe inside comes out to play when his crush follows him from out of nowhere.

Or: Press F but Eliott’s POV

Parting is such sweet sorrow has gained a whole new meaning as Eliott stands in front of Lucas, bouncing back and forth on his heels in a bid to stall some more before he truly has to go.

“You really don’t want me to stay with you until Yann comes back?” He finally pushes out the question, brows furrowing in concern despite the reassuring smile Lucas gives him.

“I’ll be fine, Eliott.” Lucas picks Champ up from the ground when she starts spinning around in place, looking about ready to lay down and have a nap right at their feet. “Go see your mom.”

"I mean... she’ll probably survive one day without eating my dad’s cooking.” he reasons, pouting when Lucas gives him an exasperated look.

“Bring your mom her rightful lunch, just like you told your dad you would. I don’t want there to be any reason for them to hate me.”

“That’s impossible, they already love you.”

Lucas pauses, bottom lip caught behind his teeth as he looks up at Eliott uncertainly. “Really?”

Eliott softens, sighing out a quiet, “Really.” His hands move on their own accord, brushing against the line of Lucas’ jaw. He can’t imagine how a single person in this universe could ever be capable of hating Lucas.

“Really, really?”

“Really, really.”

“Cool. You really, really have to go now, though.” Lucas laughs, nuzzling into Eliott’s hands like that would help his case.

“Okay, but if you need me for anything at all, you’ve gotta promise to tell me.” The grip he has on Lucas tightens just a little, firm enough to have his boyfriend tipping his head back to see the resolve in Eliott’s eyes. “I mean it. Anything.”

Lucas can honestly ask him to do his grocery shopping right here right now and Eliott would undoubtedly agree. Hell, if Lucas tells him that the windows rattling from the wind bothers him, he’d drop everything and run back to him. Eliott has no qualms about the lengths he’d go to protect Lucas, to keep him feeling safe.

Champ yips, gazing happily up at Eliott as a comfortable silence embraces them otherwise, the sight of Lucas’ precious smile warming the crystallizing fear creeping up on him. The mere prospect of leaving his boyfriend alone for hours until Yann gets back is frankly a no go in Eliott’s books but he understands that Lucas might need some space, and Eliott has his own responsibilities to uphold.

Fuck if it doesn’t scare him, though. The atrocious start to their weekend has really done a number on him.

“I promise,” Lucas whispers eventually, leaning up to kiss the beginnings of a frown off of Eliott’s lips.

Eliott watches him carefully, running a thumb over the shadowed smudge under Lucas’ eyes. He’d waited until Lucas fell asleep first before slipping into dream land himself, but Lucas had already been awake by the time Eliott next opens his eyes— and Eliott is an early riser. He forces himself not to dwell on it, he had been privy to an offhanded comment about Lucas’ complicated relationship with sleep before so maybe this morning is nothing out of the ordinary.

“Alright, I’ll see you later.” Stooping down for another kiss, Eliott lets this one linger a little longer, breathing in once they pull away and brushing a final kiss to Lucas’ forehead. He peels his hands off of him, squishing Champ’s tiny head in between his palms to make up for how his mind is screaming for him to hold on. “You’ll take care of him for me, right tough girl?” She licks his hands in enthusiastic answer.

Lucas snorts out a laugh. “You take care, don’t miss your stop or you’ll get back too late.”

“Yes, sir.” Eliott playfully salutes as he walks backwards, stopping just out of reach before he gestures towards Lucas’ still closed door. “Well? I’m not leaving until you’re inside.”

He’s expecting the eye roll that comes— it’s sweet and fond, familiar. The exact kind Eliott craves to soothe his fraying edges.

Lucas turns around once he’s inside, grinning at Eliott and blowing an exaggerated kiss in his direction. It’s so ridiculous that Eliott’s laugh is ripped right out of him, loud and startled, echoing in the empty hallways, nipping at the sound of Lucas’ door shutting with a heavy bang.

All alone, he finds himself despondent, kicking imaginary dirt off the floor as he trudges on with a pathetic pout. There’s no proper way to explain this feeling— they’ve literally almost managed to hole themselves up in Eliott’s apartment the entire weekend. It’s not like Eliott can help it, though, he did just get Lucas back and his needy little melodramatic heart misses his boyfriend for every minute they aren’t together.

He drags himself out of Lucas’ apartment building with visible difficulty, feet shuffling against the rough gravel below his feet all the way through his journey to the bus stop.

It’s going to take him quite a while to get to his mother’s office without a car. Usually, his father has no problem dropping by himself, but he’d answered a favour for an old coworker out in Lyon and will probably be stuck there until the next morning.

In a not so shocking turn of events, his mother forgets to take her ready packed lunch to work without his father being present to remind her of it. And obviously that’s an abomination, she can’t go without a homemade lunch Eliott, she’d get so hungry and her brain won’t be as sharp as usual, her work ethic would suffer because of it. Eliott had cut off his papa’s rambling with a groan and a reluctant agreement to bring the goddamn sandwich to its rightful owner just so the guy would stop worrying already. Hopeless romantic runs thick in the blood of the Demauries apparently.

adam.fk plans today??

idrisomd sleep

abebkhellal oof yeah

emir.yous buncha boring old men

omarions says you?? didn’t you spend fall break last year learning how to play chess lmao

emir. yous we don’t talk about that

idrisomd shut up emir not everyone is a free bird like you I was editing some stuff and I realized I need that dumb triangle still lol eliott can I borrow yours pls

emir.yous maybe if you don’t procrastinate you’d have more free time I thought you were keeping that triangle??

idrisomd maybe if you shut up you’d get more dates I had to sacrifice it for the greater good

Eliott laughs under his breath, contemplating whether he should add his two cents into the conversation. In the end, he keeps to himself for now, reading through the childish banter that inevitably starts up.

The triangle, huh. He’s glad the bus is mostly empty at present, else the giggling he can’t quite suppress would’ve probably worried some people. Fucking unbelievable, really. It’s ridiculous how it all started, now that he thinks about it. It feels like a lifetime has gone by since then.

Eliott still remembers it, vividly. That moment he set his eyes on Lucas. It’s the week before their new semester officially starts— a Thursday to be specific. He and his friends are scrambling around frantically attempting to maximize their remaining days of freedom to get ahead on his and Idris’ new film project.

“Props.”

“Props?”

“Yeah, we’re missing some props.”

Eliott struggles with the cardboard boxes he’s dragging behind him— they’re saving all the money they can by building the set for filming themselves. The rest of the guys get pulled into the fray, as always, so it’s a bit of a disaster when they’re all going around picking up stray cardboard and styrofoam just in case they need it for later.

“What’s the thing you were talking about earlier?” Abe snaps his fingers, trying to recall everything they need before leaving campus.

Idris jumps. “The triangle!”

“What do we need a triangle for?” Adam asks, fumbling with the styrofoam cups he’s balancing in one hand.

“For that one scene in the forest.”

“There’s a scene in the forest?” Omar pipes up from behind their circle, returning from the storage room where he’d gone to dig out some black garbage bags they can borrow.

“Well, it’s Emir’s backyard but whatever.” Eliott mutters, scratching things off of their checklist. “Can’t we just fake the triangle sounds?”

“Too much effort for a little scene. Don’t you have one at yours?”

“Yeah, but my place is out of the way, it’ll take too much time going there and then to Emir’s.” He shrugs, tapping the pen against his chin. “We can take the one from the theatre.”

Emir gives him a look. “We are not stealing the orchestra’s triangle.”

“Nobody will miss it,” Abe dismisses, already walking off to load their things in his car.

“What if someone tells the director it’s missing?”

“Emir, who would notice a missing triangle?” Idris raises his hands as he talks, incredulous at the question. “When you watch your classic live shows, do you hear anyone go oh, yes, the triangle was on point today? No you don’t, cause nobody gives a fuck about the goddamn triangle, man. Eliott, can you please grab us the triangle so we can get outta here?”

“If we get in trouble, I get plausible deniability,” Emir mumbles defiantly. Eliott snorts, patting Emir on the shoulder on his way out.

The theatre is only a short jog away from the parking lot so Eliott slips through the doors in no time, rooting around backstage for the instrument. He finds the little thing buried underneath a broken flute and a... tambourine?

Single piano notes echo along the walls without warning, and Eliott jumps from his crouch, heart beating fast from shock. He doesn’t run, though, because whoever is out there is obviously not going to spot him if they’re preoccupied with playing the piano.

He’s just about to leave again, grab his stolen goods and sneak his way back out, when the aimless piano notes begin to blend together with effortless flow, a sudden transition tickling his ears so pleasantly that Eliott can’t bring his feet to move along more than two steps at a time. Transfixed, he walks closer to the curtain, curious as to who would play such a beautiful melody so delicately.

Eliott has always wished life would be as easy as the films he's grown up watching— with twists and turns that cause crushing moments, yes, but with the comfort of a happy ending to cushion against the pain through it all. He’s always dreamt of something cliche to happen to him once in his life. Maybe he could win the lottery and live the rest of his life as a billionaire. Maybe he could meet someone so inspiring he’d gain the courage to pack up and explore the world with nothing but a boat and backpack. Maybe he could fall in love at first sight

The boy on the piano is turned sideways but Eliott can clearly see him from where he’s hidden behind the curtain. The smile on his face is plain adorable and the way he’s swinging his feet under the piano (he’s not even using the piano pedals and it still sounds so good) goes straight to Eliott’s heart.

His feet carry him forward, as if entranced, so helplessly drawn into the boy’s gravity—

“Stop,” the boy says, laughing. Eliott stops, startled. “You’re gonna ruin it, Yann,” his angel continues, head swinging to the side where another person who Eliott has apparently not seen is sitting.

The other guy, Yann, laughs too, picking up a violin. “No I swear, I can do it. I took classes once, remember?”

“Yeah, like ten years ago and you quit after two days.”

The two boys giggle at each other and the angel stops playing, attention fully on Yann. There’s a profound affection in the way they interact together, which makes glum little stones fall heavy against the bottom of Eliott’s stomach.

Jesus, he needs to calm down. He doesn’t even know the boy’s name yet.

His phone vibrates in his pocket and Eliott’s glad he’s forgotten to put the ringer back on. He doesn’t know how he’d explain it if the two boys catch him skulking around backstage.

Eliott runs out of the theatre soon after, remembering how pressed for time he and the guys already are. He tries to put the thought of the boy behind him, making vague hand gestures in lieu of explaining what delayed his return when the guys question him.

He fails miserably.

The bus lurches and Eliott almost drops his phone, fingers grappling for a firm hold on the screen as it slips and slides from the abrupt movement. He still has the group chat with the guys open so the scrabble has him accidentally scrolling up, up, up around a month back.

When he looks down at the screen, he's taken right back to that delightful moment Lucas had unknowingly caused back then.

The doors open and close, one person exiting but a whole crowd entering right after. Eliott presses himself more comfortably into his back seat corner and settles a hand over his mouth, covering the widening grin stretching his lips as he reads through his own moronic words.

Good god, looking back on it now is hilarious, but Eliott will never forget the all consuming panic he’d felt at the time.

Eliott exits out of the chat, frantically scrolling down his barrage of notifications to stare reverently at the one that matters most.

lucallemant started following you

It’s almost two hours past midnight, with him having just finished up the sketch for the side project he’s working on by himself. He’s been looking forward to falling into bed ages ago but now he’s wide awake, brain swirling with jumbled thoughts and with no hope of falling asleep within the next second.

srodulv when should I? should I wait til later?

adam.fk maybe wait til its not 2 in the morning lmfao

srodulv what if I wait too long and he unfollows

abebkhellal god almighty 😂😂😂 sorry bro no one can help u now

srodulv help me

emir.yous why does it matter? just follow him now

idrisomd he’s probably sleeping so he won’t know you’re a nocturnal beast

srodulv he won’t think that’s lame?

omarions he’ll eventually figure out how lame you are so might as well run with it

srodulv fuck off

idrisomd yeah man you can’t hide lame

emir.yous sorry we can’t help with that

abebkhellal rip

srodulv has left the chat

A bunch of useless hooligans, those guys are. He needs better friends.

His phone pings with more notifications— Idris has added him back in the group chat but Eliott ignores the messages for now, knowing full well that there’d be nothing but more of them poking fun at his current dilemma.

He opens up Lucas’ profile, heart palpitating as his thumb hovers over the follow button. Looking at the boy’s feed brings him the same mix of apprehension and fondness, as always. The latter because he’s an idiot who apparently falls head over heels for snippy little piano players and the former because, well—

I’m sorry, bro. I saw something, I think they’re maybe together? I’m still not a hundred percent on it, though.

Eliott sighs, clicking on Lucas’ latest post, of that guy playing the guitar for him. He scoffs, he can play the guitar too. He can even do the Star Wars theme song. On the guitar and the piano. Lucas needs to see that he’s the better choice over here.

He lets his screen go dark, closing his eyes as he urges himself to relax. It is quite an ungodly hour to be awake so he drops his phone on the bed, turns over, and hopes that morning comes with a newfound game plan to get the love of his life to love him back.

The good news is that morning does come, but the bad news is that all the plans he comes up with throughout the day are steaming piles of shit.

“I think I’m in love,” he blurts out, sitting in the basement of Emir’s house. Idris is standing on the couch, trying to cover the ceiling spotlights with printer paper so as to ‘dull’ its luminosity. Adam and Omar are struggling to hold up some desk lamps while Abe holds coloured file folders over the bulb, changing the colour of the lights for the correct ‘ambiance’. Emir is elbow deep in crushed styrofoam pieces.

They all exchange looks of confusion before Abe goes for a hesitant, “Uh... just now?”

Eliott scowls, waving a hand as if they’re so stupid to be unable to read his mind. He gestures to his phone, still open to Lucas’ Instagram page.

"Oh yeah! Any progress on that front?” Idris hops down, eyes glued to the ceiling as he backs up, slowly as if one wrong move could shake the house so much that his pieces of paper would dislodge themselves.

“No.” Eliott pouts, flailing his legs in unashamed frustration.

“Okay, well, have you followed back?” Adam asks, twining some rope around the lamp once they’ve figured out the best angle to go with.

“No. Shit,” Eliott hisses, sitting upright and immediately hitting the follow button. He’s been so focused on figuring out how to start a conversation with his angel that he’s neglected to think of much else.

One of them sighs, but Eliott doesn’t bother to look up at the sound of it.

“So what are you gonna do next?” Emir abandons his crumbly work of art, now sitting cross legged across from Eliott.

“He’s vague posting.” Idris grins, scrolling through his phone. “Ooh, Polaris. When did you even sneak off to take this? That caption though. Much mystery, so cool.”

“Shut up, it’s an old picture.” Eliott throws a couch cushion at him, then proceeds to slide onto the floor, diving flat on his stomach closer to the guys, as he comes up with the most brilliant idea. “What if I’m not?”

“Huh?” Abe goes to sit on the floor as well.

“What if I’m not cool or mysterious? Would that get him to talk to me?” Eliott’s thumbs are working on overdrive before the words are fully out of his mouth, scrolling down each and every one of Lucas’ photos and hitting like on as many of them as he can manage.

He looks up just it time to see the dawning realization on Abe’s face. “No!” he screams in horror, reaching out to snatch the phone from Eliott’s hands. “No, you— oh man, you guys, he did a weird thing.”

“It’s not weird,” Eliott dismisses, trying to retrieve his phone back but every attempt is slapped away by the annoying people he unfortunately calls friends. “It’s called reaching out.”

Idris is cackling, bent over in half as Abe shakes his head in wonder. “That’s kinda genius, though? How very Eliott of you,” Idris gasps out once he’s done wheezing up a lung.

“He’s getting the Eliott experience way too early in the relationship.” Omar mumbles, curiously going through the rest of Lucas’ older posts. “Aw, cute.”

Eliott scrambles towards them, wanting to see which post Omar’s referring to despite the fact that he’s seen every single photo twice over.

His hand slowly creeps up above the phone and double taps on the post.

“Oh my god, someone restrain him.” Adam says, dragging a hand down his face. He sounds like he’s trying his hardest not to laugh which is more than what he can say for the rest of them so Eliott appreciates his effort.

“Come on, Eli monkey, time to break off from Insta for a bit, hm?” Idris walks forward, still chuckling as he tries to pull Eliott off the ground and away from his stolen phone.

Eliott wraps his arms around Idris’ ankles, almost making the latter fall on his face in the process. “But he’s so beautiful.”

“Yes, yes.”

“His eyelashes are the 8th wonder of the world.”

There’s a collective groan from everyone in the room and then Eliott feels a placating hand patting the top of his bowed head. “Yes, we get it. But you gotta get up now, lover boy. We‘ve got shit to film.”

By the time his stop comes up, Eliott has to squeeze himself past a godawful amount of passengers. He gets it’s break week for a lot of the students but considering it’s a Monday afternoon, Eliott is of the opinion that there really shouldn’t be this many people out and about.

His mother’s office is a towering structure of reflective glass and one way windows. Eliott pushes at the revolving doors, nods a smile towards the reception desk, and settles into one of the many armchairs in the lounge area. He shoots a message for his mama to come meet him downstairs and doesn’t wait for a response before switching tabs to pull up the film he’s been wanting to see all day. Initially, he’s planned on seeing it with Lucas, knowing that it’s just the right amount of lengthy and boring (for his boyfriend’s taste) to have Lucas cuddling for a nap on his shoulder instead.

But alas, his plans are impeded by none other than his loving parents. Again. He still hasn’t quite forgiven them for poking fun at him being grumpy at brunch after that first night he’d spent with Lucas.

About ten minutes in, someone walks towards him and sits directly across from Eliott’s armchair, never mind that the entire lounge area is devoid of any other person than the two of them.

Eliott doesn’t pay it much mind, unmuting his phone speakers just loud enough for him to hear the background music coming from the film— he wants to record the sound and see if that kind of music score would work well for the mini project he’s planning to put up in the future.

The stranger lets out a faint chuckle but Eliott ignores him, watching the minutes rise on the recording to make sure that he doesn’t miss a single note. Never let it be said that Eliott doesn’t take his films seriously.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Violence is never at the forefront of Eliott’s mind. In fact, he thinks it doesn’t solve much, and should be considered as the last resort. But as life would have it, there are always a few exceptions to the rule and unfortunately for his good mood, the sole exception he’s found in his twenty one years of existence has decided that today is the day that Eliott will commit murder.

Eliott’s eyes flick to where Raphael relaxes back in his seat, legs crossed and fingers delicately twined in his lap— to any outside viewer, he truly looks the perfect representation of an educated, well-bred gentleman. Eliott sees why people are drawn him.

“Fancy isn’t the right word,” he says, just as casual. He pauses the film, music cutting off just in time for him to hear another one of Raphael’s grating chuckles. “Why are you here?” The answer is obvious; pressed slacks and dark suit a dead give away. He remembers Lucas mentioning that Raphael works in a law firm but Eliott needs to hear it, to make sure that fate has really handed this opportunity over on a silver platter.

Raphael spreads his arms. “I work here,” he answers, smug. “What about you? Someone trying to pin murder on you?”

Funny how he’s asking that, but Eliott doesn’t answer his question. “New York too much for you, huh.”

Eliott watches the minute narrowing of Raphael’s eyes, taking pleasure in the fact that the guy hasn’t expected Lucas to divulge their story in such detail.

“New York was great, actually, they offered me a spot there as well but eh, I need to think about it.” Raphael leans forward, elbows on knees as he brings one hand up to rub across his lips, faux thoughtful. “I left a little something behind here.” He looks at Eliott, then, and the latter sees the fabricated warmth in his eyes freeze over, ice cold in barely restrained anger. “I want it back.”

Don’t mess this up, Eliott reminds himself, fists clenching and unclenching as he reigns in his temper. How he’d love to feel the crunch of Raphael’s nose under his fists right now, but it’s not that kind of battle. Eliott only has one shot to play his cards right.

“Cut the bullshit,” he responds, surprisingly calm. “Lucas isn’t yours to take back.”

Raphael laughs. “Why, he’s yours now?”

Yes. “Neither. I’d appreciate it if you stop talking like he’s something to pass around.”

“How chivalrous of you.”

“I’m surprised you know what that means.” Eliott wants to say more, but he grits them back. There are more important things for him to needle out. “What with all the shit you put him through.”

“I didn’t do anything.” Raphael falls back into the cushions once more, infuriatingly unaffected.

“Do you want an essay or a list?”

“So quick to believe everything you’re told, are you? Did he cry and look at you with those big blue eyes? He does that all the time to get what he wants.” There’s a strain at the corners of Raphael’s eyes, nonchalant facade slipping down the longer Eliott stares on without a word. “You know there’s no evidence for any of these, right?”

The quick dismissal of Lucas’ personal recounting almost does it for Eliott. But if Raphael is a master of manipulation then Eliott is of restraint— he won’t let Raphael win. “Yeah? You gonna tell that to the marks on his wrists?”

Raphael scoffs, “That was an accident. Friday was a big misunderstanding, trust me. It’s called tough love, he likes it.” He smiles, obviously waiting for a reaction from Eliott but the latter maintains an impassive exterior.

“It’s called assault.” He barely refrains from tagging on a spiteful fuckface at the end of that.

“Whoa there, that’s some heavy accusation you’re dropping!” Raphael laughs, running a hand through his hair. “Do you know who I am?”

“A sad excuse of a man who takes advantage of vulnerable minors?”

Raphael clicks his tongue. “You think you’re so perfect, huh?”

“Far from it.” Eliott shrugs. “But I don’t hurt the people I’m supposed to love.”

“Well aren’t you just the sweetest.” Sarcasm drips from Raphael’s words. “You think if we both stand here, right in front of Lucas, and make him choose.” He leans forward, a desperate glint in his eyes. “You’re positive he’d choose you? Cause let me tell you, Eliott, that boy is wired for my touch, for my voice, for my own to do as I please, and he will choose me no matter how much I hurt him. He will always come back to me and you can’t do shit about it.”

Victory feels good when taken by a landslide. Eliott grins, and he sees confusion, frustration, and wariness warp Raphael’s carefully constructed expression into that of something… human. Human, unlike the impenetrable monster Lucas has painted inside his head. Human, who, despite the cunning and intelligence, very much fucks up like everyone else. And oh, has Raphael fucked up big time.

“My turn,” Eliott says cheerfully, just to mess with the bastard even more. “Do you know who I am?” Slowly, so as to make sure that Raphael catches the movement, Eliott stops the recording on his phone.

Raphael shoots up from his seat, panic dousing his face red all over before seething rage takes prominence. He hisses out a quiet, “Get rid of that, right fucking now. You don’t want to mess with me.”

Eliott stands, huffing out a small laugh as he notices that they’re of equal height. None of Raphael’s tactics has worked, or will ever work on him. “Nah, it’s the other way around.”

“Eliott?”

Georgine Eloise Demaury, part time managing partner of the law firm, part time vicious criminal prosecutor, and full time doting mother, makes a tall, intimidating figure in her navy suit and sky high heels. Her eyes are steel blue as they land on Eliott and Raphael alternatively. The red on her lips is a sharp scowl, striking against the paleness of her skin.

Eliott presses his lips together, amused at the sight of what he fondly refers to as her working bitch face. She’s forbidden Eliott from visiting her at work too often just because he’s the only one capable of cracking her diabolical attorney persona. He keeps quiet, shrugging innocently when she raises a questioning eyebrow at him.

“Hi, mama.”

He hears Raphael’s sharp intake of breath and fuck, that feels good.

Her lips twitch the slightest bit. “You two know each other?”

“Just having a friendly chat,” Eliott says, looking over at Raphael with a tight smile. He relishes the startled loss he sees there.

“I’m waiting on a call from Mr. Schutt,” Raphael says, rearranging his face, posture straightening under Georgine’s gaze.

“And you?” She addresses Eliott this time.

“I brought lunch?” Eliott gestures at his bag on the chair. “Papa got worried you’d starve when you told him you forgot it.”

She rolls her eyes at her husband’s dramatics. “You didn’t have to come here.”

“Yeah, well, tell that to papa. You’re gonna have to eat it now, I ditched my boyfriend for this.”

“Ah, how’s Lucas? Come up to my office, you didn’t finish telling me how he’s doing last night,” she says, rigid frown compensating for the soft tone in her voice. Across from Eliott, Raphael flinches at the mention of Lucas’ name. “I need to grab something from IT and then I’ll be right there.”

“Will do.” Eliott smiles, throwing his backpack over one shoulder when his mother walks away. He waits until the click clacking of her heels fade off completely before he turns to face Raphael. “So anyway, I suggest you think very hard about that offer in New York.”

“You’re insane,” Raphael mutters behind clenched jaws.

Years ago, that might have stung. Coming from someone else, it might still hurt. But as it is, Eliott revels in it. “You have no idea,” he says, raising his hand for the most condescending pat on the back he’s ever delivered before heading off to the elevators.

Eliott ends up taking a long nap on his mother’s office couch, tired from interacting with Raphael and his stupid mind games. Sure, he’d come out on top of that one but lengthy confrontations are most definitely not Eliott’s cup of tea. He thinks if Raphael still has the audacity to show his face after that, Eliott will let loose of inhibitions and just start a proper fist fight.

Recording their conversation had been a gut reaction— he’s not even sure it would help much if push comes to shove. But his mother has quite the terrifying track record and judging from Raphael’s reaction, he knows that too. He almost wishes for Raphael to do something stupid, to trip up the wire on Eliott’s half baked, convoluted plan to take him down permanently. The idea of delving into it scares him a little. He knows shit all about the justice system and Raphael is literally part of the goddamn system.

Lucas wants to leave it to karma, and maybe he’s right.

But then Eliott remembers the tears streaming nonstop down Lucas’ face, the blank disconnect in his eyes throughout that night. His worn voice begging for Eliott not to let go. The hours spent in bed coaxing for an unresponsive Lucas to sleep just a little, I’m right here. The events of that night have taken permanent residence in his mind, painfully unwanted, but there to stay.

lucallemant Eliott, I know I said I’d give you all the time you need And I mean it, you can have more right after this But please, can you pick me up at work? I need you please Please

Call him dramatic all you want, but Eliott’s world comes apart when he reads Lucas’ pleading messages. His vision narrows, the path a blurred vignette, and time slows as if he’s thrown into the fucking matrix. Except there’s nothing exciting or amusing with this development, and his limbs work through honey as he turns and grabs a jacket, shoves his feet into mismatched shoes, and makes a run for it.

It’s not the messages itself that cost him his breath— though those do have him worried out of his mind, unable to even begin guessing as to what would scare Lucas enough to send them. It’s the timestamps that have his heart rattling with unease. The faint chanting of too late too late too late a mournful echo in his head.

He pays no mind to it when he begins panting, head pounding as the freezing wind bites at him with heavy force, unbothered that he hasn’t eaten much for the past however long. He’s not going to stop until he reaches his destination.

However, when he gets there, the cafe is dark and empty. You’re too late, the voice is screaming now. Eliott tells it to shut up, paces the area for a bit, and then checks inside the darkened alleyways. It’s empty. He walks the opposite direction, headed towards the parking lot— and there, that’s when he hears the hushed voice speaking.

Eliott swivels around, rushes towards the sound, and doesn’t allow himself to hesitate on the idea that it’s not Lucas trapped in between the wall and that man’s body.

“Get the fuck off of him.” When he’s close enough, he shoves them apart, fighting against the urge to take Lucas in his arms right away. He has to get rid of the man first. The visceral clutch of anger simmers inside of him, a heat of gargantuan proportions boiling his blood. Eliott imagines this is what one would feel like just before committing a heinous crime.

His interaction with the stranger barely sticks to Eliott’s mind, more focused on the way Lucas presses close to his back. His hands shake with barely constrained fury but he doesn’t move, afraid Lucas will fall if Eliott isn’t there to hold him up. “You can fuck right off or I swear to god.”

The man raises his hands, chuckles ringing malicious as he shakes his head. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

Eliott doesn’t care for his cryptic bullshit. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

His smile is visible in the dark and Eliott’s been around enough of those with questionable morals to pinpoint the lack of kindness in it. “Fine.” He tilts his head as if to catch a final glimpse of Lucas but Eliott tucks Lucas in tight behind him— this guy doesn’t deserve to even look at him.

When the sound of a car engine fades out, Eliott turns around, engulfing Lucas as best as he can, hoping that his embrace would provide a temporary shelter from it all. He knows it’s impossible, knows he can’t do much on his end other than watch with powerless clarity as painful sobs wrack the small body in his arms. He repeats a litany of apologies into Lucas’ hair. “I have you, I have you.”

Their walk home is silence in its strangest form. Eliott realizes there’s something wrong, he can feel it at the tips of his fingers but he puts it down to Lucas gathering his thoughts and lets him be.

“Lucas,” he says as the apartment comes into view. “I know we haven’t… I don’t… listen, can I stay with you for the night? I’ll sleep on the couch, anything, I just want to be there.”

Silence.

Eliott bites his cheek, fidgeting nervously when Lucas continues to not say anything. He chances a glance at the boy beside him and sees him looking straight ahead, expression blank as if nothing’s been said.

“Thanks,” is all Lucas says once they reach the steps to the building, failing to acknowledge Eliott’s request.

“Lucas, wait!”

Unheard, just like the last time.

There’s something really, really wrong.

Eliott picks at his head, staring up at what he knows to be the window to Lucas’ apartment. He tells himself he’ll only wait until the lights flicker on, but seconds turn to minutes and the window remains dark. Chest tightening, Eliott changes his mind. He’ll wait until someone goes in or exits the building, will plant himself outside of Lucas’ door— he doesn’t care if Lucas or Yann don’t want to see his face right now, all he wants is to make sure that Lucas stays safe for the rest of the night.

Except the next person to exit the doors is Lucas himself, Champ cradled in his arms.

“Why are you not inside?” Eliott is familiar with the feeling of helplessness but it always pertains to his own mind, his own body. He’s rarely ever so taken off guard that he doesn’t know how to make it better for someone else. And yet here he stands, frozen with panic, speechless in the face of the one he loves most.

Yann isn’t home, Lucas is hard-pressed on buying extra locks for their door, and there’s no way Eliott is letting him back inside the apartment all alone.

“Lucas,” Eliott reaches out, wants nothing more than to cradle Lucas’ face in between his hands, but he’s afraid of what touching him would do. “Come back to me.” It sounds unsteady even to his own ears and maybe Eliott’s having a little trouble breathing, but he’s more desperate for Lucas to meet his eyes than worry about his next inhale.

Lucas doesn’t. Come back to Eliott, that is.

The entire walk up to his apartment, and then the walk back to Eliott’s are both filled with a strained distance that has nothing to do with physical proximity. Eliott’s no longer surprised when Lucas doesn’t answer any of his questions but he keeps firing off either way, hoping against all odds that something would click. But it doesn’t work that way, he knows. He, of all people, should know better.

He tries again once they’re inside the safety of Eliott’s home. “Lucas, are you with me?” Eliott asks and he’s not. He’s not.

Running out of options, Eliott’s hand hovers over his mom’s contact info, his dad’s, Idris’, Lucille’s— he just wants someone to tell him what to do.

In the end he doesn’t get to call anyone, as a loud thud comes from the bathroom where he’d left Lucas and Eliott trips over himself in his rush, crashing into the kitchen counter, banging his arms against the potted plant hanging in the living room.

But the pain from those clumsy little accidents is nothing compared to the sight of Lucas crying on the floor, blue eyes running red from the force of his tears. “Lucas?”

“Eliott.” His voice is so quiet, so broken that it takes Eliott down to his knees, colliding harshly against the tiled floors as he brings Lucas into the circle of his arms. Tears gather in the corners of Eliott’s eyes but he knows for certain that they’re not from the sting of his fall.

“Don’t let me go back,” Lucas pleads, breath caught between one word and the other.

“You’re never going back,” Eliott swears on his life.

Lucas quiets down after what feels like hours upon hours of tears and stuttering breaths. Eliott knows he isn’t asleep, though— his wet lashes brush softly against the skin of Eliott’s neck for every blink. Left without much option, Eliott detangles their legs and carefully lifts Lucas into his arms, a mustard seed of hope swelling in his chest when Lucas twitches at the movement. There’s a pause as Eliott waits for the boy to protest, grumble for Eliott to put him down, he can walk on his own.

It doesn’t come, so Eliott goes to tuck him into bed, receives no protest when he quietly dresses Lucas in the clothes he’s brought out. Lucas’ eyes remain downcast the entire time, immovable no matter how many times Eliott brushes a hand through his hair, wipes at the tear tracks smeared on his cheeks.

Lucas doesn’t sleep until well past two in the morning. Eliott doesn’t sleep at all.

“You okay, honey?”

His mama looks like a whole different person in private, Eliott’s always marvelled at her ability to switch off just like that. Her eyes are all clear skies and motherly affection, no trace of the savage G.E Demaury to be found as her hands card gently through his hair.

He wants to tell her so badly, but this is Lucas’ story to share. Involving his parents to ask for help with anything is a foreign concept to Lucas and would make this a bit more complicated, yes, so Eliott will just have to wear patience like it’s going out of style.

“Yeah,” he croaks out, still groggy from his nap.

“Do you wanna wait for me to finish up here and I can drive you back?”

“Uh…” Eliott rubs his eyes, forcing his brain to catch up with his mama’s words. He checks his phone before answering, blinking while his eyes adjust to the brightness of his screen.

lucallemant Do you wanna come over for tonight? I know we were just together but It’s fine if you’re gonna be back too late though

He thinks he’s actually physically melting just from reading those. “It’s okay, I have to get going now.”

srodulv If I didn’t fall asleep I’d be begging you to come over anyway

lucallemant You were asleep at your mom’s work??

srodulv 😂 See you soon ♥️♥️♥️ ♥️♥️♥️♥️ ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️ ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️ ☹️ ♥️

lucallemant ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️ ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️ ♥️♥️♥️♥️ ♥️♥️♥️ ♥️♥️ ♥️

srodulv 😊 ♥️

He stops to get some take out on the way, knowing Yann will be there and would most likely not be so chummy with Eliott after the whole thing from the past few weeks. He figures he can extend a truce through food— the way to a man’s heart and all.

When he knocks on Lucas’ door, he hears a couple of thuds, some rapid, illegible whispering, and then the door finally opens only for Lucas to catapult himself into Eliott’s arms. The door slams shut behind him and Eliott might just be seeing things but he’s pretty sure that’s a glimpse of Yann’s unimpressed form standing on the other side of the door.

“Hi,” Lucas breathes out, one arm slung around Eliott’s neck while the other is bent awkwardly behind him, holding onto the wriggling doorknob as if to keep a ravenous beast from escaping.

Uh oh.

“Hi,” Eliott greets back. “On a scale of Champ to Jurassic Park, how scared should I be of Yann right now?”

Lucas bites his lip and Eliott can’t help it— he kisses him before Lucas can respond. He means for it to be a chaste touch, but Lucas lets go of the knob (thankfully no longer rattling) and throws both arms around Eliott, pressing closer and opening his lips to deepen the kiss. Eliott lets himself indulge in it but is quickly brought back to reality when he tries to wrap both arms around Lucas only for the take out bag to hit Lucas’ ass with a dull thunk.

“Ow, what the fuck.” Lucas pulls away, spinning on the spot as he looks for the offender.

“Sorry,” Eliott laughs, lifting the bag. “I bought food. Peace offering.”

“Oh my god, you’re so smart,” Lucas says, sounding genuinely pleased. “I apologize in advance though, he thinks he’s my dad sometimes.”

“Damn right!” Yann shouts from behind the door.

“Jesus.” Lucas mutters under his breath. “You ready?”

Eliott nods, rehearsing the quick speech he’d made up in his head during the ride back to Lucas’ place. All that preparation’s for nothing, however, when all Yann does is look at him when the door finally opens. He looks at Eliott like he’d done weeks ago, when Eliott had taken Lucas home after the encounter with his father, unspoken understanding passing between the two of them as easy as that.

I technically have no right to be mad but I am, Yann’s usually kind eyes are hardened earth. There’ll be hell to pay if you pull that shit again, the look in them all but screams mistrust.

Eliott nods, hoping Yann also understands his most sincere but wordless response— never again.

The stare off probably only lasts a few seconds but to Eliott, it feels like an eternity before Yann’s eyes start to squint, one hand reaching for the take out bag that Eliott has stuck in the space between the two of them. Slowly, Yann takes a hold of it, snatches the bag from Eliott’s grip, and sniffs into it. He’s still squinting at Eliott as he walks backwards to take the food inside the kitchen.

“Okay, weird but blessedly silent. I’ll take it,” Lucas huffs, taking Eliott’s hand and dragging him past the living room and into the little hallway. Belatedly, Eliott realizes that they’re headed straight for the bedroom, Lucas marching them towards the door like a man on a mission.

“Don’t you wanna eat?” Eliott asks, pulling back to slow Lucas down. “I bought that for you too.”

“Later, I just,” Lucas pauses, his door already wide open once they reach it. “I have to ask you something.”

Well that doesn’t sound foreboding at all. Eliott clears his throat. “Okay.”

They arrange themselves on the foot of the bed, legs crossed and facing each other. When Lucas starts fidgeting, Eliott reaches over to intertwine their fingers together.

“I know we joked about it before… or more like just yesterday actually… but uh,” Lucas starts, looking around the room to avoid meeting Eliott’s eyes head on. “So Marie’s home now and I’m taking Champ back to her on Thursday.”

“Okay,” Eliott says, smiling when Lucas discreetly looks at him from the corner of his eyes.

“Okay, um.” Lucas takes a deep breath and spills the rest out on a long exhale. “My mom will be there too and I was wondering if you’d like to come?” He’s wincing by the time the question ends and Eliott, endeared, can only stare. “Maybe? You don’t have to. I understand if it’s too early or whatever—”

Eliott brings their tangled hands up to his lips and rains down kisses to the back of Lucas’ palms until he shuts up.

“I’ll come,” he says, and then after a short silence continues with, “I’d love to.”

Lucas’ relief is palpable.

“Okay. That’s… that’s good.”

“You’re cute when you’re all nervous like this,” Eliott teases, wanting to see Lucas’ smile. Sure, it’s only been a couple of minutes since he’s last seen it but Eliott’s one greedy motherfucker when comes to Lucas.

“What?” The corner of Lucas’ lips tilts up, but it’s not quite the smile Eliott’s looking for.

“You’re all nice and cute when you’re nervous. No room for snarking or swearing at me.”

“Shut up.”

“Ah, it was good while it lasted.”

“Shut up!” Lucas laughs, kicking at Eliott’s knee.

“Oh you’re kicking me now too, my god, such violence from a tiny human.”

“You’re so dumb.” Lucas pushes at his shoulder and Eliott goes down easily, but not before winding an arm around Lucas so that his boyfriend falls on top of him in their descent. “Such an idiot.”

“Your idiot,” Eliott retorts as cheesily as can be, grinning when Lucas laughs again, eyes scrunched and mouth open.

“God, do you ever shut up?”

“Yeah, there’s one way to shut me up.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, you’re really good at it.”

Lucas leans down and Eliott feels the smile on his lips. The kisses start off as innocent pecks, short and dry, until Lucas brushes their noses together and teases the tip of his tongue in between Eliott’s slightly parted lips.

Eliott surges up then, locking their lips together as he moves, sitting upright with his arms still secured around Lucas. His boyfriend goes along with it, easily shuffling around so that he’s sat comfortably on Eliott’s lap, hands slightly cold against the back of Eliott’s neck, but the latter doesn’t mind— Lucas’ mouth is scorching enough to make up for it.

His jacket gets tossed to the floor at some point and his hands wander inside Lucas’ hoodie, searching for the warmth of his skin under, encouraged by the way Lucas tightens his arms around Eliott’s shoulders when he runs a hand from the nape of Lucas’ neck down to the dip low on his back. The intensity reminds him of their first time— only slightly, because Eliott doesn’t think anything could come close to that night. But he recalls the warm weight of Lucas on his lap, against the wall, over him, under him. Recalls the way he’d jokingly asked Lucas how many fingers he’s holding up. How Lucas had very non jokingly slipped the two fingers in his mouth and licked around them until Eliott lost his mind.

The memory of it has heat rushing up and down Eliott’s body in frantic jolts, melting away his higher functions until he finally flips them over, gently laying Lucas down below him just like he’s always done. His fingers lightly dance along the line of Lucas' jeans and the latter lets him, Lucas’ hands exploring the wide expanse of Eliott’s back under his shirt.

And that’s something new— not Lucas touching him no, but rather the confidence he exudes in bed. Eliott doesn’t think he’d ever forget the shakiness of Lucas’ breath, the furious drumming of his pulse, the flinches he’s tried so hard to cover up. Eliott’s noticed every single one of them, often pausing to suggest for them to stop only for Lucas to hold him by the sides of his face and mutter a determined, keep going.

Back then he couldn’t figure out if there’s a story behind it, or if Lucas is only nervous about being intimate with someone else. Now that he knows, can extrapolate the details from what Lucas has told him so far, Eliott’s heart is close to bursting with the realization of how much trust Lucas has placed in his hands that very first time. Of how much trust he continues to have in Eliott despite all that’s happened.

I love you, his touch speaks, lingering and light over the smooth skin of Lucas’ waist.

I love you, his eyes repeat, insistent, hopeless, as they meet Lucas’ wide, adoring gaze.

I love you, his mouth whispers, soundless against the brush of Lucas’ lips, plush softness falling open under the gentle touch of Eliott’s tongue.

I love you, he wants to say, out loud, with all his anxious, fragile heart but what comes out instead is a nearly inaudible, “You’re so beautiful.”

Maybe someday, he’ll be able to speak as it is. Someday, he’ll work up the courage to stop hiding behind soft touches and pretty words. But as Eliott opens his eyes on a slow blink, he looks down at Lucas and catches the most tender of smiles directed up at him. Maybe words aren’t needed right now. For Lucas, in this moment, maybe Eliott is enough.

“No, you,” Lucas retorts childishly, arching up to press a giggle into Eliott’s amused smile.

“This is a losing battle, baby.” Eliott nuzzles his cheeks, nose instinctively wrinkling when Lucas kisses the tip of it. The sweltering heat has cooled between them, replaced by a softer kind of warmth.

“Yeah, your losing battle,” Lucas says, trying to shift from under Eliott’s weight. “Baby,” he adds in a whisper, smile cheeky when Eliott’s head snaps up to look at him. He sputters, unfairly flustered at hearing Lucas use that pet name, any pet name in fact, for the first time—

“Are you being a brat?” Eliott tries to keep his voice stern, but he’s pretty sure his eyes give it away as Lucas dissolves into helpless giggles. “Are you being a brat?” he repeats a little louder, hands splayed widely over Lucas’ sides, curling up where his boyfriend is most ticklish.

“No!” But it’s too late, Eliott’s already found his weakest spots and proceeds with the attack, relentless despite Lucas’ half formed begging in between his laughter. “Eliott, no! Wait!” he squeaks, turning red when one of Eliott’s hands slide up to tickle at his neck.

Eliott only stops when Lucas, breathless and teary-eyed, pouts pitifully up at him. Honestly, what human being with a heart could resist that? So he leans down and brings the jut of Lucas’ bottom lip in between his teeth, waiting until his boyfriend opens his mouth on a groan before diving in for a kiss. Lucas’ hands immediately tangle themselves into Eliott’s hair, legs pulling up to wrap around him as if Eliott has any batshit plans of leaving the bed any time soon. Eliott’s shirt is halfway off his back when Lucas’ door creaks open.

They barely let up, both expecting to see Yann coming to interrupt them for whatever reason but the entry way is empty.

“What—”

Soft, fast-paced panting is their answer and Eliott’s completely unprepared for when Lucas shoves him off the bed with all his might— Eliott hangs onto the sheets to keep from cracking his head open.

“Oh shit, sorry!” Lucas shouts, dragging Eliott back up to the center of the bed. “I just— Champ’s just a baby, she can’t see that!”

Eliott doesn’t know whether to agree or laugh. He figures responding with a deadpan she’s just a dog won’t go over too well with Lucas so he keeps that thought to himself. With a sigh, Eliott smooths down his shirt and walks over to where Champ is still panting happily up at them.

“Are you happy now?” He asks the dog, crouching closer to her level and tapping her tiny nose with a finger. He carries her in his arms on his way out to the living room, turning back to see Lucas attempting to fix his hair as if Yann doesn’t already know what they’ve been up to, alone in the room for at least half an hour. “Come on, baby, let’s keep Yann company before he decides to take back my rights.”

#skam france #elu fic #elu insta au #fictag #there are about 20 variations of this chapter #lays down #chapter warning: ch11 flashback #the eliott pov i've been hiding

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perish-the-creator · 6 years ago

Text

The Heat of The Moment

{Rodan x Godzilla} {Warning: intimate encounter} {Refrences to the mating calls will be linked}

Prompt: Rodan has entered heat and proceeds to let it be known. The Monarch employees are beyond perplexed when a certain king comes to answer the call.

Isla de Mara was never the same after the rude awakening that was the titanus Rodan swooping through the sky and rattled the fundamentals of life that had established themselves below his home for the past hundreds or so years. No one could ever shake off the feeling of the damage he had caused, nor were there many who were willing to try and reclaim the land as their own. The former residents, for the most part, had surrendered their keep of the island and fleed to find new homes. It wasn’t uncommon actually now. There were huge masses of refugees escaping being under the horrid blanket of the creatures that could wipe them out without a second thought. But few did remain on the island. Very few. And those that did explained it away via speaking of their bloodline and how their ancestors were the ones to worship him. They did not admit to renouncing the Christian god, but they proposed living under Rodan as if he were a divine being.

Of course, the majority thought those people were crazy but nevertheless bothered trying to persuade them. If they wanted to live with the constant threat of being flattened by the powerful gust produced by the wings of that demon, so be it.

Monarch themselves were worried about the people who dared to stay rooted in the land that belongs to Rodan. But their responses were snickers and chuckles about how the threat was always there, at least this time they could see it coming. And truth be told they had a point. As Monarch began constructing another outpost a few miles away from the island, they noticed how Rodan appeared to be rather docile. As if he understood the threat he lingered over the town. If he flew away he’d make sure his gust isn’t directed towards the people.

After about a year or so, people began to return to the island. At this point, Rodan was more like a big brother. A watchful eye that only reacts if one were to screw up. So for a while, life resumed. Things began to go back to how they used to be just with the added firebird in mind. Until Rodan began acting weirdly.

It started with his calls. They were loud yet rhythmic as if he were singing a song. The noise had startled many of the residents on the island, some grabbing their emergency escape bags and ready to run for it. But they were relieved to see that noises were all he was doing. He’d stand at the edge of the volcanic mouth and let out a deep chirp. Bobbing his head up and down a little bit and shuffling. The display only lasted about ten minutes but it was enough to get the scientist at his outpost to contact those who had some experience with this guy.

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

Mark was a bit hesitant to return to this place again. So many places created so many scars in his mind. He was also extremely worried about bringing Madison back too. The two of them, while still struggling, were attempting to repair the broken bond. And it didn’t help that both had developed a bit of PTSD. Madison gained a nasty fear of thunderstorms and had break downs when lightning flashed. Mark remembers many nights of having to sit on the floor with her as she covered her ears and cried for it to go away. No one likes seeing their kid like this.

But at the same time, she wanted to be here. As far as she’s concerned she held no previous ties to the fire demon. She had failed to bear witness to whatever carnage he had created. That’s why she doesn’t shiver at videos or photos of him compared to…

“So,” Stanton began, having been another individual who had been requested to come back. “Got any idea as to what the hell he’s up to?”

They all look at the monitor, watching as he strutted around his volcano, bobbing his head back and forth while screeching. Mark stared curiously. Rodan was a tricky guy to try and figure out. A rebel. A wild card with unpredictable motives.

“We thought it was due to our drones,” A female scientist spoke. “But after we stopped using them he still kept doing…well…this.”

Rodan circled around some more, squawking and rocking side to side. Madison couldn’t help much laugh a little. Her father noticed.

“What’s funny?”

“Heh, it’s just, he’s like the birds in the videos. Dancing around and whatnot.”It was kinda cute if she were honest. It was just hilarious to see a creature that is so complicated and revered acting like this.

“Ah,’ Stanton said with a bit of surprise. “Come look at these stats man.” They all huddle over to him, getting the best view possible. Stanton chuckled a little bit.

“So I played back a few of the sounds and this new system compared it to other sounds in our database. Apparently, it’s-”

“A mating call.” Mark finished, feeling his face flush a bit. There were already enough of these big fellows as is, so of course, it made his heart jump at the thought that this beast is attempting to procreate.

“So who’s he putting it on for? Last I checked there aren’t many fire turkey chicks.” Stanton responded in a jokey fashion as an attempt to lighten the mood. Of course, anyone would be up in arms if they found out a bloodthirsty volcano chicken wanted to make more baby volcano chickens.

Just them the monitors pick up another presence. A deep rumble that returned the calls of Rodan from the depths. A brief thought passes them their brains of who it might be, but they try to dismiss the possibility. There was no way HE was going to answer the call, right? Why choose an individual who sided with your enemy and wounded their symbiotic partner?

Apparently, titans didn’t use that logic and everyone in the outpost were more than shocked to find out that indeed the king of the monsters was making moves on the fire demon.

“Well…wasn’t expecting that.” Mark speaking what everyone was thinking. They watched with their breaths held.

Godzilla rose from the water, making his presence known by letting out his iconic roar. Certainly, the people of Isla de Mara very terrified. Was a fight about to break out? Were their homes they had spent months rebuilding about to be destroyed again? Will some of them die? However, worry died down when they noticed neither titan appeared threatened by each other. They just sort of stared, er Godzilla did, Rodan tilted his head side to side and chirped again and again.

“Is that a taunt?” A random intern asked. Another punched his arm, telling him how less than ten minutes ago it was said that this was a mating call.

“I guess we should just sit back and enjoy the show, huh?” Stanton once again playfully asked.

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

Rodan rotated his head side to side, never really taking his eyes off of the king. He had entered the dreadful heat and was desperate for anyone to come and end it. He was a bit overwhelmed that the alpha himself would answer his call. But that didn’t mean he had to accept him if the king failed to impress him.

He knew Godzilla wasn’t like him and he was a bit nervous as to whether or not the king would even understand his gestures. A plausible conclusion was that Godzilla mistook his call as an intimidation threat and Rodan wanted to fight. But at the moment Godzilla had not attempted to assault him. Maybe he understood?

Rodan was then astounded when Godzilla started to mimic his head turns and giving mock chirps. Okay, so he did understand! Rodan continued on with his display. He opened his wings and flapped them, jumping slightly in the air and squawking. He did this about five times, each noise louder than the last. Godzilla’s head followed the motions of Rodan, clearly very interested and locked in.

The king gave a reply via gruffs and wiggling his head. As Rodan had done in the beginning, this act establishes that he’s considering mating with him. It’s not a yes but defiantly not a no. The fire demon chirped, happy that he is considered. Now, he can do his final act that’ll hopefully seal the deal.

Rodan begins his dance, chirping and rocking side the side. It was as if he were going along to some unheard melody. He was determined and in his element, striving to impress the king. It was instinct after all, and instinct was a means of self-preservation and enhancement.

Godzilla watched with attentive eyes. The dance was working. He was pulled in. His head bobbed too, once again mimicking his potential mate to communicate that he wanted the other. It was a pleasure to watch. Godzilla hadn’t had a proper courting ritual in millions of years since the extinction. Even then, because of his small stature at the time he’s never had a successful one. So it was more than wonderful that this was working out.

Rodan concluded, turning his head side to side again. A loud squawk once more left his beak, but the direction was for Godzilla. He could want Rodan all he wanted but if his display wasn’t up to pare then Rodan had the right to decline him.

Godzilla snorted through his nose and gruffed three times before sinking into the water a bit. That’s when he began his mating call. His head stayed above water, raised slightly up towards the firebird. A deep rumble emits from him and his back submerges for a mere second. Large bubbles fizz around his sides as he rumbles again and repeats the process. He repeated making the earth rattling rumble towards his courting partner, trying his hardest to impress the other. The smell of his desperate arousal drove Godzilla crazy. Titans in heat were rare, and titans who wanted to mate while in said heat were rarer. Especially from a different species. Perhaps the term miracle could be thrown around at this point because this might be Godzilla’s only chance to have a partner who will be sexually active with him.

He momentarily stops his call and opens his mouth, letting out loud gruff reminiscent of a lion. The objective was to make sure Rodan was still paying attention. And Rodan responded, chirping in a low mimick of his gruff, of course not as heavy.

Godzilla spent another minute or so alternating between the two sounds until he saw that Rodan was satisfied. The fire demon waddled down the mountain like a cockatiel, very playful and adorable by both human and titan standards. Godzilla emerged from the water and stepped himself onto the beach, snorting again as if asking if Rodan accepted him.

And Rodan did.

Rodan chirped and Godzilla mimicked it. Then Godzilla gave a low rumble and Rodan replicated. Indeed, they were now a mated pair. Godzilla leaned down and nuzzled his snout against the rough beak of his new partner, both throat emitting vibrations of contempt.

Rodan then nipped at Godzilla’s neck before lightly knocking his foot against the region in which Godzilla’s genitals would come from. Godzilla huffed, licking the top of Rodan’s head. The smell was unbearable, and it took everything in the king to not mount the bird roughly whether or not the other wanted it. But he understood that if he forced himself he’d risk never being able to mate again, and that was something he couldn’t lose.

Rodan chirped again before turning around and presenting himself. Like most birds, he possessed a cloaca, making it hard for the unknowable to know his gender. But then again, his kind didn’t follow the linear rules the small humans had on the subject.

Godzilla was more than happy to allow himself to be exposed, gently rubbing his length against Rodan’s tail instead. It was to not only impress his mate but also warn him of the coming mass that would soon enter his body. The king gruff again, the noise vibrating in his throat for a moment. Rodan gave a whimper, an act of submission that let the king know he could enter.

With that, Godzilla snorted and pressed himself inside, both creatures wailing out.

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

“OOOH KAY!!” Mark shouted out as he quickly covered up Madison’s eyes. Some of the newer interns began to laugh some, one even falling to the floor holding his sides.

“Oof, well, at least we know the courting works.” Stanton chuckles. “Wonder if that technique works on humans haha!”

“Poor guy,” A woman winces. “Looked a bit big for him.” Another scientist smirks.

“Poor people on the island. Imagine having to explain to your kid why two big monsters are on each other like that. Oof, if it’s loud from here just think about how ear-piercing it is for those guys.”

Madison argued with her father as he proceeded to walk her out the observation room with his hands over her eyes. Apparently, seeing multitudes of people dying, nearly facing death yourself, and even being considered a member of a very important research agency means nothing when it comes to observing the mating patterns of titans.

Oh well, the file will be stored away with the rest of their courting footage. She’ll just have to watch it behind her father’s back.

#rodan #godzilla #godzilla kotm #godzilla king of the monsters #rodan x godzilla #godzilla x rodan #rodzilla

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drcrushers · 6 years ago

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happy secret songbird to my lovely giftee, @weraiseourcups! I hope you enjoy this very adorable ficlet! it’s not full fledged because i worried about getting it done in time, but i hope you enjoy it and it brings a smile!

dog days of summer ( in which orpheus and eurydice adopt a . . . . dog? )

Winter had come and gone, and as the snow and frosts began to thaw and signal the return of Lady Persephone, it meant more natural resources were available for food. Not much sprouted in the very earliest days of spring, but Eurydice had long since learned when things grew, when they could be picked, and what purpose they would do to solve the aching in her belly. And now with feeding both her and Orpheus, things had become very, very tight over the winter months. Even if they hadn’t been as harsh as they had once upon a time when the gods below were fighting, it was still never a good season. But they had survived. And Orpheus was gonna make some sort of hearty stew to celebrate while they counted the days until they would go out to the train platform to greet their Lady. So Eurydice had charged herself to trod through the muddy fields after tubers that could almost be called potatoes (they weren’t, but if you closed your eyes they tasted the same). Roots were the only thing that often survived the deep frosts. Carrying a basket of a few pickings, she ventures deeper into the fields while trying to avoid the mud because she isn’t sure her worn boots will handle it without it seeping in, then they’ll take days to dry out. The sun is high and it’s almost warm, but not quite; she still has her coat on. At least the wind doesn’t bite her face. The brushes shift somewhere to her left with the wind - except, no. Not with the wind. It sounds like something is lurking and for a brief, panic striken moment Eurydice worries some gnarl toothed creature has come out of hibernation and is seeking a meal. She moves swiftly in the opposite direction, but nothing chases her. The tall grasses just rustle a bit more and there’s a noise she can’t place; a snort, maybe. Or huff. Another rustle. A yelp, and something dark suddenly darts out of the brush being chases by something else darkly furred.

The first creature she recognises as a dog. A puppy, with how small it is, the fur matted in mud and little legs carrying it swiftly toward her. The second shape she recognises dimly as a badger, hissing and spitting like some creature from the underworld. Without thinking Eurydice launches a rock at the thing - not meaning to hit it, just to scare it off. It takes two more rock throws for the badger to be deterred from chasing the canine that had likely wandered too close to it’s nesting area.

“Hey there, little guy.” Eurydice greets, stooping to ensure the dog is okay. She doesn’t see blood, and it approaches her with a cautious air - but the second it realises Eurydice isn’t gonna hurt it, it tries to climb clumsily into her embrace. She smiles softly, and scratches a patch of fur behind his ear that isn’t muddied. “Gotta be more careful. You lost all the way out here?”

The puppy does not reply, but as Eurydice tries to feel for a collar there is none. Those dark eyes flick up to her and a pink tongue lolls out of it’s mouth before it tries to lick her face. She laughs quietly for the first time in a while - and she knows immediately she cannot leave this poor creature to starve. If the winter was hard on them, she can’t imagine what it would be like for the puppy. Maybe someone in town will be missing him or if not, would at least take him in and keep him as their own. Eurydice has always loved dogs, always wanted one - but she isn’t sure she can afford to feed both she and Orpheus and a dog. Especially through winter. Food is already scarce and she can’t imagine finding things suitable for a dog is easy.

But he’s clearly alone in the fields, and Eurydice doesn’t want him stumbling on anymore pissed off badgers, so she coos softly and somehow the poor thing seems to know to trust her, because when she takes a few steps it follows. A few more, and the puppy is still trailing after her. Clutching her gatherings of meager tubers, she sets off at a slower pace with her new charge hopping along after her.

Orpheus isn’t home - he’s been helping Hermes clean up the bar a bit for it’s spring re-opening. So Eurydice drops the food off inside their small little place and leads the dog around to the side where there’s a spout for a hose for the garden they’ve never had. She hopes the water isn’t frozen still. The pipes groan a bit when she turns the valve, but water shoots out a moment later. She waits until it runs clear before she cups it and sets about a mission of trying to clear the mud from the puppy - who just wants to play. He twists and yips as her fingers dig into his fur, which is darkly colored without the mud coating it. She doesn’t have any clue to what breed he might be, but his eyes are soft and she’s in love all over again if she’s honest with herself. She uses a spare towel from her bath last night to mostly attempt to dry the creature off (but the dog shakes vigourously inside the door and splatters water across the floor. She laughs. “We’ll get you a good place. Shelter. Somewhere nice and warm, yeah?” She ruffles his fur atop his head. “I bet you’re hungry.” She doesn’t get a response, except a soft sneeze that just sends more water across the floorboards. She takes hat as a yes, and tries to find something in their bare cabinets that might suit a dog. She settles on a bit of bread for the time being, and sits in the kitchen floor to feed this little one. Her heart melts as he munches away at the bits of bread that might be a little stale, if she’s honest. He’s cute. More than. In a weird way, he reminds her of Orpheus. Orpheus. Will he be mad to find she’s taken on a stowaway? Of course he isn’t, she realises when he returns home and is immediately as bright eyed as the damn dog is. And it’s just downright adorable when the dog nestles into Orpheus’ lap that evening near the fire - Eurydice should be mad because that’s her spot, but she’s not. A worthwhile sacrifice. She sits beside her husband and idly strokes the dog’s fur while they talk in quiet tones. “I’ll go into town tomorrow. See if anyone’s lost him.” She promises, and tries to ignore the sadness in her gut. She keeps her promise though - and it isn’t worth much. No one in town has lost a pet. She switches tactics, tries to see if anyone would want a pet, but it’s futile then too. She ends up at Hermes’ bar, where Orpheus is wiping tables and to her surprise, the little thing is bouncing around underfoot with soft yaps. Is it bigger? She’s not sure, but she suddenly notices that it looks bigger than yesterday. She’s just tired, she decides, and sits at the end of the bar. Immediately the dog settles near her feet and doesn’t move the rest of the night until Orpheus’ shift is over and the three return home. She tries for two days to find him a home, but no one wants another mouth to feed. Meanwhile Eurydice is just trying not to fall more in love with him. He’s definitely a bit bigger and she chalks it up to decent food, which Hermes had offered. She doesn’t know why he has dog-acceptable food, and doesn’t ask. He just shoots her new friend an amused look as the dog chows down on a bowl in the corner. “Special one, that one. Might be like fate he found you.” Hermes remarks almost mysteriously in that infuriating way that makes Eurydice want to punch that stupid grin off his face. She says such, he laughs, and she and her new friend are left alone once more. By the end of the week, Orpheus points out they should name him while they’re waiting for someone to adopt him. They can’t just keep calling him ‘the dog’. Eurydice hasn’t ever been good with that kind of thing, and they toss ideas back and forth, but none seem right. Meanwhile it’s getting warmer and warmer outside as more of the spring settles in. Persephone arrives on the train two days later, dragging in warm winds and a bright smile. The dog (which is still unnamed) trails after Eurydice and Orpheus out to the platform to greet her, and the goddess gives a delightful look. “There you are!”

Eurydice thinks she might be talking to her and Orpheus but no, it’s the dog. It circles her legs, yips, before trotting happily back over to Eurydice’s feet and sitting down. A declaration if she’d ever heard one. Persephone laughs. “Oh, it damned well figures --- he’s yours now, songbird. Now, let’s grab a drink and celebrate spring.” Turns out the dog is not just a dog - Cerberus has descendants (which is something so full of everything she doesn’t feel like unpacking it) and the little creature from the fields is one, who had somehow escaped the boundaries of the underworld. A bit like she and Orpheus, if she’s honest. She loves him more. She thinks it will want to go back to the underworld where it belongs, but the literal hell hound barely leaves her side. Sits with her at home, at the bar, goes out foraging in the woods and fields, and still continues to grow that spring. She loves him more and more, but she still hasn’t decided whether she and Orpheus can afford to keep him. Not with winter. Another mouth? Spring goes. Summer goes. Lady Persephone keeps her promises of better harvests and she thinks it won’t be too bad. Eurydice and Orpheus see her off into her husband’s arms. The dog sits on the platform with them and watches the train go. It’s nearly up to Eurydice’s hip in size and thankfully, has shown signs of slowing down in growth. She reaches out to scratch him behind the ears and smiles; the dog practically radiates warmth. A literal furnance. She thinks she and Orpheus might survive the winter if they just curl up to the thing.

At home, they find Persephone has left them provisions. Gifts, with just a single carnation as her calling card. It thrives all winter.

It’s Orpheus who suggests the name one late night when they’re both curled in bed and the dog has lain across their legs as if to pin them down. As if to keep them warm. As if to protect them. She wonders if Lady Persephone and her husband have sent the dog on purpose now; she reminds herself to ask. Either way, while a hell-hound is not what she had in mind as a girl, she’s grateful for it now.

Eurydice smiles and agrees at Orpheus’ suggestion of a name. Argos.

And hopefully, Eurydice thinks, he will never grow two more heads like his father. Five mouths to feed is worse than three.

#weraiseoutcups #secret songbird gift exchange 2019 #weraiseourcups

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the-nysh · 6 years ago

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@shippinglifeaway replied to your post “I think the expression that best represents Garou’s re: ‘semblance of choice”

there's a really cool yt video that analyzes this concept of 'societal-constructs as the bad guy' in media (specifically in wall-e) that really dives in on this concept with way more eloquence that I could ever muster haha (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z1-vPQKwXbY), in case it sways your interest! :D

Ooh thank you! :D (That yt channel is a great resource for media analysis/critique in general, so lots of insightful content to watch there!) It really does bring more interesting layers to think about here, especially when it might explain how certain opm characters behave/react or unconsciously adhere to the ‘rules’ of established social systems they feel they can’t break out of, especially when we know how ONE tends to put subtle social commentary like that in his works anyway. It ultimately brings to mind, who is the actual ‘villain’ bringing conflict to the characters in the story? Could it really be the overarching effects of that social ‘system’? And if so, then who’s the actual ‘hero’ who can rise to help break people ‘free’ from this system, to lead change for the better? :O

It’s interesting when this type of commentary comes from the perspective of a Japanese writer (ONE, who’s also a millennial), and while I can’t presume to know or speak for what’s beyond the realm of what he’s provided in the text (esp coming from a western background), what I can do is notice there’s definitely an orderly structure to what ONE has constructed in his opm worldbuilding.

For example, how each city is named/ordered in lettered districts, how the HA’s purpose is to organize (not raise) heroes in a rigid/tiered hierarchical system, how even the being called ‘god’ has (been theorized to) set hard ‘limits’ upon all creatures to control their growth... But how importantly too, how such systems themselves aren’t inherently ‘bad’ either, because they can help keep things managed and running smoothly...and yet, on the other hand, we can see other unfortunate effects from them too, such as the dark ninja school raising assassins (presented as a bad/evil thing that needs to be eliminated), and the rampant monster phenomenon that keeps disrupting things and causing chaos (which is also shown with the need to be exterminated). It’s possible they’re all types of reactions fighting back against such systems of control too.

As to how all this relates to the Death Gatling & Garou stuff as discussed before, and the socially accepted, established ‘roles’ they might be playing or adhering to as hero vs monster (which may or may not be by choice), it’s also interestingly presented from ONE when neither side/individual is clearly ‘good’ or ‘bad’ either (just who should the viewer root for here? Perhaps it’s supposed to be arbitrary/confusing with the protagonist flipped that way on purpose).

So let’s take a look at it from Death Gatling’s view first. He’s working as part of the HA, and nicely performing his role/duty as a hero, yet already he can feel the system is unfair when they’re all heroes doing their best, yet somehow it’s the S Class who still get special privilege. He has the moral right to feel that way (and that unfairness is something Garou could probably sympathize with, IF they could properly communicate eye-to-eye), so it’s rational (and very human) for him to behave this way and want to prove himself as equal to all other heroes. Unfortunately, his method to make a difference and better name for himself, whether he even realizes or likes it or not, still adheres to the rules of that very HA system (of earning points); it does not ‘break free’ or try to challenge/change the established system he’s upset about. And THAT feels like another reason for Garou’s disappointment in him. When a hero’s behavior ends up no better than the established rules of the (unfair) system he’s a part/product of. Or, in another way, by Garou facing him as ‘the monster,’ he still couldn’t push ‘the hero’ into performing, or ‘breaking free,’ any better than that result. HRMM!! 👀

Now this ties directly into Garou’s ‘lack of confidence’ too, because what he really wanted to achieve by fighting heroes, was to ultimately find/influence someone else who could rise to face him with the type of true heroism he wanted. To bring about the ultimate good that way, because...he did not have the confidence to follow through and become that ideal hero himself. When he likely believed the monster role was all he could ever be (by a combo of those societal pressures and what happened in his past), even if he never honestly liked performing that role either (not being true to himself when he’s not an evil person at heart). So he resolves to have someone else rise to ‘break free’ and change the system rather than directly do it himself (even if that means resigning himself to be miserable and potentially lead to his own death by the end of that path). However, now that he’s finally had a needed wake up call and realized some hard truths, he does not have to adhere to that monster role any longer. This is his choice now to ‘break free’ and decide what to do next.

But it gets even more interesting, because even when there’s a hero strong enough to come forth and stop his monster plans (Saitama), who literally has all the outlier power to break free from everything, that’s still not good enough (for what Garou wants). Because as it turns out, even the all-powerful Saitama is still bound by that system too. D: Saitama’s current passive lifestyle, whether by choice or not, still has him on the ‘path of least resistance’ (as in that video). While he still believes it’s best to do what you want, it’s either by convenience or him not wanting to get further involved anymore that he still chooses to stay with the HA and go along to whatever happens. (Even when he’s still not satisfied and wants more...) When by all means, if there’s anyone with the power who could rise up and change/influence things for the better, it’s him. And so interestingly, perhaps it’s not supposed to happen directly by himself either (on an individual basis), but rather through the positive changes he makes to everyone else he comes to meet and influence for the better (ie making connections with others, which is what we can gradually see happening).

I don’t know where ONE plans to take things or how he intends to end the story, but it’s really interesting to see it from the perspective of him exploring all these themes. There’s still plans with the Neo Heroes challenging the HA’s system, the prophecy that the ‘earth is in danger,’ and whatever else might happen too, because tensions are certainly building towards something breaking soon. And there’s still Garou, who’s yet to find his answer and decide how best he can make a return to properly achieve what he wants now. Is Saitama going to become that ‘hero’ of the story who steps forward to change and save the world (in ‘one punch’), or might it become someone else who can take the lead, or who can influence change on a gradual, yet smaller collective scale? Maybe it’ll take the contributions from everyone acting together in some way too. Either way ONE plans it, and even if he doesn’t end things on such a ‘grand’ scale (such as if he chooses to keep it humble instead), I think he’ll come up with a positive, hopeful solution to things that’ll be both worthwhile and fun to look forward to.

#shippinglifeaway #replies #opm #garou #saitama #meta #webcomic spoilers #long post #whoops this got pretty long #but i definitely found the perspective interesting #(esp if it ends up explaining more about the whole of opm itself)#so i had to sleep on that video to make a proper in depth response ahaha

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thirst-trapnhl · 6 years ago

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Never Grew Out of This Feeling 1(charlie mcavoy)

(A/N): hey guys! i’ve toyed with the idea of a charlie fic for a long time and I wanted it to feel very “Long Island” because growing up here shaped so much of me, as I’m sure it did Charlie. I’ve made an entirely pop-punk playlist to go with the series as that’s the music I listened to growing up that sounds like home to me. I hope you enjoy! (word count: 2295) (warnings: underage drinking, marijuana use, cursing)

Song of the chapter: skyway avenue - we the kings

“Cause if you jump, I will jump too. We will fall together from the building’s ledge, never looking back at what we’ve done. We’ll say it was love cause I would die for you on skyway avenue.”

Charlie had been at your side since the first time you jumped off the swing mid-air on the playground at your elementary school. You’d landed feet first in the sand, the force sending you backwards right onto your butt. You remember seeing a pair of blue sneakers next to you, and you looked up, past his Ninja Turtles shirt to his big, round face.

“Woah,” was his only response as you got to your feet, brushing your pants off with your hands. He looked at you like you were the coolest person he’d ever seen and asked, unashamed like only little kids can be, “Can you teach me how to do that?”

He’d gone home that day and told his mom all about his new friend; how she laughed instead of screamed while she flew through the air, and how she fell from the jungle gym and scraped her knee and didn’t even cry. He’d chattered about her the entire time they stood waiting in line at Dunkin Donuts, only stopping to consider whether he’d prefer a strawberry or vanilla frosted that day.

10 years later, on the eve of your high school graduation, he’s facing the same dilemma. You stand to the side, hand wrapped around your large iced caramel latte. “C’mon, Chuck, it’s a doughnut, not a real estate purchase.” The woman behind the counter stares at him blankly, clearly unimpressed.

“He’ll just take a strawberry and a vanilla frosted, thanks.” You jump in for him and the cashier turns without hesitation. He pouts a little at you and you just raise an eyebrow. “We both know if you only got one you’d finish it and complain about wanting another anyway.” He pretends to look offended for a second before realizing its time to pay, and he pulls a crumpled up $10 from his pocket to hand to the cashier with a smile.

“Yeah, you’re right.” You laugh at that and he turns to smile back at you while he waits for his change. You make sure you both have all your stuff before beginning the minute-long trek to the beach. You cross the boardwalk, minding the bikers speeding by and children zigzagging through legs and slip your shoes off to bury your toes in the finally warm May sand. A satisfied little noise leaves you then, and it makes Charlie chuckle. “Sand finally warm enough for you, Princess?” You jut your tongue out at him in response as you make your way to the jetty in front of you, eager to soak up more warmth from the deep gray rocks to offset the breeze passing through.

“The sand’s been staying cold longer since Sandy, you know that.” The mood sombers a little at the mention of the hurricane, both of you remembering how hard it was to watch your whole world get washed away and rebuilt again. You let the only sound between you be the waves lapping at the shore as Charlie finishes his second doughnut.

“Are you scared for tomorrow?” You turn to look at Charlie and he’s fiddling with the braided twine bracelet you’d made him last summer on his wrist. You take a moment to consider his question, turning your gaze back to the ocean to watch a cargo ship pass.

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, I don’t really have a plan after this, but you know me. I’ll figure it out eventually.” You shrug your shoulders as you finish. “Are you scared?” You glance over to Charlie to find him already looking at you, small smile on his face.

“Never.” You both laugh at that, shoulders bumping. As your giggles subside, your eyes close, taking in the warmth of the sun and Charlie all at once.

The rest of June is marked by Instagram photos of your friends tossing their caps and summer nights that end crawling through your bedroom window, footsteps too loud on the tin roof of your garage. Sleep only comes in spurts, two or three hours at time. You’re running on adrenaline and greasy deli bacon egg and cheeses, squeezing in early morning sessions on your board with Charlie before the rest of the world comes to life. The ocean’s always felt like a part of you, wild and dangerous and formidable, pacifying and home and a friend all in one.

The two of you usually don’t talk while you’re out in the surf, letting the current take her turn telling stories. When your legs have finally had enough, burning and wobbling in the best way, you paddle back to the shoreline and unzip your suit, letting it hang around your waist while you settle into the sand. Charlie plops besides you with an “oof” and you dig into your bag, tossing him his breakfast. You’re amazed every day that the cheese is still melty when you pull your sandwich apart, silently thanking Domenic from the bagel place who always remembers to double wrap your order in aluminum. You eat quickly and in relative silence, ravenous in the way that time in the water always makes you. It’s only when you’re both sucking the extra cheese off your fingers that you finally turn to Charlie. “Honestly, Chucks, I don’t see how life could be any better than it is right now.” He takes a minute to keep chewing and you notice a smear of ketchup coming from the side of his mouth. You search in your backpack for a napkin and offer it to him.

He wipes the ketchup from his mouth, and the teasing smile that replaces it has you rolling your eyes already. “Well, (Y/N), I’m 98% sure you’ll say the exact same thing later when we’re sitting on top of the playground and you’re half a four loko deep.” You feign offense for not even 10 seconds before crumbling into giggles. Your shoulders shake with laughter as you tilt your head to sip from your gatorade.

“What can I say, I drink some loko and end up on top of the world.” He cracks his Gatorade bottle open and lifts it in cheers.

“I’ll drink to that!”

He’s right, of course. Later that night, you’ve managed to scale the slide, a spliff hanging from the side of your mouth. When you look down at Charlie, hands on his hips, your vision is just a bit unfocused but you can’t miss the Cheshire Cat grin he has splashed across his face as he looks up at you.

“Toss me up a lighter, please, Chuck!” You call down to him and he digs through his pocket, finding the blue bic you bought him last week. He tries to toss it to you underhand and falls just short of your outstretched fingers. The small lighter bounces a couple of times before landing with a thump on the rubber below his feet. “Oh, man,” you laugh, “looks like you’re just gonna have to come up here with me, bud.”

Charlie picks the lighter up with a huff, stuffing it in his pocket before making his climb. When he finally settles down next to you the heat from his arm warms you, despite both of your long sleeved t-shirts and the inch of space between you. “I dunno how you always manage to get me up here with you.” His words slur a little, voice tired from spending the night talking over the music playing blaring through the speakers in someone’s garage. You laugh at that, sliding the lighter from his fingers easily before lighting up.

“Honestly, Charles, you aren’t that hard to convince.” You push the words out while managing to not exhale anything until the look on Charlie’s face forces a laugh out of you. You cough around the smoke in the back of your throat and it makes Charlie snicker in response, bumping his shoulder to yours. You offer him the spliff and he moves his face in, but makes no move to take it from your fingers. You hold it up to his lips for him and when you start to pull it away, he chases it, bringing his face a little too close to yours. You make no move to back away from each other, eye to eye for a quiet second before you scrunch your nose up at him and move to raise it to your lips again. You narrow your eyes at him before taking another small hit. “Weed hog.”

August 15th rolls around the corner before you know it. Both of you stand sun-kissed and sweaty after you help Charlie and his parents load his bags into their trunk. His parents conveniently return back inside to “double check everything,” leaving the two of you alone to say your goodbyes. Charlie stands with his hands in the pockets of his shorts, kicking pebbles on the concrete with his eyes focused on his feet. You know you should say something, make a joke to lighten the mood but you can’t find a single funny thing to say about watching your best friend drive away from the island you’ve both planted roots on. “Charlie,” you start but have to stop yourself when your voice begins to break. He sniffles loudly, toes still drawing a line back and forth in front of him. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself against the tears you know are coming. “Charlie, look at me, seriously.” He shakes his head a little, peeking up at you with glassy eyes. You can’t hold yourself back any longer and cross the space between you, arms wiggling under his to rest you against his chest. You stand like that for a few silent moments, listening to his heartbeat and the sound of his next door neighbor’s air conditioner rattling. His hand finds its way to the back of your head, holding you to him and letting his fingertips rub your scalp, nails too short to scratch. You rub your hand slowly up and down his back for a while before pulling back just enough to give yourself room to speak. “Hey, I am so fucking proud of you. Boston is so fucking lucky to have you, Chuck, deadass.”

His left hand comes up to wipe a tear from his eye as he rests his cheek against the top of your head. “I’ll see you for Columbus Day?” He already knows he will. You’ve planned with his parents to go up for a game that weekend, but it’s nice for both you to hear out loud.

“I’ll see you for Columbus Day. Just don’t become a bruins fan up there, bud.” You both laugh, pulling away to wipe your eyes. His parents emerge from the house, locking the front door behind them. His father claps his hand against Charlie’s shoulder before kissing your cheek and climbing into the driver’s seat.

Charlie’s mom takes one look at the two of you standing at the end of the driveway and before you know it, she’s crying too. Charlie lovingly rolls his eyes before wrapping her up in a big bear hug.

You come up behind her to rub a hand along her back. “Aww, c’mon Ma, it isn’t that bad. At least your house won’t reek of hockey pads for a while.”

Her answering laugh makes you glad you saved your joke for her, and she pulls away from Charlie to rest a hand against your face. You lean into it and look into the eyes of the woman who’s treated you as nothing less than a daughter for most of your life.

“I’ll see you next week still?” Charlie’s mom brought up the idea of you coming over for dinner once a week while Charlie’s gone to ‘keep her from getting empty nest syndrome’ and you easily agreed, knowing it’d be as much of a comfort for you as it would be for her.

“Of course, Mama. You couldn’t get rid of me now if you tried.” Charlie mumbles something under his breath that sounds a lot like “oh trust me, I’ve tried,” and you laugh as his mother gives him a firm smack in the chest. She untangles herself entirely from her son and presses a kiss to your cheek before finding her way to the car too. It’s only you and Charlie again, standing face to face and doing your best to not feel the months stretching ahead of you. You’re both sniffling again, and this time it’s you who can’t bring yourself to lift your eyes from the ground. “You sure you don’t wanna come live under my bed in my dorm? I think you could fit.” Charlie almost-whispers to you and when you finally look up, the tears welling in his eyes are enough to send yours spilling down your cheeks.

You hug him one last time, his chest muffling your voice when you tell him, “I’d never live under your bed. I have no idea what kind of shit’s growing down there.” He plants a kiss right on your forehead before pulling away. You roll your eyes when he holds his hand out for a fist bump just before he’s out of your reach, but in the end you smile and oblige him. He climbs into the backseat of his parents car like you’ve done so many times. As his dad pulls away from the curb, he turns around to shoot you a sideways peace sign through the back window. You give him one last pout before returning the gesture and he settles forward into his seat. You’re tempted to chase after them. Instead, you let your shoulders drop and release a breath you’d been holding for what feels like weeks, and you turn around, walking the three blocks back to your house.

#charlie mcavoy #boston bruins #bruins #mcavoy #charlie mcavoy imagine #boston bruins imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey rpf

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multishipperlove · 5 years ago

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Caleb Widogast, Jester Lavorre Additional Tags: Essek Thelyss mentioned, zemnian, book research, I'm very explicity not going to tag a ship, but you can probably read this as either Caleb/Jester, or Caleb/Essek, do whatever you like Series: Part 5 of Zemnian Roots Summary:

Caleb has some trouble with placing priorities, and deciding which book he should read next. Jester helps.

Caleb sat in the library of Zadash, five books spread out in front of him. Finally figuring out Halas' notes and finishing the spell, as infuriating and disappointing as their first attempt had been, meant he now had more time for other research again.

But with the Mighty Nein's current position there were a lot of different things calling his attention, and he wasn't sure what to start with. Tharizdun? The coming peace talks between the Empire and the Dynasty? Nott's curse, or even his own aspirations? The library certainly seemed to have it all.

From left to right, the books in front of him seemed to promise some solutions to at least part of his problems. He just wasn't sure which one to start with. The titles he'd been starring at for ten minutes now read as followed:

A People's history of the Dwendalian Empire

Curse Breaking for the Advanced, Volume III

Ancient Cults and Religions: An Exercise in separating Legend from Lore

Age of Arcanum; A Selection of Essays

and,

The In-Between: A Theoretical Approach to Dunamancy

The last one actually wasn't from the library. It had been a parting gift from Essek, along with the promise of another lesson once they returned to Xhorhas. He had to admit, his fingers were itching to pick it up and satisfy his own curiosity, at least a little bit. But theoretical magic was far from learning actual spells, and as interesting as it was, he felt like he couldn't justify that decision at the moment. There were more pressing matters.

And yet. Still no decision on what to read instead. And as he was pondering his problem, somehow unable to find a proper solution himself, he eventually remembered something that Jester had told Nott not too long ago.

It had been during the discussion whether Nott wanted to return to her halfling form or not. When you can't decide, you play Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, and if you don't like the choice you land on, you know to choose the other one.

Well, that certainly couldn't hurt. He didn't actually know how the rhyme continued in Common, but there were enough similar rhymes in Zemnian to choose from. With a soft sigh he leaned forward in his chair, looking over the books as he started to mutter to himself. “Ene, mene, miste, es rappelt in der Kiste, ene, mene, meck-”

Before he could get any further, he felt two arms wrap around him from behind, startling him terribly. “Caleb! Are you trying a new spell?”

It was Jester. Of course it was Jester. Caleb relaxed again, giving her a small smile. “Hello, Jester. And, ah, no. Not a new spell. I'm- I'm actually just trying to decide which book I should read. I thought your advice to Nott recently might be helpful.”

She looked confused at first, but then seemed to remember what he was referring to, a wide smile appearing on her face. “That's great! You were saying some pretty weird words though.”

“Well, that may be because I'm using a Zemninan rhyme,” he chuckled. “Didn't quite grow up with Common.”

“Oh, right. Your version sounded fun though,” she told him, finally letting go of him again as she stepped around the table to get a better look at the books. She grimaced slightly at the titles, and Caleb understood why. Most of them didn't sound very... fun. Didn't make them any less important though.

“Would you like to help me choose?” he asked. The thought of sitting there alone didn't appeal to him, even if he would spend the next couple of hours reading, since he'd learned to appreciate his friends' presence.

Luckily, it didn't seem to take much to convince Jester either. “Of course! You can teach me some Zemnian rhymes, and I will teach you ones in Common! I bet the Traveller would love it when I speak some Zemnian, because then I can tell even more people about how great he is.”

Caleb smiled at her enthusiasm and reasoning, more than happy to accept that. “Sure, let's do that. Would you like to start, then?”

She nodded, grabbing a chair from one of the tables next to them and settling down in front of him again. “Okay, so this one is super easy. It doesn't make much sense, but I don't think any of them really do.”

He nodded along, watching as she arranged all five books in a circle and started to count them out, pointing at a new one with every syllable of the rhyme. “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, catch a tiger by the toe. If he hollers, let him go, eeny, meeny, miny, moe.”

At her last word, her finger landed on The In-Between. Caleb frowned slightly, sad to see it go so soon, but then strongly reminded himself that he had already ruled that one out anyway.

“Alright, not that one then,” he sighed, quickly placing it aside. He'd make time for it at some point, just not now. When he turned back to Jester, she had a bit of an unreadable look on her face, and her tail flicked behind her, but she didn't say anything.

Not sure if he should mention it, Caleb just cleared his throat and continued. “Well, there's one that's very similar to yours, I think. Just, you know, in Zemnian. Here we go... Ene mene miste, es rappelt in der Kiste, ene mene meck, und du bist weg.”

Next one gone was Curse Breaking for the Advanced, and he wasn't nearly as sad to see that one go. It had seemed rather dry the first time he'd picked it up.

Noticing his mood improving, Jester smiled at him again and started anew, no prompting needed. In a slight sing-song voice, she started: “Bubblegum bubblegum in a dish, how many pieces do you wish?”

She landed on Ancient Cults and Religions , but instead of letting him put that book aside as well, she pushed his hand away as soon as he got close. “No no no, Caleb, you have to say a number.”

“A number?”

“Yes! How many pieces do bubblegum do you want?”

Realizing then that it was apparently part of the rhyme, he nodded. “Right, uh... one, I guess?”

“You can't just say one, that way we know what the result is gonna be. It's supposed to be random, Caleb,” she admonished him, sounding very serious about it too. Caleb considered pointing out that even with a higher number they would know where it landed, since that didn't actually require any advanced math skills, but quickly decided to just keep that to himself. It would probably fall under being a smartass.

“Uh, sure. Seven, then,” he mumbled, seeing with relief as Jester immediately perked up again and finished the rhyme, counting the books out until they reached seven. She landed on Age of Arcanum this time, another book he wasn't very sad to loose.

“Well, I guess this is the last one then,” Caleb muttered, seeing as there were only two books left now. “Eins, zwei, drei, vier, fünf, sechs, sieben, eine alte Frau kocht Rüben, eine alte Frau kocht Speck, und du bist weg.” His finger came to rest on A People's History of the Dwendalian Empire, and he shrugged slightly as he placed it with the other rejected books.

All that was left not was Ancient Cults and Religions. Honestly, not the worst choice in his opinion.

“Looks like I found something to read then,” he told Jester with a smile, pulling the rather thick tome a bit closer. “Thank you, friend.”

But Jester was looking at him with that unreadable expression again, her tail leisurely swishing back and forth behind her. “But, are you like, happy with that choice?” she asked, tracing some invisible patterns on the table with her fingers. “The whole reason we did this was so you could realize what you really want, right? You don't have to take that one.”

“I think it's a fair choice,” he told her with a shrug, though he couldn't keep himself from stealing another glance at The In-Between.

“But it's not really what you want,” she told him. It wasn't a question.

Caleb sighed, lowering his gaze to the book in front of him. He rubbed his temples with one hand, not sure if he really wanted to have this discussion or not. But then again, he was talking to Jester, she most likely wouldn't leave him much of a choice.

“Well, no, not really,” he finally admitted. “But at least it's useful. The book I actually want, it's more of a- well, of an amusement. It would be selfish to choose that over something that can help us, ja?”

“I don't know, I think it sound pretty useful, too,” Jester replied, reaching over to tug The In-Between out from the pile of discarded books again. She studied the cover for a moment, before looking up to Caleb and pushing it towards him. “I think you should read something you actually want to read, everything else kinda sucks.”

“But-” Some part of Caleb still wanted to argue. He wasn't even sure why, Jester was offering him an excuse on a silver plate right now, and yet... he didn't want to miss anything that could help them later on in one of the other books.

Seeing his confliction, Jester reached over again, swiftly taking Ancient Cults and Religions away from him. “I will make you a deal,” she told him, voice as sweet as ever. “You read the book Essek gave you, and I will read this one instead. That way we can still get really important research done, right?”

“Don't you- don't you have anything else to do? Anything more fun than sitting in a library?” he asked, slightly sceptical. Not that he didn't think Jester could help with this, he just hadn't expected her offer. At all.

“Well, not anymore,” she told him with a smile, opening the book up and looking over the chapter index. “There's a whole chapter about some guy named Vecna, sounds plenty fun if you ask me!”

He couldn't help but chuckle again at her attempt to convince him, and really... he couldn't keep arguing now. Unsurprisingly, her charm had won him over. “Alright, alright,” he mumbled, opening his own book, and taking out some paper and a pen so he could at least take proper notes. “Just let me know when, you know, you would prefer doing something else again.”

“Sure!” she replied, not even looking up from the book. By the end of the day, Caleb was sure it would sport a few new doodles in the margins, most of them most likely distinctively dick-shaped. But he certainly wouldn't be the one to tell on her.

#critical role #cr2 #caleb widogast #jester lavorre #cr fanfiction #writing #fanfic #mine #essek thelyss #zemnian

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havenoffandoms · 6 years ago

Text

The Archangel’s Protégé

Pairing: Sam x archangel!Gabriel

Summary:

“So, assuming my archangel is still alive… he will definitely, 100% show up if I was in immediate danger, right?”, Kevin asked, his tone careful and contemplative. Sam knew that he could not promise this to the prophet. For this reason, he merely shook his head with a defeated sigh.

“I can’t guarantee that anyone will show up. Especially if it turns out that Gabe… Gabriel is dead, then there’s no saying what will happen to you”

Mention: @swellsabriel (who inspired me to write this beautiful piece) and @warlockwriter (who requested a link)

“So, let me get this straight… I am attached to an archangel?”, Kevin asked with a puzzled frown on his face. Sam merely nodded, offering an apologetic smile as if he were personally responsible for the prophet’s plight.

“Well, more like an archangel is attached to you, really”, Dean corrected, earning himself an eye-roll from Kevin.

“Same thing” Kevin let out a heavy sigh and absent-mindedly rubbed his temple, “So, uh… do we know who my archangel is?”

“Well, here’s the thing. Lucifer and Michael are in the cage, so we can rule them out. And Raphael is dead. The only archangel we believe could still be alive somewhere is Gabriel. That’s why we wanted to test our theory…”, Sam explained, trying really hard to sound calm and reassuring so Kevin would not freak out. He needed the prophet to keep an open mind about this. It was the only way this plan was going to work out.

“Okay, so…” Kevin briefly hesitated before meeting Sam’s hazel eyes, the faintest hint of worry discernible on his features, “This Gabriel dude… what’s he like? Is he one of the bad guys you want to get rid of, or…?”

“No! No, don’t worry Kevin, Gabriel is not a bad guy”, Sam immediately came to the defence of the archangel, glaring at his brother when Dean failed to hold back a derisive snort of laughter. “Dean, shut up!”

“Oh, come on, Sammy! Sure, Gabriel is not a bad guy, but he sure as hell ain’t a good one either…”

“He’s got his flaws, like we all do”, Sam added as he addressed Kevin once again, “but he’s on our side. We just want to know if he’s still around or if he faked his death again”

“Again?” Kevin’s eyebrows both shot upwards at Sam’s words. However, before the younger Winchester had a chance to explain what was meant, the prophet shook his head and exhaled loudly. “D’you know what, doesn’t matter! My life has been all kinds of crazy recently, and I’ve had it. I’ll do whatever you guys want, just please try not to get me killed!”

“Thank you, Kevin” Sam said, the genuine smile on his face reaching his eyes that shone brightly with gratitude. Kevin looked slightly surprised by the sudden display of emotion from the younger Winchester, but eventually returned the gesture somewhat nervously. Meanwhile Dean muttered something under his breath which neither Kevin nor Sam quite understood, but the taller hunter was convinced that not even his brother’s cynic remark could spoil his mood. The warm feeling that spread in his stomach at the prospect of potentially seeing Gabriel again was making him feel dizzy. He knew that he should not be getting his hopes up yet, but Sam simply could not help himself.

“So, how do we summon my archangel?”, Kevin asked innocently, causing Dean to shoot Sam a knowing look while the younger Winchester cleared his throat uneasily. The prophet picked up on both actions, instantly tensing up when he realised that the two brothers were up to something. “What is it?”

“Well, you see Kevin uh… this is where things get a bit, how should I put it… complicated and potentially… dangerous”, Sam started explaining, avoiding Kevin’s eyes as he tried to find the right words. Dean looked like he was enjoying himself far too much judging by the wide grin on his face. Sam shot his brother a pleading look, which was only met with a disinterested shrug.

“You’re on your own, kiddo”, Dean declared, the smug grin never leaving his face. Sam merely sighed as he realised that he would have no support from the older Winchester.

“A prophet’s archangel will only appear when said prophet is at very high risk of… well, dying”

Sam flinched when he saw the expression of sheer terror on Kevin’s face. The younger Winchester fully expected the prophet to backtrack and run far away from these crazy people who wanted him to put his own life at risk to potentially attract an archangel who, as far as Sam and Dean could tell, had died several years ago at the hand of his own brother. Sam understood, and he knew that he would not be allowed to blame Kevin if it turned out that the prophet wanted to put an end to their arrangement. The taller hunter felt his heart break in his chest at the thought of losing his only chance of finding out whether Gabriel was still alive.

“I can’t guarantee that anyone will show up. Especially if it turns out that Gabe… Gabriel is dead, then there’s no saying what will happen to you”

Sam mentally chastised himself for using Gabriel’s nickname. It brought up too many painful memories of their time spent together in the intimacy of Gabriel’s conjured up fantasies. No one could ever reach them there, no cell phones allowed for Sam either. Gabriel’s mind had been the only safe-haven from the cruel world outside. Gabriel had tried countless times to convince Sam to not go back to the real world, where only death and misery awaited him. Sam had always kept an optimistic outlook on his situation, knowing full well that if he started to despair he would take Gabriel up on his offer. And that would mean leaving Dean behind. The younger Winchester would never have forgiven himself for abandoning his older brother.

“Can you promise that you’ll save me if you notice that no one is coming to the rescue?”, Kevin enquired, his eyes shifting back and forth between the two brothers.

“Absolutely”, Dean spoke up before Sam had time to process what was happening, “Kevin, you’re one of us. Family don’t get left behind”

Sam only nodded his approval, too shocked to speak. Kevin was still considering this, despite the risks the plan involved. Sam felt his heart swell with fondness as he rose from his chair and went to pull Kevin up into a tight hug. To hell with the emotionless front the younger Winchester had tried to hide behind. Kevin had just given him the most valuable present Sam could ever dream of.

“Wow… I didn’t know you felt that strongly about it”, the prophet admitted, sounding slightly taken aback. Sam merely grinned toothily, pulling Kevin even closer if that was possible and patting his back amiably.

“You have no idea, kiddo”

OoO

“I’m feeling less confident about this”

Kevin stood awkwardly at the curb of the sidewalk, watching as Sam and Dean kept an eye out for any oncoming cars. The plan was to push the prophet onto the road early enough so he would not immediately get hit by a car, while keeping an element of immediate danger to incite his archangel to show up and save the day. Worst case scenario if nobody showed up, Dean and Sam had brought Cas along to save Kevin from being flattened by an SUV.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine”, Dean reassured him, tapping Cas on the shoulder, “you’ve got a back-up angel with you”

“Just when I thought that you two could not upset the rules of heaven and hell even more, you include me in the voluntary endangering of a prophet of the Lord” Cas’ disapproving frown did nothing to appease Kevin’s uneasiness.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll burn in hell for your sins Cas, we know. To be fair, it’s not like you won’t know anybody there”, Dean commented optimistically, earning himself an eye roll from the seraph.

“This is no joking matter, Dean”

“Ok, Kevin you ready?”, Sam asked, interrupting the hunter and angel’s bickering. The prophet looked like a deer in the headlights, however before he could pronounce himself on the matter, Sam grabbed him by the wrist and pushed him onto the road. Kevin watched with horror as a massive Ford Expedition headed his way, undoubtedly driving much faster than the legally acceptable speed limit. Despite his limited knowledge of physics, Sam knew that the car would not have enough time to break before it hit the prophet. The deafening sound of the driver honking at Kevin to move out of the way only seemed to intensify the prophet’s panic, which kept him rooted to the spot. All Kevin could do was close his eyes and hope for the best. Sam felt his stomach knot painfully as he felt Cas brace himself next to him.

“Son of a bitch”, Dean cried out as a bright light blinded all of them. Sam’s first instinct was to check if Cas was still next to him, but the flash of light made everything around him imperceptible. Sam felt the warmth of the glow burn his retina, which convinced him to bring his arm before his eyes to shield them from it. The several seconds it took for the light to die down felt like ages to Sam, Dean and Kevin. Sam was the first one to open his eyes, frantically looking around to ensure that everyone was fine.

“That’s impossible”, Sam heard Cas whisper next to him.

“It appears that you’re wrong there, Cassie”, a very familiar voice replied, causing Sam’s heart to somersault in his chest. The younger Winchester’s hazel eyes met Gabriel’s golden once, and it took every ounce of Sam’s willpower not to burst into tears of joy at the sight of his lover standing before him. Gabriel, on the other hand, looked beyond annoyed.

“Well Samshine? What have you got to say for yourself?”

Gabriel was holding a very faint-looking Kevin by the armpit, which was without doubt the only reason why the prophet was still standing on his two feet. Kevin’s face had turned whiter than a ghost’s, and his eyes stared blankly at the sidewalk as he recovered from his shock. Sam had the decency to look apologetic when he met Gabriel’s eyes again.

“I… wanted to test a theory”

“By pushing a kid in front of a car?”, Gabriel asked rhetorically, shaking Kevin slightly for emphasis. The harsh movement, however brief it had been, caused Kevin to moan in discomfort as he brought a hand to his mouth to kill his urge to retch everywhere. Noticing the prophet’s discomfort, Gabriel let go of him before focusing his attention on Sam again.

“Well?”

“I uh… it was a stupid idea, granted, but… it was the only way I could think of that would potentially force you to come here…”, Sam admitted, his tone laced with sadness when Gabriel did not greet him the way the younger Winchester had expected him to.

“It was careless of you! And I can’t believe that you agreed to this”, Gabriel exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at Kevin, who merely flinched back when the archangel’s anger was directed at him. “Honestly, it’s almost like dad is purposefully assigning the most important jobs to those humans that lack the most common sense!”

“Gabe, babe…”

“Don’t you dare ‘babe’ me, Samuel Winchester” Despite the difference in height, Sam could not help but take several steps back as Gabriel took several threatening steps towards him, “I was in hiding, I went in hiding to save my ass and to protect yours! You’ve compromised the whole operation by calling me here”

“I needed to see you. I’ve missed you so much, Gabe. Can you blame me for wanting to make sure that you were actually dead?”, Sam asked, putting on his best puppy eyes. It was true that Gabriel had never been one to fall easily for them, but the younger Winchester had managed to get his own way using his beaten puppy face before.

“Blame you? Of course not, I mean who wouldn’t miss this hot stuff right here?”, the archangel said, pointing at himself. “I blame you for the way you went about it!”

“You didn’t leave me another choice. I prayed to you, Gabe, every night” Sam was beginning to lose patience with the archangel before him, and the way he raised his voice at Gabriel was a tell-tale indication that he had had enough, “You never came, no matter how desperately I prayed to you. So no, I didn’t see another way. I needed to know, I needed closure. Quit acting like I’m the bad guy here!”

Sam’s words seemed to have the desired effect on Gabriel. The archangel went quiet, merely sighing heavily as he met Sam’s pleading gaze. A quick look at the crowd that had gathered around them told Gabriel that he had attracted far too much attention to himself as it was. He clicked his fingers loudly, and before Sam knew it, everyone went back to minding their own business and ignoring the five strange men arguing in the street. The younger Winchester realised that Gabriel must have either wiped their memories, or meddled with time again. Regardless, Sam let out a relieved sigh.

“Don’t get into any more trouble, boys” Gabriel asked, his voice emotionless and his gaze cold, “I’ll see you around”

Before Sam could react, his lover disappeared before his eyes again, leaving the four of them staring at the spot where Gabriel had stood mere seconds earlier. Dean and Cas shared a worried look, while Kevin finally managed to throw up his breakfast in a nearby bin. Sam, on the other hand, felt like hitting something.

“Sammy?”

“Let’s just go home” Sam told his brother as he headed to the Impala.

OoO

“Are you sure you want to do this again?”, Sam asked Kevin when he came to him with his plan the same morning, “I mean, the last time was a disaster for all of us”

“Maybe so”, Kevin agreed before taking a sip of his diet coke, “but I saw the way you guys looked at each other. And I saw how devastated you were the next couple of days. This Gabriel guy seems to mean a lot to you. And if there’s any way I can help you guys work it out, then I want to help”

Sam could not believe his ears. He had not expected Kevin to speak to him at all since the incident, yet alone suggest a second attempt. The younger Winchester wondered if he should truly venture down that road again. Gabriel had been pissed. Justifiably so, of course, but Sam was not used to seeing the more authoritarian side of the archangel’s personality. It had been slightly scary, and incredibly arousing at the same time.

“Okay, but if we try this again, we need to go about it more subtly. I think if I tried to push you off a cliff, Gabriel would literally shove me off it with you”, Sam joked. Kevin nodded solemnly as he imagined the scene.

“Yep. Maybe something a bit less extreme will do the trick. How about I stand on a ladder and pretend to fall? I mean, not high enough to really hurt me, but high enough to make it potentially lethal…” Sam smirked at the infallibility of the plan.

“Let’s test that theory”

OoO

Cas had refused to help them out on this one, which meant that Kevin and Sam were on their own at the back of the bunker with the prophet perched on a ladder at the back of the bunker. Kevin was trying to explain the physics of falling to Sam, who was only half tuned into the conversation. All the younger Winchester could think about was Gabriel. True, the archangel was pissed at him, but despite that Sam would take the risk of facing his anger again. Anything to see his lover again after so many years of absence. He had missed Gabriel so much, and any opportunity to see him was one he was willing to take.

“So that means that it's not the fall that gets you, it's the sudden stop at the end. It depends a lot on where and which way up you land. For a hard surface, assuming you don't land on your head, you are almost certain to survive a fall from a height of 7m. Though "survive" is likely to involve life-changing injuries at the top of this range. Between 7 and 12m, you may or may not survive. Over 12 m, you are almost certain not to survive.” Kevin told Sam, not realising that the younger Winchester was not really listening to his explanations, “so really, considering the height I’m at, it could prove lethal for me. Ipso facto, Gabriel should appear to save me”

“Mhm… right, you ready?”, Sam asked, hoping Kevin would not ask him to repeat what he had just said.

“As ready as I’m ever gonna be”, the prophet retorted before taking a deep composing breath. Sam saw how Kevin shut his eyes and murmured something under his breath, possibly a prayer, before leaping off the ladder. Sam watched as Kevin’s body plummeted to the ground, hoping that Gabriel would show up once again. The last thing the younger Winchester wanted was to explain to Cas why Kevin had several broken bones in his body resulting of purposefully leaping off a ladder. Sam’s worries dissipated when he heard the ruffle of wings and caught sight of Gabriel catching Kevin bride-style at the bottom of the ladder.

“Oh, silly me”, Kevin uttered, nervousness evident in his tone as he was once again faced with the powerful archangel Gabriel, “What a clumsy klutz I am. Man, it wouldn’t surprise me if I’m the reason you develop a drinking problem in the future” Sam had to hold back a snort of laughter at Kevin’s exaggerated apology. Gabriel shot the younger Winchester a warning glare, which instantly shut Sam up.

“Believe me, if I could change the cosmic laws ruling this prophet-archangel relationship clause, you would be dead by now!”, Gabriel assured Kevin, who merely gulped audibly at his words. The archangel dropped the prophet, who merely grunted in pain as his body made impact with the wet muddy ground.

“Hey”, Sam greeted Gabriel, a small smile gracing his features. The archangel raised an exasperated eyebrow at his lover’s actions, no doubts refraining from zapping him back into TV land as punishment. The younger Winchester noticed the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of Gabriel’s lips.

“Hiya Samsquatch”, the archangel replied, his voice having grown considerably softer since the last time they spoke. Sam took this as a positive development, however he did not dare take the next step yet. For now, the tenderness he saw reflected in Gabriel’s eyes would do just fine.

OoO

The next couple of weeks were filled with Sam and Kevin coming up with more ridiculous scenarios where the prophet would put his life at risk. Even though the situations were becoming less and less life-threatening, Gabriel never failed to show up. Additionally, he also started to spend more time with Sam whenever he was around to ‘save’ Kevin from a particularly harsh cold, or when he randomly appeared to confiscate a butter knife from the prophet to eliminate the risk of ‘stabbing himself to death’.

Sam figured that enough was enough. He wanted the angel to stay for good. He had prepared a whole speech, dinner, flowers… the whole romantic crap Gabriel was into (and yes, he 100% owned up to it, too). The archangel was bound to stick around after that, right? So, Sam had asked Kevin for one last favour. Kevin would come very close to cutting himself badly with his razor, a scenario the two of them had already used on Gabriel before, and which had worked. Then, Sam would take Gabriel away to the dining area and treat him to a lovely meal, and surprise him with a home-made dessert. Sam knew the archangel would not be able to resist this gesture, and the younger Winchester was especially proud of his little plan.

Imagine Sam’s disappointment when Gabriel appeared earlier than planned.

“Samshine, we need to talk”, the archangel announced.

“NO! No, this was not supposed to happen that way! I had everything planned to the very last detail, and you think you can just show up and ruin everything?”

Gabriel’s puzzled expression at Sam’s reaction only intensified when his lover fisted his own hair in frustration, letting out guttural groan to emphasises just how upset he was that his surprise for Gabriel had failed.

“Sam, I…”

“I’ve been planning this for days, I have a speech”, Sam exclaimed, pulling out a folded piece of paper, “see? You can’t be here yet, I haven’t set anything up and besides, dinner is not even cooked yet, and the lemon-meringue pie is still cooking in the oven…”

“So that’s what smells so heavenly, huh? I simply thought you’d changed your shower gel”, Gabriel joked as he looked at Sam with all the love and adoration in the world. The archangel took several tentative steps towards his lover and tenderly intertwined his fingers with Sam’s. The gesture seemed to relax the younger Winchester instantly judging by the way his shoulders slumped at Gabriel’s touch.

“Gabe, this is not funny…”

“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong kiddo. It’s hilarious! You wanna know why?”, the archangel asked while wiggling his eyebrows. Sam looked utterly confused by the display.

“Why?”

“Because, my beautiful moose… you and I had the exact same idea. Fair enough, my dinner was gonna take place in Paris and dessert would have been a chocolate religieuse from the best pastry chef of the capital, but…” Gabriel smiled earnestly at Sam before placing a soft kiss on the back of the taller hunter’s hand without breaking eye contact, “I think I like your idea better. I can’t wait to taste that home-made lemon meringue pie”

Sam could not hold back the happy, albeit teary smile that graced his lips. Leaning down, the younger Winchester locked his lips with Gabriel’s, feeling the familiar warmth spread through his chest as his lover kissed him back just as lovingly.

All was good. And Sam was not about to let Gabriel leave him ever again.

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ladala99 · 6 years ago

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Spyro Reignited Countdown - The Legend of Spyro: The Eternal Night (Console)

If you expected me to review the handheld versions from the title, sorry. I didn’t get those back when the games first came out. I’m considering getting them in the future and I’ll review them if that happens.

But onto The Eternal Night! The first Spyro game that caused me to consider quitting the series after playing! (Spoiler alert: I didn’t)

Gameplay

Basic controls are exactly the same as its direct predecessor, but with some new twists. Melee now lets you chain five air hits rather than three, and now we have the new ability: Dragon Time.

Dragon Time lets you slow down the environment around you. It’s used in some platforming, and it’s extremely useful in combat. It’s also just plain cool. Too bad I didn’t know how to use it properly when I first played!

If A New Beginning is too easy, The Eternal Night takes the opposite approach. Enemy AI has been improved, new types of enemies are sometimes very cheap, enemies respawn after you die and regain all of their health, cheap shots, and to top it all off, cheat codes for infinite health and mana don’t exist in this game when they were advertised to exist. So not only is it harder, but you’re forced to play it at that difficulty.

Okay, with one exception: the Dark Spyro cheat. It makes the game trivially easy, since Dark Spyro’s breath ability is really overpowered and hardly uses any mana. I honestly haven’t beaten the game without using this ability at least to defeat enemies I already beat. The game as designed just isn’t fun for me.

Additional Game Modes/Characters

There’s the Dragon Challenges that unlock after you beat the game. They’re some combat challenges with special rules. So it’s not really a new game mode, just more combat. I actually found them fun when I actually got around to them, though. (Which I think was the third time I played through the game - did them in a completed file alongside my playthrough on a different file)

Collectables

They actually return in this game! It’s not nearly as extensive as the Classic games, but it’s something.

The most common item is the Scriber’s Quill. These unlock concept art. Generally, these are relatively easy to find and get to, but some of them are hidden.

Then there’s Dragon Relics, which give bonuses to your maximum health and mana. These are hidden very well, to the point that I only found one my first playthrough. Some are extremely difficult to navigate to, as well, such as the Ancient Grove one, where you have to platform across small roots that are difficult to stay on.

They’re pretty fun to get, but they have a major problem: there’s no way to access levels you’ve already beaten without looping through a playthrough (beating the game and starting again on the same file). I always use a guide, simply because I haven’t played the game enough to memorize it. And you really shouldn’t have to do that.

But they exist, which is a step up from A New Beginning.

Breath Abilities

We get the same ones as last time, with some changes. Because plot, Spyro has to relearn his abilities again through the game, and they act a little differently this time. It’s mostly just that instead of a ranged attack, now we have a melee elemental attack.

Fire is fire. But no longer do we have fireballs, but instead the Comet Dash! It’s great for dealing a ton of damage or moving quickly. Honestly I don’t use it much, but it became pretty iconic later. So the fact that it originates here is noteworthy!

Ice is next this time around. The main attack is now a burst attack rather than a stream, and can be used to create platforms in water. Whoa, actual puzzles and platforming! There’s also the tail-based melee attack that slows down your enemies’ movement and, depending on the size of the enemy and your own upgrades, sends them flying. That attack alone made Ice my most-used element.

Earth is third. You get this big flail as your primary attack that you can whip around you quickly, attacking all enemies that surround you. The melee is a pulse attack as Spyro jumps and sends energy out in a sphere underneath him. I really didn’t use it much.

Finally, you get access to Lightning Breath. It was overpowered in the first game, so how does it hold up here? It’s usable, I guess. Primary attack is a large electric orb that you can knock away into distant enemies before blowing up. Pretty neat. Melee is a lightning whirlwind, that’s basically Comet Dash but much more controllable. Very powerful, but uses up mana pretty quickly.

Notice we don’t get any overpowered attacks this time around. Still, second attack wins. They’re all useful, though, as some enemies have hidden weaknesses, and they’re all different enough to be used in different situations.

Bosses

There’s a lot of them, but many are very similar to one another. Not even sure whether to call a lot of these boss fights or alternate game modes since they’re played a lot differently than the rest of the game.

The Assassin and all the Skurvywings fights are all pretty much the same. You’re on a 2D plane where you can move back and forth, and jump, while sending fire (and only fire) out to your opponent, who is flying around. The main difference between these fights is the distance between you and your opponent, and thus when you can hit them. The hardest part is dodging, but using Dragon Time makes it manageable. I find these fights pretty fun, since they have a different playstyle than usual.

Arborick uses the same controls as above, but with a twist: you need to attack all of the different parts of the body to proceed. I think in a specific order, too, but I don’t quite recall. There’s also a second round where you just attack as quickly as you can and dodge his attacks. Pretty creative and fun boss.

Fellmuth Arena is pretty much “lets take some bosses and minibosses from A New Beginning and have you fight them here in a small arena!”

We’ve got the Blunder Tails, which are some optional enemies in A New Beginning. This time, they’re both aggressive at the same time, and their AI’s a bit better. You have to use melee carefully to beat them. It’s a little tough with both of them after you, but they’re only mini-bosses, so it’s doable.

Hey, remember Steam? I bet you do! The Ravage Rider is identical to him! Except he only has two health bars instead of three, so he’s a little easier!

And finally, the Executioner. The guide I use says he’s identical to the Ice and Electric Kings from A New Beginning, but there is a fairly major difference here: you can’t spam ranged attacks if you don’t have any! Just that fact alone makes the fight a lot harder - you need to fight him like you were supposed to in the first place! *gasp*

Next up is Skabb, who is a boss that acts like a boss should. Dodge his attacks, wait until he rests, and beat on him when he does. You’ve seen this kind of boss as far back as A Hero’s Tail. (before that, you generally were using the environment or powerups to fight rather than your normal attacks)

The Elemental Spirits are more copies of the Ice and Electric King, but this time you’re limited to just one element when you fight them. Hope you upgraded more than just Ice! (I think you can also use Dark Spyro here if you’re cheap, though)

Remember Cynder’s fight from the first game? What if she was crazy aggressive and you could only use one element at a time on her? What if you simply can’t cheese her because Dark Spyro doesn’t work? Honestly, it’s a very fun fight. Although I think I mostly love it because the first time I completed the game, I spammed Dark Spyro everywhere I could, and here I was forced not to. And I had fun.

Finally, Gaul. you lose your breath abilities against him, meaning you’re forced to fight him with melee. It makes a very fun and intense fight. Second round you get access to Dark Spyro, but you aren’t completely out of the water as he still has some fight left in him. Dark Spyro’s still really overpowered, though. Still, you’ll need it. I had a blast the first time I actually got to him. Again, being forced not to use Dark Spyro (and then being in a fight where you have to use Dark Spyro) made it a lot of fun.

So in general, very varied, and there’s a ton of bosses here. Some are copy-pasted from A New Beginning, but with the increased difficulty, they feel new enough to work, and some limit what you can use against them.

Levels

Much more varied compared to the first game. Maybe not necessarily in style, but definitely in gameplay. There’s so much more platforming and cleverer puzzles scattered around. You need to make full use of Dragon Time and Spyro’s Elemental abilities not only to fight, but simply to get through each level.

The levels themselves are also well-themed and not nearly as cliche as in the first game. Okay, crystal-based caves are pretty cliche, as well as evil volcanoes. But Skabb’s Fleet, come on! Flying pirate ships manned by dogs!

I can say I definitely had a lot more fun maneuvering in this game than in tits predecessor.

Story

Honestly, a whole lotta nothing happens in this game. It’s basically the filler episode of the series. The storytelling is still incredibly well-done, but really, it all boils down to rescuing the princess dragoness.

So Cynder feels all guilty about the first game and tries to leave the Dragon Temple. Spyro tries to go after her, but unfortunately the Dragon Temple ends up under attack and Spyro has to go help.

After defending the Temple, Spyro gets a vision from this Chronicler guy and is instructed to find a special tree in a forest. Ignitus encourages him to follow his advice, and Spyro goes on to look for that tree.

Tree turns out to be Arborick. Who some pirates were in the middle of capturing for their arena tournament. They capture Spyro, too, for good measure, because he happened to pass out to learn a new breath ability at a bad time.

Spyro is forced to participate in the arena challenges. Turns out they captured Cynder, too, though. But Cynder is captured again by Gaul the Ape King’s forces. And Spyro has to break himself out of this situation to go after them. Oh, and Hunter of Avalar has a note delivered. He never really appears in this game.

He does, and promptly passes out in the middle of the ocean for another lesson. Luckily this turtle-guy you’ll never see again was there to rescue him. And take him to the Celestial Caves, where Spyro has to make it through the Chronicler’s security system before finally meeting the king of bad timing himself.

Spyro learns that Cynder has been captured by Gaul to be used to summon the Dark Master or something. Spyro wants to go after her. The Chronicler tells him to “ride out the storm. Live to fight another day,” basically telling him to stay there and stay safe.

Spyro say no way and escapes, traveling to the Mountain of Malefor and the Well of Souls to rescue Cynder. He faces Gaul, but not before the Celestial Moons do their thing and Spyro gets caught up in the corruption. He turns into Dark Spyro and brutally kills Gaul. It takes Cynder knocking him out of the beam to snap him out of it.

The cave crumbles around them, and there’s no escape. Spyro remembers the Chronicler’s words, and uses his time powers to freeze them in crystal. There they would be stuck, until Hunter finds them. Cue credits.

So yeah. But again, the storytelling is amazing despite what it is and I had a blast watching and experiencing it. The atmosphere’s great, and I really loved the sketchbook style some of the cutscenes had.

Once I saw the ending (because I think I looked it up on YouTube; I didn’t beat the game until many years later), I couldn’t wait for the next game. Mostly to watch it, because I had decided that if it was going to be this hard, I wouldn’t get it again. Sadly, this series never got a real conclusion in the same style.

Unique in the Series?

In many ways, yes. Dragon Time never shows up again, and thus a lot of the gameplay is completely unique because a lot of the game relies on it.

In other ways, it’s very similar to A New Beginning.

Conclusion

I gave up on this game because I didn’t like Action games at that age. Once I got older, and actually appreciated Action games a bit more, I learned to love this game.

Sure, it’s not perfect. Sure, I do need to cheat to fully enjoy it (because it’s not fun fighting cheap enemies you’ve already beaten. I just blast them until I get back to where I was before). But it’s a really solid game and a ton of fun.

On it’s own right, I think it’s just as good as the classic trilogy. It’s just a completely different genre. It’s a shame in hindsight that it didn’t do well enough for Krome to finish the series.

#spyro #the legend of spyro #the eternal night #video game review #spyro reignited

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softlofty · 7 years ago

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growth and time will grant us love | ringsy

READ THIS ON AO3

Attraction is a weird, unbounded thing. That is the conclusion Easy comes to. It is the only logical one, the only way to more or less explain what is happening.

Ringo has been in his life for far longer than Easy ever wanted him to, and 90% of the time they spend together consists of fighting and shouting. He has always been there, even when Easy did not want him to be. Especially when Easy did not want him to be. Locking horns over girls and anything else that would be between them.

Being annoyed with Ringo is the easiest thing in the world, and Easy thinks he is always asking for it. His head tilted high, a smug pull around his mouth, saying anything that will coax a reaction out of Easy. It puts them in a room together more often than Easy wants to be, and if anyone were to ask him to define the relationship between himself and Ringo, he would not know what word to choose.

What do you call the guy who makes you feel frustrated in a way that no one else can, knows just how to push your buttons and crawl under your skin until you feel like you might explode, who fucks you over time and time again and forces you to make mistakes as well, who you get locked in a shoe closet with to make sure you do not get bitten by a snake and somehow that is one of the more pleasant memories you have with them?

It feels like things have somewhat settled between them now anyway, Suji long gone and the both of them having returned to their normal, more separate lives.

And then somewhere along the line, as Easy is handing a customer back their change, Ringo walks out of the door with a man in tow, who he says something to with a smile dangerously close to the one he always gives Easy, and then Ringo just hooks an arm around the man’s shoulders and kisses him, indulgingly and lingering, his eyes giving the man a flirtatious once-over when they part.

It takes a few moments before it registers with Easy that he has never seen Ringo like this before with a guy. He knows that within their friend group they are probably all fine with this, and Easy reminds himself that this has nothing to do with him, and he should not care.

But Easy’s eyes do not move, and what stands out is how comfortable Ringo looks, not attempting to hide anything despite the fact that he has not told his friends and roommates about this. Nothing about it is out of place, the way Ringo handles himself and the man he presumably spent the night with as confident and cocky as everything else he does. Easy finds himself transfixed, feeling a spark of interest as he watches Ringo kiss the man’s mouth once before walking away.

When their whole friend group is gathered that evening in the flat share, Easy realises he is not the only one who noticed something, because Paco is the one who brings it up. “Ringo?” Ringo makes a disinterested noise and keeps his eyes on his magazine. “Did you have someone over last night?” Paco waits a beat before settling on ‘someone’, and Ringo lifts his eyes. Easy grips his mug a little tighter, eyes focused on Ringo, who sighs and puts the magazine away, standing up in the middle of the room.

“If you must know, I spent the night with a man. I am bisexual.” The last word rolls off of his tongue as if it comes directly from his heart, firm and secure, the seeds of his being now having rooted, finally strong enough to reach all the way out, blooming and flourishing. Easy can see how it is a part of Ringo, how he does not try to separate it from himself but instead it’s fully ingrained, not something he feels shameful or regretful about, and it makes so much sense now that Easy feels stupid for not seeing it before.

Ringo immediately walks back to his seat and picks up his magazine, and Easy hides a smile behind his mug. Everyone else in the room also goes back to what they were doing after a moment, and Tobias meets Easy’s eyes for a moment, and Easy realises he knew.

When Easy is in bed that night he thinks about the way Ringo looked at that guy, about what it would feel like to have that kind of gaze on you. He had never seen Ringo look like that, his face a little softer than usual but still sharply focused and a wicked glint in his eye that could make you forget your own name.

Easy’s dreams are saturated with Ringo. His gaze firmly set on Easy, something like a decision flickering through his eyes as he grabs Easy’s hands, strong arms coming around his body as Ringo presses them together.

Easy can feel Ringo’s nose brushing against his shoulder and then he buries his face in the crook between Easy’s shoulder and neck. When he pulls back he does not go far, their foreheads resting against one another and Easy sees how Ringo’s eyes keep going to Easy’s mouth and then back up.

The Ringo of his imagination is closer than the actual one has ever been, yet it feels so vivid and within reach. And he opens his mouth and starts talking, and his voice is low and quiet, rumbling in between them as it keeps Easy where he is, letting the image and sound of Ringo wash over him.

“I can’t believe I finally get it now,” Ringo whispers, and Easy can feel a warm puff of air against his lips. “Get what?” Easy murmurs. “That I like men too.”

Ringo leans in and lets one hand glide against the side of Easy’s face, his fingertips grazing over the stubble on his cheeks. “That wanting to kiss someone is okay, even when there’s a beard in between.” His eyes trail over the details of Easy’s face, and he has to know what he is doing, Easy’s mouth parting as he helplessly leans into Ringo’s touch.

When Easy wakes up, his head feels foggy and clouded, and he’s half hard but he ignores it because everything feels a little too near and cramped, and the more he thinks about it the more the panic seems to settle in. He knows, can feel he’s somehow drawn, but it is like there is not enough space in his head and air in his lungs to deal with this right now, so Easy tells himself to stop. Dreams are a way to process the things that happen to you, so it is not that weird to dream about Ringo the night he comes out as bi.

He spends the day in the kiosk, and in the late afternoon Ringo jogs by, almost going past him but then taking a few steps backwards anyway. “Hi. A water bottle please.” Ringo says breathily, and he keeps hopping from one foot to the other, earning him a look from Easy. “I’m keeping my heartrate up,” Ringo explains, a hint of annoyance in his voice like he would rather be doing anything else than explaining himself to Easy. “Here. Two fifty please.” Easy says as he places the bottle in front of him, and Ringo reaches into his pocket and gives him the money. As Easy puts the coins in the till, Ringo starts stretching, grabbing his elbows with his hands as he pulls his arms behind his head, his T-Shirt riding up as his arms are raised. Easy can feel that he is looking at that strip of skin for too long, but his mind is stuck on how Ringo’s stomach is as tan as his arms.

And the thoughts keep coming from there. He can see the definition of the muscles in Ringo’s abdomen, and Easy bets that if he wore his sweatpants a little lower, he would see a V-shaped dip around his pelvis. Ringo is toned everywhere, now that he thinks about it. Easy had seen his ridiculous biceps before, but he rolled his eyes at it, put it away as vanity and arrogance. Now, it makes Easy wonder if Ringo’s type of guy also has to be muscular. What kind of man would he even be into?

“Just because you know I’m bi now doesn’t mean you get to ogle me.” Ringo says, Easy’s eyes snapping up to his and it is definitely meant as a sharp witty comment, but Ringo does not look pissed off enough for it to come across as mean. Easy feels flustered, doesn’t think he has ever felt flustered by Ringo before and desperately wants things to feel normal again. “Take your water and go.” Easy says with an unamused eyeroll, and Ringo raises his eyebrows but jogs on anyway, and Easy knows he did not buy it.

That night, Easy goes to the rooftop. He had felt wired and jumpy all evening, and Tobias definitely noticed which resulted in worried looks every few minutes which did not help. Leaving Tobias with mumblings of needing fresh air, and when he slowly pushes open the door leading to the rooftop, he can hear someone talking. “Yes, I told them. Honestly, it was fine. I didn’t plan on telling them like this, but they know now so I guess it’s all good.”

It’s Ringo, and Easy stays still, his flat palm holding back the door. “No one was being an ass about it, so it’s okay.” Ringo pauses, listening to the person on the other end of the line, and then he sighs, continuing to speak in a quieter voice. “I was a little scared. Obviously. Kind of comes with the territory. But I promise you, I’m fine.” There is a few more hums and yes’s exchanged and then Ringo hangs up, Easy now walking out, the door falling shut behind him.

Ringo turns around at the sound, and he actually looks surprised to see him. Easy stands there, unsure of whether he should have gone back downstairs instead. Somehow it feels a little out of place to resume their usual quips back and forth, the moment too personal to use harsh words, and Ringo seems to be on the same wavelength because his eyes are softened and there is a small smile on his lips.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were up here.” Easy says. The night sky is dark behind Ringo, and there is one lamp on and a string of fairy lights at the side, a warm glow across Ringo’s face, and the only word Easy comes up with is pretty.

It is like Ringo fits in his skin a little better than before, a certain ease around him that has nothing to do with cockiness, and Easy cannot help but find it attractive. “That’s okay.” Ringo says, and Easy walks over to where Ringo is sitting, taking a seat in the chair next to him. “That was Kira, on the phone,” Ringo says then, unprompted, and Easy turns his head to look at him, “wanted to know how my ‘coming out’ went.” He uses his fingers for the quotation marks, and Easy huffs a laugh at Ringo’s face, clearly unamused by his sister’s intention to make it a big deal but also carrying a fondness for the fact that she cares.

“And how did it go?” Easy asks when silence falls between them. He shrugs, and Easy is amazed by how unaffected Ringo seems. Especially since it has been on Easy’s mind ever since it happened, like Easy is more bothered by it than Ringo is.

“It’s fine. It’s no one’s business anyway.” Ringo says, scratching his cheek. Easy hums, hesitating on what to say, but he feels like he should say something. “As long as you know,” Easy gestures with his hand and trails off, but Ringo just looks at him questioningly, “you know, that we’re all fine with it.”

Ringo exhales a breathy laugh and rolls his eyes. “Gee, thanks for not hating who I am, that means a lot.” “Well,” Easy stretches the word and Ringo grins at him, “you’re still an idiot.” He does not even look offended, just nods his head like he knows he rubs people up the wrong way sometimes.

“You just-“ Easy starts but Ringo interrupts him, “Easy, you don’t have to give me a speech about how I’m free to love who I want, don’t worry about it.” He puts a hand on Easy’s arm, his eyebrows slightly raised but a small smile on his lips, knowing Easy means well.

Neither of them say anything then, and Easy looks down at his hands in his lap. Ringo is not moving either, and it is the type of situation they never find themselves in; sitting in silence together, not arguing or fighting. Actually, now that Easy thinks about it, in the past couple of days they have gotten along better than they have in a while. Easy turns his head to look at Ringo, and before he thinks about it he opens his mouth.

“How did you know that you like guys?” Something like amusement passes over Ringo’s face but then he pulls himself together, and Easy can see he is taking his question seriously instead of embarrassing Easy. “Once I felt an interest for men, I knew.” Easy takes it in and thinks about it, and Ringo continues. “It feels like an instinct, you know. Like, I knew I was not looking at men because I liked the suit they were wearing, but because I found them attractive.”

Easy slowly nods his head, and he waits for Ringo to ask the question which is undoubtedly on his lips but he does not. “Also, kissing guys is not all that different from kissing girls in my experience,” Ringo says, and he looks Easy in the eyes, “I mean, it might be when you have a beard like you, but other than that it’s not.”

Easy’s stubble is thicker now than it has been before, and he likes wearing it this way. He never grew a beard as a conscious choice to make himself more attractive to women, but it did cross his mind that he thinks men can look better with a bit of stubble. He frowns and narrows his eyes at Ringo. “Do you feel a beard when you kiss someone?” Ringo pulls the same expression back at him, the corners of his mouth tugging up. “Well, yes. A little.” Easy looks at him incredulously. “How? Do you rub cheeks with the person you’re making out with?”

Ringo laughs at that, turning sideways in his chair. “Listen, if you kiss someone you’re not always like this, right?” Ringo holds his two palms flat together. “Sometimes it goes like this,” He moves his hands sideways, “and then you can definitely feel stubble.” Easy peers at him, and Ringo rolls his eyes before leaning in close, one hand under Easy’s chin.

“See, if I’m this close,” Ringo’s voice is low and quiet, “and if I go like this,” He tilts his head sideways, lips brushing past Easy’s stubble until the corner of Ringo’s mouth is pressed against Easy’s cheek, “I can feel it.” Ringo pulls back but only slightly, and Easy is dazedly look at him, eyes unfocused and lips apart.

He doesn’t know what to do, only knows that if he moves or stands up the moment will have passed, and he doesn’t want that. Maybe all of the things that have been going through his mind lately have led up to this.

“You can kiss me if you want,” Ringo murmurs, eyes on Easy’s mouth, and Easy leans forward and kisses him. There is a first initial press of their lips together, nothing but a touch, but then Ringo catches Easy’s bottom lip between his own and pulls him in further, and Easy cannot help but lean into it. Easy closes his eyes as Ringo’s mouth moves against his, and then there’s a warm hand on the side of his face, Ringo’s thumb grazing over his cheek. It’s warm and intimate and intense, and kissing Ringo is so much more soft and affectionate than Easy thought it would be.

They pull apart and Ringo licks his lips, letting his hand fall onto Easy’s shoulder before pulling it back. Easy blinks a few times and clears his throat, uneasiness and anxiety swirling in his gut. He knows he liked what they just did, but what it means feels too enormous and heavy to take on right now.

Ringo also looks unsure of what to do now, and his eyes bounce all over Easy’s face. “Everything okay?” Easy turns his head, nodding a little too fast. “Yeah. I, I should go.” He stands up. “Okay.” Ringo says, and he looks like he understands what just happened, in a way that Easy definitely does not.

Easy leaves Ringo sitting there on the rooftop, and makes his way back to his apartment. He does not sleep much that night, fear taking the upper hand, and the memories of that night keep spinning around in his mind, making him feel disoriented with who he is and what he wants.

Years go by, and on the night of a pride party, Easy makes his way to the Huber Bau offices. “Put your work stuff away, we’re celebrating!” He walks towards the staircase. “Yeah, soon.” Ringo says from upstairs, flipping through his papers. “No, no excuses! I saw Huber walk out the door. If he can leave, so can the true brain of Huber Bau.”

He walks into Ringo’s office, Ringo mumbling something about needing more time but Easy spins his desk chair around. “All you have to do is to take you and your perfect body with you.” Ringo laughs lightly as Easy leans in and kisses him. He hops up on the table, his legs swinging. “It’s a year today.”

Ringo shoots him a look. “What?” Easy presses his lips together. “You really don’t know?” Ringo takes a second to think about it but then shakes his head. “We haven’t been dating for a year.”

Easy rolls his eyes. “I know, but I did come out a year ago.” Ringo puts a few papers in a binder, and after a few seconds Easy speaks again. “I can’t believe it’s been a year since I got it.”

Ringo smiles teasingly at him. “I knew you were gay before then, but I didn’t say anything because you wouldn’t have believed me anyway.” Easy purses his lips to smother a smile and stands behind Ringo, throwing his arms around him. “You’re stupid.” Ringo smiles wide and Easy kisses the apple of his cheek. “But cute stupid.”

And later, when Ringo lets Easy pull him onto the dancefloor by his hands, spinning him around until all he sees is flashes of bright colours and the grinning face of his boyfriend, he thinks himself lucky that their paths did not cross once, but twice, allowing them to fall together in the best way.

#ringsy #ringo x easy #ringo beckmann #easy winter #unter uns #lisa writes fic #fdksljfdlsj sorry i forgot to insert a read more in the initial post

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