#C: Lif (Fire Emblem)

[avisteliterature]

Rain

Líf (Fire Emblem) x Reader

RATING: General

GENRES: Fluff/ Drama(?)

WORD COUNT: 441

SUMMARY: You like the rain. Líf likes it too for a specific reason.

Líf watches on with a melancholic look on his face as you stare out the window, seemingly in a daze. It's raining outside with the sky a dark grey, but despite the gloomy appearance of the world right now, you seem rather calm and content.

The former general of the dead knows full well how much you love the rain. If he closes his eyes, he can still remember those precious times in which the iteration of yourself from his world would mischievously pull him out into the rain with child-like glee to play around in. He remembers the moments in which he would kiss you underneath the pouring rain and feel you melt against him.

Perhaps it's because he longed to see that smile once more that he approaches you, gently taking you by the hand. You pull your eyes away from the window to look at him with a questioning tilt of your head. Líf doesn't say anything, merely giving your hand a small tug, wordlessly prompting you to follow him.

Surprisingly enough, the castle is mostly quiet, many of the inhabitants having locked themselves away in their rooms or are otherwise scattered quietly throughout various places around the castle. Líf leads you outside with nothing to shield the both of you from the rain.

"Líf—?!" You're confused by his behaviour.

He doesn't say anything, continuing to drag you along until you both arrive at your favourite spot—the garden. He turns to face you, the two of you getting more and more soaked from the downpour, but it seems like neither of you particularly mind it. You stare up at him, half-expecting an explanation. He doesn't provide one. Instead, he takes your face into his hands and leans down to gently rest his forehead against yours.

"Líf, what's wrong?" You whisper in the small space between you two, feeling concerned for him.

"Nothing," he answers. "I simply thought that you might... enjoy being out here."

You peer up at him, your eyes searching his face for any hidden meaning behind his words and actions, but you aren't able to find any. "...I do," you answer him, a small but genuine smile upon your lips. "I... really like the rain. It's extremely calming. It feels like the whole world just stops, and everything goes quiet."

You pause for a moment.

"What about you?" You ask, curious. "Do you like the rain?"

"...In a way," Líf answers vaguely. "...I suppose I do."

Though his reasons for liking the gloomy weather isn't as poetic as yours. He likes it only simply because it can make you, the one he loves, smile.

[moe-broey]

OKAY FINAL THOUGHT FOR REAL BC I FEEL LIKE. IT'S A WORTHY ADDITION. I feel like I actually wouldn't be drawn to Lif in the first place were he not a distorted mirror of Alfonse. Like. I think about this SO much actually and I'd love to express it in some comics too, but, I literally think if Lif Wasn't Alfonse I would just think. "Oh that design FUCKS!" And I do think I'd like him, generally, as a character separate from Alfonse. If he was (for example) literally the ancestor Lif he presented himself to be. I'd think he's cool and I'd probably enjoy him. Even if he kept the asshole tendencies. Like. Understandable, you're undead. It's fine.

But I Don't think I'd be like. ANYWHERE as insane about him if he wasn't Alfonse. If there were no traces of Alfonse in him, and if there were no traces of LIF in Alfonse. LIKE. THAT'S WHAT GETS ME. Lif ISN'T just a remnant of who he used to be, of someone he wishes SO badly to bury, of someone who's still so painfully there, in every action he takes. Alfonse isn't just One Mistake from becoming Lif, either, though that's what he says (but is that what he believes?). Alfonse IS Lif. Just as much as Lif is still Alfonse. FUCKED UP‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

[calamitys-artbin]

o h look, something not related to final fantasy 7! god i fucking love the cohort of the dead cutscene so much,,,,, had to redraw a screenshot. also look! no lineart,,,,, for the most part

[avi-stella]

Unfeeling Warmth | Líf x Reader

》 RATING: Teen | GENRE: Drama(?) | 334 words 》 SUMMARY: Death does not fear you. 》 A/N: Originally written as a Líf x OC ficlet to accompany this.

The General of the real of the dead holds Sökkvabekkr to your unflinching face, its sharp edge of the blade breaking the skin of your cheek. Blood forms from the wound before it drips down your cheek in small droplets. Asides from the uncomfortable grimace of pain, your face remains neutral, almost apathetic.

Líf stares down at you, and neither of you two speak for a moment. He should kill her, he thinks vaguely to himself. His "Queen" had ordered it, but for a reason unknown to him, he pauses. "...You."

A beat passes before he continues with a question, "Are you not afraid?"

"No," you breathe out. You almost didn't hesitate with your response. With a subtle movement, you tilt your head to the side, an action akin to that of a curious child. "...Should I be?"

"You will die," Líf answers. For a moment, he thinks that perhaps you do not realize the gravity of your situation. In truth, though, he doesn't know why he still hasn't taken your life yet.

"...And?"

Although Líf's expression remains unchanged, he does feel something akin to surprise as your nonchalant answer. You then take a few steps closer to him, and the man stops himself from taking a step back. To retreat now would be an embarrassment.

With an unchanging expression, you lift your hand up to his face, or rather, the small patch of skin of what's left of it. You stroke the mask upon his mouth, brushing aside dull strands of hair. It's... warm. You, who has such dead eyes but is still very much alive... feel warm. It is a feeling that the progenitor of Askr has long since forgotten.

When you are met with nothing but silence, you decide to speak once more. "So you're the first king of Askr that Alfonse has told me stories about. If you don’t mind me asking, if you are a king so highly praised in legends and history, then why are you in Hel?”

Thank you for reading! If you liked this work, you can help support me by liking/reblogging. You can also commission me or donate to my ko-fi(.com/avistella)! Masterlist

[avisteliterature]

Goodbye to the New Year

Líf (Fire Emblem) x Reader

RATING: General

GENRES: Hurt/ Comfort

WORD COUNT: 879

SUMMARY: Líf comforts you in the New Year.

You smile faintly to yourself from the sidelines as you watch the Order of Heroes celebrate the upcoming New Year. Most of the Heroes are cheerful and excited to welcome in the new year, while some feel melancholic and nostalgic as they look back upon the previous one. The energy is high amongst the people, but you can't find it within yourself to join in the celebration. Careful not to be seen by anyone and disturb everybody's celebrations, you quietly slip away from the crowd and festivities.

You aimlessly wander around the castle, your mind full of thoughts. You can't put into words what you feel right now. A heavy weight is settled deep within your chest, and you struggle to shake it away. It isn't that you necessarily dislike the idea of the New Year, but you aren't particularly excited for it either. If anything, all you feel right now is regret. So much and yet so little has happened in this year, and you chide yourself for not doing better.

You had tried. You really did. You wanted to become a better person this year, but rather than taking steps forward, it feels as though you've taken several steps back instead. With the New Year just around the corner, you're reminded of the fact that time waits for no one. The world continues to turn, time passing by without pause, and you feel as though time has stopped for you. That you're stuck where you are right now while everybody else moves forward in life.

You exhale a deep and heavy sigh as you stop walking in the middle of the empty hallway. You crouch down to the floor and hug your legs, burying your face in between your knees. You feel like you want to cry, but you try not to. You would feel pathetic if you did.

You don't know how long you've stayed there like that, but eventually, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching you. They stop just in front of you, and you slowly lift your head to find Líf standing there. He doesn't say a word and merely offers his hand out to you.

You don a wry smile but graciously accept his hand anyways. Líf gently pulls you back up to your feet, and you mumble a short word of thanks. Silence stretches out between you two, making you start to feel a bit more uncomfortable.

"Aren't you going to join the others at the party?" You ask, hoping to make things feel less awkward between you two.

"No. I simply wished to make sure you were okay," Líf answers in a soft voice, the love he feels for you making itself known.

"Of course I'm okay," you reply a tad bit too quickly in an attempt to hide your feelings. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Líf stares down at you, and rather than responding, he reaches a hand out to tenderly cup your cheek. His touch is so gentle that it makes you forget the sensation of his cold and hard armour. You close your eyes, appreciating the sense of security that washes over you at the loving and caring touch. Líf continues to stare at you, his thumb idly caressing the skin of your cheek.

"...Thank you for getting through another year," Líf says, and his words make your heart shake. "I know that it's been hard for you, but you did well. Thank you for not giving up and for being here."

You take a shuddering breath. You can feel tears starting to form in the corner of your eyes, and you clench your eyes shut even tighter to stop them from falling. Your hands ball into fists, and you bring them up to your chest as if to guard your heart.

"Was it...enough?" You wonder out loud. "Was it really enough?"

"Yes," Líf tells you without an ounce of hesitation. "It was more than enough. You managed to live through another year despite your thoughts telling you to throw it all away."

You struggled significantly this year. Your mental and emotional health had been hit really hard, and you constantly fought with yourself and the demons inside your head to get through another day. Every day was a battle, and it wore you down. To have your efforts overcoming your internal conflict acknowledged and even praised by someone else hit you harder than you thought it would have.

Unable to stop yourself, you choke back a sob, and you bring your head down to bury your face into your hands. Líf wraps his arms around your frame and pulls you close. His embrace is a great solace to you, keeping your loneliness at bay. You continue to cry quietly, even as the fireworks and cheers to ring in the new year resound in the air.

The past year was hard. It was really hard, but you got through it.

You got through it.

You'll worry and think about the new year later, but for now, you will allow yourself this small moment to cry about the year you had to live through while listening to Líf's soothing words of reassurance.

It will be okay. The next year may be just as hard, but it will be okay.

[avisteliterature]

Let the World Burn for All I Care | Líf x Reader

RATING: Teen ◇ GENRE: Hurt/ Comfort ◇  686 words SUMMARY: Líf makes sure no one can see you in your moment of weakness. [If you enjoy my writing, consider supporting me by ordering a writing commission or donating via ko-fi!]

Líf comes from a future in which he's seen all the good and bad sides of you. He has seen you at your best, and he has seen you at your absolute worst. And so, that is why he stands guard outside your door to make sure that others don't bear witness to this side of the Summoner they've never seen before. ...Because he knows how much you hate this side of you.

"Let me through, Líf," Alfonse growls at his older counterpart, his hand on the tilt of his sword in a threatening manner. Even if the former General of the Dead is now a member of the Order, Alfonse will not hesitate to draw his weapon at an ally if they get in the way of ensuring your safety.

"..." Líf doesn't answer, finding it unnecessary. He too rests his hand upon the sword strapped to his waist, sharing the same resolve as the young Askran prince.

From behind him, loud sounds can be heard coming from within your room. Although the closed door muffles what could possibly be happening inside, the sounds that blled through the walls and cracks are enough to cause concern. Alfonse can hear dull thuds, almost as though things were being thrown around. He could have sworn he heard some shattering, the sound of things being broken, coming from inside the room as well, but that isn't what he's worried about.

He can hear you. Although it's barely audible, Alfonse can hear your frustrated shouts and cries. He doesn't know what happened, but he can't bear it. He needs to see you and check if you're okay. He needs and wants to comfort you if that's what you need, but Líf stands in the way.

"Leave," Líf orders him, eyes narrowed. "They do not wish for you to see them as they are right now."

"They need me," the prince argues.

"No. They need time alone. Let them have this. I will take full responsibility for whatever happens to them."

It doesn't look like Líf will be backing out of this, and Alfonse knows when he's outmatched. Although it's frustrating, he accepts defeat, his shoulders sagging. He opens his mouth to say something but decides against it in the end. He glares at the former general as though threatening to hold him through on his word before turning on his heel and leaving with a huff.

Líf watches him leave and brings his attention back to your room. It's all quiet now, he notes to himself. Have you calmed down now? Líf takes a deep breath before opening the door. The room is in complete disarray. The sheets and pillows have been thrown and abandoned on the floor. The hair has been pushed down to its side. The contents of the small work desk and bedside drawer have all been scattered around. Pieces of glass litter the room, an undeniable hazard for whoever enters the room.

And in the middle of that chaotic scene is none other than you, knelt beside your bed. Your body is slump against the mattress, your breathing coming out deep and even. It looks like you passed out after your meltdown, the fatigue finally catching up with you. Líf's eyes grow soft, his chest aching at the sight as he tenderly wipes away with the back of his fingers the fresh tears on your face.

Careful not to rouse you from your slumber, Líf lífts you up into the air before easing you back down onto your bed. He retrieves the pillows and sheets, placing them back in their appropriate places so that you can rest comfortably. He watches over you for a moment before proceeding to turn his attention towards the mess in the room.

Without being prompted, Líf begins to clean up the area. When you wake up, he wants you to be greeted with a decent room. You don't need to bear witness to the aftermath of what happened when you let your emotions get the better of you. You don't need any other reason to self-criticize more than you already do.

[avisteliterature]

Fleeting Happiness | Líf x Alice (OC)

My part of a trade with @eriisaam asdfghjkl; thank you for trading with me!

Líf can't help but stare at the Summoner's back as he follows behind her, the woman leading the team towards the Training Tower. The others are chatting amongst each other while the former General hangs back by himself. His eyes never leave the Summoner's back, and it pains him when the memory of trusted partner flashes in his mind.

Even though she's right in front of him, she feels so distant. It almost feels like she can easily slip away from his grasp like in the past he knows if he takes his eyes off her for a single second. Alice is strong in ways that others don't know, but at the same time, she's unsurprisingly weak and fragile. She can easily break with the simplest touch, and it terrifies him that he could possibly lose her once again.

Without even thinking about it, Líf reaches out to grab Alice's wrist, stopping her in her tracks. She turns around to face him, confused and with questioning eyes. Líf himself doesn't really know why he just grabbed her like that, so he doesn't provide an explanation for his behaviour. Instead, he just wordlessly stares down at her, his fingers still wrapped around her wrist.

"Did you need something?" Alice asks, breaking whatever spell Líf was in.

He pauses. "...No," he eventually responds and slowly lets go of the Summoner.

She doesn't look the least bit convinced, but considering how there are others around, she decides to drop whatever questions she might have for a later time. Alice turns on her heel once more and resumes her pace as Líf lingers behind for a few seconds. He shouldn't get close, he thinks to himself. She doesn't belong by his side.

"Aren't you afraid of dying?"

It was a rhetorical question, spoken in annoyed and frustrated exasperation as Alfonse tended to Alice's wounds. She had been reckless in the Training Tower, shielding Ylgr from an enemy attack. Even if Heroes who have fallen in battle are able to be brought back due to Breidablik's power, Alice simply couldn't bear the idea of a child getting hurt. As someone who loved children, Alice would gladly place herself between them and an enemy if necessary.

"Not really," she answered the prince's question with a nonchalant and casual shrug.

"Don't say that..." Alfonse responded in kind, a troubled look crossing over his face. "Even as a joke, you shouldn't say that..."

"But I don't," Alice insisted, oblivious to her companion's distress towards her words. "It's not like I'm looking for a place to die, but at the same time, if I died tomorrow, I don't think I would mind it."

"I would mind it," the prince answered swiftly in kind, his grip on the Summoner increasing by a fraction. He lowered his eyes to the ground. "I would mind it a lot."

Líf is struggling, he realizes. When he was first summoned to this Askr, he had vowed to himself never to get close to anybody here. He was only here because Alice promised him that she would do everything in her power to give him what he wants—his world back. She had expressed her doubts about the possibility of bringing the dead back to life actually existing, but at the same time, she didn't shoot the idea down entirely. She had argued that there could very well be a world that exists in which breathing life back to the deceased is a real thing. No matter how slim the odds may be, it's not like it's completely hopeless.

So Líf stuck around, waiting for that day to come. He bided his time with minimal interactions and conversations with everybody present. He will leave them at some point, so there's no need to grow sentimental attachment to any of them.

"Do you prefer to called Líf or Alfonse?" Alice suddenly asks one day, a bit embarrassed to voice her question. "I know it's a bit late to only be asking this now, but I was thinking that perhaps you would prefer to be called by your real name rather than an alias."

Líf frowns. "Just Líf is fine. I can no longer return to that other name." Alice's eyes widen in surprise from his unexpected response. Then, to Líf's confusion, her expression changes to that of a very slight and subtle smile. "Why are you smiling?" He questions, unable to think of a reason for her shift in demeanour.

"Because we're similar," the Summoner responds. "It's a bit comforting to me."

The former General furrows his brows together. "In what way are we similar?" In his eyes, both he and Alice are completely different. Despite her struggles and the way she carried herself, she was radiant. Even if she says that she's given up, she still holds a certain child-like innocence to her. She still possesses a sense of hope deep within her heart, whereas Líf has lost his so long ago.

"You abandoned who you were," Alice answers. "Just like me. You threw away your old name, and with it, the life you led with it, along with your ties and sentiments to it."

She's right. There's no denying that, but it still feels awfully bittersweet to Líf when spoken out loud like this. He stays quiet for a moment, only to break it with what he can only consider a tactless quip. "I suppose that's true... Eclat."

Alice's eyes widen, and although Líf expected her to get angry, she gives him a playful sneer instead. "That's hardly fair, Alfonse."

For a brief second, Líf silently ponders to himself if what they're doing now is their own weird and perhaps crude way of flirting. Even though it was such a short interaction, the lightheartedness of it makes Líf feel awfully fluttery around his chest. He wonders how far he can take this, and so, he decides to try something out. He steps towards Alce who instinctively takes a step back to maintain some level of respectable distance. He continues advancing towards her until her back meets with the wall, and he braces his arm against it to support his weight as he looms over the Summoner.

"Ah—"

Líf feels awfully proud of himself for getting this kind of reaction from the woman. He can feel himself smirking. "You always did love it whenever I did this with you. You told me you enjoyed being overpowered by me while still maintaining a sense of control over me."

"I don't—" Alice makes a move to deny him, but Líf cuts her off.

"Don't deny it," he says in a firm and confident voice before lowering it to a whisper. "Or else I'll have to punish you for being a bad girl and lying to me."

"Don't tease me."

The expression that Alice makes next is what Líf wanted to see. Her cheeks hold a pinkish hue, and her eyes become downcast as she bites down on her lower lip. Gods, he missed seeing that face of hers. Before the situation can continue any further, however, a new voice rings out in the air.

"Alice? Are you here?"

Líf immediately pulls himself back and steps away from the Summoner just as Alfonse enters the room. The Askran prince's eyes land upon Alice who seems to have already gotten over her previous blush. "Are you busy?" He asks. "There's something I could use your help with."

"I have time," she says, moving to follow after him. She turns her head back to Líf. "I'll see you later, Líf."

Líf subtly nods his head in acknowledgement and watches the two figures leave. He reflects upon his actions and becomes frustrated. Close. He feels as though he's gotten too comfortable and too close with this Summoner, and he curses himself for not being able to follow through on his vow. It seems as though he can never keep any of his promises, whether to himself or to anyone else.

When he was still just a sweet and naive prince, he promised to himself he wouldn't get close with the Great Hero who was recently summoned. And yet he did.

When he finally came to terms with his feelings, he promised Alice that he would keep her safe. And yet he failed her.

When he was summoned once again as no more than a mere shadow of who he once was, he vowed not to repeat his mitakes again. And yet...

His patience was wearing thin, and his resolve was wavering. What if there really isn't a way to bring the dead back to life? What if what he's chasing is nothing more than a hopeless delusion? Would it be better if he just gave up on what he had set out to do ever since that fateful day? Is that what his beloved Summoner would want? He wishes he could ask her and seek her counsel like he had done so many times before.

Alice told him that she would do everything to give him what he wanted. What if he what he wants is no longer the same? What if what he wants is her? Would it be unfair of him to ask that of her? Would it be unfair towards her, and towards the Alice that now only exists in his memories? Perhaps... it would be best if he take some time to himself to think about what he wants to do now that Hel no longer has a grasp on him.

Líf finds himself alone in the gardens with only the light of moon and stars to light the way. Everybody should already be fast asleep, but he had wanted to order out his thoughts. This garden, although not technically the same, holds precious memories for him. This was Alice's favourite spot, he recalls. He would often find her napping here in the shade during the summer or idly playing by herself with the snow during the winter. It eventually became his favourite spot too, simply because she was here.

He remembers all the kisses that he boldly stole from her then. He remembers holding her close whenever the weight on her shoulders was too much to bear. There really were... a lot of memories associated with this place, but now, it was no longer possible for him to make new ones.

His thoughts are interrupted by a frightened gasp, followed by a murmured "Jesus Christ". Líf looks up and finds Alice standing there in a nightgown, one of hands against her chest. "You scared me," she says after regaining herself and walks up to the broken man. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same," he shoots back. "You should be sleeping."

"Mm, I can't sleep," she replies casually as she clasps her hands behind her back. "So what about you? Why are you here?"

Líf doesn't answer, uncertain of even his own reason for being here. Instead, he just stares her, and against his better judgment, he asks, "What would you do?"

Alice tilts her head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"If... If your world had turned out like mine, and you died while your prince followed the same path I have... what would you say, if you had the chance? What would you want?" He needs to know because he doesn't know what to do anymore.

"Ah, I get it." Alice's expression is unreadable for a while as she thinks about her response. "...I would want Alfonse not to blame himself. I wouldn't want him going down the same path that you have. I can't bear the guilt of having so many innocent lives taken for my sake."

"..."

"But, if Alfonse ever did go down that path, I wouldn't blame him for it. I wouldn't fault him for it. But I would want him to reconsider his actions and try to find happiness somewhere else. His happiness doesn't have to lie with me and me alone if I'm gone. If, at any point, he finds something or someone else to live for and desire, then I want him to go for it. I don't want my memory to chain him down to a life of misery."

"Is that so...?"

"It is," Alice nods and takes Líf's hands into her own. "If your Alice was anything like me, I'm sure she would want the same, so please... don't let her death haunt you and stop you from trying to find something else to live for. If she's anything like me, then I'm sure she would want nothing else than for you to be happy."

"...I see." Líf nods his head before leaning down and presses the bottom half of his face where his lips would be against Alice's cheek. Maybe she's imagining things, but she feels like she can hear a smile in his voice as he whispers, "Thank you, my most cherished love."