#Let the silence ease the wildness. Your embrace clears the storm in my head. [ ; ] SQUALL / ZACK ➤〔 MYRISTICISMS 〕

[knightfeared]

Casually blames @myristicisms

[grieverled-moved]

HE'D ALWAYS MADE IT WELL KNOWN TO THE MAN HIMSELF THAT HE WAS SOMEONE WHO WAS HARD TO READ. Practically a walking surprise, the gun-blader could hardly say whatever he'd come to expect from him was ever accurate or played out how he'd thought it should've. Usually, he had a heavy handle on that particular skill of his, honing it as sharp as he'd managed to be able to get an perfect read on someone long before he'd approached so he could anticipate what action to take next.

In his line of work, being able to make such a call well in advance held the difference between life & death, & yet . . . here the frustrating bastard was yet again proving that for all his self-perceived skill in this field, for all the things he'd seen or claimed he had — he still couldn't anticipate just who Zack Fair was, what it was he'd wanted, or whether his intentions were completely pure with no malicious motives.

Every bone in his body wants to trust him, but given his past, all he'd seen . . . it's a hard task to accomplish. In his opinion, there was no such thing as a good man — but Fair came scarily close. But it'd never upset the other. No, instead, the optimistic, forever sunny First would always reassure him that whatever answer Squall's given when he did ask him anything, it was fine in the end. While many SOLDIER's were hardheaded, stubborn, bearing their own sort of inflated pride at even making it within these ranks, Zack carried himself differently in a way that couldn't help but lure his attention.

He was genuine. Honest in his empathy, while ensuring his attitude was one that never harmed, always did his best to uplift those in his presence & under his care.

That sort of gentle tenderness was rarely seen by the Turk, enough that once he’s face to face with it for as long as he had been, getting to know the other man bit by bit, it stuns him frozen solid when the other reaches over to brush a bit of his dangling bangs from his eyes, slow as gloved fingers tuck the odd strands behind an ear more securely — he isn’t sure just how to react, what he’s supposed to do. He moves like he’s going to startle him, & maybe it’s wise he is, because Squall’s heartbeat is pacing so loud it’s hard to think logically, breath curiously catching in his throat as he glances up to watch the strange man with wide, questioning eyes.

His pen ceases its glide along the pages it scrawls atop, grip tightening in some budding anticipation, some fear, wielding it like a weapon if only for comforts sake. When Fair moves his hand to hover, a canopy ready to cradle the curved edge of his jaw in the open side of his palm, Squall exhales through his nose with a slow swallow.

❝ . . . Can I? ❞

The bastard doesn’t even need to ask.

*Send “...Can I?” for my muses reaction to yours asking to kiss them. ➤ @myristicisms [ ; ] “ Can I…? ”

[knightfeared]

The finished cover art for a ship playlist made for @/myristicisms! // personals ; please do not interact!

[knightfeared]

➤   the state or period of flowering; to bloom. To flourish & grow. ❝ Take care, Darling, you are blooming & spring is coming . . . ❞ @myristicisms

❝ Can you feel the sun? I do, but I can't see it. Can you feel the breeze? I don't, but I believe it. I don't feel safe when I'm not alone & I know, & I know what you're thinkin' — I like it on my own . . . But I'll let you in if you say it's okay. ❞

Give me time. Hold me until I shake & shake & unfurl under your hands. Gently. Softly. Let me trust you. Water me with care & let me bloom. [ Please. ]

— Week 35 of 52 - WARNING: FRAGILE ; Darshana Suresh (via alleyspat)

➤ One - Kerlii   ➤ Sunflower - Post Malone ; Swae Lee   ➤ Shape of You - EZA   ➤ On Your Own - Meltt   ➤ Own Up - TENDER   ➤ Rose-Coloured Boy - Paramore   ➤ Cut My Lip ( Brooklyn ) - Twenty One Pilots   ➤ Relax My Beloved - Alex Clare   ➤ Paranoia ??? ; Remix - Yui ; Bonjr   ➤  We’ll See - Meltt   ➤ Absence - Rio Romeo  ➤ Abandoned by God - Shunsuke Kida ; Alex Roe ➤ Spiracle - Flower Face   ➤ Muscle Memory - Lights   ➤ Sunlight - Hozier.

[knightfeared]

*Send " Who am I to you? " to hear my muse describe their relationship with your muse/how they perceive them as a person. 📨 ➤   @myristicisms  [ ; ] “ Who am I to you? ” ;;FairHart!!

𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐌 . . . 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. Zack Fair himself was a lot of things, could be described in a multitude of varying ways, all seemingly glowing in endless positivity. At least to others . . . Initially, Squall could only see the bad, he actively looked for his flaws, studied & focused on them from afar, trying to find fault in this seemingly revered, perfect figure others idolized for doing nothing more than his job. He had issues with it, but he can’t exactly explain why that is, even now. Squall isn’t sure just what it was that lured him in, what hooked & held his attention so closely, but he knows it matters little now.

No matter what he tries to reason it as, it'd happened, it'd grown, each interaction spurring them forth bit by bit like a slow dance that gained in confidence & familiarity as the days passed. He once was looked at as an annoyance, just a job. It's only a little jarring to look at him now, peer right into northern light eyes & feel nothing but a comfortably simmering affection, flaring from time to time in unabashed fondness when he'd do even the smallest thing. Something distinctly protective sparks to life over the other man, some kind of long thought dead urge to shelter or guard — to keep him safe. Just a job no longer — it's highly unprofessional, but he made sure to keep things in check enough so they didn't interfere. It didn't stop the fact that Zack had burrowed his way right into his life & by now, Squall didn't know if he'd ever want him to leave. If he could picture a life without his presence in it.

& so he doesn't. He doesn't think of it, a stubborn refusal born from defiance like a fools withering hope he can change whatever ill-fate lie ahead.

Brought back to the present at a curious shift, a lean in closer ; bodies curled against one another like twining smoke or sprawling vines, a morbid thought crosses his mind how it's almost just as doomed to fade & pass like said smoke. Borrowed time, limited in knowing it will eventually come to an end as all things in his life had a tendency to do. Squall’s made peace with it by now, or rather . . . That’s what he tells himself, an internal mantra repeated like a daily prayer these days, like a soothing balm splayed over an infected wound with the intent to heal, only, it doesn’t feel like it’s truly helping all that much.

Like it or not, something feels wrong. Off. Like an approaching storm thundering in the distance, brewing away with the threat of lightning striking out.

He lifts a hand, allowing the moment to linger rather then try to chase it off or turn away, facing it head on through connecting gazes, he reaches in to dig his hands into the cracked cavern of his chest where he pulls, pulls & pulls until his ribs break & splinter, until it parts, gapes open wide like a yawning maw for Fair to see. Inside lie his heart, there for the other to take in his hand if he wanted. Vulnerability. It stings like a knife. Like the shot of a bullet into too soft flesh. Weak. But he's willing to bare it for the other to see since in his eyes, he's more then earned that right.

Squall Leonhart is rarely a man to allow his weakness to be so openly seen. But he's entranced still by people like Zack, by him himself in how he dons that viewed weakness like battle armour, wields it with the same sharpness of a piercing blade to use as a strength. To him, it's not a weakness. As the gun-blader moves a bare hand over to the other's face, he carefully traces the curve of his cheek, almost memorizing in a lazy slowness each small detail, each tiny mole that dots his skin like a distant star or smattered constellations. Squall's eyes follow each softened curve, every sudden sharp edge, taking in all that Zack Fair was with a soft quirk of his lips.

Swallowing thickly, though there's a blockage that threatens to choke him off — he pushes past it with a quiet voice, thumb's side dragging along the underside of Zack's eye as the rest of his fingers move to carefully cradle the man's face in his heated palm.

❝ You make me feel weak. Vulnerable. ❞ Not the smoothest start, his darkened brows pinching together as his ghost of a smile dips, breaking stare with twin pools of gleaming teal to instead study a point along the other's collar bone. Wetting at his lips, he continues, slow, almost a whisper. ❝ Soft. You bring out all these things in me, make me want to do things I was content not to before. You've changed me in ways I don't know how to explain, don't think I could. & I don't know how to handle that realization. You make me soft. & . . . I don't think I mind. ❞

Not if it was with him. Even now, being able to be close is like a dream, one he fully expects to end. Nothing good lasted in this world. He knew that first hand. But maybe, even if it's selfish, even if it'll hurt like the tearing of his heart from his chest, even if he knows he'll likely struggle once the incoming pain passes with the inevitable loss that will follow. Zack is worth it. He is worth that possible pain.

Squall keeps the rest of his thoughts bottled, stored away in a more secure, safe part of his mind like something precious. Bringing his gaze back up again, leaning forward, he rests his head under the curve of Fair's jaw, not unlike a cat bathing in the sun, listening to the steady pulse beating it's melodic tune beneath his ear as he holds the other close.