#(last two sentences of the post are sarcasm) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

igotanidea · 11 months

Text

No strings attached (1) : Jason Todd x plus-size!reader

Summary: Madison was Jason's stalker and he was tired. When Y/N moved into the neighbourhood he saw that as an opportunity to get rid of the baggage. Accidental meeting led to something more than friend, never a relationship though. He was not into tail, surely not, right? So why sudden change of behaviour when she pushed him away? And why would she push him away in the first place?!

Warnings: not in this chapter, but definitely smut and angst in the next ones. I'll post individual warnings in each chapter

***

„Why the fuck can’t you just leave me alone?” Jason sighed deeply leaning onto the doorframe of the apartment next to his. Honestly he had no idea what was happening to him lately. Maybe it was the effect of getting back to Gotham, but he became more depressed than before. Guess being back from the death and realizing your family replaced you does such things to people. Of course, there was his hole Red Hood persona, but Jason? Jason Todd was insecure, sensitive and in desperate need of someone to love. And someone who would love him back. However, all those traits were skillfully covered by sarcasm, edgelord attitude and harsh behavior. So why wasn’t he able to just tell this girl to fuck off and leave him alone? Why couldn’t he say something mean, which will left her offended and disappear from his life.

He just couldn’t and it was really getting on his nerves.

“But Jason….” the girl whined “why can’t you see it?”

“See what exactly?” he raised an eyebrow

“We are just perfect for each other!” she squealed and almost jumped into his arms in an attempt to hug him “Come on, just give this a chance!”

“Please, go away, Madison.”

“You remembered my name!”

“Of course I remembered your name. How could I not?” he rubbed his forehead “you left like a hundred notes with your name and number in my mailbox. And sticky notes on my bike. And you tormented my ….’ He hesitated, the word brother, not getting thought his mouth “nevermind. I told you, I am not interested.”

“You just don’t know what you’re missing, Jaybird….”

“Stop calling me that! I hate it! Who …. Who the fuck taught you this nickname!?” now she actually managed to anger him. Maybe it was good, maybe for the first time in a while he would be able to take some direct action and get rid of that stalker of a girl.

“I got my ways.” She smiled mischievously “nothing ever gets lost in the Internet and I got just the right tools to dig deep.”

“Listen up, Madison….”

“Oh, I am listening. Extremely carefully.” She took a step towards him and he immediately flinched. Cornered by a girl, fucking great. Grayson would never let him live this down. “Come on, Jason, let me in….” she cooed, her hand tracing up his arms towards his shoulder “you remember how much fun we had last time….”

“It was one time! One fucking time and it was a mistake!”

“The kind you want to keep repeating?”

“What the fu…..” he started, but another female voice joined the conversation successfully cutting him off. A very annoyed female voice.

“I’m sorry, but could you two take this conversation, elsewhere? You are kind of blocking the door to my apartment and I would love to take this off.” She pointed towards the heavy backpack she was wearing.

Oh, right. There have been a lot of talk in the building about a possible new tenant. Guess she was the one. And the timing was just perfect for Jason, who immediately jumped into the occasion.

“Baby!” he almost screamed and both girls looked at him with wide eyes. Madison in surprise, bordering shock, the other one with “what-the-fuck” expression, probably wondering if he was mental. So much of a good first impression “you are finally here!” he continued, hugging the girl lightly to not startle her.

“What the …..?” she hissed into his ear, but before she could finish the sentence he squeezed her tighter, almost getting a kick in the groin.

“Come on, just play along with me for a minute.” Jason whispered, so that only she could here “I need to get rid of her, I’ll buy you a wine or whatever, just help the neighbor out.”

“You’ll owe me much more than just a wine if you keep your hands where they are now.”

Oh, shit. Only now, he realized that his right palm was definitely way to low on her back. But damn, the girl got curves in all the right places and he was just a man.

“Sorry.” He mumbled and pulled away, acting like they knew each other for eternity “Why didn’t you call me, princess? I told you to do it the second you get in town! I can’t believe you carried all this weight by yourself!”

“I just wanted to surprise you…, em…, honey.”

“You most definitely did.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Hold right there.” Madison came in between them and pushed the other girl away slightly “who the fuck are you?”

“She’s my girlfriend.” Jason blurted, hoping his new neighbor would really play along.

“GIRLFRIEND!?”

“Yeah, um, hi, I’m Y/N. Nice to…..”

“Did you know you’re boyfriend is cheating on you, sunshine? No wonder, though.” She gave Y/N a look over “You should really lose some weight, sunshine. Will do you good. ”

“I’m sorry, what….?”

“Hey! You have no right to talk to her like that!”

“Sure not. but for some reason you choose me over her multiple times….”

“ONCE!”

“Whatever, Jaybrid. If you ever get bored with her, again, you know where to find me. I’m not giving up on you, baby” Madison raised onto her tiptoes and kissed his cheek briefly. Jason almost didn’t stop himself from wiping it off his face. “as for you, girlfriend” she almost hissed the last word “I don’t; think this is going to last long. Too bad for you.” her vicious laugh filled the whole staircase “love you Jaybird, call me!”

And leaving just a thread of perfume she was gone. Not that she left furious Jason and absolutely confused Y/N behind.

“I’m sorry about ….” Jason turned around, ready to do some explanation, but much to his disappointment, the only sound he heard was clicking on the key in a keyhole. From inside. “Hey, come on, Y/n! Open up!”

“Go away, you freak!”

“Let me at least apologize face to face, not through the door!” a moment of silence on her part gave him unreasonable hope.

“Apology accepted, now move out of my door or I’ll come at you!” if only she knew who she was threatening….

“I promised you a wine for helping me, remember?”

“I don’t care! If you don’t leave in ten seconds I’m gonna call the police!”

“Hate to break it to you, princess, but it’s Gotham. I’m the best chances at protection you have. Or you can always call upon Batman, but I don’t see that being successful.” Jason scoffed, starting to walk back and forth.

“Oh, yeah, right. That really sounds exciting. Meeting the big, bad bat in person.” Her voice reverberated somehow clearer and closer than before and when he raised his gaze realized she actually opened the door and was now standing right in front of him.

Shit, she was pretty with her h/c hair, flowing around her face, a bit fuzzy because of shitty Gotham weather, shiny e/c eyes and pouty lips. She might have been a bit on the heavier side, but it only added to her charm and fire that she showed before by putting on the little display.

She was beautiful and even tiredness of the journey couldn’t hide that.

“Hi.” Jason whispered, a little taken aback and filled with guilt of dragging her into his mess.

“What the fuck was that?” she sighed deeply “Look, Jason, I am exhausted. I had a long journey and as much as I would love to take you up on that wine offer I had no power in me to do that. So how about we just forget about this whole mess and say farewell to each other, hm? I have no interest in interfering in your personal life, especially with the girl who called me fat the second she laid eyes on me.”

“Don’t you want to know your handsome neighbor better?” he smirked and realized that even though it just slipped through, there was a chance that his old self was getting back to life. Was it because of her?

“Nah, not really. I think I’ve seen enough. And like I said, being back in Gotham sucks, but what can a girl do, right? Life sucks as well sometimes.” She shrugged and started closing the door

“Wait!” he put a feet in, before she managed to actually do it.

“What now?”

“Are you from around here?”

“Born Gothamite. Glad you can’t tell it just by looking at me. Now, I really want to go to sleep, if you don’t mind…..” she yawned and rubbed her eyes in the cutest child-like manner, making him feel to many things. Too many dangerous things.....

‘Right, sorry. I’ll leave you to it. Good night, Y/N.”

“Yeah, night, crazy boy.”

She already had a nickname for him.

He definitely wasn’t going to let this acquaintance end up at this….

next part ->->->

446 notes · View notes

y3ager · 6 months

Text

SLACKER BF!EREN BRAiNROT

— more info on an au!eren inspired by this post !

* i imagine the relationship started through school. you two crossed paths going back and forth to class but never actually interacted .

* that changed until 5th hour chem, people were pairing off to do the practice work she assigned, and it was just you two at the table that day so you kinda.. had to work together

* together is an overstatement because for a couple problems you were just doing your own thing until you leaned over to check your own answers.

“oh, um, how’d you get that?”

eren wordlessly nudged his composition book over and you scanned the scratch work.

“you square that 7, see?” and now you’re scooching your notebook over. his green eyes scan over the work before he nods and erases his own. you two then spend the next 30 mins wordlessly working together, leaning over into each other’s space every so often.

* after that you two started working together more often and now that you actually paid attention to the dark clothing and chocolate brown hair thrown into a low bun, you realized you had a whole other class with him…

* this class was one of the throwaway classes people in your grade took to meet graduation requirements last minute or get an easy A, all you did was watch films and take notes

* the class is so lax people just sit anywhere and now that you converse more in chemistry, he quietly migrates over to you and props his head up with his fist as Scream plays for the horror unit.

* he’s mumbling off facts about creative direction and acting dynamics and what’s a reference to what, and you’re listening. this is the most he’s talked and you could really get used to that lazy deep voice..

* and now it’s been a couple weeks of this, and he’s walking with you to class because you’re both on the same floor, or he’s slouched next to you in the morning before the bell rings…

* he disappears for a week and you’re actually pretty… sad… he wasn’t the loudest person and your conversations weren’t that deep, but you missed his silent but comforting presence.

* only for him to come back with a small grin on his face as he plops down next to you in chem.

“got suspended. sorry about that.”

just the word suspension has you, whose discipline record is literally bare, reeling. “suspended!? for what?”

“smoking weed on campus. in my car, but, whatever. i don’t care.” he’s staring at your wide eyes and grinning harder. “you do know what weed is, right?”

“don’t start with me…”

“d’aww.” he reaches over and pinches your cheek. “you missed me.”

“pfft! you wish.” you swat his hand away, skin attempting to heat up at his touch and your hands knocking together. “you stress me the hell out.” oh, you missed him.

* now he’s back from suspension, and if anything it’s made him more jaded. he’s gone from walking you to one or two classes to basically your entire schedule, black backpack lazily hanging off him with one strap.

“that stuff has always been dumb to me. it won’t even matter in five years.” he gestures with his chin over to some girls eagerly passing out homemade homecoming flyers. the spots of queen, princess, and maid were being almost fought for.

you frown and lightly hit his shoulder, since some of those girls are your friends. “it’s fun, but i guess it’s not your thing since it’s legal fun.”

“what, you trying to be the homecoming queen?” the title is laden with sarcasm and disdain.

“no, i’m not.” you roll your eyes and step halfway through the threshold of your seventh hour class, ap english. eren should be on the other side of campus right now, but here he is. “i’m not going this year.” you flick your wrist around to look at your watch and the time glares back at you. “and you’re gonna be late to class.”

“not going..” he mumbled. “and i’ll be fine, that b-“ he sees your blank stare at the word about to leave his mouth and quickly changes up the sentence. “…woman won’t do shit. i’ll be here after class.”

“you always are.” with a small wave and smile you walk into class.

* a couple days have passed since that convo and now he’s slouched next to you during lunch before he glances over and calls your name.

“what’s up?”

“let’s do something homecoming night.”

“…like what…?”

“i don’t know, the movies, to eat, while people get their rocks off in a freshly waxed gym.”

“so a date? you asking me on a date, yeager?”

“if that’s what you want to call it.” and now he’s back to looking down at his phone, feigning disinterest.

* he does this; shuts down, acts like he doesn’t care, when it actuality he does. he feels everything strongly, especially the feelings he has for you.

“i’d really like that, eren.”

“yeah?” he looks up and there’s a flicker in his dark green eyes.

“yeah.”

*this is from 2021. i’m trying to clear out these drafts bc my god i have good stuff but i can never complete it so here’s some content since ppl enjoyed the slacker eren blurb that’s linked in the beginning. i think this fits nicely into the high school caste au 🤭

#eren x reader #eren x y/n #eren yeager x you #eren yeager x reader #eren x you #eren jeager x reader #eren jeager x you #eren jeager x y/n #eren yeager x black reader #eren x black reader #eren jaeger x black reader #🏙.aotmodern #🧸.aotfluff #🗯.aothcs

363 notes · View notes

hufflepuffwritingstuff2 · 1 month

Text

This or That Gothic Edition Snippet 21- Portrait Gallery

Inspired by my answers for this post by @blackrosesandwhump!

Whumpee followed Whumper through their mansion, taking in the sight with awe.

“Your home is beautiful, Whumper,” Whumpee said.

“Thank you,” Whumper said warmly, “I had been wanting to invite you for some time, but I still had to finish my portrait gallery.”

As Whumper spoke, they opened a pair of ornate doors to a long hallway. On the walls were several paintings, each more detailed than the last. Whumpee’s heart slowly dropped to their stomach when they noticed what they all had in common.

“Whumper…” they started, “why are all these paintings of me?”

Whumper’s hand came to rest on their shoulder.

“Because you are perfect, my little muse,” Whumper purred in their ear, “and now that I have you, my work can only improve.”

Whumpee opened their mouth to argue, but a sharp pinch in their neck turned their would-be sentence into a pained yelp.

“Forgive me, Whumpee,” Whumper said softly, “but I’ve been preparing for this for too long for you to slip out of my grasp now.”

Whumpee’s breathing came in short and fast. They stumbled out of Whumper’s grip and whirled around to face them.

“You’re not…keeping me…here,” Whumpee said with great effort.

Whumpee tried to run back to the doors, but their knees buckled after two steps. Whumper caught them quite easily.

“Shh,” they soothed, “it’s going to be alright. I promise you, you’ll love it here.”

Whumpee couldn’t find the energy to argue, or even struggle. Their eyes fluttered shut and they drifted off just as Whumper began to carry them out of the gallery.

Patreon

Ko-Fi

Tags: @mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog

#this or that gothic edition snippets #portrait gallery #artist whumper #yandere whumper #intimate whumper #darling whumpee #whump #drugging #obsession #obsessive whumper #possessive whumper #kidnapping #betrayal #writeblr #writing #creative writing #snippet #sorry it's pretty short guys- I'm trying to get back in the swing of things at least by a little bit #also happy st patrick's day!

67 notes · View notes

scarletttries · 1 year

Text

Candy Cane Kisses (Eddie Munson One Shot)

Pairing: Eddie Munson (Stranger Things) x F! Reader

Rating: Explicit Smut

Word Count: 3.6k

Author's Note: My little Christmas offering of fluffy smut for all the Eddie fans keeping up with my series, but wishing I would write some smut for him too! <3 Thank you for all the support on all my Eddie posts, and feel free to send in new requests any time! (heart) Also I couldn't possibly write a fic about Eddie leaving the reader a note and not recommend everyone go check out the amazing and adorable notes by Eddie and Bird (@eddieandbird) this is definitely inspired by some of their great work :)

Candy Cane Kisses (part of my Christmas List)

"And I heard on the radio on the way to school this morning, it's supposed to snow on Christmas day!" Lucas practically buzzed with excitement talking through his Christmas plans, finally in the last week of school before the Christmas break.

"It never snows in Hawkins." Eddie quickly shot down, focus not shifting from the scrappy piece of paper he clutched in his lap, scratching out line after carefully worded line, unsatisfied with every letter he scrawled messily on the page.

"Who pissed in your eggnog?" Mike snapped at him, leaning across the table to try and see what had his dungeon master so fixated.

"(Y/n)" Dustin sighed, feigning infatuation to the amusement of the others.

"He wishes." Gareth added, another round of raucous laughter sweeping across the table and finally lifting Eddie's eyes from his lap,

"That doesn't even make sense." He rolled his eyes at the smug looks around the table at his attempted protests, before getting entirely distracted by the small group of students walking by the table, in the centre of which floated you. You who made Eddie's stomach feel like he'd only eaten sugar for a week, but in a way he didn't mind. You who could make him feel at home for the length of a class in a town that otherwise despised him. You who looked up and gave him a smile as your group swanned past, his heart fluttering in his chest as he returned the gesture with the smallest wave, setting off the chorus of laughter from his group again. Eddie had it bad.

"So you're sending them a candy cane right?" Dustin probed, much to Eddie's annoyance.

"I don't know, stay out of it Henderson." Eddie retorted, sighing in defeat as he scrunched up the piece of paper in his lap to a fist sized ball, "I wouldn't even know what to say."

"Dude, the first day we had Hellfire after you sat next to (y/n) you opened with 'Fellas, I'm in love.' Maybe just try that?" Lucas offered helpfully, his optimism and honestly slightly overshadowed by Mike's sarcasm,

"Only if you want to scare them off, play it cool, keep it short. How about 'you're probably the only reason I'm getting a B in Biology'." He advised confidently, making Eddie wonder how he'd ended up taking romantic advice from freshman, and how they all actually had girlfriends.

"Just be honest okay, whatever that means." Dustin concluded, leaving Eddie back where he started, pulling out a fresh piece of paper and desperately trying to find the words he'd spent months hoping to say to your face.

---

It was the end of the final period, on the last day of school before the holidays, and everyone watched the clock anxiously, desperate to run outside to see if any candy canes had been left stuck to their lockers.

"That's the reading you need to do over the next two weeks, and before you ask, yes there will be a quiz on it. Have a great break everyone, you are dismissed." Your teacher droned out in a single monotone sentence, not bothering to muster a smile as students poured out of her door with their well-wishes. You let most of the crowd rush ahead, confident your locker would be stood undecorated, focused solely on keeping up with your friends and your grades now that you were in your senior year. You almost didn't bother to check before you headed off for the break, but one small spark of hope made you walk the length of the hallway just in case. And to your surprise there a single candy cane sat, fixed to your locker handle with a curl of red ribbon, a physical token of affection from someone in your life.

You paused for a moment before you dared to read it, revelling in the moment of possibility; any number of friends might have just sent it as a festive gesture and nothing more, but that didn't stop your heart beating a little faster as you finally flicked open the little card,

"Hey sweetheart, I just wanted you to know that you're kind of my favourite person. And i'm going to miss you over Christmas break. I hope that's okay. Love, Eddie (Munson) (from Biology)"

You wanted to laugh at his detailed signature, but what caught your eye most was the little underline he'd scrawled under 'love'. Like he'd chosen to sign his card like that intentionally, more than just a throw away greeting. You let out a small chuckle to yourself as you walked away from your locker, feeling the corners of your mouth lift up into a smile, glad you didn't have anything planned for that afternoon.

---

Eddie had skipped final period in its entirety, a black hole opening up inside his stomach at the thought you reading his far-from-perfect note, sucking up any optimism he'd had for the gesture. He sat on the edge of his bed, growing more and more frustrated at his inability to play along to even a simple song on his guitar, mind entirely clouded in thick, dark fog - until two headlights pulling up outside seemed to cut right through the haze.

You'd never been to Eddie's trailer before, and on the drive over you started to wonder why. You and Eddie only really saw each other at school, occasionally seeing each other on the weekends in a wider group of friends, Eddie always taking the opportunity to find the seat next to you, willing himself to ask you to slip away, and soaking up every second he got to spend in your company. You'd never really had a moment alone together, not without a crowd of students or friends spread out around you, and that realisation gave this whole situation a atmosphere of anticipation as you knocked on the trailer door, Eddie opening it almost as soon as your knuckles made contact, unable to make himself wait a moment longer to see you.

"Hi Eddie, can I come in?" Your voice had a slight nervous shake to it as you spoke, the air in the room feeling a little thin as he opened the door with a nod, pointing down to the small corridor to his bedroom. Staring at the walls covered in dark posters, and metal covers, and occult imagery you couldn't help but smile at just how 'Eddie' his room was, wishing you had been invited in sooner and feeling like you got to know him a little better just by being here. Eddie immediately returned to the same spot on his bed, hunching over slightly in self-preservation as you took small steps, exploring the space.

"Good last day?" Eddie questioned, like small talk could keep him from having to explain himself to you, or experience whatever disappointing conclusion his infatuation with you was about to reach.

"Yeah it was. I got a candy cane." You said softly, pulling the little card from Eddie out of your pocket. Eddie didn't look up from his lap, knowing exactly why you were here in his mind, and bracing himself to spend the rest of the school year skipping biology. "Did you really mean what you wrote?"

He nodded his head softly, taking a deep breath before he dared to speak, desperate to hold himself together at least until you left, "Being your friend has made this year a lot better than the last few, and I love it, but honestly I want to be more than that. And I wanted you to know." He stared down at his hands, twisting a skull shaped ring over and over, as if not looking at you would keep him safe from whatever you were about to say. You walked around to stand just in front of him, the feel of your soft hands taking his enough to pull his focus up towards you, brown eyes glistening as they stared up at you hopelessly.

You moved slowly, first separating his interlocked hands, then bringing each of them purposefully to your waist. He didn't smile as your left his hands there, settling yours around his neck as you gradually sank down to straddle his lap, Eddie's grip tightening slightly as you settled onto his thighs. Brushing a strand of his thick hair away from his cheek bone, you smiled and whispered,

"Thanks for the candy cane." Before leaning in, slowly, carefully until the warmth of his lips melted the coldness on yours. You only held it for a second, testing the waters, Eddie's expression still unreadable as you watched the gears in his head turning. And then he was back on you, diving forward to feel your lips, encompassing you in his arms as he kissed you like the soft peppermint taste of you might be the only thing he ever wanted to experience again. You smiled as you let your fingers run through the hair at the nape of his neck, feeling him let out a blissful hum that only parted his lips further, letting him make more hungry swallows of your lips, your head swimming with the obvious devotion in the way he chased your kiss. You pulled him back slightly to get a better look at his face, finally beginning to grow a smile that his romantic gesture had paid off, and that he now knew your lips were even sweeter than he'd been picturing.

"I'm really glad we're going to just protect our friendship." You said matter-of-factly, watching Eddie's face fall back into despair before you erupted into laugh, a matching grin returning to his face as he poked you in the side for your mischief.

"Oh that was cruel! You can't mess with a guy while you're on his lap!" He bellowed through his laughter, lips planting a constellation of kisses across your face, drawn to you now they had the option to be.

"I'm sorry, I'll be sure to get off your lap before I laugh at you next time." You teased, happy the dramatic tension in the air had shifted to the kind of laid back joking you loved about Eddie.

"Don't you dare" He rebuffed, squeezing you tightly against his chest to make sure you weren't going to leave his lap for any reason. As his grip shifted you higher on his thighs you could feel yourself brush over his crotch, a growing bulge starting to strain against the denim of his jeans. You rocked your hips again, capturing the involuntary moan from Eddie with a kiss, the vibrations from it running all the way down your spine. Eddie wasn't sure whether to apologise profusely or pretend he wasn't hard between your thighs, wishing he had just an ounce of self-control when it came to you. And then you rocked your hips against him again, intentional in your movements, devilish smile on your face as he broke the kiss to hold in a moan, and Eddie knew he was a goner.

One hand trailing down to your ass to support you, Eddie shifted himself backwards on the bed until he could lay on a pillow, keeping your chest pressed against his as he moved. His breath stilled in his lungs as he felt your weight shifting on top of him, the brushes over his jeans only that much more intense at this angle, his eyes clenching shut as he forced himself to take a deep breath.

"We can stop Eddie?" You reassured, a little concerned as he struggled to reopen his eyes to respond.

"I really don't want to stop! I'm just, uh, really not used to having a pretty girl on my bed. Or on my lap. So I'm just very excited." You smiled at his honesty and the slightly pained grin on his face as he looked up at you, leaning over him with his arms wrapped around you, a best case scenario for today that he wouldn't have even dared to dream about.

"You're very sweet. And I'm very excited too." You flirted, watching Eddie's eyes almost roll back in his head with a sigh at your words, before pulling himself together enough to roll you on to your back, rising up on his knees to undo the button on your jeans.

"You're going to be the death of me sweetheart, I already know it." He laughed, almost to himself, as he eased the denim down your legs, until only your panties remained, a sight Eddie had imagined on his cold, lonely nights more than once.

"Fuck." He sighed out as let his lips began to mark a trail up your leg, kissing and sucking at the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs and drinking every twitch and giggle the action drew from you. As his fingers reached the edge of your underwear, everything he wanted now in his reach, he raised his head slightly, solemn look in his eye as he spoke,

"Are you sure you want this? With me?" Your heart practically burst with affection as you stared down at him, full of desire and want and need, for him.

"I want this, and I want you Eddie." The words almost came out in a whine as you felt yourself getting wetter waiting for his touch, the smile on his face as your confirmation the most confident he'd looked since you walked into his room.

"Good girl." Was all he said as he hooked his fingers into your waistband and removed the final bit of fabric in his way. He started slowly, just running a finger softly over your slit, watching your every reaction closely, wanting to take his time to see exactly what you liked. Even these small touches had his finger coated in slick, and you watched him experimentally bring it to his lips, sucking it clean and humming happily as he did.

"I always knew you were sweet inside and out." He praised before burying his head between your thighs, tongue licking broad flat strokes over your centre, tasting every drop of your excitement and starting to draw louder pants and moans from you with every motion. Two of his fingers slipped inside you easily, the cold metal of his rings grazing your clit between licks and making your whole body flinch at the sensation. Eddie chuckled against you at the reaction, only stimulating your sensitive bud more,

"Eddie," you whimpered, "You feel so good." He moaned against you at the praise, free hand shifting your shirt up slightly so his broad palm could rest flat over your stomach, holding you in place and feeling you tense and shake as he worked.

"You're so good to me sweetheart, letting me taste you like this. Letting me hear you say my name like this is one of my wet dreams. Now whenever I wear my rings I'm just going to be thinking about how much you like them here." As if it prove his point he brought the cold metal to brush over your clit, soft strokes in time with plunging fingers, your thighs clenching around his head involuntary at the throbbing feeling growing inside you of,

"Fuck, you're killing me (y/n)." He groaned again at the movement, feeling his own hips rock against the bed as yours started to buck against his touch, following his every movement, the pressure tightening in your stomach as his tongue returned to your clit, worshipping every inch of your pussy with his fingers and mouth, holding you against the bed as you started to squirm at all tingly sensation spreading through you.

"Eddie," You cried out again as he curved his fingers to massage a new spot inside you, steady flicks of his tongue bringing you to the edge as he savoured every drop of you he tasted, "I'm gonna-" was all you got out as the tension inside you overflowed into release, your legs shaking around Eddie as he moaned happily against you, maintaining his steady rhythm as he felt the waves of pleasure ripple through your core, even the soft brush of his untamed hair on your inner thighs making you flinch with sensitivity.

You felt your head begin to clear as your rode out your orgasm, placing a hand under Eddie's chin to bring him up for a kiss, watching the slight glee in his eyes as he held his position a little too long, watching you squirm from the overstimulation of his continuous circles on your clit, knowing you were awakening something in him you'd be on the receiving end of for a long time to come.

He wiped his glistening face with the back of his hand as you brought his lips back to yours, feeling himself twitch in excitement at the combination of two new favourite tastes. He only leant up for air as you pulled his shirt over his head, letting your hands trace along each of his tattoos, noticing the slight gasp of breath he took when the tip of your finger brushed lightly over each of his nipples. Even with his whole body pressed to yours, your entrance still sensitive from his touch, you needed to feel more of him. Clearly hoping for the same thing, the second you started to unbutton his jeans, Eddie quickly stood up, kicking them off for you, watching in awe as you pulled off your shirt, and unclasped the bra underneath letting it fall forwards, watching Eddie's hard cock twitch as you discarded it.

"You're so fucking beautiful." Eddie said the words like a prayer, awestruck as he crawled back over your form, lips drawn to your now exposed chest. One hand followed cupping and kneading at the tender curves while his lips grazed over the other nipple, planting gentle kisses and tracing soft shapes with his tongue, sure nothing had ever compared to how good he felt right now.

He had the the exact same thought as your hand snaked between your bodies, taking hold of Eddie's throbbing length and starting firm, smooth strokes, your thumb rubbing the base in a way that made Eddie let out an earth-shattering moan. He was used to the feel of his own hand, supplemented by his vivid imagination, but feeling the touch of yours as his tip dipped into the soft, sticky skin of your thighs had Eddie finding nirvana and swearing allegiance to whichever dark force put you in his life. Losing the ability to do anything but pant and groan as you worked him in your hand, you eased Eddie on to his back bringing a leg over him to straddle his thighs once again. Eddie watched you through lidded eyes, his chest heaving up and down with every touch, his whole body jolting as you ran your tongue over his leaking tip, not sure how much more of this he was going to survive.

"(y/n)" he managed to moan out breathlessly, eyes widening as he watched you line him up between your dripping folds. .

"You still want this Eddie?" You sighed out, making sure to put extra emphasis on his name as you teasingly ran him over your slit.

"Fuck, yes, please, please." He begged, hips trying to buck up beneath you, desperate to feel you wrapped around him. His cock almost ached as you slowly sank down around him, feeling yourself stretched and filled completely by his perfect size. Eddie watched your eyes flutter shut as you took a few gentle bounces, your chest jumping with the rest of you in easily the hottest sight Eddie had ever seen. Needy for more of you, to feel you react to his touch again, Eddie sat himself up, keeping you wrapped around him as he pulled you into his lap.

"Good girl." He cooed as he brought his fingers to your throbbing clit, watching as you started to bounce more eagerly in response to his touch, your sensitivity addictive to Eddie, his mind already racing with all the fun he could have with it, driving you over the edge of pleasure again and again if you'd let him.

"Eddie," you moaned again as his fingers strummed over you, tongue lapping at your nipples as you rocked up and down, every part of you alight at his vigilant touch. He focused on your every noise and tremble, trying to memorise the look on your face as your hips started to stutter again, back arching your chest against his lips as your walls started clench down around him,

"That's my girl, cum for me, that's it." He praised, coaxing the orgasm out of you with frantic thrusts of his hips, making sure you were almost crying with ecstacy before he finally spilled his seed inside you, the feeling of releasing all over your walls something he knew he'd be chasing again and again, wanting to stay deep inside you forever.

You could feel the content smile washing over your face as you collapsed onto Eddie's chest, his back landing on the bed again as his hands worked soft warm circles over your skin.

"That was amazing." You signed out absentmindedly, Eddie humming happily in agreement as he kept you held close, enjoying the perfect moment of bliss before he worked up the nerve to ask you on a real date. He let his gaze fall to your satisfied face, before a glimpse of something shimmering caught his eye out the window - turns out it did snow in Hawkins sometimes.

#stranger things eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie my beloved #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things requests #stranger things

174 notes · View notes

scarletsaphire · 7 months

Text

Danny has been waiting for Phantom to let him go into the Ghost Zone for months, but has been met with "It's too dangerous!" at every turn. At long last, he's gotten Phantom to agree to be his tour guide. (Phantom kinda sucks at being a tour guide.)

---

Totally didn't forget to cross post those two. ANYWAY this is Shiptember Day 3, Reckless x Protective. Is this one going to get more added later? Maybe! I want to! But there are other things to write. Aka more, different pitch pearl.

"You have an oxygen mask with an ecto filter?"

"Yup."

"And you have an ecto ray in case we get into a fight?"

"Right here."

"And you have your jumpsuit?"

"Phantom, you can see me wearing it," Phantom stopped pacing to look at Danny, who was sitting on his father's desk, arms crossed.

"Oh, right," Phantom said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess I'm just-"

Danny cut him off. "Nervous? You don't have to be, I'll be fine. It's not like I don't know anything about ghosts."

"I know that," Phantom said. "But its different when the ghosts are out here. It's like studying sharks in captivity, and then jumping straight into the ocean to swim with them."

"Yea, well, that's why I have you isn't it? To make sure that none of the sharks eat me." Danny hopped to his feet, grabbing onto Phantom's hands and pulling him to the portal. "Now come on, I've been waiting for this for ages!"

Phantom let Danny drag him along, but didn't stop talking. "You might need more than just me to keep you safe though! What if there's some kind of mind control bug that only affects humans? Or what if we get too close to Walker's prison and he arrests you? What if-"

Phantom was cut off by Danny's lips pressed to his own. "You need to stop worrying so much," he said, pulling away with a smile. "We've both been preparing for this trip for months. You can deny it as much as you want, but I've seen the map you've been working on. Everything going to go just fine, ok?"

Phantom blushed green. He had thought he'd kept his fruitless endeavor to map a path to take Danny on a secret, but apparently he hadn't. He could try to deny it, but there was no point. Danny always knew when he was lying. "Just, promise me you'll stay by my side?"

"Of course, there's no where else I want to be." Danny's tone was somewhere between teasing and sarcasm. He rolled his eyes and yanked on Phantom's arm more determinedly. "Now hurry up! I want to see the Ghost Zone!"

The cold, tingly sensation of the Fenton portal had long since grown familiar to Phantom, but the warmth held firmly in his hand shed a new light on the entire experience. In many ways it felt wrong; the portal represented the border between warmth and cold, between life and death: having something so clearly, undeniably living as Danny's heartbeat. On the other hand, nothing had ever felt as right to Phantom as Danny's hand in his own, and not even the otherworldly sensation could change that.

Phantom knew that they had exited the portal by the tightening of Danny's hand in his own and the gasp he let out, distorted in the ectoplasm rich air. The tight grasp he'd kept on Phantom's hand fell loose as he spun in the low gravity area, taking in the sights of the ghost zone. Phantom let him go.

"Oh wow..." Danny said. "It's so..!"

When Phantom realized that Danny wasn't going to finish the sentence, he tried to finish it. "Green? Floaty? Covered in big ugly rocks?" Danny slapped Phantom in the arm without looking away from his surroundings.

"I was going to say incredible. Oh my god, is that-" Danny cut himself off, dashing forward into the distance, chasing after who knows what with surprising speed.

"Danny, wait, you promised!" Phantom said, rushing after him. If Phantom had been less prepared or less experienced, he might not have caught up to Danny at all. But Phantom had plenty of experience navigating the ghost zone, and arguably even more dealing with Danny. He had made Danny promise to stay close, but Phantom hadn't actually expected him to keep it. It wasn't that Danny meant to break it. He was just far too curious for his own good.

Phantom caught up to Danny after a few seconds, almost entirely because Danny had stopped at what he had been distracted by. It was a rock covered in a type of moss that grew almost like seaweed, swaying in the fictional breeze it decided it was affected by. With every twist and turn it shifted into different colors, sometimes a soft transition into its new color and sometimes so abrupt that it shifted in the blink of an eye.

Danny hovered, crouching in the air to stare at the color-shifting plant. "What's this called?"

"I have absolutely no idea," Phantom said. "I'm not exactly an expert on the zone, you know."

"Does that mean I get to name it?" Danny asked, glancing over at Phantom.

"I mean, it probably does have a name. I just don't know it."

"How does it change colors like that? Is that normal for ghost plants? Why is it moving like this? Would it be able to grow underwater? Does it grow at all? Is it the ghost of a plant or is it just a ghost plant?"

Phantom shrugged, smiling wide at Danny. "You'll just have to find out. You did say you were going to take samples back, after all."

Danny facepalmed. "I completely forgot about that! Can you grab the vials out of my bag? They should be on the inner pocket."

"Of course." Phantom floated behind Danny, opening the backpack and pulling out plastic vials. He grabbed the pen and labels while he was in there. "Here you go."

"Thanks so much," Danny said, taking them without looking. He wasn't expecting the label and pen and dropped them right into Phantom's other hand, poised right under Danny's. He grinned sheepishly at Phantom. "You know me so well."

Phantom leaned down and kissed Danny's cheek. "I know. Now, get to your science stuff."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Danny said, getting to work.

---

It took Danny about an hour to gather the samples he wanted, asking questions Phantom didn't know the answer to the whole time. Phantom didn't mind; he wouldn't be dating Danny if he didn't find his curiosity endearing. Honestly, Phantom had expected to be there longer, and had been floating on his back almost directly above Danny's head, keeping a careful eye on the horizon when Danny straightened directly into him.

Phantom spun to the side. "You can't give a ghost a warning?"

Danny laughed. "Oops. Do you want me to kiss it better?" Danny wiggled his eyebrows at Phantom, and he laughed.

"Maybe when we get back," Phantom said. "Unless you want to cut the trip short?"

"No sir, please continue with the tour," Danny said with a mock salute.

"It isn't much of a tour when you run off immediately," Phantom teased.

"Ok, then please start the tour," Danny said, taking Phantom's hand.

"Fine, fine," Phantom said. "Have you been taking lessons from Sam in being bossy?"

Danny laughed. "If she hears you saying that, she'll kill you again. You'll be a double ghost."

"That doesn't sound all that bad," Phantom joked. "Maybe you'd be more interested in me if I was something for you to study like that."

"I'd be more interested with you if you actually started the tour instead of just standing here talking!" Danny said.

"Well, this area is one we call the Barrens, for pretty self explanatory reasons," Phantom started, dragging Danny along behind him. "There isn't much out here, and there was even less before your parents built the portal. Almost all of the lairs you see were either moved here after, or were formed by...something."

"Something?" Danny asked.

Phantom shrugged. "I did warn you that I'm not an expert."

"I've noticed."

"So, the Barrens. It's not the most exciting area, but it is really big, so we won't be leaving it today."

"I thought you said there isn't anything out here?" Danny asked.

"I said there isn't much of anything," Phantom corrected. "There's a difference. And besides, my 'there's nothing out here' is very different from your 'there's nothing out here.' Case in point, the jars of ghost plant in your backpack."

"You raise a good point," Danny said. "I think that ones on you, though. I mean, who wouldn't be distracted by- holy shit Phantom look over there!" Danny started to float off towards a collection of rocks all spinning in sync. "Come on, we have to check it out."

"Why don't you go ahead and prove my point harder, huh?" Phantom said. He allowed himself to be dragged for a little while before going stiff, holding Danny back. "We can't go over there."

Danny did not stop pulling. "Why not?" he whined.

"Because that is something that I know about, and it isn't safe," Phantom said. He yanked Danny back to his side, wrapping his arm around Danny's waist, and guiding him away.

Danny pouted. "Is this a not safe like going into the Ghost Zone at all is not safe, or a not safe like helping you fight Technus, or not safe like-"

Phantom cut him off. "Not safe like you may never leave it again."

Danny narrowed his eyes, staring into Phantom's, unblinking. Phantom held the gaze right back. "Ok fine, I believe you. But can you at least tell me why it's so dangerous?"

"You know black holes?"

Danny scoffed. "Of course I know black holes."

"It's kind of like that, but with ectoplasm and in a much smaller area."

"Does it just work on ectoplasm, or does it affect everything else too?" Danny asked, turning his head to look over his shoulder at the rotating rocks.

"I don't know, and I'm not letting you figure it out," Phantom said. "Even if I have to keep you on a leash to stop you."

"Kinky."

"You could at the very least turn to look at me when you say things like that," Phantom said, blushing.

Danny turned his head from the rocks to look at Phantom. "Kinky," he repeated.

"You're a jerk," Phantom said, looking away.

"But you love me!"

"I do," Phantom said. "Clearly, that means something is wrong with me."

"No, it just means my secret mind control lessons with Ember have been paying off."

Phantom turned his head back to Danny fast enough that if he actually had bones he would have hurt himself. "You have not." Danny smiled back instead of answering, expression a picture of innocence. "I can't tell if you're pulling my tail of not. If I find out that you've actually been trying to learn mind control from Ember I am going to leave her in the thermos for a week, and then figure out how to make a thermos for humans and leave you in there."

"You'll never be able to prove it," Danny said in a singsong tone.

"And your parents say I'm the evil one," Phantom said, shaking his head and fighting the smile that threatened to cross his face.

#danny phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #danny fenton #pitch pearl #dp shiptember 2023

35 notes · View notes

chemistryread · 1 year

Text

she is both hellfire and holy water

- part VI

jake seresin

callsign: scorcher

part V

part IV

disclaimers/tags: female!reader!aviator. loverboy jake is vengeful. slowburn and angst.

word count: 5.2k

a/n: sorry again for the late update! i've been in a low mood and it reflects a bit on this chapter and the next, which i'm planning on posting very soon in a .5 type of chapter to make up for how long it took me to post again. anyway, as always please lmk your thoughts :)

tagging: @thedroneranger @shanimallina87 @peakascum @cherrycola27 @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @untoldshortsofthefandoms @thecraziestcrayon @lovingperfectionsblog @cornishkat @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @murdermornings @loveforaugust @scoopsr0bin @secretsicanthideanymore @sarcasm-n-insomnia

In the morning, Maverick wakes everyone up even earlier than they had hoped was necessary, for a surprise flight session.

"Where's Lieutenant Seresin?"

"Late, sir. He didn't come back to base last night."

Your eyes fall to the ground at Coyote's sentence.

You had a feeling, when he wasn't in the room being annoyingly good at waking up early. Another mark on the long list of things he excels at. But Rooster had distracted you long enough not to delve into it.

Turns out the idiot slept in his car. Roof down, parked under the bright morning light. His sunburn likening him to a lobster, he looked positively ridiculous.

"He'll pay for that when he gets here. Scorcher." Pete looks sorrowful. Penny must have told him about the kiss. You probably look like you're going to vomit. "You're my backseater today."

This is the best and fastest cure for your moral hangover. Up in the air, with Maverick.

It's more than honorable to sit behind Captain Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell, it's fullfilling. Every time you do, it feels like your life has purpose again.

After your WSO didn't survive an ejection, a lot of things went through your mind. One of which was never piloting another jet. Maverick took the spot in the back of your plane numerous times after the accident just so you could feel comfortable, believe in your own skills again.

It warranted a lot of patience from both of you, but he was right, it is what you're born to do. Actually, you don't know what else you're good at. So you'll forever be grateful for him taking time with a random student still in her academy days to make sure you at least tried to reach your potential.

Being his backseater is no chore, he's the most obvious natural talent you've ever met, which grants you the extraordinary experience of being able to watch your friend Pete do what he loves most without barely having to turn your neck.

The session goes smoothly, except for Phoenix and Bob underperforming. Off the comms, you tell Mav not to worry about it, you'll talk to Trace.

To your displeasure, you're not quite done yet.

"Good morning, everybody. Your entertainment is here, you can all wake up."

"Is that- Oh God."

"Not God, Payback. Just me. You should look up, though, I'm right above you. Wave back."

Your body slumps back on the seat, a helpless reaction to hearing his voice when you were hoping to avoid him for a few more hours, at least.

"Hangman, do not engage!"

That's weird. Your hands squeeze the straps, sitting up to look at the Captain, absorbing the exasperated language of his body.

"Excuse me, sir? I've got a lock!"

In trying to escape his jet, Payback found himself exactly where Jake wanted him.

"That's not the point. You're not a little late, training is nearly over! You get no flying time today, that's an ord-"

"Maverick, I'm here now! If I don't get these hours in-"

"That's it, no air time for two days." The comms are quiet, and you push the small mic away, putting a hand on your pilot's shoulder. Mav. "I repeat, Lieutenant Seresin, you're out."

"Captain, sir. It's eleven-hundred, there's at least-"

"I'm aware, Scorcher." You wince at his lack of composure, retreating when he addresses everyone again. "Everybody else, push harder. I'm not seeing enough out of you today."

The next fifty minutes are grueling, Maverick incessantly chasing every pilot out of their comfort zone. You're happy to sit behind him, speaking only when he asks you to.

No one complains, but you know they're simply holding back in front of their instructor. Sweaty and tense when they return to the ground.

You walk in front of Pete, catching Nat's 'thanks, Bagman' as she goes past the blonde. Jake is obediently waiting for Maverick's scolding, helmet in front of his body, head held high.

He only falters when you send him a sympathetic smile.

Even if he hides it well, you're aware that your old friend is someone Seresin has learned to admire, consequently looking for his approval.

When Rooster was picked for the uranium mission, you were equally proud and apprehensive for your friend. But your smile had dropped once your eyes landed on Hangman. It was a split-second slip up, his shoulders deflating before immediately raising again with a deep inhale, and you caught it.

You were watching him when you should've been looking at your actual friends, who had just been assigned to a major mission. Fascinated by his failure to hide the disappointment in his eyes, regardless of the rest of his body posing as unphased. Wondering how often he has to piece himself together with that same quickness.

Walking with a stupid grin on your face, the memory of the conversation you had hits you like a truck.

"Hey."

Basket of laundry supported by your hips, greeting soft on your lips before they return to the more common and less friendly thin line.

He stood in front of the washing machine in use, absentmindedly eating Oreos, correcting his posture when you come in and it pulls a discreet chuckle from you. Squinting at his furrowed brows and tense facial expressions.

Quietly dropping your clothes into the empty machine, the only sound in the room is that of the cycle starting.

"You know, Phoenix and Bob's chemistry is a huge strike of luck, silly not to take advantage of it. I think any of us could've done a good job as Mav's wingman, but it feels like Rooster's time."

Placating words, hoping they'll smother your anxieties over not being picked as much as his.

"With all due respect, Scorcher, I don't need a pep talk."

You snort.

"Oh, I'm aware, neither do I. Pep talks tend to be super gross and condescending. But I don't think sulking is very helpful, is it?" He raises an eyebrow and motions with the packet to you. You take one, shrugging. "All I'm saying is…it's not our mission. There'll be others."

"Cute way to think, a little too positive though. I can't wait for the next mission every time. And if it never comes?"

"Impossible." You turn and jump up to sit on top of the washing machine. "We're both way too good."

"We?"

Licking the chocolate off your teeth, you take a deep breath, humming as if you're considering it.

"I can admit you're top three."

"Three? Sweetheart, please-"

A groan escapes your lips, exaggeratedly loud and he jumps, but there's a surprised smile on his lips.

"Immediately, I'm taking it back." His brows furrow, still amused, and you nod your head. "Yeah, I was just trying to make you feel better anyway, you're definitely struggling to catch up to Roo and Trace. And I haven't even mentioned myself yet."

He's playing with the stack of cookies in his hand, eventually shoving another one in his mouth, and you take the opportunity to watch him. Slow and close.

"I do like your flying."

"You like it?"

"I respect it."

"Oh, wow. Consider me honored."

Somehow, you found yourselves looking directly into each other's eyes. Yours widen just a little, impatient.

"It's fast but quiet. Sneaks up on you, leaves an impact behind. Impressive. So why didn't Mitchell pick you?"

There it is. The reason he even started to compliment you.

"Maverick doesn't play favorites. If he picked Bradley, it's because he belives his abilities are the ones he needs."

He scoffs. "That's naive of you. C'mon, you've aced all the tests up to now, shouldn't this mission be yours?"

"Thank you, Seresin, for your unmitigated support. I know, apparently as much as you do, that I could've done this mission. But it's not me. There's still a job to do down here, to make sure all of them make it back, that's what I'm thinking about. And that's what you should be thinking about as well." Back on the ground, you turn to him from the doorway. "Let it go. Whining makes you look amateur."

Nose twisting up, remembering how mean you've been to him before. Not undeserved.

"Scorcher," Pete calling for you snaps you back into reality. He's a few steps behind, Jake in between you. "Nice job today."

Your eyes squint at the sun, shy under the praise and in front of Hangman.

"Didn't really do anything, but it was my pleasure."

"Yeah, you did." Blinking at him, he only nods. "I'm down for a repeat, anytime."

"Me too, sir."

Smiling, you refrain from asking Mav to go easy on the aviator watching your interaction, instead averting your eyes to the ground and walking away.

When you woke up this morning, things were much clearer in your mind. Jake's not the problem, you are. There's no reason to be upset with him.

Truth is, as much as it made you cry, you can also acknowledge it was a mess of your own creation. You told him it was a mistake. Sure, you didn't expect him to go straight into another woman's arms, but it would happen eventually. You're just…speedrunning the process.

Until you actually say something, he can do whatever he wants.

But would you dare? And what would be the plan? Explain that, yes, you very much like him but simultaneously you do not want to do anything about it because you're scared he won't tolerate you for long?

Your sober thoughts also led to the conclusion that you're way past the point of worrying whether or not he reciprocates your feelings. That kiss was heavy with meaning, and you got along fine. It's not too much of a leap to assume he could see an angle where he has some fun. Your worries now lie in the unraveling of yourself.

What follows is a brutal shedding of layers you have comfortably hidden under for as long as you can remember, taking your balled fists out of your pocket in the cold and opening them to ask. With no guarantee that you will be invited to a warm home.

He'll be able to see all of the vices that make you squirm and scratch at your skin because of how much you wish you could rid yourself of them. Then he's gonna ask, why don't you change? And you'll resent him for suggesting the obvious, and yourself for not already being better.

Jake is the rare kind that might sincerely make you want to do the work. Adapt. But are you worth sticking through it for? Change is difficult, and you're resistant.

The way it is - alone - works for you. It's not sad and it's not painful. If you did change, it would be for him. And when he saw what a hard time you have taking care of yourself, putting effort, how comfortable it is for you to stick to what you already know, well…He'll want to leave. And you'll see it coming, and you'll lay the ground for it, making sure he does just that.

A guttural experience. Maybe you could spare both of you from it.

It's late afternoon when you finally catch Natasha alone, fixing herself some yogurt in the kitchen.

"That was some dogshit flying you did today."

Near black eyes bore into you with the harsh intensity to shut anyone else down, but you only scoot closer against the counter, reminding her you don't scare easy.

"What do you want?"

"We can talk about your embarrassing performance or the reason why you're off."

"Rooster."

You can't help but cackle when the name slips out of her gritted teeth like a vexed old lady. She's ready to stomp on your foot like a child.

"Sorry, it's just, you said it like Josh from Drake and Josh, when he used to say Megan, have you ever- Ok. Nevermind. Please talk to me."

"Scorcher, I really don't feel like-"

"I already know you two hooked up last night. You just have to tell me what happened after."

Natasha drops everything and pulls you away from the door.

"How do you know that?"

"A secret for a secret?" She nods, and you look around the room, extending your neck to make sure no one is in the hallway either. "Hangman and I saw the two of you but I didn't want to interrupt, so I just shoved him in the bathroom."

A weird sound, something in between laughter and disgust, rumbles from her throat.

"Rooster was right? You were together in there!"

"And you were sucking face in Penny's hallway with her boyfriend's favorite child, so cut down the judgement, Ice Queen."

She ignores you.

"How did you get to that? What were you doing before? Jesus, did something happen between you two?"

"I asked first."

Groaning, Phoenix reaches back for her yogurt, sticking a spoonful inside of her mouth before conceding.

"Okay, so after you saw us, we sneaked out to his car. We were, uhm, in the middle of it, when his phone kept buzzing. I asked who it was and he lied. Said it was Mickey asking where he was."

"Who was it?"

"Some girl. She ended up calling him. We just stared at each other, and eventually, I pushed him off. I don't know why. Cut to us screaming at each other for ten minutes while I waited for my Uber."

"He shouldn't have lied." No shit, she says. "But you two are idiots. I mean, he didn't pick up the phone or call her back. Came straight back to base. No, he only dates those girls because he's too scared to ask you out, and even more afraid of being alone. And you're too scared to ask him if he really likes them more than you, since he always seems to pick them - even though clearly he doesn't. And it's all stupid, because if you did ask that he would tell you that no, he doesn't and you could be together. Boom, happy ending."

Her arms cross in front of her body, eyebrows raising at your audacity.

"Fine, smart-ass. You sound like you've got it all figured out. Why don't you tell me what happened with you? What's your secret?"

"Hangman kissed me."

"What the f-" You shush her and she punches the table, channeling her shock into it and almost knocking spoons and cups to the floor. This would be funny if it wasn't so pathetic. "You didn't…"

"No, of course not. It was just a kiss."

"And?"

Your eyes fall on the counter, zoning out as you force yourself not to crumble at the memory.

"It was…really good. Then, Rooster knocked on the door and I found my perfect excuse to run."

"Right. But he made the move?"

"You know I wouldn't."

If it were necessary, you'd keep these feelings for Seresin forever quiet. If he doesn't know, he can't reject you. Trace knows this, which is why she only nods.

"Wait, where was he this morning? Oh, Scorch."

You still haven't blinked, and it stings. So focused on it, your voice becomes quieter.

"Yeah, the guys had a bet and- It's not important."

"They're assholes." You consider defending at least Rooster, for the sake of whatever they have, but there's no energy in you for it. Nat's hands find yours. "How are you holding up?"

A shrug.

"Just kinda wish it never happened. Don't have to finish something that never started, you know? But, uhm, ultimately I don't see it going any other way."

It always ends, you don't get what you want. Because how dare you ask for anything, how dare you want?

"Scorcher, he kissed you."

"Tasha, Hangman kisses a lot of people. We had been drinking, in a place that feels cozier than The Hard Deck. Who knows, maybe he saw Penny and Mav being so close and he felt lonely. It doesn't mean anything."

"Look, I trust him less than you do, obviously. But Jake is not one to act without thinking. He's methodical, even when he's being a dick. I don't see him as the type of guy to start something and not finish it."

That's a great point. But he is not the problem.

"It can only end in disaster."

"For the record, I think you can do better." If only she knew Seresin thinks the same about her and Rooster. "But you don't know that. Maybe it'll be fine. Or it'll be a disaster and I'll be personally very pleased to see you break his heart."

You scoff.

"Think it'd be the other way around."

"Then I'll have a perfect excuse to kick his ass." You stare at each other without anything to say, and she rolls her eyes, reluctantly supportive. "Jesus, Scorcher, you like him. That ship has sailed, it's pretty obvious. Why not give it a shot?"

"Tasha, I'm a mess. I'm so scared to ruin things that I end up making sure it'll end badly. And it's okay when it's a stranger that I can avoid for the rest of my life, but he is more complicated than a stranger. I don't- I don't want him to know that I'm a catastrophe, and I don't want to bring him down with me. I think we both can do better than that."

She puts down the yogurt and crosses her arms, and you feel uncomfortable with the air of seriousness this conversation has taken.

"I wanna kick you in the crotch right now, I swear. He's a big boy, he can handle it." You start to protest but she cuts you off. "No, Scorch, you'll forgive me for saying this later but you're acting like a coward under the guise of righteousness. Fine, you're a mess. You think Seresin isn't? We're all a little fucked up in here, you just haven't noticed because you're busy putting yourself down. My point is, you seem to respect Seresin but you have no plans of telling him how you feel and letting him decide for himself what he wants to do? It doesn't add up."

You'd be shutting this down if she wasn't so accurately on point. You're overlooking Jake's ability to have a say in the matter, mostly because you know he would have choice words for you and you're too scared to find out which direction they'll take.

Sighing, you look back at her with a defeated expression, leaning your elbows on the counter and your head on your hands.

"I can't just gamble with this, Nat, I don't know how to recover when I'm hurt. I've never- I've never done any healing in my life, I just keep going. But I'm afraid these feelings are too much, and I'll never be the same after. I don't know how many times I can still pick myself up."

Her voice is as serene as the ocean in the earliest hours of the morning.

"Here, you don't tell me much but I know relationships aren't your strongest suit. You never know if you're going to be okay after them. But what a waste to have felt something and not have done anything about it, don't you think? We're human, Scorcher, we are not immune to hurt but we heal. It's what we do. You'll be fine."

Oh, she's good. You smile weakly.

"Why can't we follow our own advice, though?"

"That's also something people do. Be stupidly stubborn."

When the laughing dies down, she speaks again.

"One more thing."

"Hm?"

She leans in with a hand on your shoulder, whispering in your ear.

"You're not alone."

When she punches you in the side, a little too hard, your eyes raise to find Jake entering the kitchen.

"Phoenix."

He nods as she bumps him, saying only "Irresponsible asshole."

Confused eyes look back at you and you can't help but snort, hiding your face even further into your palms.

"Can't catch a break today."

You almost feel sorry for him. What a softened mush he has made of your heart.

"How bad was the talking?"

"Believe it or not, Maverick is not great at expressing himself. Something you two have in common, I believe?"

Feeling the twist of your lips, you squint at him. "Hey, what did I do?"

"Darlin', you're extremely confusing."

"About something specific or just in general?"

"In general."

"Mhm, or your brain has no more space for comprehension skills after you filled it up with thoughts of yourself only?"

"All I heard was skill." He flashes a smile to you, running a hand across your back as he steps behind you to get to the fridge. You watch his arms as he picks up a water bottle. "Anyway, won't be doing any flying tomorrow."

"I hope it was worth it."

It wasn't meant to be said out loud. You can see thin lines in his forehead making a curve into the brigde of his nose, and he looks almost embarrassed.

Recovering, you throw him a faint but well-meaning smile.

Your eyes follow the movement of his Adam's apple as he drinks. You hate his tanned skin, the great way a standard Navy shirt falls over his broad shoulders, his gorgeous neck hugged by the dog tags and a golden chain.

Breaking out of the dangerous slippery slope of desiring Hangman, you tap the counter and start to walk away.

"Wait, where are you going?"

If you didn't know any better, you would say he sounds needy.

"Cyclone's not here today. Maybe I can change Maverick's mind about your hours before the big guy is informed."

Halfway to the door when his voice stops you.

"Geez, that kiss must have been out of this world if you're goin' to bargain to our superiors for me."

With your head thrown back, your laugh bounces off the walls. Turning, you expect him to be standing there in all his glory, smug and smirking. And he is, but he changes his footing once your eyes meet his, an instance of insecurity before his chin is high in the air again.

"It was." Non-chalant, twisting your nose in reluctant concession. "But I think I did most of the work."

Weird when you don't hear the expected chuckle, meeting his green orbs again. An awkward second before you smile and move to the door again.

"Scorch-" Music to your ears. "Are we good?"

He looks unsure, and you tilt your head dramatically.

"Of course."

With a hand around the doorframe, you give him one last smile.

You find Pete in the library, looking over photos of his own Top Gun class.

"Hey, Captain. Mind if I-"

He shuts the book quickly, foot pushing a chair by his side away from the table and asking you to sit.

"Hangman, I assume?"

Still in a mood. You sigh, making a point to scrape the chair against the floor as you sit, inching closer to him.

"I'm not gonna try too hard to defend him, but he was late, Mav. Happened to all of us at some point, and no one had a punishment this bad. What was that about?"

It's not usual for him to let personal things interfere in his judgement.

"I wasn't actually going to scrap his air time tomorrow. I already reported his lateness to Warlock, nothing else. But I saw your face in the reflection of the cockpit when he showed up this morning. He needed a little public ear pulling, that's all."

You smile at him.

"Penny told you?"

"Yes. And I know I shouldn't get involved, it's your life, but sweetheart…You're only gonna get hurt this way."

"Seeing it through could be so much worse."

"Could be. Or-"

"Maverick, what happens when it all burns down in flames?"

His hands are wringing together on top of the table, licking his lips, in deep thought.

"Remember what you told me, years ago? We were flying together, and I asked you what it felt like. You said it was a ceaseless twisting in your stomach. I had to show you that it wasn't fear of another accident. No, it was restraint. You were holding back from being a pilot because you thought you didn't deserve to be one anymore. Deep down, you knew it wasn't true, and that feeling was your body saying you were wrong. Take the plunge. You know you want to. You know it's right. Sweetheart, no matter how persistently you've been made to believe otherwise due to circumstance or bad luck, you do deserve good things. Your instinct is one of the best the Dagger Squad has to offer. If it's dependable enough to make you a decorated Lieutenant, why shouldn't you listen to it now?"

Pete's words coddle your heart in a way you haven't felt in many years. To be seen and thoroughly understood by someone you admire, and are lucky enough to call a friend, is something you never thought would happen to you. Too damn sheltered to let others appreciate anything about you.

Biting your lip to distract you from the tears pooling in your eyes, you ask him quietly, "Can I give you a hug?"

He laughs, looking around the empty library before opening his arms.

His hold is strong, and he smells like rain on hot asphalt and worn leather, comforting.

The twisting deep inside that Maverick had magically guessed you were feeling returns, and you lean back.

"I already told him the kiss was a mistake."

"Take it back, tell him the truth. Life's too short."

Both of you glance at the decaying photo album on top of the table.

"If I do, you'll go easy on him tomorrow?"

"No promises."

On your way back to your dorm, you spot Javy in the rec room, reading a book.

"Hey, Coyote, is Jake in his room?"

"Pretty sure, yes."

"Right, thank you."

Your heart is racing, worried it might come out of your mouth and drop to the floor this far away from the medical bay.

Knocking on the door, you hope it's the right one, and that no one else comes out of their rooms for a few minutes.

Jake opens it fully dressed in fancy clothes, hair done a little differently. Less gel, more hangy. Funny. It suits him too well.

"Scorch?"

And you're back.

"Hey, sorry to bother, ran into Javy and he said you were here."

He leans on the frame, sweet perfume no cheaper than- More than you could know.

"It's our room, so."

"'Course." You know you're staring, but your mouth is too dry for you to speak yet. The pressure from clear green eyes might just force you. "Uh, right, I talked to Mav. You're flying tomorrow, like usual. Well, maybe not like usual, he might ride you a little harder but it won't last. You know it never does."

"Thanks, you didn't have to."

"I didn't do anything. All he reported was your late arrival, he was never going to jeopardize your flying time." He hums, letting his gaze finally turn away, watching his hand shake the doorknob absentmindedly. It's a huge relief, more oxygen flowing to your brain now. "Might need to avoid being late again, though."

He tsks, pearly white teeth shining in the dimly lit hallway.

"That'll be hard. This girl is a partier, she keeps me up late."

The twist in your stomach turns the opposite direction, sinking.

"Oh. From last night? You're going out again?"

Idiot. That's why he looks and smells this good. It's for her.

"No such thing as too much fun, right?"

"I wouldn't know."

You snort at your own melancholy. He's about to enjoy a night out and you sound like the biggest downer in the Navy. Smooth.

"Maybe she has a friend. We could go on a double date and show you a good time."

A smile, teasing and borderline mean. Well, to you. In his mind, it's probably the nicest thing he could do.

Tell him not to go. That's all you have to do. Take it back, tell him the truth.

"Jake-"

His Apple Watch pings, eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness. Must be her.

"Hm?"

He moves around the room to grab his wallet and a jacket. It feels like you have no air in your lungs.

"C-Can we talk about the kiss?"

Your eyes are screwed shut, the defeaning silence almost too much to handle.

"Now?"

Risking a look, you find him frozen in the center of the room, head turned but hands still holding the closet door halfway open. It's been a while since you felt this stupid around a man.

Your mouth opens and you stutter. "You're right. Terrible timing."

"The worst." It's barely humorous, both of you chuckling awkwardly but when your eyes meet it's uncomfortable. "You said we were good."

"No, we are-" Fingertips come up to pinch the bridge of your nose, and you shake your head. "We are. I just thought we should- You know what? We don't have to do this now, go on your date first."

You want to scream.

"Are you sure?"

No. I want to ask you to stay but those words have never not bitten me back, so I can't do it, I'm sorry.

Lip trapped in between your teeth, you nod. "Yeah. She's probably already waiting for you, right? See, there you go. It's not that big of a deal, really."

He thinks for a second, before another ping comes from the watch and he seems to wake up, quickly moving around the room again.

With a light teasing tone, but still awkward, he makes the offer again. "I can still ask her if she has a friend."

Nausea strikes and you roll your eyes, the only defense you have left.

"Hard pass."

"Your loss."

"Different perspectives. Do yourself a favor and don't be late tomorrow, alright?" You're turning back the way you came, before popping your head inside the room again. "And take the Apple Watch off, you look stupid."

You leave an annoyed Hangman alone with fast and determined steps. God, you wish you didn't take self-preservation so seriously.

If they're seeing each other again, the next day, he must've liked something about her. So, what, you're just gonna hand him over? Steps halting, you consider turning back until you realize you're already in the rec room.

Javy still reading his book, Tasha and Bob eating grapes on the couch, all eyes on your distressed self.

Throwing yourself in between the duo, you delight in the seedless, sweet fruit. Probably too much, because the man to your left is staring.

"I'm sorry, Floyd, are you jealous of the grapes? Did I breach your monogamous relationship with them? No? So quit looking."

Phoenix stifles a giggle, very poorly, and leans closer.

"Wanna talk ab-"

"Nope."

"Alright."

One minute later, Jake runs through the room, grabbing a Redbull from the fridge.

"How's the hair?"

"She saw it worse than that in the morning - speaking from experience - so it's fine."

Trace lifts her head from your shoulder, glancing up at Hangman and Coyote, then you.

"See you when I see you!"

"Don't be late!"

Javy yells but he's already out the door.

The warm hands around your bicep curl tighter, and you lean your head on top of hers.

Maybe some things need to change. If you can't take it back to the way it was, and you can't deal with the silly little suffering from watching Jake run off to a date, you might have to do something about it.

#jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #tgm x reader #tgm fanfic

141 notes · View notes

trivialbob · 9 months

Text

I enjoy reading these sorts of posts some of you write. It is only fair if I do one too. Thanks, @find-jupiter.

1. Are you named after anyone?

My uncle is named Bob. Bob's your uncle. I never really thought though that I was named after him. It never came up in conversation. He sometimes reads my Tumblr posts, so I will take this opportunity to let Bob know that I found a six pack of Hacker-Pschorr (Hacker was founded in 1417!) at the liquor store this week and bought it. That beer was sold at my college's student union. I don't think I've ever drank it anywhere else until this week. He mentioned Hacker-Pschorr to me when I saw him at a wedding this summer.

2. Do you have any kids?

Two sons, 27 & 29.

3. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

I probably do, and I hope I get it right, where no one takes offense. Not long ago a young cashier handed me too much change. I exclaimed "Oh my God!" as I held up the extra bill. She giggled. The right tone of voice and facial expressions are crucial.

4. When was the last time you cried?

I must have a little bit when my mom passed away in 2021. Sometimes I get teary eyed when I hear a song like Amazing Grace or Battle Hymm of the Republic.

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Attitude. It takes a bit longer than recognizing body features, but it's where I seem to focus. Does the person smile and make eye contact or stare at the floor? Answer politely with a full sentence or grunt in annoyance?

6. Eye color?

Blue

7. What sports do you/have you played?

When I was younger: hockey, soccer, and softball. In high school it was track (1- and 2-mile) and cross country (3-mile or 5k). As an adult I played bandy and ran a lot of races from 5k to marathons (about 10 of those). Now mostly I ride my bicycles. I've tried pickleball a little bit as well.

8. Any special talent?

Sadly, no.

9. Where were you born?

Fairview Southdale Hospital in Edina, MN.

10. Scary movies or happy endings?

I'm not a fan of scary movies.

11. Do you have any pets?

Three Miniature Australian Shepherds. The breed is actually called Miniature American Shepherd, but I prefer Aussie.

12. How tall are you?

5'10"

13. What are your hobbies?

Trying different restaurants, bars, and breweries. Bicycling the trails and paths in Minneapolis (which is convenient for stopping at different bars and restaurants along the way).

14. Favorite subject in school?

Math and geometry were my favorites followed closely by English/grammar.

15. Dream job?

I always wanted to be a pilot. I don't have the eyesight for it, but I think I have the right temperament to safely do that work. Other than that I would love to be an expert in a unique field, like repairing a Stradivarius or wrenching on a Ferrari. Yes, I can do that job. The current wait time is six to ten months.

39 notes · View notes

jiangwanyinscatmom · 9 months

Text

Once more, I do not post links directly leading to any blogs that are not from my mutual friends and followers regarding meta, anon, but I will break this down.

In cultural context, it is not meant to be romantic regarding the idiom of (青梅竹馬) qīng méi zhú mǎ. Literal meaning, green plums and play horses. The innocence of youth and the wonder of simple (childhood friend) games. Please note that endearments such as "sweet heart" in modern context, as the direct translation means, is vastly different than what is entailed by the idiom itself, and is bad, awful machine translation that does not take into account the linguistic meanings that are needed for tone meaning and reading.

If it meant the direct romantic connotation of romantic, it would be 恋人 (liàn rén) compared to the character used within the idiom 青 (qíng) (which does denote a more platonic meaning for the relationship and childhood friends). You do not use this to mean "lovers" as an idiom, it loses contextual meaning otherwise and loses the point of the word play.

The poem itself was originally a romantic poem, by Li Bai. And as such should be one of most well known Chinese poets and usual literary fair elementary students know as much as the West would with the usual school fare of reading assignments.

妾髮初覆額

折花門前劇

郎騎竹馬來

遶床弄青梅

同居長干里

兩小無嫌猜

十四為君婦

羞顏未嘗開

低頭向暗壁

千喚不一回

十五始展眉

願同塵與灰

常存抱柱信

豈上望夫臺

十六君遠行

瞿塘灩澦堆

五月不可觸

猿聲天上哀

門前遲行跡

一一生綠苔

苔深不能掃

落葉秋風早

八月蝴蝶黃

雙飛西園草

感此傷妾心

坐愁紅顏老

早晚下三巴

預將書報家

相迎不道遠

直至長風沙

My hair had hardly covered my forehead.

I was picking flowers,playing by my door,

When you, on a bamboo horse,

Came trotting in circles, throwing green plums.

We lived near together on a lane in Channggan,

Both of us young and happy-hearted.

...At fourteen I became your wife,

So bashful that I dared not smile,

And I lowered my head toward a dark corner

And would not turn to your thousand calls;

But at fifteen I straightened my brows and laughed,

Learning that no dust could ever seal our love,

That even unto death I would await you by my post

And would never lose heart in the tower of silent watching.

...Then when I was sixteen, you left on a long journey

Through the Gorges of Changgan, of rock and whirling water.

And then came the Fifth-month, more than I could bear,

And I tried to hear the monkeys in your lofty far-off sky.

Your footprints by our door, where I had watched you go,

Were hidden, every one of them, under green moss,

Hidden under moss too deep to sweep away.

And the first autumn wind added fallen leaves.

And now, in the Eighth-month, yellowing butterflies

Hover, two by two, in our west-garden grasses

And, because of all this, my heart is breaking

And I fear for my bright cheeks, lest they fade.

...Oh, at last, when you return through the three Pa districts,

Send me a message to home you come

And I will come and meet you and pay no mind to the distance,

All the way to Changgan.

I hope in comparison the vast sarcasm of the idiom is apparent in context to what the random nameless gossiper is exhibiting in the original reference this sentence used:

江澄居然就让这厮嚣张了这么久，换了是我，当初魏某人叛逃时就不是只捅他一刀，而是直接清理门户，否则他也没机会做出后来那些丧心病狂之事。对这种人，还讲什么同门同修青梅竹马的情面。

Translation (mine, seven seas and ExR:)

1: Jiang Cheng allowed that servant to live for too long. If I were him, when he defected, I wouldn’t have just stabbed him, I would have thoroughly wiped him out so he couldn’t commit his deranged acts later. Who cares about the sentiments about childhood friendship when people like him don’t care.”

“I can’t believe Jiang Cheng allowed that guy to run amok for so long. If it were me, I wouldn’t have just stabbed him when he first defected, I would’ve cleaned house! He wouldn’t even have gotten the chance to do all those crazy things. What does a childhood friendship matter when facing people like him?”

Jiang Cheng allowed this fellow to live for too long. If I were him, at the time of the defection, I wouldn’t have just stabbed him. In fact, I would have thoroughly examined the disciples of the clan again, so that he doesn’t do those crazy things he did later on. Who cares about the so called ‘considerations’ that he gave to his childhood friend.”

Now, with the idea that while the original meaning was meant to be sweet and sentimental, the idiom is certainly not any longer nor is the meaning to mean lover literally. Mandarin plays heavy upon the context of meaning for each of these words.

In short: this is why actual understanding of the language you are lecturing of is important as you can easily twist it to what is not there for ones that literally do not know and take it all at face value.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #putting meaning to an author's words that is non existent #literally #nothing annoys me more than claiming something that it's not

31 notes · View notes

myreia · 3 months

Text

Divergence of the Heart

CHAPTER SIX: PROMISES KEPT, PROMISES MADE

Chapter Rating: Mature (full story rating is Explicit) Characters: Aureia Malathar (WoL), Aymeric de Borel, Thancred Waters, Hilda Ware Pairings: Aureia/Aymeric, Aureia/Thancred, Thancred/Hilda Chapter Words: 7,625 Notes: Set during the Heavensward patches. Summary: Aureia Malathar may have made a name for herself in Ishgard, but her deeds come with a hefty personal toll. Despite her victories at the Grand Melee she has never felt more unsure of herself. Her relationship with Thancred—the person she thought knew her the best—is strained, yet she cannot abandon him. Aymeric is falling for her harder with each passing day, yet she cannot bring herself to accept it. All may be fair in love and war, but at least war is predictable. Love on the other hand… Chapters: 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 Read on AO3

Aureia sips at her wine, barely cognizant of the smooth, rich flavour flooding her mouth, distracted as she is by Aymeric. Friendship, he proposed, but it is more than that and they both know it. Something better left unnamed for now. She doubts either of them know where this evening will end, but to be frank, she would rather not think on it. She wants nothing more than to enjoy her time here in his company, without distraction or worry.

The food is as good as it smells, featuring dishes she knows and more that she doesn’t. The last time she had a meal this fine Raubahn lost an arm, but she has a feeling the limbs of all attendees to this dinner are safe tonight. She bites her tongue, refraining from making the joke. Even with a glass and a half in her system, she’s not a fool enough to overshadow the evening with memories of the bloody banquet.

Aymeric is more talkative than she has ever seen him. Of course he is habitually loquacious, rivalling only Urianger for the amount of words he can squeeze into a sentence before running out of breath, but the way he relaxes over the course of dinner brings a smile to her face. The politician is always simmering underneath, but the more their conversation wanders, the less present he becomes. So rarely have they had the chance to talk about topics unrelating to war or politics, she knows she is seeing a side of him he rarely shares with others, if at all.

She knows the feeling all too well. Idle chatter about unimportant things isn’t something she’s used to even among friends. Outside of Tataru’s company, that is. Then again, Tataru makes it a point for her to talk about non-world-ending events on pain of death, so maybe that doesn’t count.

This is good. For both of you.

“…would that I could have seen such a momentous event,” he says, his eyes sparkling with interest. “Thank you, truly—”

“Wouldn’t have been a problem if it wasn’t so bloody cold,” she replies with mock sarcasm. “Why is it so cold here? Is it always so cold?”

“Ah.” He pauses, lowering his fork. “It has been this way for some seven years now. Ever since the Calamity overrode the land with frost and fury.”

“Oh.” She flushes, pressing her lips together. She should have known that; or, at the very least, put two and two together. This side of the world was ravaged by horrors she could only imagine from the safety of her post in Ilsabard when Dalamud fell from the sky. “What was it like before?”

A strange expression falls over his face, lost in thought. Whatever memory he is retreading resonates with fondness and loss. “Green valleys and rolling hills, so vibrant in their colours no painting could capture them,” he says quietly. “Lakes clear as glass reflecting skies of pure azure. I remember there were small periwinkle flowers that bloomed in abundance near Whitebrim Font. My mother… the viscountess… She was very fond of them. Now that I come to think of it, I cannot remember their name.”

He pauses and glances across the table at her, the memory subsiding. “I am certain any botanist could tell you the extent of what was lost far more keenly than I,” he continues conversationally. “A whole land irrevocably changed. We cannot return to what we have lost, but perhaps we can look to what we have gained. A new land sprung up beneath our very feet. In time, who knows what will come to call these snowbound highlands home? As destructive as the Calamity was, I would consider it rebirth rather than destruction. For Coerthas was not destroyed. We remain.”

She smiles. “I like that.”

He returns the smile and reaches for the decanter, refilling his glass. “I suspect you will admonish me for this, yet I must admit I have the desire to apologize for our inclement weather, as far outside my control as it is.”

Aureia snorts, unable to hide her laughter. “Don’t,” she says and pushes her glass across the table. Not necessary, perhaps, but why shouldn’t she be indulgent when in the company of friends? “There’s comfort in it. Familiarity. Predictable, if you know what you’re getting into, what to expect, and come prepared. Too many Eorzeans balk at a little snow.”

“Speaking from personal experience, I presume?”

“It’s not exactly a climate the city-states are used to, no. Three years on this continent and I’ve yet to see genuine snowfall outside of Gridania. It’s funny to think I would have had an easier time adjusting had I found my way to Ishgard rather than Ul’dah. Thanalan was unbearable after Ilsabard. I’m used to snow, not heat. The desert was suffocating enough outside the city, but inside? Like being trapped in a hothouse.”

He pauses, gripping the decanter, and a strange look crosses his face. Too late she realizes the implications of what she has said, the conclusion he must have come to. She flinches, mind whirling as she grasps at any explanation that will do, truth be damned. It’s not that she wants to lie to him—of course she doesn’t, she never has, the thought of it makes her sick to her stomach—but that she can’t bring him into her past. It is not a place she is willing to go with him. He doesn’t deserve to suffer in those trenches with her.

“I take it you spent time in northern Ilsabard, then,” he says carefully and tips the decanter, the deep red liquid pouring out in a rush.

She swallows the lump in her throat, her eyes drawn to his hands. He fills the glass near to the brim and pulls back. A bead of wine bubbles at the lip, clinging to the edge. It falls, the spot splotching the tablecloth. A single crimson spot on a sea of white. Like blood in the snow, Coerthan, Garlean, or otherwise.

Trust him. You have to trust him. If you can’t trust him, you can’t trust anyone.

“I did,” she says finally. “I was there for many years.”

Aymeric sets the decanter down. “The Imperial capital?” he asks.

“Close to it.” Her throat is raw. A lie, of a sorts. Stationed there for a time, but on the outskirts. She never stepped foot in the Imperial palace or the districts that composed the true capital. She may have been born within Garlemald’s borders, but people like her were never considered as such. They would never let a non-native like her, with dangerous magic coursing in her veins, closer than that. “Long enough to adapt. Eorzeans think Garlemald is bitter and unforgiving, but they do not know the half of it. It is far more than the cold and the ice. There is no survival if you are unprepared.”

“I have heard similar when Lucia has seen fit to speak of it. You have all my respect and more, Aureia—” He cuts himself short, laughing awkwardly as he quickly corrects himself. “Of course you always have—I didn’t mean to say that I did not before—but knowing this, even in the smallest capacity, knowing what trials you must have faced on your journey here…”

You don’t know. You have no idea. The bitterness of the thought takes her by surprise and shame flushes her cheeks. How could he know any different? He must be imagining some grand escape by yet another defector with too much good in their heart to endure living in a tyrannical nation. Not an operative with too much blood on her hands, who fled for selfish reasons.

Avoiding his gaze, Aureia reaches for her glass and disappears behind it, taking a long drink. Aymeric exhales a long breath and runs a hand over his chin, lost in thought. If her behaviour is odd to him, he either has not noticed or thinks nothing of it.

“Aureia, may I confess something?” he says after a moment.

She lowers the glass and nods.

“For countless decades Garlemald has been an enemy to all nations upon this star. But oft I have wondered where we would stand had history shown us a gentler hand, one of collaboration and cooperation rather than one of ruthless war. What could we have learned from Garlean expertise had the few not corrupted the many with tyrannical ideals and gluttonous expansionism? What could they have learned from us?”

He leans against the table and holds his gaze to hers, his eyes blazing with passion. How long has he been withholding these thoughts, waiting for the right person to tell? Someone he trusts irrevocably? “Ishgard has its own bloody history, a fanatical fabrication upheld by the very souls charged with her protection while they bled her people dry. As Ishgard recovers, I am left to wonder whether the cycles we have suffered here are not also in play in a land like Garlemald. As our nation has been isolated from the brutality of their war by virtue of being preoccupied by another, I would dare utter this before the Alliance when our coalition is so young and untested. But I believe there is a mirror in our greatest enemy, one that reflects a terrible truth we see in ourselves.”

“I don’t know if many would agree with you,” Aureia replies grimly. “It’s an empire. It’s not a place you can forgive.”

“I do not speak of forgiveness. They have harmed and will continue to harm the world greatly. But to paint every citizen who lives beneath their banners with the same broad stroke does not sit well with me. It would be the height of hypocrisy after what Ishgard herself has partaken in.”

“Perhaps.”

“I am not a faultless man, Aureia, I know this to be true more than anyone. I still have much to learn. But if there is one lesson that has remained with me throughout my time in command, it is that leadership does always speak for the people. Those with power will always have an agenda at play, for good or for ill. I will not condemn civilians for the place of their birth. When they have been shown no other path than one that has led to dogmatic beliefs and unquestioned chauvinism, perhaps they are as much victims of their government’s regime as those who have fallen to Garlemald’s might.”

“And those who are not civilians?” The question is out of her mouth before she can stop herself. “In a future where the Alliance wars with Garlemald and the Empire is brought to its knees, what grace would you extend to those you fought on the battlefield? Would you see them as victims worthy of help or perpetrators deserving of punishment?”

“That is a difficult question. One that has no easy answer.”

What would do you, Aymeric, if you knew? That I was one of those very people.

“I would like to hear it.”

“Then I would say I have none. For war only muddies the waters, never cleanses it. We know all too well how the annals of history are written in the hand of the victor. There are casualties on both sides of any war. If we are to judge our enemies by the harshest laws, then we must look to our own leadership and judge them by the same standards.”

She blinks, uncertain what to say, and looks down, chasing the remnants of her meal across her plate. The evening’s conversation has led them in a direction she didn’t predict. And all from a discussion about the weather…

The again, Aymeric’s sincerity has struck her deeply. She has never known anyone like him, really. His unshaking resolve paired with his unflinching acknowledgement of his own flaws… He has a capacity to see the good in people without excusing terrible actions. What he has told her tonight will stay with her for a long time.

“I apologize.”

His voice interrupts her thoughts. She blinks again, clearing her vision, and finds him staring at her from across the table, concern in his eyes.

“I did not mean to ask you to revisit painful memories,” he continues. “Whatever is in your past you have no obligation to tell me unless you wish to.”

She raises her head and picks up her glass, swirling her wine and fixing him with an arch look. “Did you know you say sorry too much, Aymeric?” she says.

His eyes widen, an embarrassed pink flushing his cheeks. “I—well—perhaps I do, but it is out of respect, is it not? I apologize, I had not realized—” He stops, cutting himself off as he hears the words he has just spoken. Chuckling, he shakes his head at himself and takes his wine in hand. “I am a fool, aren’t I?”

She smiles. “No,” she says, taking a drink. The wine warms her, flushing across her chest. Despite the gravity of their conversation, she feels content. Safe. Happy. “At least, no more than the rest of us.”

“I should strive to do better.”

“You should strive to be no more than yourself.”

Aymeric pauses, once again surprised by her words, and raises his glass to his lips. He drinks deeply, savouring the wine as he regards her from across the table. There’s that look in his face again… The one she can’t place. He seems enchanted and she hasn’t even done anything. Who is she to hold his attention? His friendship? His love? Though she wants to believe differently, she can’t ignore the deep sense of wrong within her. That this is some horrible mistake. That someone like her doesn’t deserve someone like him.

She drums her fingers against the tabletop, desperately searching for a way out. She thinks back, winding the conversation back to before it slipped into uncomfortable territory. The weather. The snow.

An idea forms.

“You know I don’t mind the cold,” she says, raising her glass to her lips. She nurses her wine, her fingers dancing across the table. She waits, noting how he watches her as she turns her palm upwards. With a breath, she commands the smallest threads of aether, her fingers crackling with frost as ice manifests in her hand. It dances above her palm, reflecting the warm glow of the candlelight in its crystalline heart. “I have a few tricks.”

He smiles and watches enraptured, the remains of his meal forgotten. “Ah, of course,” he replies. “The talents of a black mage are never to be underestimated.”

“Useful in Ul’dah.” She relaxes her fingers as the ice splits into three small shards and rotate in a circle above her palm. Show off. “On scorching days when I could barely think.”

Adrenaline is already coursing through her. Creating ice is a shock to the system, jolting her mana regeneration into overdrive. The font is infinite, regenerative, powerful. To have so much mana flood through her at once makes her head spin, her heart beat faster, every fibre of her being pulsing with untouched power. So simple, yet so addictive.

Aureia exhales and dismisses the ice. It dissipates in a puff of air, snuffing out the nearby candles. “This is more helpful here,” she says, summon a small ball of flame. She splits it into three and lets it play across her fingers. The orb burn brightly and happily, the light warming her skin. Fire-aspected aether is so often deemed the crux of destructive magic, but she knows better. As devastating as its power can be, fire can also soothe. Warm the hearth. Light the way. A spark in the darkness. “I don’t need much when travelling the Coerthan wilds.”

Aymeric watches in rapt silence as she twists her hand and sends the orbs flying, each alighting on a candle’s wick and setting it aflame. “Estinien thought I was quite the idiot last year. Running off into the snows by myself.”

He chuckles. “Estinien has a low opinion of all adventurers. Himself included.”

The pained look on his face does not go unnoticed. “He will return someday, Aymeric,” she says.

“I would like to believe it. But some days I am not so certain.”

“I think he was right to leave—”

“Without informing a soul? Vanishing without a trace? That is true to form. He is gone, and for those who remain, those to whom he extended a rare hand of friendship, are left to only speculate where time and tide will take him. Or how many moons will pass before he sees fit to return.”

She pauses, meeting his eyes. She has never heard him speak in anger about those he holds dear, at least not like this. Estinien was a friend to them both, but Aymeric knows him in a way she never will. Their bond runs deep, one of comradeship and brothers-in-arms. That he gave her no notice before departing doesn’t phase her, nor can she blame him for it. She may have very well done the same thing had she been in his place. But for Aymeric… Forget Ishgard, to walk out on him without a word has stung him.

And of course he is too polite to show much anger.

Without thinking much of it, Aureia reaches across the table and slips her hand into his. “I miss him, too,” she says softly. “Give him the time he needs, he deserves that much. As I said, I think he was right to leave. There can be no recovery in a place that reminds him of everything that was done to him.”

He exhales a long breath and closes his eyes. “You are right, of course. I spoke in haste and ill of a very dear friend who deserves compassion and understanding, not grievance and blame. Forgive me.”

“Aymeric. What did I say about you apologizing too much?”

He chuckles, shaking his head, and opens his eyes. She catches a flash of a smile in the flickering candlelight and he squeezes her hand once before retreating. “What say you to another round, my friend?” he says, raising his cup.

Aureia glances downwards. When did she finish her glass? She can’t remember. “Why not?” she replies and grabs the decanter. Normally she would avoid a third glass except on nights when she’s intent on drinking herself into oblivion, but with Aymeric she feels… Well. It’s not like she has anything to do tomorrow. And he offered.

He rises from his chair as she refills their wine, reaching for the platter of pastries and shifting it down the table. They have yet to taste any of them, distracted by their conversation as they are. He returns to his seat and clears his throat, hovering awkwardly as if he is waiting for her to make the first move.

“You must know we Ishgardians enjoy indulging ourselves,” he says, taking his glass from her. “It would be very poor manners indeed for me to deny you the first taste of dessert. Please, go ahead.”

She pauses, arching an eyebrow. There must be a reason for his hesitance. Why does she have the feeling he is planning something? “All right,” she says suspiciously, reaching outwards. She doesn’t know half the names of the desserts on the plate, but a familiar red pastry catches her eye at once. “Oh gods, tell me you didn’t.”

He chuckles with laughter and takes a long drink of his wine, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I heard whispers that you were fond of such little treats.”

“I was! I am! I—”

“Are you blushing, Aureia?”

“No, I—” She shoots him a dirty look. “It’s just that these are made with snurbleberries. What kind of a name is snurbleberry? The Warrior of Light can’t go around announcing she likes snurbleberry tarts, it would ruin the image—oh don’t look at me like that, you know what I mean.”

“Of course.”

“Oh, I… Fine. Perhaps I should consider this vengeance for all the times I’ve teased you.”

“Perhaps. Though, in the spirit of honest conversation, I would be bereft if you stopped. Your spirited remarks are a reminder that I am not confined to the stoic and stately countenance required to be upheld by the Lord Speaker.”

Warmth floods through her. Or is that the wine? “I used to love these,” she says, plucking a tart from the plate. The red berries stain her fingers. “I haven’t had one since I was exiled from Ul’dah. How did you know?”

“As I said, I heard whispers.”

“Mhm.” She takes a bite. “Whispers. I’m sure.”

“And by that I mean to say that I spoke with Tataru. She was quite keen to spill your most closely guarded secret.”

She laughs, mouth full, and finishes the tart. “She’s a good friend. Knows me better than she lets on. We have been through a lot together. Her, me, and Alphinaud.”

He nods, his smile warm. “You have. It was by terrible circumstances that the three of you sought refuge here, but I am forever gladdened that you did. Our lives would be quite changed had it been different.”

The conversations stills, lulled to comfortable silence by sweets and wine. Aureia sips at her drink, pleasantly full and warm, her gaze passing around the dining room. She can’t remember an evening where she has enjoyed herself so thoroughly and so peacefully. When they are on their own—without the meddling of stuffy butlers—there is something about Aymeric that keeps her grounded. At peace.

She doesn’t want this evening to end.

“Aureia,” Aymeric’s voice says quietly, interrupting her thoughts.

“Hm?”

She glances across the table to find him risen to his feet, a hand extended. Ever the gentleman.

“Would you join me in the parlour?” he asks with a half-bow.

She arches an eyebrow. “Am I allowed to bring the wine?”

“I don’t believe I could deny you even if I wanted to.”

Glass gripped in one hand, she follows him through the double-doors at the end and across the threshold into the parlour. The room is smaller to the sitting room they occupied before, though similarly decorated in plush furnishings and soft blues. Cozier. More private. Her gaze wanders, taking in the portraits lining the walls and hung above the hearth. Family portraits, hunting scenes, brave knights and fearsome dragoons… Naegling makes an appearance in more than one. These must be the ancestors of House Borel.

Not his family by blood, but his family by choice.

He settles into a couch by the hearth, resting his wine glass idly on the armrest. She joins him and sinks into the cushions, curling her legs beneath her. He looks different here in the comfort of the parlour. Relaxed. More at ease. His proximity sends an excited shiver down her spine. She has seen him countless times, but now she wonders whether she has ever truly seen him. The deep midnight of his hair, the faint flush on his cheeks, the way the light catches his familiar blue and gold earring. The curve of his lips.

She presses her glass to her mouth, the rich wine heavy on her tongue. She wonders what it would be like to kiss him. She wants to. She imagines it would be nice. He must be good at it. How many lovers has he had, she wonders? He’s so determined, pragmatic, married to his work. It doesn’t seem like he has had the time for that kind of thing. And yet he is far too much of a romantic not to.

Her stomach twists into a knot. There it is. The familiar embarrassment rushing up within her, the horrid sense of wrong, wrong, wrong. She’s not normal. She knows this. The things that come so easily to others are not easy for her. She hates the judgement, self-inflicted as it is.

Would he think differently of her, if he knew? How incongruent it is—a warrior and a saviour on one hand, capable of striking down primals and stemming the tides of chaos, and a shamefully inexperienced woman on the other, who at over thirty would be considered an unsalvageable old maid by Ishgardian standards. There are girls half her age who are married.

Not that Aymeric thinks much of Ishgardian standards.

You have got to get over this.

She hides from the thought by gulping down a mouthful. When she resurfaces, her head feels light and buoyant, buzzing from the drink.

“I think it’s my turn,” Aureia says finally, sinking deeper into the cushions.

Aymeric raises an eyebrow. “For…?”

She nudges him playfully with a foot. “You asked me a personal question. It’s time for me to ask you.”

“Oh?”

“It’s only fair.”

“I won’t argue that. What would like to know?”

She pauses, wetting her lips as she thinks. “Your parents. What were they like?”

He doesn’t answer. The longer they sit in silence, the more her panic grows—perhaps she misspoke, perhaps it was a mistake to go down this path. She told herself she wouldn’t pry into his family history, but her curiosity won out in the end. She wants to know, if only to know him better.

“My foster parents…” Aymeric speaks quietly, lost in thought. He rests his hands against his knees, his wine glass held loosely in his hands, his eyes lingering on the portraits on the wall, the generations who came before him. “Were I to describe them in a single word, I believe I could choose no other word than resolute. They were elderly when I was born. No heirs. The Borel line would have died with them had they not taken me in.”

She curls up, leaning her head against the back of the couch, and listens with rapt attention. There is as much love in his voice as there is pain.

“They knew there would be talk. That their House’s reputation would be tarnished by adopting a bastard boy. But when it came down to a choice between sacrificing their reputation in the eyes of the nobility or surrendering their house entirely, they chose the former. Too many depended on them. Loyal knights whose fathers served their fathers, and their fathers before them. Servants who had been with the family for generations. They had a right to call this house home as much as my parents did. Had they died without an heir, they would find themself in need of different employment. The knights would be absorbed into the personal guard of rival houses, the servants scattered among the staff of the nobility if they were fortunate or to the Brume if they were not. Benoit and Violette did not wish to condemn those sworn to them and under their care to such instability.”

Aymeric clears his throat and lowers his head. She can barely make out his face in this light. His profile his dark, the lines of his sharp, proud features backlit by the crackling hearth.

“And so they were steadfast in their decision to raise me as their own. The scandal of it haunted them for the rest of their lives, but they cared not. They were upstanding members of high society, the most noble of nobles. For every cruel word spoken about them, they simply smiled and carried on, secure in their decision. And they were happy in their final days. Content to see me grown. Benoit, proud of how I had proven myself in battle and honoured to pass me Naegling, the symbol of his lineage. Violette, proud of the caring and determined soul she believed me to be.”

“How old were you when they passed?”

“Fifteen.”

A lump forms in her throat. Fifteen. So young. Too young. Still a child, though he may not have been considered as such at the time. Ishgard is far from the only nation to send their children off to war, but the unquestioned nature of the status quo does nothing to relieve the pit in her stomach. She was a child once, too. Garlemald crushed it out of her.

Aureia sips slowly, nursing her wine. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs.

He catches her eye. “They loved each other deeply. Trusted each other beyond measure. Their faith in one another saw them through the course of life, both the good and the hard. Some would say they were blessed by the Fury, to live the full lives that they did, for as long as they did. It is not often that Ishgardians reach their old age, even among the Elezen. War, grief, and illness all take many before their time.”

A pause. There is no discomfort in his voice; she knows without a doubt that he is telling her this because he wants to share it with her. Her fears of prying too far into his history dissipate. “A love like theirs was precious. Perhaps it is idealistic of me, but one day I hope to find the same, unlikely as it is given my position.”

“Aymeric…”

He raises his glass to his lips and drinks. “It is the way of the aristocracy. Family is of the highest importance, second only to our war and our faith. The relationship between noble bloodlines is ancient and complex. Marriage is a joint endeavour, a commitment struck between two households with an heir as the prize. I may be the Lord Commander, but I am also a viscount. I know the expectations set before me.”

“That’s hardly fair.”

“And yet I understand the truth quite plainly. No, Aureia, as long as I hold Ishgard in my heart of hearts, my duty is to her and her people above all else. Personal sacrifices will be demanded, and they are ones I am content to make for the sake of this fledgling republic.”

“It shouldn’t be that way. Can’t you… I don’t know, change their minds? You are the Lord Speaker, aren’t you?”

He throws his head back and laughs, fixing her with a warm smile. “I can certain rouse discussion between the Lords and Commons and guide them as best I can,” he replies. “But no. Enacting reform within a system of governance is a far cry from changing a culture itself. I cannot expect the high and minor houses to change their views overnight. It will be a slow progress, one that I can only hope will benefit our children’s children and their children after them.”

She nods, rubbing her thumb absently against the side of her glass. This talk of love has brought a flush to her cheeks and she is once again thinking what it would be like to kiss him.

Damn it. Maybe he wouldn’t even want to. As he has said himself, there are expectations placed upon him. He will eventually need to marry. Have children. Where in that is there room for someone like her?

“And this is what your parents wanted for you?” she asks.

He glances at her. “Benoit and Violette wished only for my happiness,” he replies. “That I pursue a life worth living, whatever I believed that entailed. But there was a time when my foster mother did confess to me that she wished for me to leave Ishgard and see the world beyond our borders. And I will freely admit there was a time I yearned for that too, only to set it aside when practicality won out. However…” He trails off and he sets down his glass, shifting on the couch to face her. His fingers brush hers, tentatively taking her hand in his. “Truth be told, visiting those sweeping vistas of the Churning Mists with you at my side has reminded me of those days. I do feel the slight pangs of wanderlust, and I think… Someday, perhaps.”

Aureia meets his gaze. A part of her wants nothing more than to keep staring at him, to listen to his steady voice and fall deeper into his eyes. Another, smaller part is screaming at her to excuse herself and flee, escaping back to her miserable existence in the Forgotten Knight and forget all about him. She knows this will never work, this thing between them. Why set herself up for failure and risk hurting them both?

She swallows the panic and shoves it down. “Someday, yes,” she echoes tentatively. “Aymeric, do you think perhaps—”

A warm rumble resounds in her ears. A cat—large, orange with grey streaks, his fur fluffier than any she has ever seen—steals out from under the couch. He rises up and places his paws on the cushions by her legs, his tail swishing back and forth.

She stares at him. He stares back with large, yellow eyes.

“Sylvaine,” Aymeric chides, his tone somehow both fond and irritated. “What are you doing here?”

“Sylvaine?” Aureia asks.

The cat mews and stretches, his claws digging into the cushions and pulling at the fabric.

“My parents’ cat.” He leans forward and scratches the back of the cat��s head. “An old gentleman by any standard now, though Marcel complains he is far too lively for his age. One could say he is as much a symbol of House Borel as I am.”

The cat yawns, showing sharp teeth.

“Be careful. Majestic though he is, do not underestimate him. He has a mean streak the size of Coerthas for anyone he deems troublesome or dangerous. Or—quite frankly—anyone he thinks has looked at him wrong. Once he has judged you unworthy there is no asking for forgiveness.”

She holds back a smile. “Oh? And what counts as troublesome in his little lordship’s mind?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. It changes day to day, week to week, you see. I would never dare to assume what is happening in my dearest feline friend’s mind. Though I do recall quite vividly the day he cornered the fair Lady Hermine de Gervaise in the corner of the second floor library. As the staff could not catch the dastardly creature, a dragoon was called to assist the good lady in climbing out the window and escaping to the safety of the garden below. So great was her fear of Sylvaine that it far outstripped her fear of heights, you see.”

Aureia snorts with laughter. “Poor Hermine.”

“Indeed. Poor Hermine. She never called on me again, despite her family’s insistence.”

Sylvaine mews and leaps into her lap, curling his tail around him. His weight is warm and pleasant. Friendly. Cautiously, she reaches out a hand and runs it down his back. He offers a content purr in return and snuggles deeper into her lap.

“…and the dragoon?” she asks, petting the cat. She’s not used to being around such creatures, especially household pets. The closest thing she has is Filo and her chocobo is such a notorious biter that the Holy Stables refuse to stable him. “What happened to him?”

“Hm? Oh. The lady thanked him for his service, as I recall. And he made every excuse never to see her again.”

Her eyes narrow. “Please don’t tell me that was Estinien.”

“I have indicated nothing of the sort.”

“Oh, you liar. That absolutely was Estinien, wasn’t it.”

He grins. “Old stories aside, Sylvaine is very dear to me and the staff. His temperament may be ferocious at times, but we could not want for a better guardian.” He scratches the cat fondly, watching the way he curls in her lap with amusement. “I am glad he has taken a shine to you.”

She returns his smile. Finishing off her wine, she reaches over and places the glass on the floor. She has no desire to get up and find a table when there is a cat in her lap. “Aymeric,” she begins softly. Her head is buzzing slightly. It is so comfortable here, sitting on this couch with him. Between the warmth of the hearth, the contentedness of the cat, and his company, she has never felt more at ease. “When you said someday earlier…”

“Yes?”

“You spoke of wanderlust.”

“I did. I have no shared this with many, but I have a fervent wish to see more of this world. The lands beyond Ishgard. Beyond Eorzea. It is a yearning I cannot fully explain. My mother once said I had an insatiable curiosity; perhaps it stems from that. We have turned a blind eye to the world beyond our gates for too many years. I once considered myself well-versed in the ways of the world, but your arrival here has shaken that. Indeed, the vivid accounts of your adventures and our exchanges with both the Alliance and the Scions of the Seventh Dawn have been a firm reminder that there is much I do not know.”

She pauses, careful not to jostle Sylvaine as she moves closer. “Then come with me.”

“To where?”

“Anywhere. Beyond Coerthas. Beyond Ishgard.”

“You have no idea how fervently I wish to accept such an invitation. But I cannot. My duties with the House of Lords demand my undivided attention.”

“They ask too much of you.”

“They ask nothing. It is I who must give it to them freely, for the sake of my nation. I cannot abandon them for my personal desires, no matter how much I wish I could.”

Aureia meets his eyes. “Have you considered that perhaps it is not they who do not have faith in you, but you who do not have faith in them?”

He blinks, so shocked by her statement that he is lost for words. “I… well… I…”

“The situation is perilous, I know. This new republic of yours is young and fragile. There are many in Ishgard—and the world beyond—who believe you are the sole reason why it has not fallen apart. That makes you a target.”

“We both know that all too well.” The gravity of his words is not easily missed.

“But if the Lords and the Commons are indeed so volatile that they will fall apart if you disappear for a day, then it will happen one day with or without you. You speak of trust so often, but I think, perhaps, it is you who do not trust them, rather than the other way around. Show them you have faith in them. They will eventually have to learn to govern without you.”

He sighs and bows his head, a faint flush on his cheeks. “Once again you have seen straight through to the heart of the matter,” he says. “How do you do it?”

“Sometimes you care so much you blind yourself. Or put yourself in your own way. I have a fair bit of experience with that latter one.”

Sylvaine mews and sits up. With a long stretch, he gives a great yawn and leaps down onto the floor, skidding across the rug. He prances away, tail held high, and slinks through the open door into the dining room and out of sight.

Aureia watches him go and shifts closer to Aymeric. A distant part of her mind is startled by her newfound confidence. Perhaps it’s the direction of the conversation or the comfort she feels here—or the wine. Most likely the wine. But she will seize this moment before she loses it. She has to.

“So,” she finishes, slipping her hand into his. It would be too easy to curl up against him, her head on his shoulder. “I’m going to ask again. Would you come with me?”

He squeezes her hand, his eyes unable to leave hers. Thancred would likely say something snide about him looking besotted. Her heart thunders in her chest. Between the wine and the way he’s looking at her, the desire to kiss him is overwhelming. Why shouldn’t she? She may never get another chance.

Aymeric smiles gently. “There is nothing that would make me happier—”

She kisses him.

For the briefest of moments, she feels him freeze in shock and surprise. Then he melts, his mouth warm and gentle as he kisses her in return. She trembles, her mind buzzing, giddy with astonishment at her own boldness. Without giving it much thought, she twines her hands at the back of his neck and pulls herself into his lap, straddling him. His breath catches in his throat and she senses his hesitation, his hands resting gently against the small of her back.

But he does not push her away. For a moment, they are caught in time—seconds passing, indecision mounting, as if they are both too hesitant to make the first move.

And now that she is here in his arms, it terrifies her how scared she is of losing this. Losing him.

Head fuzzy with wine and too lost in the moment to think, she does the only thing that make sense. She presses her mouth to his again and kisses him deeply—

He pulls back. “Aureia, wait,” he says.

“Hm? What for?”

Aymeric exhales a long breath. “I… This… A moment, if you would, please?”

Shame flushes her cheeks. Was she too eager? Did she misunderstand him completely? Did she misread every sign? Maybe his interest in her was simply her imagination. Fuck it, maybe those romance chapbooks really did do a number on her. This is all Tataru’s fault.

Fuck. What the hells do I do now?

Cursing inwardly at her own stupidity, Aureia disentangles herself from Aymeric and slides off him, shifting to the far edge of the couch. Her face burns with embarrassment and she tugs awkwardly at her coat, readjusting it. It’s difficult to forget the feel of his hands on her back or his mouth on hers. For a moment, brief though it was, she was in a fantasy.

Brushing her hair out of her eyes, she rests her elbows on her knees and stares determinedly at the opposite wall. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean—”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. It was I who—”

“No. It was me—”

“Aureia—”

The door opens.

“Lord Commander, I—”

Aymeric rises to his feet and drops his hands to his sides, standing at attention. “What is it, ser?” he asks, his tone crisp and official. “News from House Fortemps?”

Aureia flushes, doing her best not to fixate on how quickly he has fallen into his professional façade. The messenger is not one she recognizes, but from the shine in his armour and the terseness in his voice, she has a feeling he is one of Artoirel’s men. The Fortemps heir has never liked her much and the distant professional courtesy he extends her has rubbed off on his knights. If he had walked in only a few seconds sooner, he would have caught them in a moment that would no doubt give Artoirel yet more ammunition to disparage her with. Not that he couldn’t put two and two together…

To his credit, the messenger either hasn’t noticed or refuses to acknowledge the empty wine glass on the floor.

“An urgent message for the Warrior of Light,” he says with a curt bow. “I was instructed to deliver it without delay.”

Well then, spit it out already. She forces a smile on her face and gestures, silently inviting him to continue.

“Master Thancred returned to the manor a short while ago—”

Aureia’s heart drops. Thancred, returned. Thancred, at the manor. She hasn’t given him any thought for a while now. Impressive, considering how difficult it has been to excise him from her mind. So many restless nights of unanswered questions rolling around her head, wondering what went wrong and when, shoving down the hurt of seeing him and Hilda together like that. She was enjoying being free of it.

And now it has coming rushing back.

She would be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t relieved to hear of him. Confirmation that he is safe and sound.

“—bearing an injured maiden.”

Her ears prick up. What’s this?

She exchanges looks with Aymeric. He raises an eyebrow, but she shrugs and spreads her hands. She is as perplexed by the announcement as he is. What maiden? Who could it possibly be? Thancred has a reputation for philandering, but it is, frankly, a farce. This must be something else.

“Master Leveilleur and Mistress Tataru are tending to her wounds, but they do not like her chances. Respectfully, my lord. They have requested the Warrior of Light’s presence immediately.”

Aureia’s eyes widen. If Alphinaud is involved…

It can’t be. Alisaie…?

His long-lost sister and twin, who diverged from her brother’s path to take matters into her own hands. Aureia doesn’t know her well and has not seen her in years. But if she is back and she is injured, if Thancred saved her… Then she knows where she has to be.

“I will go at once,” Aureia announces and rises from the couch. Blood rushes to her head and she winces, doing her best to keep her expression straight as a headache pulses between her eyes. She is regretting drinking that much wine. She may not be drunk, but from the way she is wobbling she knows she must be tipsy—and it’s going to be a pain to hide it.

Aymeric puts a gentle hand on her elbow, steadying her. Whether it is a gesture of support or to save her from further embarrassment, she doesn’t know. Her stomach twists into a knot. She doesn’t wanted to leave things left open with him like this, but she doesn’t have a choice.

“And I shall go with you,” he says firmly. “Lead the way, ser. Mistress Malathar and I will follow.”

#ffxiv #ff14 #final fantasy 14 #ffxiv fic #ffxiv fanfiction #ffxiv wol #aymeric de borel #aureia malathar #oc tag #writing tag #long post #once again in case the read more breaks

10 notes · View notes