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drowningbydegrees · 4 years

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This was supposed to be a Whumptober ficlet, but that is... not what happened here. Instead, I come bearing mostly fluff. Read on AO3

Jaskier makes it a whole six months past Posada before he comes to the inconvenient conclusion that this feeling stretches beyond mutually beneficial companionship. He’d kick himself for not recognizing it, except… Except that while Jaskier falls in love like breathing, it’s never like this. He’s never felt himself drawn in so thoroughly by someone else’s gravity, hopelessly stuck in their orbit. Worse still, he’s rarely loved anyone who so obviously didn’t love him back.

It’s three years after that, almost on the nose, when it dawns on Jaskier that he’s got that last part all wrong. To say that Geralt isn’t particularly talkative is a laughable understatement, but the lack of words aren’t a lack of affection. There are no terms of endearment and from Jaskier that would be quite telling, but means very little where the witcher is concerned. Geralt speaks in the way he unceremoniously dumps his cloak over Jaskier when the cold begins to creep in, in the way he often camps out in the corner of an inn to listen to songs he’s heard Jaskier sing a thousand times, in a hundred other gruff, offhanded kindnesses the witcher indulges in in the most taciturn of ways and never acknowledges.

They’re singing the same song, Jaskier recognizes eventually, but they’re on entirely different sheets of music, and that really won’t do. It’s not a seduction that the bard settles on, at least not in any traditional sense. There’s no lack of attraction (really, Jaskier is continuously baffled by how anyone could look at Geralt and not want him), but it’s background noise. He thinks of this more like finagling the two of them into some sort of harmony.

It should be a simple translation, he thinks, to convey what he means in a language Geralt might recognize. As often happens, Jaskier has a strategy. As also often happens, none of it goes to plan.

Geralt slogs back to camp like he’s carrying the whole world with him. Even from the other side of the fire with his decidedly human senses, Jaskier can tell that this is worse than usual. Before he even knows what he’s doing, Jaskier has set aside his pen and paper in favor of urging Geralt to sit.

Jaskier has often tried talking, conveying his concern or affection in the shape of words because that’s the language he knows. Geralt doesn’t speak it, or doesn’t want to. No matter how wounded he is, Geralt snaps in the face of anything like kindness. Asking to be let in turns out to be the quickest way for Jaskier to find himself pushed away. So, Jaskier doesn’t ask for Geralt to meet him halfway or to invite him to do the things he’s good at. Instead, he works with what he knows already.

Even in the waning light, the dark lines spider webbing across Geralt’s pale skin stand out. Jaskier has long since learned the cadence of Geralt’s potions because it’s always the same. There’s a sort of frenetic energy that seems determined to keep Geralt from sitting still. And then, rather rudely, all the benefits the potion bestows are yanked away. At least, this is how Jaskier imagines it to be from the way Geralt always seems to crash afterwards.

But the witcher knows this far better than Jaskier even, and he’s strategic about it. He gets wherever he plans to be long before the potion wears off. Tonight, Jaskier can already see flecks of gold in Geralt’s pitch black eyes, and so, while the witcher looks to be thankfully in one piece still, he can only assume something went very, very wrong for there to have been such a delay.

“Are you hurt?” he asks as he reaches to unfasten Geralt’s armor. Not everything the witcher hunts draws blood, after all.

“No.” It’s a single word, rough and weary, but more than Jaskier had really expected. Exhaustion is at least a less treacherous issue to deal with than injury, and Geralt really must be exhausted because he barely even glowers at Jaskier’s efforts to help.

Determined to speak in a way Geralt will understand, for once Jaskier doesn’t speak at all. Instead, Jaskier wordlessly tugs Geralt’s weapons and armor from his person far more efficiently than the witcher’s sluggish attempts would have managed. He does not allow himself to be distracted by the endearing flutter of Geralt’s eyelids as they droop only for him to try to blink them open again. He’d like to think it means something that Geralt would be this vulnerable in front of him, but that something is probably just that Geralt is far too overtaxed to fight it.

“Oh no you don’t,” Jaskier chides when he comes back from fetching their rations to find Geralt’s head drooping forward. Much as he’d like to just let Geralt sleep, he shakes the witcher’s shoulder and presses a couple of strips of jerky into his hand. “If you don’t eat something before you pass out we’ll both be sorry for it later.”

“I don’t-” Geralt starts, and it’s probably meant to be grouchy, but Jaskier can see enough of his eyes now to tell that they’re sort of crossed and unfocused.

“Yes yes. I know. You don’t need my help,” Jaskier finishes for him, shoving a waterskin at Geralt. “But you’ve got it, so let’s skip to the part where you stop complaining and let me.”

Much to Jaskier’s surprise, they do. Geralt makes a noncommittal sort of sound around a bite of jerky, but otherwise makes no attempt to shoo Jaskier away.

He’d had a plan, damn it, but Jaskier can be adaptable. He’d meant to say it with a hot dinner and maybe an equally hot bath or something. Geralt puts value on so few things that it had always been a sort of nebulous idea anyway. Instead, Jaskier says it with field rations and lukewarm drinking water. He says it with the effort it takes to lay out Geralt’s bedroll and then to bully the witcher into it. He says it by sitting nearby and keeping an eye out while Geralt drifts to sleep.

Geralt is lovely like this, in an eerie sort of way. Bit by bit, the black veins are fading and the chalky pale tone of his skin is warming, and he looks soft in the muted firelight. The frown that so often graces his lips is entirely absent, or perhaps just out of view since Geralt’s nose is all but pressed to the side of Jaskier’s thigh. Messy silver locks that have long since escaped their tie frame Geralt’s face and shoulder, like something out of a fairy tale, and surely, Jaskier thinks, no one could fault him for running his fingers through it.

It’s softer than it has any right to be, especially with the lack of care on Geralt’s part. For once it doesn’t look like someone dumped a bucket of dirt (or worse) over Geralt’s head. More importantly, the gentle scrape of Jaskier’s nails against Geralt’s scalp draws a quiet sigh from the witcher, and honestly he’s practically obligated to continue if it helps his friend sleep. It’s totally and entirely selfless, you see.

That’s he’s entirely distracted from the writing he’d meant to return to is just an unimportant detail. Jaskier might have kept on forever, but very abruptly, Geralt reaches up, trapping the bard’s wrist in his grip. It’s too well placed to be something the witcher did while dreaming or some such, and too firm to be anything but intentional anyway. Feeling rather caught, Jaskier stumbles over an attempt at an explanation. “Geralt. I- uh-”

But there’s no complaint forthcoming. Geralt doesn’t even open his eyes. He only turns his head a little, nuzzling into the palm of Jaskier’s hand. Before Jaskier can wrap his head around that, Geralt hums contentedly and presses a sleepy, feather light kiss to the bard’s skin.

It’s a soft, nothing sort of gesture, and Jaskier smiles to himself as Geralt’s grip goes slack with sleep. He frees his wrist from Geralt’s hand to smooth over the witcher’s hair once more instead. Of course he should have known Geralt was trying to make him understand too.

Message received. Jaskier allows himself a moment to watch Geralt sleep and a chaste kiss to the witcher’s temple. Still grinning like a fool, he gathers up his paper and pen and gets back to work.

Witcher Masterpost

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #gerlion #geralt z rivii #Jaskier #my fic #I'm apparently on the write all the soft things kick at the moment #geralt of rivia

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smallblip · 3 years

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Deep sea baby

Levihan | Rated for mild swearing and mild deed-doing | This is a secret santa gift for @hanji-zoe103 💕

It’s on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/28429827

Hanji is born of white foam, where the heavens collide with the sea, and Levi loves her with a fierceness that would make the tides jealous. Levi knows little of poetics, but Hanji promises to find him in the next life and the ones after.

And sure as the waves crashing into shore, she does.

Hanji is the sea. Uncompromising, untamable, painfully beautiful. Levi thinks she’s poetry in motion, the way she dances, barefoot across sandy beaches, the way she walks down towards the place where the sea meets land, unafraid amidst white waters.

He sits, like the shores, and watches her. Watches her bend towards the ground, hands dipping beneath foam, searching for shells. She holds them up against the sun to inspect them when she finds them. Treasure, she calls them.

When she’s waist deep in salt water she turns back to look at him.

“Come on Levi! The water is warm!”

≋

Hanji is born of white foam, where the heavens collide with the sea.

And Levi is the most beautiful boy to have walked the earth, so beautiful he puts the gods to shame. And Hanji fears whatever love they have will be short-lived, because he loves her with a fierceness that would make the tides jealous.

It’s a long way from heaven, but Hanji comes to see him every day. She sits with him in a clearing in the forest while he works and he’s sceptical at first. Nothing good comes from associating with the old gods. But the hem of her dress is caked in mud, there’s earth under her nails, and she swears exactly like a sailor would. He teaches her to climb trees and she names all the sheep in his flock.

“Maybe it would be nice to stay here forever...” she says to him one day, and Levi understands the gravity of what she’s suggesting. The heavens would not allow for it. They would cut her up piece by piece and she would be returned to the sea.

But there’s a conviction in Hanji’s eyes, a severity that justifies the cult of mortals at her feet. The same determination that Hanji has when she’s pulling splinters from her fingers, when she picks wildflowers for Levi, when she holds him against her chest and challenges the gods. She balls her fists and curses the greys of the skies, yet she dances in the rain, giggling, pulling Levi to join her. He surprises himself when he relents.

So Levi tells her she has his heart.

Each night he holds her close, and each night she falls into a deep slumber and she dreams of running barefoot through a field of white roses to reach him. She pierces her foot on a thorn and the field is stained red. A field of red roses. Each one blooming and dying at Levi’s feet.

≋

In a kinder life, they are childhood friends in a sleepy seaside town. Levi has a popsicle in his mouth, the last of it melting on his tongue. Hanji has long finished hers, and her fingers are sticky from the syrup. But it doesn’t matter because Levi is burying her in the sand so she can keep her filth to herself. He contemplates covering her mouth with sand too, but they’re going to turn thirteen soon and he’s tired of pretending that her talking annoys him.

“When I’m older I’m going to sail all over the world!” Hanji grins. Levi thinks it’s funny that now she’s just a talking head in the sand.

But his heart sinks a little. He doesn’t know if his future is on a vessel bound to nowhere. But they’re still young and their plans have little structure and bearing, so for now Levi pretends he’s going to be there with her, sailing across the ocean.

“Did you know it’s a myth that lobsters mate for life?” Hanji says, absentminded, part of her trying to distract from the heat, and another part of her already thinking about that ice cream they have waiting for them in her freezer. “Sad huh... Who knew you can’t trust everything on TV...” she laughs.

“Seahorses mate for life...” Levi says. He tries to stay nonchalant, but he’s a little embarrassed he spends his free time googling facts he thinks Hanji would enjoy.

And Hanji knows. Of course she does. She has known him her whole life. In this life and the next he is her Levi. Her Levi with an endless capacity for kindness. She smiles.

“Seahorses huh...”

≋

They meet on a ship sailing through uncharted waters. Levi joins the Royal Navy when it feels like he’s exhausted all other options. There's a hunger for power that guides their ship to foreign lands.

It’s the middle of the night when hears shouting. He jolts awake and already the rest of the crew are reaching for their weapons. There’s no time to change out of their night clothes. The ship spirals into a frenzy. He spots the warning of black sails and white crossbones from afar. The ship is gaining on them. It’s clear they have to stand their ground and fight.

The pirates board their ship, and there’s a wild clash of knives and swords and the smell of blood in the air mixing with the metallic taste of gold and bronze and silvers. Levi lunges but his sword is halted midair by a cutlass.

“Not so fast Officer...” the pirate says. Past the eyepatch and greasy hair he sees her- he feels her. There’s a white rush by his ears calling for him to come home.

I found you, she whispers in his ear as she brings him aboard her ship.

The sea promises gold and riches beyond imagination, and Levi promises to follow her to the ends of the earth.

≋

Levi works in his uncle's bakery a small town in the middle of godforsaken nowhere. It's a family business, and they've been getting good reviews from travel blogs online looking for spots off the beaten path.

Levi is on a date to the aquarium and Kenny yells a “don't come back tonight if you know what's good for you!” after him. There are still customers in the bakery and everyone is staring at him. The teenagers in the corner snigger.

His date doesn't show, but he's not surprised really. The first date had gone by in a way that could be considered painless. But beyond nice pleasantries, there’s nothing much to look forward to. So Levi completely understands. Then again she could’ve at least had the courtesy to drop him a text. In any case, Kenny will be disappointed. He enters the aquarium anyway. Might as well. He had already purchased the tickets, and he hasn’t been since he was a child in elementary school. He watches the sharks swim laps behind the thick glass. He wonders if they feel unfulfilled, living in a tank, watching as people from all around take family trips to visit the aquarium.

“That one’s Bean!” Levi switches his attention from a particularly small shark to the person beside him.

“What?” He replies.

“That one!” She points to the shark making its way past them, “she’s Bean. We rescued her from a fishing net.”

Levi watches her grin with suspicion. Maybe he should introduce himself. He's not usually one to introduce himself to strangers with wild hair and gleaming eyes behind thick glasses, but there's a first for everything, and before he knows it, he's telling her his name.

"Date stood you up?" she says, and Levi glares at her. "Oh... Wait... That really happened?" she apologises, and the stranger with the wild hair and gleaming eyes becomes Hanji. There’s something about the lights in the aquarium, the blues and violets that reflect off the auburn in her eyes in a way that’s almost ethereal.

The things that conspire after are tricks of the light then, surely. Hanji invites him back to her apartment, and they talk and they polish off a six pack of beers and a few bottles of cheap wine between the two of them. "This is fun! I haven't gotten shipfaced in a while!" Hanji chuckles.

“No.” Levi says, he has little tolerance for bad nautical puns. But it only encourages Hanji to tell him more. There's a mix of "where ya fin all my life" and "you're whaley cute", and finally, when she's absolutely smashed, a "nice boat, wanna fuck?"

At that, the dams break and Levi laughs.

Hanji wakes up the next morning, killer headache, she shoots up and the headache splits her skull open. Too quick.

“Ouch...” she says, eyes blinking through sleep and haze. She grabs at the bottle of water by her bedside and shuffles through her drawer for ibuprofen.

“You idiot...”

Hanji snaps her head up, looking for the owner of the voice and there Levi is, leaning against her door, hands folded across his chest. Hanji’s jaw slackens.

“In case you were wondering, no, nothing happened...”

“But... but you’re here... in... in my room...”

“Tch...” Levi rolls his eyes, “you passed out and I stayed just in case you choked on your own vomit and died in the middle of the night...”

Oh...

“Wait did I?”

Levi raises a brow, she’s still not all there. “Still alive aren’t you?”

Hanji shrugs. This could be hell for all she knows. “Fast acting pain relief” proving to be the biggest scam of the century.

"What a fucking shipwreck of a person..." Levi says and it takes Hanji a minute before she's doubled over in laughter, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes.

Levi half expects to never see her ever again, but there she is the day after, as promised, finger pressed to the glass, ordering herself a Pain au Chocolat, an Americano, and his number on a piece of napkin. He sighs, but he's writing it down for her anyway.

"You really followed me home that night huh... Didn't it cross your mind that I could be a serial killer?" She says, examining his handiwork.

Levi scoffs, "you invited a complete stranger you picked up at the aquarium into your house, and then proceeded to get very wasted... Didn't it cross your mind that I could have been the serial killer?"

Hanji laughs, and it startles her when it echoes throughout the bakery, "touché..." she says, "guess I am a shipwreck of a person..." she winks.

The corners of Levi's lips betray a smile as he watches her take a seat by the window to read.

"That's not Petra..." Kenny comments.

"Who said I went home with Petra?" Levi answers.

Kenny's face pulls into a smirk and he lets loose a deep rumble of laughter, “Levi you absolute dog!”

≋

The sea is a passage. To a new life that Hanji can only pray will be fulfilling. She is the princess of a port kingdom- a people favoured by the sun and raised by the sea.

Her ships carry her to a distant land of frigid waters and snowfall, where her betrothed is king. When she sets foot on land, she's greeted by faces paler than hers and a mannerism befitting the heartiness of Northern kingdoms. There are skins being made into pelt, fish hanging out to dry, wines made from preserved fruit. Already, Hanji misses the white sandy beaches and the heat of the midday sun, but she's to be queen now, and she remembers this when she walks past the heavy doors into the throne room. She comes bearing gifts of glass beads, fine porcelain, and dried fruit and nuts- a reminder of Summer.

She takes her place beside her husband, and she smiles at the people who have come to see her- the princess from the other side of the sea. They are her people now.

And that's when she sees him.

His expression doesn't change even when he kneels in front of her and kisses the back of her hand. He vows to protect her.

She calls for him later, and he tells her to call him Levi- he has never been too keen on formalities. Besides, Sir Levi doesn’t suit him quite as much. And she's Hanji, just Hanji.

It's Winter when they take a ride through the forest. She's not used to the heavy furs and wools and Levi has to remind her that the sun doesn't shine the same here. But Hanji knows. Her golden skin now mellowing. She hikes her dress above her knees and toes through the snow. The ground caves beneath her feet like powdered sugar, and Hanji thinks maybe there's beauty in her new home. She thinks maybe there's warmth to be found, as Levi catches her before she slips.

He shows her the lake, now frozen over, and they slide over thick ice like children. She pulls him down with her when she falls and they laugh. There's something in his eyes that Hanji recognises as fear. She feels it in the beat of her own heart, warning her against falling. But they’ve been treading on thin ice around one another, and falling seems inevitable.

So Levi presses back against her and kisses her. Hanji feels a warmth coursing through her- the same fire she's promised in the lullabies her mother used to sing her.

"We should come in Spring. The lake is beautiful then..." Levi says as they make their way back to the castle. And Hanji promises to show him her home. The crystal waters; gentle waters. She knows it's a promise that may never be fulfilled, but nevertheless, this is a moment in time, and promises offer a glimpse into possibility.

Come Spring, they make love by the lake, under the cover of the sea of trees. Everything is beautiful in the Spring.

≋

In another life, the sea promises protection.

There’s only one rule out at sea near the white rocks-

Beware the Siren’s song.

Levi lives in a little house by the sea. Everyday he sails out near the white rocks to catch fish.

Hanji circles his boat. Her iridescent tail catching the light and reflecting deep purples and green. She sings her best song for him- the beautiful fisherman with the grey eyes.

"Don’t swim into the nets," he scolds and Hanji is taken aback. She thinks about her beautiful fisherman when he sails for home. And there's a familiar tugging that she feels in her gut. But the weather has taken a turn for the worse and she doesn’t see him near the white rocks. Not the next day nor the days after. She seeks the council of the waters and the waves carry her to shore.

There’s a storm raging. The windows are rattling against their frames. Lightning illuminates the skeletons of his house and there’s a persistent knocking that weaves in and out of the thunder. Levi takes the screaming kettle off the hobs.

He opens the door to her. She’s standing in the rain, hands wrapping around herself to shield from the cold. Levi’s gaze skims from the tip of her nose down to her bare chest, down to her long legs. He swallows thickly. She’s leaning against the frame of the door, shifting her weight from one unstable leg to another. Like a fawn learning to walk. He frowns but nevertheless, he leaves the door ajar for her to enter.

“You’re gonna get the floors all wet...” he mutters. Rainwater he can manage. But seawater makes the floorboards a little sticky, and that annoys him deeply.

“I told you I’ll come for you.” She says.

Levi shoves a towel in her face, “Dry yourself.” He pauses for a moment, taking in the shock on her face. “Please.”

Surprisingly, she does as she’s told, and when she’s done, she hands the towel back to him.

Levi finds her dry clothes, and she pinches and pulls at them, inspecting after she puts them on.

“I’m here to eat your heart lover boy.”

He considers her. It’s colder this time of year and the sea is relentless. But her skin is gold like honey, sun-kissed in a way that reminds Levi of summers and homemade jam and the grass beneath his feet.

“Levi.” He replies.

Levi. she says, smile spreading across her face like butter on warm toast.

He shares his stew with her and she tells him her name is Hanji when her hands are warming by the fire. She looks at Levi, gaze washing over him like a wave. And there’s familiarity in the way his eyes soften when he looks at her. He looks at her like he's trying to call forth a string of memories tying her to him; him to her. But all he has is an affection for her that ripples through his consciousness. It's accompanied by the sounds of laughter- her laughter- and the pale shimmer of moonlight.

So she returns to him the next day, and the day after, and the days after that.

Hanji brings him little pieces of treasure. A conch shell, a dead sand dollar, bits of sea glass. Her legs grow stronger each time. She dances around his house. She pulls him flush against her chest and rests her chin atop his head and sways to a tune she’s humming.

Beware the Siren’s song, they say.

But they’re far from the white rocks and she’s laughing exactly like a lover would. The floorboards are creaking under their toes.

He looks for her when he’s out at sea, and listens as she tells him stories of the depths, about the men who hurt her, about dying at sea, and about the promise of protection and rebirth.

When she wakes again, there's water in her lungs and she learns to breathe. To call the sea her home.

But maybe it's not by accident that she falls asleep in his arms one night, cocooned in white sheets that remind her of sea foam.

She kisses his nose in the morning and he blinks an eye open to look at her. “I’m gonna eat your heart lover boy...” Hanji teases, hair tickling his skin, the sight of him crossing the boundary between sleep and daybreak takes her breath away.

Levi smiles, pulling her closer, "stop moving so much..." he groans. It’s still early, they can still afford a little shut eye. He cradles her in his arms- a promise of protection. “You already have my heart,” comes his reply, in a moment of tenderness, and Hanji doesn't return to the waters.

≋

In others, the sea forces distance between them.

They don't meet in this life.

But sure as waves reaching towards the shore, they meet in the one after.

≋

They're in their second year of college but nothing really changes.

Except when it does, it happens so fast that Levi doesn't have time to breathe. The next time he takes a breath he's lying beside Hanji. They’re both sated and sleepy and Levi stills his breathing, coming down from his high. And Hanji thinks this life is nice. It's effortless in a way that reminds her that they are meant to be.

The Marine Biologists have gathered for a nights out- a pub crawl to be specific. The entire course is decked in ridiculous outfits. There’s a merman somewhere, and a manatee, there’s even a sea snake (moray eel, Hanji clarifies). And Hanji is dressed as a shark.

Levi is there because he gets dragged along to everything that Hanji is a part of and he gets asked one too many times what his outfit is supposed to be. Because he’s in his jeans and a black top and he just looks- normal?

“He’s my next meal!” Hanji says and Levi pulls a face, he chokes out a, “shitty four eyes...” and he’s blushing a little more than he should because does she even hear herself?

Halfway through the night Levi wonders why he’s so tipsy. This is really unlike him. He remembers meeting Hanji’s friend Moblit, whose Aquaman sends Hanji over the edge with laughter. He remembers hearing a round of “oh hey Levi!” (They all know who he is, after all, he’s often hanging around Hanji). Then the beer bong challenge. Oh right. The beer bong challenge... that’s why. Hanji won, at least he remembers that.

And he also remembers dancing with Hanji at the back of one of the pubs. “This is a good song...” he murmurs in her ear and she visibly shivers. But everything is spinning and the music is delicious, touching is also delicious, and they do just that. And at some point Levi must have just gone for it, because Hanji’s mouth is hot and inviting and Levi thinks he’s delirious so he surrenders to the feeling.

They’re back in Hanji’s room, only because it’s only a flight of stairs up and Levi is unzipping her ridiculous costume that surprising does little to ease his raging hard on. And Hanji, god forbid, isn’t wearing anything underneath.

His top comes off once they make it past the main door to her flat. Levi doesn’t even notice the mess in Hanji’s room as they navigate the narrow space and soon they're on the bed, hands moving in what is best described as a frenzy.

It feels so good and Levi finally admits to himself that he has been thinking about this for a while. And he’s almost relieved when Hanji kisses him and lets her want slide down his throat.

Levi wonders if they can still be considered friends. Last he’s checked friends don’t scream each other’s names the way Hanji is saying his name right now as she bites down on his shoulder. Plus, the whole best friends to lovers trope is just one big cliché. And yet, Levi doesn’t hate it. He has to admit it’s actually really nice.

The next morning Hanji finds Levi rummaging through her sink cupboard.

“My extra toothbrushes are the drawer.” She gestures towards the bottom drawer with her toe. They brush their teeth and they're sitting on the bed again, it's the only place for two to sit, really.

“So... Was it good for you?” Hanji says, a little amused with how the entire situation unfolded.

Levi clears his throat, face going red. “Would’ve been better if you weren’t wearing that stupid outfit...” He wants to say he's never felt this way with anyone before, but he doesn't.

“But hammerheads are cool!” Hanji protests and she’s pouting. Levi wonders if now’s a good time to kiss that stupid look off her face or if that’s too much.

“Fucking one isn’t...” Levi mutters. Hanji throws her head back and laughs.

“So... What do we do now?” Levi asks. And Hanji shrugs saying a "admit we love each other and carry on with our lives?" like it had been obvious.

"Sounds good..." he says, smiling, and he thinks they deserve this effortlessness.

≋

Hanji comes back to him like ship returning to port. She thinks about meeting him when he's six and building sandcastles on the beach. He had ignored her attempt at conversation and Hanji had been a little annoyed.

"You don't remember me do you?" She huffed, pout on her face, arms crossed.

Levi was confused, that definitely caught his attention, "do we know each other?" he asked.

"No," Hanji confessed, "no but... I know I'm supposed to meet you." She said with all the confidence a five year old can muster. Levi bickered with her. How can a five year old be so smug? He was a whole year older and he was by no means as confident. He didn't even know whether to pick sushi or pizza for lunch.

And she thinks about the night before she left.

"I like you Levi..." she had said. She willed herself not to cry, so there's a moment in which she's just chuckling humourlessly to herself. And Levi's scowls at her. "Inconvenient huh..." she added. She had to cross the ocean the next day on a voyage bound somewhere far away and this makes it that much harder.

Fucking inconvenient indeed...

They don't make promises, but Hanji wishes they had. She wishes they would have at least addressed her little confession, because it's been eight years. Eight years of it gnawing at her brain and now it's just a little awkward.

Hanji takes a deep breath as she disembarks at port, her feet a little unsteady on dry land- like a fawn learning to walk again. But she sees him. And the knot in her chest unravels. Eight years. It's been too long. She takes tentative steps towards him, but soon she's running and enveloping him in a sweaty embrace.

He's whispering something, muffled because he's pressed into Hanji's clavicle-

“Did you know seahorses mate for life?”

She smiles. Sure as the sun, he’s in her arms again.

Seahorses huh...

≋

Hanji knows whatever life they've led, this is her favourite.

The one in which her and Levi see the sea for the first time together.

The one in which she’s the Commander, and him, her Captain. And between them, a river of words left unsaid threatening to break the banks.

One day they must cross the ocean, but today they visit the shores again, without the kids this time. And Levi learns why when he watches her peel at her clothes. Her harness comes off first, then her blouse, then everything else, like a little dance for an audience of one. Levi tries not to stare, but he’s already seen her by candlelight in the dead of the night. And yet she never fails to take his breath away.

She makes her way to where the white foams dredge the past up the shores of the present.

"Come on Levi! The water is warm!" she says, and he hears it like a call to come home- where the heavens collide with the sea.

He takes off his clothes and folds them in a neat pile beside Hanji's mess. He swims out to join her.

The moonlight caresses her skin and this scene- this moment- is opulent. Levi unties the patch over her eye and lets the waters carry it away. She chuckles. "I'm never going to get that back am I?" she says, holding his hand and guiding him to shallower waters.

And Levi knows there's some poetry to the way she's kissing him. She tastes like saltwater and Summer all at once, and Levi thinks that he has never felt this way with anyone else. Will never feel this way about anyone else. Instead he glowers at her-

“Hanji don’t you dare fucking die... I’ll never forgive you if you do... I swear I’ll-“

Before Levi can continue, Hanji is laughing, sputtering as her head bobs below the surface of the water.

“Even if I do, you don’t have to say goodbye. I promise I’ll look for you in the next life... And the ones after...” She says, brushing the pad of her finger against his nose. The heavens and the sea bear witness. And Levi promises to follow her to the ends of the earth.

Treasure, he calls her, when the sound of white water crashing provide refuge for words that have little place in this life. Levi knows little of the words lovers say to each other, and even less of poetics, yet here he is with Hanji, sitting on the shores now, and watching salt crystal in her hair. He falls asleep that night to the sound of her breathing. And amidst dreams of roses and white foam,

Levi is home.

#I hope you like it hanji-zoe103~#levihan #levihan fanfic #levihan fanfiction #levi x hange #levi x hanji #hanji zoe #hange zoe #LEVI ACKERMAN #mine #shingeki no kyojin #levihanss2020 #levihansecretsanta #my fic

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ficsilike-reblogged · 4 years

Text

Sunshine City: Four

A/N: We are nearing the end of this little story, my loves. Thank you to everyone who read, liked, and/or reblogged the last chapter. I adore you.

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F!Reader (No Y/N)

Word Count: 2.8k

Rating For This Chapter: T for blood, injuries, a K*ss or two, my undying love of tropes and cliches

Catch up on previous chapters here!

London was a beautiful mix of sparkling skyscrapers and bygone brick and mortar. It reminded her of New York on one street and some sort of historical romance novel on the next. The Tube was much more proficient than the subway and Bela was fond of the fact that Harry let her take him along to the office whenever she wasn’t on assignment.

But it still felt…like she was just visiting.

“Mordred!”

She pivoted in her chair to see Roxy—Agent Lancelot—walk into her office. The young agent had been thought dead for a handful of weeks after Kingsman’s old headquarters had exploded, but she had survived. A little injured, more than a little confused, but quickly back to normal after Eggsy discovered her in the nearest hospital. She couldn’t remember her name but she did remember how to throw men over her shoulder like it was nothing. (The nurses were not a fan.)

But Roxy was now back on her very-capable feet and usually out in the field.

“Lancelot,” she replied with a quirk of an eyebrow.

“Your cowboy has arrived in that atrocious car.” But a teasing smile was pulling at Roxy’s lips as she said it, letting Sunny know this would not be the end of their conversation. Roxy had almost instantly become aware of the strange relationship between Whiskey and the former Statesman agent and found it endlessly entertaining. While Eggsy was tending to his new duties as a prince of Sweden, Roxy had readily stepped into his role of friend to Sunny when Ginger was busy.

“He is not my cowboy.” She rose to her feet and Bela poked his little head out from under the desk where he’d been napping on an embroidered pillow, a Boxing Day gift from Merlin last year.

Roxy laughed, a full-belly laugh that had the other woman frowning. “You might want to tell him that. When he saw Tristan at the door he said, and I quote: ‘tell Sunny her cowboy is here.’ So, I do not believe he knows he isn’t your cowboy.”

She was able to keep her face neutral as Roxy’s smirk continued to grow but that did not mean her stomach did not flip and fill with butterflies. “I’ll let him know, Lancelot.”

Roxy laughed and nodded before excusing herself.

“At least he didn’t honk this time,” she muttered to herself. The pair had been assigned a mission and she expected him later that day.

The stately manor house just an hour outside London was the newest headquarters for the agency and usually agents and their American counterparts would use the underground bullet train under the (also recently rebuilt) tailor shop. It would take only a handful of minutes.

But apparently Whiskey had to be…different.

She straightened her shoulders and walked toward the door and Bela followed, matching his short stride to her longer one as she made her way out of her office, through the ornate and marble halls, and out toward the manicured lawn and front courtyard.

And there was Whiskey in his Bronco. His head was tilted back so it could catch the warmth of the infrequent sun and his stupid cowboy hat was still on his head. Her stomach tightened at the sight of the stretch of his neck. God. She still had it bad, didn’t she? Would the sight of someone’s neck make anyone (aside from her pathetically-in-love self) short of breath?

Their relationship hadn’t really changed since Tilde and Eggsy’s wedding. Well, that is what she told herself anyway. Their emails had progressed to whispered telephone calls about their days and missions and she had lost count how many times she had fallen asleep to the sound of Whiskey all-but crooning in her ear.

But…friends did that. Right?

They were friends.

The scratching of Bela’s little paws against the stone of the front steps grabbed his attention and his head lazily turned to the side as a familiar smile pushed up his lips, displaying the one dimple on his right cheek. “Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes, Sunshine?”

She tried halfheartedly to hide her smile as she slowed to a stop and leaned against the passenger-side door. “I’m Agent Mordred here, Whiskey.”

“Nope. You’ll always be my Sunshine.” He opened his door and Bela leapt up into his lap just long enough for the older agent to scratch behind his ear and then into the back seat where the corgi promptly made himself at home. Whiskey leaned over and opened the door for her and patted the leather of seat, smile never fading. “C’mon. We can talk on our way back to London.”

She rolled her eyes but slid in. As she pulled the door closed, she said, “we could have taken the train.”

“It don’t like it. The darn thing moves too fast.”

She scoffed with another smile. “I don’t believe anything moves too fast for you.”

As Whiskey started the engine he looked at her, head dipping so he could pin her with his stare over the edge of his gold-rimmed aviators. “On the contrary, Sunny. I like going slow.” He enunciated each word with that southern drawl and let his fingers slide around the worn leather of the steering wheel, nice and slow as they trailed over the stitching. “Take my time. Make it worth it when I finally reach a destination.”

Her head snapped toward the windshield as heat curled in her stomach and then strangled the next breath from her lungs. “Inappropriate.”

But he laughed and reached over to pat at her thigh and squeezed just above her knee before gravel spit beneath his tires when he pressed down on the gas.

The pair did actually speak about the mission as the unusually clear autumn day provided a perfect backdrop for their drive. “Why do we always get put on the nuclear waste missions? It is like Champ and Harry don’t like us.” She said with a huff.

“Maybe it’s our specialty, Sunshine.”

She reached out and smacked at his arm. The mission was a little more involved than Vegas. It involved a pair of couples from blue blood families who had turned to buying and selling anything and everything a would-be terrorist or dictator would need in order to keep their luxurious lifestyles. Merlin had managed to uncover the plans of an American couple about to meet with the dealers at a gala at one of the privately-owned castles in Scotland. While Tequila managed to neutralize the American couple, she and Whiskey would be taking their place, hopefully to stop them and uncover where they were getting their supply.

She gave him directions toward the tailor shop (where they could pick up a few gadgets and supplies) once they reached the right borough and laughed when he had trouble parallel parking. But after finally managing to squeeze the Bronco into a space definitely designed for something smaller, he darted around to open her door as she pulled Bela from his napping spot in the back.

She murmured a thank you as she let Bela lick at her cheek. Whiskey hummed and scratched behind Bela’s ear before placing a hand at the small of her back as she led them up toward the gleaming glass door of the tailor shop.

It was all very…domestic, in a stereotypical “southern gentleman” sort of way and she hated how much she liked it. But she had given up on actually hating anything he did. Especially when he smiled at her like that.

Edinburgh was magnificent. And Kingsman had made sure their agent and visiting Statesman were comfortable in a luxury hotel room and an extra agent to act as their chauffeur for the evening, solidifying their image as a well-to-do couple with nefarious intentions.

The past handful of hours were spent going over the plan before separating to get ready. Her dress was from some Italian designer Roxy insisted would look good on her and fit her like a black, silk glove. The thigh-high slit just barely covered the holster she’d strapped around her thigh but hopefully the dangerously low neckline would distract anyone away from her legs. The false eyelashes gave her pause for a moment—and a few tears as she stabbed herself right in the eye a few times—but she managed to put on a face full of makeup and finished with a berry-tinted lip and a heavy hand of jasmine and leather perfume.

Missions like this always made her a bit nervous. No matter how many times she’d completed them easily, they always made her feel like a kid playing dress up and waiting for a scolding. She took a few breaths and then stepped out of the bathroom and into the suite. Whiskey was there, fixing the silver cufflinks in his classic and sharply cut, dark blue suit. The dying light of the sun was framing him and the next exhale stuttered in her lungs. It was going to be a long night.

Whiskey turned at the sound of her red-soled shoes on the floor and smiled. And, of course, his eyes dragged from her toes, up her legs, her stomach, her chest…and then stopped.

“My eyes are up here, boss,” she said with a snort.

His dark eyes finally lifted up to hers as his smile slipped to a smirk. “I ain’t your boss, Sunshine.”

And her stomach actually clenched at that and she had to take a moment to clear her throat and remember that they were on a mission. “That’s good. We’re supposed to be lovesick newlyweds, right?”

Whiskey’s mouth—god, how many times was she going to stare at his mouth tonight?—twisted to the side with a frown as he took a few steps toward her and gently grasped her left hand and brought it up to his lips, kissing the diamond-encrusted band on her finger before pressing her palm against his cheek with a sigh.

She let her thumb slide against his cheekbone for a moment, smelling his expensive cologne tickle her nose and the warmth of his hand over hers settled the nerves she felt.

“You look beautiful tonight. Truly.” He leaned forward to press his lips to her forehead before he squeezed the hand he had in his grasp and intertwined their fingers as he brought them down to his side. “An easy cover.” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes as his watch beeped, letting them know it was time to go. “Let’s get these guys.”

And she let him tug her along with her heart in her throat.

The gala was luxurious in every sense of the word and the targets were so ostentatious that it was easy to spot them even if she hadn’t memorized their faces. Whiskey made easy work for introducing them as Mr. & Mrs. Jameson and making the targets laugh and trust them. She played the part of doting newlywed with no trouble and let herself enjoy it—as Whiskey seemed to be doing with how many times he deemed it necessary to hold her hand or press a kiss to her cheek or forehead, avoiding her lips with a joke, “she always hates it when I mess up her lipstick.” She would let her hand slip under his suit jacket as she leaned against his arm at the dinner table, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath her palm or push a smile to her lips whenever she had to lean in to whisper something in his ear about the security stationed around the room or how her Geiger counter, disguised as an opulent diamond tennis bracelet detected traces of radiation on the targets’ hands and feet. Especially on the woman’s—Alice—hands.

“Shall we talk shop in the gallery? I have heard they have a wonderful display of Mucha,” the man—Allan—said with a smile.

“I do adore Mucha,” she answered in return, tapping twice against Whiskey’s hand as it rested on her leg. Show time.

The pair of couples rose from their table and walked through the ball room and down a dimly lit hall toward the castle’s art gallery without much fanfare. In fact, she noticed that this whole ordeal didn’t have much fanfare at all. It was a wonder this couple had lasted this long without being taken down with how blatantly they spoke about their intentions. It was easy.

Too easy.

As soon as they stepped into the gallery, she noticed the ‘closed for maintenance’ signage. She was nearly leveled with a crack of a gun against the back of her head. The room swam for a moment and she stumbled but kept her footing and turned just in time to duck, dodging Allan as he tried to hit her again. She took a step back just enough to gain momentum before kicking out and slamming her stiletto heel into his chest.

It barely registered that Whiskey was busy handling Alice who had somehow produced a knife from god-knows-where and had managed to at least get him once with the amount of blood spilling across his white shirt.

But her attention was quickly brought back to Allan who was coughing, blood slipping from his lips as the he struggled to get to his feet. Her heel had punctured his chest. Oops. But the struggle was getting too loud. They couldn’t afford to be caught like this. It would ruin everything.

She stomped forward and grasped the sides of Allan’s head as he tried to stand and yanked. His body thudded to the ground just as Whiskey managed to sink a needle full of some yellow-tinted liquid into the side of Alice’s neck and she collapsed in his arms almost instantaneously.

The sound of approaching footsteps had them both scrambling. To hide the bodies (both of them were stuffed behind a statue in the corner). To clean up the blood (she grabbed Whiskey’s pocket square and made quick work of it all). There wasn’t time to make an escape. The thin beam of light from a flashlight was making its way down the hall, she could see it and tugged Whiskey toward her with steady hands.

“Don’t hate me.”

And then she pressed her lips to his and threw her arms around his neck, dragging him ever closer to hide the blood on his shirt.

Whiskey…could kiss. That was made abundantly clear with how easily he coaxed her lips apart to lick into her mouth, tasting of thousand-dollar-bottle champagne and mint. His warm hands grasped at her silk-covered hips and his face angled just the slightest bit so he could truly kiss her. Her hand shot into his hair on its own accord and mussed the carefully coifed locks. He groaned against her lips.

She could kiss him forever-

“Hey!”

They broke apart to see a disgruntled security officer standing in the gallery’s doorway.

“This area’s closed to the public.”

“Sorry man,” Whiskey drawled, keeping her close with a hand on her hip and her angled to keep his wound concealed, “just had to kiss my wife-”

“Do it somewhere else,” the man all but snarled before walking away.

She listened to his footsteps disappear before pushing out a soft laugh. Her heart was still racing. Her lips seemed to pulse in time with her heart and she licked them before she could stop herself, still tasting him. She quickly shot a message to the agent waiting outside that they had one body and one unconscious target to take care of before she stepped around the room, scrambling the security camera feeds with ease with the help of a small device Merlin had been particularly proud of.

She heard Whiskey walk up behind her but still jumped when his hands settled over her shoulders, a finger dragging under the strap of her dress and down her back. She shivered when she heard him chuckle against her throat, nose pressing against her pulse. Turning in his grip, she offered a small smile but didn’t pull away. She wasn’t sure when she would have him so close again. “Alice’ll be taken back to headquarters. Alan will be disposed of. Whoever set us up doesn’t have much time left.”

But Whiskey didn’t reply. His hands travelled up to carefully grasp at her face and he pressed a kiss to her lips—slow and sweet and perfect.

She pushed out a shaky breath as he pulled back and patted at his chest, mindful of the blood. “We are about to be in trouble if the guard comes back, Mr. Jameson,” she said, trying to save face.

“M’name’s Jack, Sunshine.”

“Jack,” she whispered back and she’d never liked a name more.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think!

Beautiful people who asked to be tagged: @spookyold-saintjm @honestlystop @paryl @fioccodineveautunnale @lackofhonor

#agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey imagine #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels imagine #agent whiskey #kingsman

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zevthejewitch · 4 years

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Merry woke up feeling rather groggy. It was hot in the apartment though it was relatively cool in front of the fan. Peony had woken him up several times in the night. He was never quite sure why. Perhaps she didn’t understand that he also needed to sleep and that he couldn’t play with her whenever she wanted. For now, though, Peony was resting on her scratching post-turned-bed. Merry looked at his phone and saw the time read 12:30. Not the best, not the worst, he thought. He had been trying to set his sleep schedule earlier for months. And the sad truth was going to bed at 2 am and waking up at 12:30 was earlier than usual. Pippin wasn’t helping in that department. He usually went to bed around 3, 4, or even 5 and would get up whenever. The late night labs certainly contributed to this but Pippin had always been a night owl so it had never bothered him. All in all, probably the one with the healthiest sleep schedule was Peony.

The Men of Minas Tirith (and of most of Middle Earth from what Merry gathered in his limited experience) would wake up at ungodly hours. Merry knew several men and women who boasted of waking up at 5 am. Still he had met a few others who woke up at the unbelievable hour of 3 am. What’s the point of waking up in the middle of the night, Merry thought, you might as well say they’re staying up later than the rest of us. But Merry felt a twinge of guilt for not being like the others. That was a wound that his mother often put salt in. The idea that everybody had their life together more than Merry. Everyone worked harder. Everyone was smarter and more efficient. Only Merry stood out as so particularly inferior. The hobbit shook his head: enough of these thoughts!

He got off the bed and rather regretted it. He felt awful. But he made his way into the living room. Pippin wasn’t on the couch so he didn’t have to be as careful about being quiet. Although it seemed that Pippin could sleep through an earthquake. Merry put some toast in the toaster and looked out the window. The sun was shining its light across the landscape beautifully. It came in at an angle and the reflections and shadows played in the yellow-green leaves. Beyond the tree, his tree, he could see the Fields of Pelennor. There were alternating patches of gold and deep green. Beyond that were the mountains of Mordor. Merry liked to imagine he was looking directly at the trail he and Pippin had climbed the previous week. The mountains now held a more special place in his heart than they already had.

Pop! Merry had a mini heart attack and turned back to his toast. He had originally thought of putting either honey or jam on it, but he realized he was hungrier than that. He set to making some scrambled eggs. “Well that’s unusual,” said a voice suddenly from behind him. Merry let out a yelp. “G-d, Pippin, please don’t sneak up on me like that.” Merry implored. “Oh, sorry,” Pippin said, “I didn’t think about your PTSD. I’ll try to do better next time.” “Thanks,” Merry breathed. “Anyway, what’s so unusual?” he demanded, straightening up. “Oh just that you’re actually cooking something,” Pippin answered. “Pippin, please, I don’t need this right now” “What’s wrong?” “I just...don’t appreciate being reminded I never cook. Like, I know ok” Pippin hadn’t realized he would strike such a raw nerve with his words. He felt bad about startling his friend as well. Merry turned back to his eggs and took them off the stove. “I’m sorry, Merry,” he said earnestly, “I shouldn’t have made fun of you for cooking. I won’t do it again. Can you forgive me?” Merry turned to his friend. “Thanks for apologizing, Pippin. I forgive you. But I just...I need some space right now,” he said, feeling a bit guilty. “Of course!” Pippin replied. Merry figured Pippin wanted to eat soon so he grabbed his toast and eggs and stepped outside onto the balcony.

Merry was mad at himself for being upset. But he was also trying to work on speaking up about things that bothered him and determined that this was just an uncomfortable step of the growing process. And why is everything startling you today, he asked himself exasperatedly. Having PTSD was a pain because he knew he shouldn’t be startled by a thing but he was. His body was on high alert, expecting danger at every turn. Even when as far as he knew he was alone in the house with his close friend and cat. Did I even have any right to criticize Pippin, he thought. After all, he was right, and I’m sure he just thought he was being playful. But he caught himself again: I’m allowed to have feelings even if those feelings inconvenience others. Or, at least, he was pretty sure. Maybe he had heard it somewhere.

Merry put the eggs on his toast and took a bite. He had come across this way of eating toast when he was on a trip to the southernmost point of Harad. This was long before Peony or Pippin were in his life. It was even before Jamie. He was fascinated with the culture of South Harad. He missed the great, spicy food and the kind people. He missed the bright colors everywhere--mostly in the clothes of the women there. At the time, Merry also dressed in those clothes. However, since he was the only hobbit around and one of the few most Haradrim had ever seen he didn’t exactly blend in as hoped. He came across eggs and toast on the grounds of a palace (more of a large house really) in a small but influential city just inland behind the mountains. The city had once been the home of one of the greatest fighters and leaders in all of South Harad’s history.

It had been awhile since Merry had thought much about his trip to Harad. He had spent about three months there years ago. He hoped to go back there again. As his real self. And maybe with a friend. Merry finished his breakfast and looked out again. He saw the banner of Gondor fluttering in the breeze on a lower wall. It had a white tree with stars and a crown surrounding it against a dark blue background. In the distance, thankfully not directly below him, he could hear shouts and the quiet whirr of cars as they drove past. Sounds that the city was very much alive and awake this afternoon. And he could hear that blasted ice cream truck again. How many times?? How many times must it circle the block, Merry lamented desperately. He had really had enough of this and determined to go back inside at least to put his plate away.

Merry turned around to see Peony standing at attention in front of the balcony door. He stealthily slid by her, not allowing her to escape, and put his plate away. Pippin was playing a video game in his room. He was sitting on the floor in front of his bed facing the door. He found video games were a good way to not think of much of anything and with his anxiety, that was a true blessing. “Dammit!” Merry heard him shout from the next room. Merry didn’t know the first thing about video games. His parents had never bought any for him and when he did occasionally play one, he felt dizzy and didn’t much see the point of them. But as a result he did feel like he was lacking a useful, fun coping strategy that all his friends and acquaintances his age used. And so he felt left out if it ever came up--though it was not something he’d ever bother anyone else with.

It was getting on towards 1:30 and Merry realized he needed to be at Boromir’s office by 2. The boy dashed into his room, got dressed, brushed his teeth, and made sure Peony had enough food and water for the day. Then he knocked on his friend’s door. “Yeah? Come in” Pippin called.

“I’m just heading out now to do some research for Boromir. I’ll see you tonight”

“Ok, have a good time!”

“Thanks, love you”

“Love you too”

Merry smiled, closed the door behind him, and made his way out the front door.

The University campus was at the highest point of the city. One could walk it, but it was far easier and faster to take the gondola. Merry went down the side street, turned onto the main thoroughfare and came to the gondola’s green line station. There was a decent sized line ahead of him, but the cable cars came so quickly and continuously he knew he wouldn’t be waiting long. This gondola line went from his neighborhood to the University. Because of the convenience, many graduate students and even a number of the younger professors lived in the area.

Boromir was in his office. He was very absorbed in reading and responding to his letters. He also needed to finish preparing for the classes he was teaching the next week. He had quite forgotten that Merry was coming to the office to help him this afternoon. And that evening he needed to go to the opening of his brother, Faramir’s, art exhibit and support him. He knew their father certainly wouldn’t show up, but it seemed really important to Faramir to have his family’s support. Boromir understood the feeling. Since their mother left they had continually sought to gain acceptance from their father who was typically too busy with matters of the State as he was the Steward of Gondor. Growing up as the Steward’s son had its own host of challenges. Boromir always felt like he was being watched and that his worth was being redetermined anew every day. As such, he had turned into a perfectionist and a workaholic. He took on too many projects and faculty responsibilities. He was the youngest ever chair of the Humanities Department--something his father Denethor was exceedingly proud of and boasted of whenever he got the chance. But if Boromir was really being honest, the pressure of being Chair on top of teaching three classes and the expectation to continue writing his own book was too much to handle.

Faramir on the other hand could never seem to live up to his father’s expectations. He had tried to study law for many years, but he found the work soul-crushing, and he had never enjoyed reading or writing to start with. No, Faramir’s love was with brush and canvas. And with many other supplies. He specialized in collages and his art had been displayed at institutions and art museums all across Gondor. But Denethor had very little patience or care for the arts (something evident in the city’s lack of arts funding) and so he had never approved of Faramir’s occupation.

A knock came at the door. Who on Middle Earth could that be? Better not be some wizard giving me a hard time. “It’s open,” Boromir called, sounding nonplussed. “Sorry I’m a few minutes late.” At the door stood Merry dressed in a white shirt with a yellow vest, brown pants, and a green cape. Boromir was relieved to see his pupil. “Ah Merry! Do come in, I’m so glad you’re here. Are you feeling any better?”

“Yes, they gave me some medicine to help with the pain in the meantime while they try to figure out what’s wrong.”

Boromir gave him a concerned look. “Well I hope they figure it out soon”

“I’m supposed to meet with a doctor in two days so hopefully that will help”

“Good, good,” Boromir hesitated. “Are you sure you’re feeling up for work today?” “Yes, I’ll be alright I think,” said Merry, trying to sound reassuring. “Would you mind rewriting the responses to these letters? I’m afraid my poor handwriting won’t be good enough. I’ll look over them when you’re done but I’m sure they’ll be fine.” “Sure,” Merry responded. He always enjoyed getting to write with a quill pen. The hobbit took off his cloak and hung it by the door.

Merry found Boromir’s office to be peaceful and loved spending time there. There was a fireplace behind one of the desks, some large, definitely-not-hobbit-sized chairs, and another, larger desk that for whatever reason Boromir used less. There was a wide, slightly bumped out window across from the door. Merry left a cushion in Boromir’s office for sitting on the desk chair so he could reach everything--everything but the ground anyway. Really! There ought to be some hobbit-sized chairs at this school, Merry thought. He had grown used to Boromir’s sketchy handwriting and was more than comfortable transcribing it out in his more legible hand. Secretly, Merry was grateful that he wasn’t being asked to do something more cerebral as the pain had been a bit touch and go all day.

Boromir paced around the room a bit as he often did, muttering inaudibly to himself. Occasionally he would go back over to the larger desk and write something down with a pencil. After about an hour, Merry finished the letters. He took a brief break and then returned to see what else Boromir needed. The Man asked him to do some research on Westron scholars across Middle Earth. Merry had brought his own laptop and began to make a spreadsheet of all he could find. There were many more than he had imagined. Most in Gondor, Mordor, and Rohan but a few in places as far as Harlindon, the Misty Mountains, and Harad. Merry meticulously made sure to include scholars from more far afield regions as he wanted to make sure they were represented. As one of the few hobbits in the University, he understood feeling alone or like people like him were not appreciated. He hoped to find an (out) trans scholar but alas he was now alone in that too. After an hour or so Boromir left to go to a meeting. When he returned Merry was still hard at work on the spreadsheet. Finally around 6 o’ clock, it was time for Merry to be done for the day. “Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow then?” Merry asked. Boromir continued to be lost in thought. “Professor Boromir?” Merry tried again. “What? Oh look at that, it's already 6!” he exclaimed suddenly, “you know my brother’s art exhibit opening is now, would you like to come?” Merry was a fan of visual art. But he also remembered he needed to eat.

“I’d love to, but I haven’t eaten dinner yet”

“I believe there’s food there if you like but I understand completely if you need to go”

“Oh, actually that sounds alright then”

“Great!”

“I didn’t know your brother was an artist!” I didn’t know you had a brother at all, he thought. Merry donned his cloak and the two made their way down the outdoor corridor. The floor was of red brick and to their right was a green moss lawn. Smooth, white columns with swirled capitals flanked their right side, opposite the building’s outer wall.

#meriadoc brandybuck #boromir #faramir #pippin #peregrin took #grad school au #lord of the rings

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twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years

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Written In The Stars XXVI (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: Okay so I have a sort of “fancast” for how I imagine Erick to be, and I’ll gladly show you who I see when I write him, BUT you can still imagine him differently if you want, so be ready to see his lovely face one of this days

Words: 2,849

Warnings: Some nasty slugs, uh hints of bad family relationships ig??

Series’ Masterlist

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Chapter Eight: Ron Eats Slugs.

"You can't miss the defense against the dark arts lessons-"

"You can't tell me what to do."

"You have to respect him! He's a teacher!" Hermione whispered angrily.

Ron sat down in front of them and said Harry was at Quidditch practice.

"Maybe we can still catch him," Ron offered, "once I'm done with breakfast..."

While she waited, she finally decided to open her mother's letter.

She'd been way too nervous the whole week to open it, afraid of what might be inside.

'Mel Dumbledore.

I can't even imagine why would you do such a thing on your very first day. I'm speechless. Mr. Weasley’s car? I don't understand why you thought that was a good idea.

Maybe you were just following Ron and Harry's lead, which I must say, is a little disappointing.'

Mel didn't want to keep reading, but she figured it was better to get it over with.

'-You should never base your actions on what other people expect you to do, Mel. Not even if that person is one of your closest friends. How do you expect to become your own whole witch if you keep following other people's tails?

I'm not angry, I'm sad that you didn't trust your own instinct -let's be honest, I know for sure that whole adventure wasn't your idea- please, next time you're in trouble, take a deep breath and do what's best for you, and not what others would prefer you to do.

Be good. I'll wait for your reply,

Mum.'

"I'm a failure," Mel pouted.

"How come?" Hermione looked up.

"My mum says she's disappointed because I went along with Ron's idea instead if insisting on staying."

"How does she know it wasn't your idea?" Ron frowned.

"She's my mum," Mel replied sternly, "besides, I suppose Dumbledore explained the whole thing to her."

"At least you learned the lesson and you weren't expelled," Hermione shrugged, "but see, this is what I mean, you can't just abandon your studies, Mel. You have a second chance."

"I really think you're wrong," Mel sighed, "but I don't dare to hurt my mum more than I already did..."

The toasts were cold by the time Harry went out to the field, he saw them on the bench and approached with a weary expression.

"Aren't you finished yet?" asked Ron.

"Haven't even started," said Harry, his eyes flicked to the toasts Hermione and Ron were eating, "Wood's been teaching us new moves."

"Take one," Mel said lovingly, offering the toasts, "you can't play with an empty stomach, remember?"

Harry blushed, lightly mumbling a 'thank you', and devouring it.

As he mounted on his broom and flew around with Fred and George, Colin Creevey started to take pictures.

"Look this way, Harry! This way!"

"You know, say what you want about Ginny," Mel mentioned as she watched the younger boy, "but at least she doesn't follow Harry around with a camera..."

"I still don't understand why she's so shy around him," Ron frowned, "it's so weird"

"She likes him," Mel shrugged, "people act oddly around the person they like, right?"

"I wouldn't know," He raised his eyebrows, "never liked anybody"

"Yeah," Mel sighed, her attention back on Harry, "Me neither..."

"Look, it's the Slytherin team," Hermione pointed to the large group of people nearing the field.

"Holy Snitch," Mel leaned over, squinting, "is that- it is! Malfoy- and they- they have new brooms!"

"Who?"

"All of them!"

"This can't be good," Ron stood up, "let's go."

The girls followed their friend down to the field.

"What's happening?" Ron asked Harry. "Why aren't you playing? And what's he doing here?"

"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley," said Malfoy, "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team. Good, aren't they? But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them."

The Slytherin team laughed.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," said Hermione. "They got in on pure talent."

Mel couldn't have said it better.

"No one asked your opinion, you fiIthy little Mudblood."

"How dare you!" Alicia Spinnet gasped.

Ron pulled out his wand.

"You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!"

Mel didn't know what was going on and got even more confused once Ron fell back as if something had hit him.

"Ron! Ron! Are you all right?" Hermione kneeled next to him.

Ron was throwing up slugs. One after the other, it was gross.

"That wand..." Mel shook her head, trying to help him stand.

"We'd better get him to Hagrid's, it's nearest," said Harry and help her get Ron on his feet.

"What happened, Harry? What happened? Is he ill? But you can cure him, can't you?" Colin was now on the field, eagerly jumping around them like a puppy.

Ron puked a particularly huge slug.

"Oooh," said Colin, "Can you hold him still, Harry?"

"Get out of the way, Colin!" Harry demanded.

They walked as fast as possible, trying to avoid stepping on the hideous slugs Ron kept throwing up.

"Nearly there, Ron," said Hermione when they were a few meters away from Hagrid's hut, "You'll be all right in a minute - almost there -"

Suddenly, Gilderoy Lockhart emerged from the cabin.

"Quick, behind here," Harry hissed, and they took Ron behind a bush.

"It's a simple matter if you know what you're doing!" Lockhart was saying aloud. "If you need help, you know where I am! I'll let you have a copy of my book. I'm surprised you haven't already got one - I'll sign one tonight and send it over. Well, good-bye!"

They waited a few seconds, Ron still having not the greatest time. Hermione knocked on the door. Hagrid appeared quickly, for a second he looked like he was about to yell at them, but it soon changed into a smile.

"Bin wonderin' when you'd come ter see me - come in, come in - thought you mighta bin Professor Lockhart back again -"

Hagrid was not surprised by Ron's issue, he let Harry explained as Ron sat there, shaking uncontrollably.

"Better out than in," he said cheerfully, handing Ron a big bucket, "Get 'em all up, Ron."

"I don't think there's anything to do except wait for it to stop," said Hermione, "That's a difficult curse to work at the best of times, but with a broken wand-"

"What did Lockhart want with you, Hagrid?" Harry asked, scratching Fang's ears.

"Givin' me advice on gettin' kelpies out of a well," growled Hagrid, "Like I don' know. An' bangin' on about some banshee he banished. If one word of it was true, I'll eat my kettle."

"I think you're being a bit unfair. Professor Dumbledore obviously thought he was the best man for the job -" Hermione was quick to correct, but Hagrid interrupted.

"He was the on' man for the job," said Hagrid, "An' I mean the on' one. Gettin' very difficult ter find anyone fer the Dark Arts job. People aren't too keen ter take it on, see. They're startin' ter think it's jinxed. No one's lasted long fer a while now. So tell me," said Hagrid, looking at Ron. "Who was he tryin' ter curse?"

"We were on the Quidditch team and the Slytherin team walked up to them, Malfoy is the new seeker, apparently he bought his way in..."

"Malfoy called Hermione something -it must've been really bad, because everyone went wild"

"It was bad," said Ron finally able to speak, "Malfoy called her 'Mudblood,' Hagrid -"

That was all he could say before throwing up another bunch of slugs.

"He didn'!" Hagrid gasped.

"He did," she said, "But I don't know what it means. I could tell it was really rude, of course -"

"It's about the most insulting thing he could think of," gasped Ron, coming back up. "Mudblood's a really foul name for someone who is Muggleborn - you know, non-magic parents. There are some wizards -like Malfoy's family- who think they're better than everyone else because they're what people call pure-blood." He gave a small burp, and a single slug fell into his outstretched hand. He threw it into the basin and continued, "I mean, the rest of us know it doesn't make any difference at all. Look at Neville Longbottom -he's pure-blood and he can hardly stand a cauldron the right way up."

"An' they haven't invented a spell our Hermione can' do," said Hagrid proudly, making Hermione go a brilliant shade of magenta.

"It's a disgusting thing to call someone," said Ron, wiping his sweaty brow with a shaking hand. "Dirty blood, see. Common blood. It's ridiculous. Most wizards these days are half-blood anyway. If we hadn't married Muggles we'd've died out."

He retched and ducked out of sight again.

"Well, I don' blame yeh fer tryin' ter curse him, Ron," said Hagrid loudly over the thuds of more slugs hitting the basin. "Bu' maybe it was a good thing yer wand backfired. 'Spect Lucius Malfoy would've come marchin' up ter school if yeh'd cursed his son. Least yer not in trouble."

"His father is just as awful and annoying," Mel huffed, "one of this days, I don't know which one of us, but I'm sure we'll end up giving Malfoy the beating of his life"

"It won't be you, of course," Harry said sarcastically, "you hate getting into fights"

"Shut up, Glasses."

"Harry," said Hagrid abruptly, "Gotta bone ter pick with yeh. I've heard you've bin givin' out signed photos. How come I haven't got one?"

Mel snorted, taking a treacle fudge that Hagrid had kindly put on the table for them. Harry looked completely offended.

"I have not been giving out signed photos," he said, "If Lockhart's still spreading that around-"

"I'm on'y jokin'," He laughed, patting Harry so hard on the back he almost hit the table face-first, "I knew yeh hadn't really. I told Lockhart yeh didn' need teh. Yer more famous than him without tryin'."

"Bet he didn't like that," said Harry.

"Don' think he did," Hagrid grinned. "An' then I told him I'd never read one o' his books an' he decided ter go. Treacle fudge, Ron?"

"Can I be your maid of honor, Glasses?" Mel teased as they walked back inside the castle, Hagrid mentioned that he'd found Ginny walking around his house trying to run into Harry, "If you and Ginny want to, of course, I'll be more than happy-"

"Stop," Harry snapped, "I don't tease you about Fred and George, so don't tease me"

"I just think it's so romantic!" She grinned.

"Of course you do, Mellow," He replied.

Mel gasped.

"I told you not to tell him about that stupid nickname!" Mel turned to look at Ron, who had shrunken in his place.

"Sorry! I didn't do it on purpose, we were talking the other day and it slipped!"

"It slipped -don't give me that look, Harry. The fact that you found a better nickname doesn't mean I'll stop calling you Glasses."

"I wasn't counting on it," He smirked.

"There you are," Professor McGonagall walked up to them, "You will do your detentions this evening."

"What're we doing, Professor?" said Ron, nervously suppressing a burp.

"You will be polishing the silver in the trophy room with Mr. Filch," said Professor McGonagall. "And no magic, Weasley - elbow grease."

"Miss Dumbledore will help Hagrid, and Potter will be helping Professor Lockhart answer his fan mail," said Professor McGonagall.

"Oh no - Professor, can't I go and do the trophy room, too?" said Harry, "Or help Hagrid?"

"Certainly not," said Professor McGonagall, "Professor Lockhart requested you particularly. Eight o'clock sharp, the three of you."

"Filch'll have me there all night," said Ron as they sat on the Gryffindor table, "No magic! There must be about a hundred cups in that room. I'm no good at Muggle cleaning."

"I'd swap anytime," said Harry, "I've had loads of practice with the Dursleys. Answering Lockhart's fan mail... he'll be a nightmare..."

Both of them looked at Mel with the same frown.

"You got the best deal," Ron complained, "helping Hagrid? He'll probably let you sit and watch"

"No, he'll probably make me work hard," Mel replied, "but I can't say I won't enjoy it, as long as it's not inside the forbidden forest..."

She made her way out of the castle alone after dinner, less upset than expected with her detention, humming absentmindedly to the dim afternoon light.

"Good evening," Said someone behind her.

Mel turned to see Erick, catching up to her.

"Mind if I join you, Miss?"

"I'm heading to detention," Mel informed him.

"I just want to tell you something," He said shortly.

"Well..." She eyed the boy curiously, "go ahead?"

"I didn't know about Malfoy- about him being the new seeker- I didn't know."

"Oh," Mel stopped walking, taken by surprise. "I wasn't expecting you to know."

"Good," He nodded, a soft frown upon his features, "I heard my brother making fun of the Weasley boy, is he alright?"

"He's better," Mel tilted her head, "Why does it bother you?"

"I'm not-" He said, then immediately he corrected, "I am- Not for him if I'm honest- I was worried about you, thinking I knew about Malfoy and decided not to tell you. I always knew my brother is an idiot but it never occurred to me that he'd be stupid enough to sell a position to someone that isn't even that good. We're surely gonna lose the cup again- not that I mind, I've never been a Quidditch fan myself, but you know... the house cup is a high stake to lose"

Mel observed him with a pensive expression, Erick raised a brow.

"What?"

"The Weasleys are such a lovely family... they tease, and most of the time they're arguing, but they love each other," She shrugged, "it's just weird to me that you speak so poorly about your own brother, he's your family, you know... I thought purebloods were loyal to their own kind"

It seemed like she'd touched a sensitive subject. Erick's eyes shifted to an angry glare and he said, very coldly:

"Not everyone can have a pretty family, Miss. Not all purebloods are as likable as the Weasleys."

The girl tried to fix it, but it was too late.

"I didn't mean-"

"Good luck with detention," He turned around.

"You could come and meet Hagrid if you want?" She offered loudly, Erick was already half-way.

"I'll pass," The boy replied, climbing up the stairs and back to the castle.

She was right about Hagrid, he made her work a lot but it was bearable and in the end, he let her go earlier than expected. At eleven she was already seated in the common room, finishing her History of Magic essay and softly stroking Grey's tiny head.

Once she was done, she wrote a letter to her mother, apologizing and promising she'd stay out of trouble for real this time. Then also wrote one for her uncle, he probably knew all the story by now, but Mel figured it was time to write to him anyway.

While looking for more ink, Erick's note fell from one of her books. Her stomach sank at the thought of their chat a few hours prior. Why did she always end up upsetting him? She wondered if being friends with him was actually a good idea.

Harry appeared around midnight.

"Oh," She jumped in her place, remembering she wasn't the only one who had detention, "how was it?"

"I... I'm not sure," He sat down next to her, the girl messily put her things away, "something odd happened while I was with Lockhart..."

"Odd?"

"I heard a voice," Harry shook his head with incertitude, "it sounded like it was in the room with us but when I told Lockhart he said he hadn't heard a thing"

"What kind of things did it say?"

Harry shivered.

"Not happy things for sure"

She nodded, a bit confused by his statement. She figured he was just confused, but believed him. Harry had no reason to be lying about something like that.

"Maybe Malfoy found out where you were and decided to do that, you should ask Ron if he had some strange occurrence like yours once he's back"

Harry looked up.

"He's not here yet?"

"I don't think so, Hagrid let me go earlier and Hermione told me none of you had arrived yet"

His eyes landed on the fireplace, deep in thought.

"I don't feel like it was just a joke..."

"Cheer up," Mel searched for his hand and gave it a little squeeze, "at least our detention it's over!"

"Yeah, yes..." He looked back at her, trying to smile, "I'll go to bed, you should too"

"I will," She nodded and watched as Harry got up and left.

The girl picked up her things. She felt her skin tingle where Harry's hand had touched.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@tiphareth2018 @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @celestialhayi @mikariell95 @thesuitelifeofafangirl @omiwashere

#twoidiots writing #harry potter fanfiction #Harry Potter #harry potter xoc #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x reader #ron weasley #hermione granger #rubeus hagrid #draco malfoy #WITT fic

22 notes · View notes

btswishes · 5 years

Text

I will adopt you.

Monsta X (Shownu) hybrid au

Part1 / Part2 / Part3 / Part4 / Part5 / Part6 / Part7 / Part8 /…

A/N: This one took a turn, I know.Hope you like it and sorry for any mistakes made. Enjoy :)

Word count: 2,903

Warnings: I mean ,just normal 21 century teen cussing.

Listen to the song at the particular part it is written at.

——————————————–

As the night started taking over slowly ,Nunu couldn’t stay still. He was moving from one spot to the other, running, walking, jumping anything. You were just monitoring him and writing down things you noticed. The moon was almost fully out and you couldn’t take your eyes off of him ,since he was everywhere at the same time.

As much as you didn’t want to move while he was in this state, you had to make dinner. While you were chewing your food, your head was moving side to side as he was running laps around the living room, once more you were glad the place was big enough for him to kind of feel free. After finishing up you filled his bowl with food and waited for the moment when he tired himself out. It didn’t take long when you saw him panting in the corner of the room under the window.

Taking the object in hand you started walking towards him when he jolted. For a second you stopped moving and scrunched your eyebrows. Taking a few more steps you released he was reacting strange to you getting close.

“Nunu?” he was flush against the wall almost trying to get away from you and it kind of hurt “What is wrong with you?” placing the food in front of him, you reached out to pet him on the head ,when he growled and pulled back. Your hand was in the same place, not even trembling as your right eye got a bit teary. Laughing out, you stood up and slapped gently your forehead.

“Must be the moon, yeah that is it.Stupid stupid.” you patted your head a few times “He doesn’t hate me it’s just the time. Haha.” each time you would look at him, he would growl low. It felt like he didn’t want to be in the same room as you. Looking as there was no helping the situation, you put on some thick clothes and grabbed the trash. Somehow, strangely you felt like being in here with him wasn’t going to end well.

You planned to throw out the leftovers that went bad and to maybe take a walk for a bit while he does whatever he was doing. Walking towards the door you threw him one last look, his teeth were as defensive as before, but somehow the look in his eyes was questioning where you were going at this hour. Locking the door behind yourself, you pressed the elevator button and in no time it’s doors opened. Welcoming you.As you were going someone called you up to the 10th floor of the building.

“Aw shit.” and right in front of you appeared that familiar mug. He wasn’t too tall but still this man had a very creepy face, age was about 29. He had short dark hair and a bad habit of starting conversations with you out of the blue. His character was clingy, not leaving at all and very stalker like. You usually avoided him, but it wasn’t successful always. Taking a few big steps to the side, you found yourself in the corner of the elevator. Your hands were both holding the bad in front of your knees ,as your head looked to the side, teeth biting the bottom lip of your mouth.

“Hey there.” he said slower than normal people would have.You were staring at the wall and back at the numbers glowing at the top of the elevator ,as the light inside wasn’t very flattering for his sharp bone structure.

“Ha-Hey.” the letter came out with a breath of air

“Going out?” he leaned forward trying to meet your gaze that was obviously looking everywhere but at him

“Taking out the trash.” turning towards him you lifted the bag and tried to smile as friendly as possible “You?”

“Interested are we.” well actually if you knew where he would be it would be more likely for you to NOT meet him.After the moment of silence he spoke “Just going out for a walk.”

“Cool, cool.” the doors dinged and opened “Have a nice night.” as you were speed walking towards the door, almost in slow motion ,you saw a hand flying past your face, inches away and hitting the glass of the door. Your body froze and couldn’t move to look back.

“Sorry, did I scare you?” you nodded slow feeling him staring intensely at the back of your neck “I just wanted to open the door for you, the bag looked heavy.”

“T-thanks.” his hand pushed open the entrance and your step became small and cautious. The snow was crackling beneath your shoes, what was creepy was that the sound coming from him was not getting farther but kept trailing after you. As slow as you were walking, you reached out to throw the trash.

“Let me help you.” his hand brushed over yours and he took the bag, chucking it in the bin with a wide smile on his face

“Thanks a lot.” you pointed with your thumb behind your back “ I should be going back now, pretty cold out tonight. Haha.” the laugh leaving your lips was uncomfortable and forced, but the one he send back as an answer was almost like the feeling one would get from nails scratching a blackboard. At this point you weren’t sure if you were shivering from the cold or this guy. It was a mistake to go out right now. “I don’t want to keep you here, you should go on that walk.”

“I am fine, shouldn’t leave a lady all alone...during a lonesome cold winter night. Scary.”

Why the fuck would you describe it like that!? You thought to yourself as only a smile and nod expressed your side of the conversation. But even so when he said lonesome, you noticed that absolutely no one was around and the street lights that were normally lit where dark and cold. His head moved up to look at one of them.

“They said the storm was pretty strong and it would be safer to keep the lights turned off.”

Great he can read minds now, can he get any more creepy? There were no sounds in the distance nor the foreground. The bins were right behind your apartment building where it was quiet and dark.You were switching from the conversation to your thoughts.

“It was so nice talking to you.” Not! “I really should be going now. Very gold. Brrr.” Just go! you rubbed your shoulders to make it look extra cold, but also to try and calm your nerves.

“Oh, I can give you my coat, what kind of man would I be if I didn’t help a defenseless woman in a night such as this.” his voice was breathy and uncomfortably raspy for the look he had on his face.

Thanks but no thanks Michael Myers! “Don’t worry about it. I prefer to warm up at home.” you waned to leave but couldn’t turn your back on him. Walking slowly backwards you kept him in your field of vision, making sure he wasn’t going to do anything.

“If you want I can send you off.” his face had this prominent smile on it as his eyes staid closed

“Nah, thanks. I am good. We literally live here.” you couldn’t see much behind you, but it was for sure way better than what was standing in front of you with it’s hands in its pockets.Come to think of it, his coat had big pockets and he never once pulled his hands out of there, even when pressing the button on the elevator. Stepping back your back hit the tree next to the apartment building and for just a second your eyes closed.”Oh.” the moment you looked up again, the smile was gone, his eyes open, hooded and dark, as if there was no light or life in them to begin with.

“See what happens when you don’t take up my offer? You get hurt.” staring right at you, not moving, tall and big almost as if he wasn’t breathing “If you aren’t careful you might get hurt again, going towards the building, getting inside, up the elevator even in front of door 203.”

“I will be oke-...203?” your chest sunk in, adrenaline rushing through your body as you tried not to hyperventilate so obviously “Um how did you know what my door number is?”

“We live in the same building.”

“It has 12 floors and you don’t live on mine.”

“The elevator sometimes stops on your floor.” he wasn’t blinking at this point, but the steps he was taking were leaving very deep and big prints in the snow.

“It doesn’t stop anyway where close to my apartment door.”

“All these details.” he raised his voice suddenly causing you to jump “Why does it matter if it’s or isn’t.” he started getting more active, talking loud and then whispering, looking at you but at the same time turning away. You were scared, almost terrified. At this moment the only thing you could do is wait for him to look away. You were able to pick up some snow. The last resort was throwing it at his face and running as fast as you could towards your apartment building, opening the door and running up the stairs since the elevator would be too dangerous. But you couldn’t go to your place, was there somewhere to hide?

He was getting aggressive and the words coming out of his mouth began sounding like nonsense. All sorts of thoughts came flashing into your head, your parents, friends and.. Ah Nunu. If only he was here, I bet he would be able to scare this fucking creep away or at least bite him, I don’t care at this point. Your eyes were getting watery from the cold, but you didn’t even want to blink, who knows what this guy could do in that time span. Your breath was heavy. The clouds moved away and the moon lit up the whole ground, every crystal of snow could be seen, but all of a sudden everything in your sight became black. You panicked, where you going to faint? But at this point not even a sound could escape your lips.

The creep was still talking when you heard and felt the sound of the wind. Being confused was something new in this situation, but you could recognize hands on your body. Tears started streaming down your face, your heart could explode any minute now from all the thoughts going through your head.It didn’t take more than a minute before you felt a hard but fluffy surface under you.

Your eyes were still closed but not because there was something holding them, it was mainly you scared of what was in front of you. The more you waited the more the familiar scent filled your senses. As slowly as you could you realized that the warmth engulfing you was of your own home. Your breath normalized.

*listen to this song for a nice effect while reading the next part. ;)*

“You good?” a deep voice echoed in your ear and you crawled back defensively as you noticed a naked man in front of your eyes, sitting on the open window sill. His head was looking towards the moon.He had a long face and a well defined jawline. His hair was dark-brown and short, lips full and pink, fitting his frame so well. This mysterious person had dark eyes but there was something calming and loving in the way they gently looked with nostalgia towards the moon, maybe even farther to a unknown place forgotten in time, but not by his heart.

You didn’t want to run away anymore, it felt to you almost like he was meant to be here right now, with you. His words were kind, even if the deepness and tone of his voice didn’t match them. Slowly, his gaze moved from the distant moon over to your trembling figure. Your breath left your lips and your body ran up to him, hugging tightly his big muscular build. The man didn’t say anything. He just picked you up and sat on the couch, keeping you in his embrace. Your tears finally unleashed onto his shoulder.

“I- I was so scared, I didn’t know what was going to happen.” he was just running his long fingers through your hair, listening and letting you let it all out.

“I was worried I wouldn’t see my parents anymore, talk to my friends. I was scared that I would leave Nunu alone again. He just got a new home, someone to keep him company, not live his days alone, on the streets searching for food.I was scared I wouldn’t see him again, or pet him, or repay him the help. I....I wanted him to know I wasn’t angry that he growled at me.I-”

“He knows.” the man cut you off, his voice now louder next to your ear but still a calm whisper mixing in with your sniffling “He knows how much you care for him, even if you have known each other for only 1 day. He didn’t want to growl at you in the first place, he just wanted you to stay away from him at that moment.”

“Why? Why? I don’t want to harm him, did I do something? “ you felt him pull you away from himself, soon finding yourself face to face with this man. His eyes were staring right into yours

“He-...ugh...I didn’t want to hurt you in my rage, I didn’t want to scare you. I knew that if you were close to me that very moment that I would have done something to you ,that I would have regretted my whole life.” his head turned to the side for a second as his brows scrunched and his teeth pocked through his lips “But if I knew....If I only had the slightest idea that this was going to happened I would have left myself. If only I wasn’t a worthless beast only thinking about myself, you wouldn’t have went out in the cold.” he shook his head aggressively as his big and warm hands were holding your cold arms “You wouldn’t have had to feel like a caged animal at the mercy of that disgusting man, you would have been safe.”

As hypnotizing as his words were to you, unconsciously your right hand sneaked out of his fingers and reached out towards his hair. It was soft, flowy and familiar. Your palms cupped his cheeks as leaning forward let you get close to his eyes. The more you looked at him the more you felt calm and at home.

“N-nunu...” the name rolled off your tongue as his gaze avoided your eyes almost like a guilty puppy “Nunu!” you looked around the room but he was no where to be found. The more you called out, the less loud your voice got and you once more concentrated on the man in front of you. As you were sitting on his lap the bright full moon was illuminating only a part of him. Your hand ran over the skin of his left cheek and he leaned into it, closing his eyes.Half of him was illuminated, half wasn’t, half dark, half silver......

“Half human....” your lips parted

“Half beast.” his big hand covered yours and he once more looked at you

“You are Nunu...” he didn’t speak, trying to his best to look away when you stopped him “My Nunu.” a smile appeared onto your lips. Moving his head up, he saw you, gentle with a twinkle in your eyes and a ring in your voice.

“I don’t deserve that...” with the smile still on your lips, you closed your eyes as you shook your head

“You came for me, even if you were in pain, you thought of me, you saved me.”

“Of course I did!” he raised his voice “I won’t let you leave, not anymore. I thought I could just go, but I couldn’t, I don’t want to.Its wrong I know, but can’t evade it. ”

“Then...” leaning forwards your arms wrapped around him, pulling his head to your chest “...don’t leave. Stay here.” as time passed you weren’t letting go, feeling such calmness and safety had never happened to you before. It was so strong that you got drunk of it falling asleep in that position. Opening his eyes once more, his strong and big arms gently picked you up and carried you to the bedroom. As careful as one could, you were placed onto the big bed and covered to the nose in blankets.Laying beside you, he was moving strand upon strand of hair away from your sleeping face.

His eyes were moving from your lips, to your nose to your eyes and back, trying to remember all the parts of your face so he can see you even in his dreams. The wind was blowing at the trees and one could hear the windows in the other rooms hitting the walls.

Not wanting to wake you up, he went to close them. They were banging so hard that most sounds could be muffled, like a door opening and unknown footsteps making their way towards your safety bubble. Who could think of something like that at a time like this?

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iresecho · 4 years

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FRACTURED

hey! here’s a draft of a story i wrote recently. feel free to give it a read (it’s only a mere 1500 words) and let me know what you think!

oh, and about that word count? this short was for my class, so please bear with it. i understand it is very minimal for the amount of substance it contains. i hope you enjoy it regardless though! i’ll upload a finished version once i’ve completed it. any and all suggestions/critiques are welcome! pls be nice :)

Genre: Creative Fiction

Word Count: 1520

!TW: MULTIPLE DEATHS, BLOOD!

I sigh as I tap my pencil repeatedly on the table, the rubber nub of what’s left of the eraser pinging the oak beneath it. What’s it missing? There’s gotta be something missing I ponder to myself. I’ve been working on this poem for ages, but I still feel like it isn’t ready for this contest. I switch back to the website and read the headline ‘Do you want to become a new up and coming writer? Enter this contest to win!’ It’s the New York Times contest for a new up-coming author, and the grand prize would be enough to pay off my entire debt, and then some. I’ve had this poem written for awhile now, yet I still don’t think that it’s ready. I’ve read it over a million times, and I can’t seem to find what it’s missing. My mother was never too fond of my writing, but my father always loved it. He loved everything I did. My father’s always been proud of what I’ve done, and what I do. He’s never once shamed me for choosing what I believe in, and what I’m passionate about. I glance down at the gold-crested penguin pendant around my neck, lifting my hand up to grasp the cool metal. I smile as the memory it holds replays through my head. It was a gift from my father for my tenth birthday. He bought our family tickets to Disney World to celebrate, and purchased this necklace for me after I had mentioned several times in the gift shop how much I wanted it. Ever since it’s been my favourite animal. I hold it in my palm tightly, fingers grazing over the smooth, yet rigid surface of the pendant as I reach for my cell phone beside my open laptop. I begin to scroll through the messages between me and my father, a fond smile appearing on my lips as I read through the texts:

YESTERDAY

Dad: Hey, honey! How’s the poem coming along for the contest?

Me: it’s okay… I still feel like there’s something that it needs. I just can’t figure it out

Dad: When is the deadline to submit?

Me: tonight at 6

Dad: I’m sure you will figure it out sweetheart. You’re a great writer. Love you kiddo Xoxo.

Me: thanks dad, love you too

I smile again as I set down my phone, peering back to the computer screen before me. What seems like minutes go by and I get lost in the words in front of me. I jump as my phone begins to vibrate loudly on the table. I can’t help but shut my eyes for a second to brace myself:

“Hello?” I answer.

“Hello, what are you doing right now?”

It’s my mother. Great. She’s probably at work.

“Working on my poem for the contest, why?”

“....” There’s silence on the other end of the line. I wait a few moments, then,

“Mom?”

“...Huh? Oh, sorry. What did you say?”

“Forget it.”

“....” More silence. She does this every time. Doesn’t it bother you?

“Are you still at the hospital?”

“....” I’ve had it.

“MOM!!” I yell.

“What? Oh sorry honey, what were you saying?”

“Why do you do this to me every time? You never listen to me! You’re always on a call or too busy for me anyway!”

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? It’s just hard for me when I’m at work sometimes honey but I promise I want to hear it.”

This is always her excuse. It’s always just too ‘hard’ for her to actually have a conversation with her only daughter. It’s always about work for her.

“You know what. Forget it. Call me when you have time for your daughter.” I hang up the phone.

Ugh she makes me so mad! Why does she never listen to me? First it was denying my talent for writing and trying to force me to go down some boring nine-to-five career hole I’d never get out of, now this?

I peer around my dingy, one bedroom apartment. Maybe she’s right. You’ve been living off chickpeas out of a can and barely surviving. I mean, look at you? You have barely any food in your fridge, and your ‘apartment’ is broken down and disgusting! What did you think your BA in English would get you anyway? You’ve been searching for a job in your field for a while, and still no opportunity has come up. Maybe your mother was right. Maybe you should have studied law. Maybe she would have listened to you then. Maybe you should have listened to her—

Me: hey dad, can I talk to you?

Dad: Sure honey, is something wrong?

Me: it’s mom, she’s always too busy to listen to what I have to say. it’s like talking to a brick wall

Dad: I’m sorry honey, but your mom is pretty busy at work. Maybe on her break?

Me: i’ve tried. she even calls me and then doesn’t listen! I feel like she hates me...

Dad: No she doesn't sweetheart, she loves you. And so do I. Xoxo.

Me: I love you too, dad where are you now? dad? helloooooo?

Ugh, now my own father is too busy for me too? I guess no one has time for me. Or maybe, I’m just not enough for them. Maybe I’m just some big disappointment, maybe—just take a nap, you’re probably stressed from being tired.

I’m abruptly awoken out of my slumber when my phone goes off loudly. I scramble to find it on my bedside table, slamming my hand down repeatedly to try and locate the device. I manage to pinpoint the phone, and hold it up before me. I squint at the screen, scowling at the newfound brightness and see the word “MOM” in bright bold text. I press accept and hold the phone up to my ear:

“Hello?”

I can hear her sobbing on the other end of the line. I sit up straight in bed, eyes wide with worry as I stare at the dark matter in front of me.

“What’s wrong? Are you crying?”

“Honey, your dad’s been in an accident.”

“What? What do you mean?”

I start to shake, eyes brimming with panic, heart banging against my chest as I wait for her response after an ill-conceived sob:

“He was driving on the highway, and um—I found his phone and he was texting you while driving and he swerved into the other lane and he—”

“What, he what?!”

“He’s dead.”

I drop the phone to my side as my life starts caving from the exterior in. I lose my breath as the realization sets in. How did you let this happen? How could you?

“No.”

A single tear streams from my face.

“NO!”

I sob as I wail into the darkness of my room, hands covering my flooding sockets as I scream. A steady river forms blurring my vision for what seems like eternity. I stay like this for a while. You did this. You killed him.

“I’m so sorry”.

I pace back and forth, raking fingers through my hair, tears streaming down my face as I try and accept the truth. How could I have let this happen? I’m the reason he’s gone, if I just would’ve called him instead, maybe things would have been different. I press my spine against the cool tile of the bathroom wall as I stare at my dishevelled reflection. You’re disgusting. I slam my fist against the mirror, shattering the glass littering shards throughout the room. My eyes begin to pour, as does my bleeding hand from the impact. I look below me at my feet, peering at my skewed reflection through the broken, bloody pieces. I’m sorry dad, this is all my fault. I’m so sorry.

“Thank you all for coming”.

I watch my mother from the church pew seven rows back, wiping her tears as she stabilizes herself on the podium. The room is dimly lit, filled with a few dozen family members I haven’t seen since infanthood. The white, flowered casket sits perpendicular to my mother on the stage behind her.

“She was always so driven” I hear her say. “She was stubborn,” she laughs, “but we all loved her the same.”

She takes a few new tissues from the funeral-gifted box, looking at my graduation picture surrounded with white roses, taking a breath before starting again with a shaky voice:

“It hasn’t been easy, with my husband passing and now my daughter. But um, I’d like us to celebrate her death. She was a brilliant writer, and it certainly showed when she won the contest for the New York Times Best Up-and-Coming Writer. I’m really proud of her, we all are.”

My eyes well up with tears as her words hit my chest like bombs. She’s proud of me? She thinks I’m a good writer? I smile to myself,

“I finally did it, dad. I made it.”

“I know sweetheart, I’m so proud of you.” He smiles as he wraps his arm around my shoulder.

“C’mon, let’s go home.”

Winter eventually fades

Revealing the unknown golden flowers

Blooming just below

#fractured #short story #short fiction #creative fiction #creative story #novel #graphicnovel #literature #english #story #original story

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straight-into-the-animus · 4 years

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Homecoming (Thalexios)

The third of my Thalexios prompts! (A little fluffier after the last one, wheww) I would like to thank @pandoravidal for the wonderful prompt idea, I hope you enjoyed!

No warnings with this one; fluff and reunion fic abound of Alexios returning to Sparta, maybe light spoilers for those who aren’t so far into the game.

Read on Ao3 here

The ground has never felt so uncertain under Alexios’ feet as it did now, in Sparta. In his “home”. His search for the truth had taken him all around Greece, from oracles to battlefields to across the sea and the depth of Poseidon's fury.

All the way to family. And now, all the way to the land he thought he’d never go back to again.

When they had come in eyesight of the shore, Barnabas had remarked that the bird always knew when it had come back to its nest, no matter how far away it had been. As he had started to walk through the streets too, he began to understand. No matter how much he may have looked an outsider among the soldiers in their shining armor of gold and red, the blood that flowed in his veins was the same as in theirs. He had even likely bled alongside some of them in their little war against the Athenians.

The sun was at its peak as he stopped his journey near the statue of Leonidas, at his tomb. The area wasn’t overly crowded, but he wondered just how many people stared at him. Likely none of them knew who he was, what was strapped to his back. What would his grandfather say had he been alive now? These thoughts didn’t plague him often, but now it was if they were beyond forthcoming.

He was so engrossed he barely heard the man’s voice behind him until a hand accompanied it, hesitant but warm and calloused as it rested on his arm. “Alexios?”

Out of instinct Alexios spun around and grabbed the man’s wrist, bewildered but warning filled glare melting away to complete shock. “Thaletas?” He could scarcely breathe it out, eyes roving over the man in front of him before he was pulled into a tight hug, a hand thumping his shoulder. He was helpless to do anything but hug back, feeling the press of steel and leather against him.

“Alexios, dear Gods, it’s wonderful to see you. How long since Mykonos… six months?”

“Had to have been. You’re back in Sparta so soon?” Alexios pulled away from the hug, hands resting on the shoulders of the other man for just a while longer before they fell away to the side, just brushing his arms.

“I just arrived yesterday. I was called back for reports, and since it seemed stable, I didn’t think it was in much danger with my absence.” Thaletas shook his head, in some form of disbelief. “Never did I think I would see you in Sparta. Not after… I thought you said you couldn’t return.”

“I… I suppose I found what I was looking for. And it all lead me back here, anyway. Every road I took.” Alexios gestured around to the city and the fields -- he had avoided looking east towards Mount Taygetos ever since he had come into view of the land -- and Thaletas let out a small breath of laughter, crossing his arms behind the small of his back as he seemed to appreciate the view as well.

“Sparta has that effect on people. Seems right that you were drawn to this as well.” Thaletas nodded with his head towards the statue in front of them. “You don’t find this the most beautiful part of all?”

“I’ve seen bigger.” Alexios smirked just a bit, intentions and meaning vague even as he saw the faintest amount of pink cover Thaletas’ cheeks.

“I’m sure you have.” Gods, how much had he missed this? And how much had he thought he would never get to have it again? But then he remembered Mykonos, and how they had spoken of the Fates bringing them together again, but just as much about Kyra and the plans the rebels had for rebuilding that island. And then he had to dim the light inside of him just a bit more as Thaletas continued, staring up at the statue. “They’ve had this up as long as I can remember. They built it after the Battle of Thermopylae. The great King Leonidas.”

“My mother… She spoke highly of him. Told me many stories about him, about what his legacy meant to us and our family.” He knew what was coming before Thaletas even could give him a look of confusion and questioning. “Leonidas is my grandfather. Father of my mother.”

“Alexios.” Thaletas gave another one of those half-laughs, which was the equivalent of a ful laugh for him, but it quickly died as they both stared at each other. His eyes widened just a bit, looking from the statue of the king to the misthios. “King Leonidas is your grandfather.”

“Is it so unbelievable? If I grew out my beard, I’d look just like him.” Alexios joked, but Thaletas just shook his head, their eyes locking.

“Your life is fantastic, Alexios. Something straight out of… Something Hesiod himself would envy writing.” Such pure sincerity fell from his lips that Alexios found himself growing shy under it, head ducking away to look at another spot in the distance.

“You’re too kind.” Alexios finally admitted, turning back to look at Thaletas but finding his attention turned beyond the city as well.

“Are you busy? Or waiting for anything?”

Alexios knew, rationally, that yes, he was. It was the whole purpose for his being here, waiting for the time for his audience with the kings of Sparta alongside his mother and Brasidas. Thaletas just happened to be simply the best coincidence that could happen at that time. But the other part of him knew that the thread of fate was meant to be followed, that he was to be strung along by the thread until they reached the end. And he had time, even if it was time for a final goodbye.

“I have time. What did you have in mind?”

“Something special.”

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

The journey led them out of the city and more into the countryside, heading north up into the sloping hills.

“How were the Silver Islands when you left?” Alexios was finally able to get out after some time of companionable but filled silence.

“Fine. The Athenians have left us alone.” Thaletas look back at the misthios as they walked. “The government implemented by the Spartans and the rebels seem to be stable enough.”

“Kyra is doing well?”

Thaletas was silent until they finally stopped on top of a hill near ruins farther away from the city; it was in view, but barely. When he spoke again, it was measured. “Last I saw her, she was.”

“Oh.” Alexios nodded, crossing his arms. “That’s good. I’m glad she’s doing well after everything. She will make a fine wife when everything is truly settled, I’m sure.”

“Alexios.” Thaletas was quiet, but his voice was firm. “We haven’t…Before I left, we weren’t together in such a way.”

“No? But you both seemed-”

Thaletas sighed, hands behind his back as they fidgeted nervously. “I know what it seemed. But I… I couldn’t feel for her as I did for you. Every night, on those islands, all I could think about was the beach. Those ruins.” He looked over at Alexios, a hand hesitantly reaching out for his shoulder.. “What we said to each other.”

“Thaletas, I-”

“They weren’t just words to me. Not then. And not now. Alexios, I lo-”

He didn’t get to finish as Alexios reached for him and pulled him close, lips meeting roughly. Their arms wrapped around each other tightly, Alexios’ hand trailing up Thaletas’ armor to play with the wisps of curls there at the nape of his neck, earning him a shiver. Gods, how much had he missed this? And how much had he thought he would never get to have it again? It was so, so easy in the soldier’s arms to forget everything and once again melt into security and further on into an emotion he was scared to name.

Things were not so easily forgotten. Some pain was still there. But for now, for just an hour or two, he was content to ignore it because of what this was.

“You didn’t get to let me finish.” Thaletas was breathless as they pulled away eventually, foreheads resting against each other.

“Unless your words were for me to drown in the Aegean Sea, I didn’t need to hear anything else.” Alexios gave a barely there smile, excitement pouring through it.

Thaletas smirked just a bit, mischief dancing in on his words. “And if I said I wanted to take you here and now?”

“Don’t give me any ideas.” Alexios ignored the sharp bit of pleasure that shot through him at the idea. Delos was still fresh in his mind. “Maybe later tonight, should all things go well.” He sighed, hand still at the nape of Thaletas’ neck as he stroked his cheek with his thumb. “I seek an audience with the Kings first. I’ve been through what can only be compared to the trials of Herakles for this.”

“The Kings? You’ve been busy. What do you need to see them for?”

“My citizenship, my house, among other things. Yes,” He noted at the look, “it’s a very long story.”

“I’m sure. When is your audience?”

“In a few hours, if I’m accurate with the time.”

“I want to go with you.”

Alexios furrowed his brow, pulling away in the embrace just a bit more with reluctance to look over the soldier. “What?”

“I want to go with you, Alexios. To the Kings.” His eyes flitted away for a second, seeming to think of other things for a second, before shaking his head just barely as if dismissing an idea. Before Alexios could ask him about it, he continued. “I can vouch for you as well, your performance in Mykonos. I’ll help you. It’s the least I can do.”

“Thaletas, it’s not like that. And you don’t have to. You don’t owe me anything.”

“I don’t want to leave your side, Alexios. Especially now. Or ever, if I can help it.”

The words hung heavy in the air between the both of them, a promise made only in the sights of the Gods themselves. Alexios was silent for a long time before squeezing Thaletas’ arms just slightly, a comfort for himself just a little bit.

“You say that.”

“I mean it. I was a fool then. Now that I realize I have a chance again, I won’t be so foolish.” Thaletas said.

“I don’t care if you’re a fool. I care if you’re there or not. But the Kings won’t be easy to speak to.” He wanted to tell him about the Cult of Kosmos, about the danger he could be walking into, but he held back.

“I know. You’re going to need me there any way. So, if you’re sure you don’t have time for what I’d much rather do with you,” Alexios couldn’t help a good natured roll of his eyes, “then we’ll head back to the city to prepare you. And you can explain things to me.”

“Fine.” Alexios pulled him in for one more kiss, unable to help himself. He had once asked Thaletas if he would stay by his side, “now and forever”. Back then, he hadn’t known how much those words meant. But now he did. But the weight wasn’t unbearable; it was warm, settling like a cloak on his body and keeping him safe from everything and everyone else. “And afterwards, should all go well, perhaps a trip out here for a ‘celebration’ wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”

“I knew you’d see things my way, Eagle-Bearer.” Thaletas smiled, and Alexios had never seen the future clearer, at least for now.

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

I hope you enjoy! If you do I have a Masterpost here and more ideas for writings and prompts here, so feel free to request! If you’d like to support me, I have a ko-fi here! Safety and peace!

#assassin's creed #thalexios #alexios #thaletas #my fanfics #my writings

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ginnyzero · 4 years

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Completely Harmless Ch. 32

Completely Harmless An SSO SilverGlade Re-imagining Story (Or Fix it Fan Salt fic) By Ginny O.

When Lily and her friends wanted to buy horses and were directed to the Silverglade Manor and its myriad of problems, they didn’t expect to start a revolution. They were just a bunch a stable girls. Completely harmless. Right?

A/N: Things are only canon if I say they’re canon. Pre-Saving the Moorland Stables compliant for the most part. Posted in its entirety on my website. Posted in 2000 to 4000 word bits here. Rated T for Swearing Word Count 177,577

Chapter Thirty-Two Meeting JoJo Siwa! Rainbow-adical!

At lunch, the Baroness approached Lily. “Who is Jojo Siwa?” She asked after complimenting them on the cloud display in the stable. (She found it elegant and impactful.)

“She’s a pop singer who’s headlining the festivities in Moorland. She’s from the United States,” Lily told her. “Her songs are on J-Tube.”

The baroness tilted her head and slightly pursed her lips. “I would like to meet her. Invite her to dine with me tonight. I doubt she’ll have time once the festivities start. All of you are invited.”

Lily blinked. “I, yes, I’ll do that. Thank you, Baroness Silverglade.”

The Baroness smiled softly and left.

“I, um,” Lily looked at all the other girls. “Is she even in Jorvik yet?”

“She’s staying at Fort Pinta Inn,” one of the girl’s said. “She had the choice between that and Silverglade. The festival stand is halfway between pretty much. I think she’s hanging out at the Disco?” She checked her phone and Jorvikgram. “Yeah, she’s at the disco.”

“Then, um,” Lily finished her lunch and looked at her outfit. She didn’t think she wanted to see Jojo looking like this, not to invite her to see the Baroness over dinner! “I better change.”

“Right. You want to make a good impression.”

“I’m the Baroness’ lady,” Lily said mock seriously.

They giggled.

“And we’ll start on the balloons.”

“And get the bunting on the paddock.”

“And we’re going to put the little clouds and hearts through the Silver Glade track and all the trees on the side of the road across the bridge and towards Silverglade Village.”

“And the ones in the grape fields. Balloons too.”

“Get the fences. Can’t forget the fences.”

“Because you never know who is going to take a ride through the fields during the festivities.”

Lily just nodded.

“We’ve got this under control, boss.” Pauline grinned at her.

“You represent our stable!” Regina shook her fist in front of her face.

“This isn’t pokemon!” Several of them yelled at her.

Lily retreated as Regina started arguing that the stable was like a gym. She looked over her clothes and decided on the midriff baring Baroness bow blouse in lavender and grape with her pair of white baroness capri pants and silverglade clan sneakers in lavender with the mulberry stripe. It was a good balance between showing appreciation for Jojo Siwa (bow blouse) and pride in her club. On a whim, she kept the sparkly bow in her hair.

She took the transport to Fort Pinta and left her horse at the stable. She had to smile because the farmer’s cart near the stable had changed their awning for one with rainbow stripes. And well, the girls in Fort Pinta had the same ideas they had had on how to use the decorations around the stable area and in the huge courtyard with the fountain.

Saffi and Selma mobbed her before she got halfway across the courtyard to gush at her about wearing the bow and how great it looked.

Lily grinned. “Thanks. I think it’s fetching.” She touched it briefly. “We have a lot of girls interested in supporting Jojo over the next week.”

Saffi and Selma squealed. “Girl power!”

“Girl power,” Lily agreed with a grin and bumped their knuckles.

Her outfit changed was all for the good. Jojo was on the disco balcony, not quite looking bored. “Oh, you’re awesome!” She shouted and pointed at Lily.

Lily posed and pointed back. “No! You’re awesome!”

Jojo laughed.

Lily sauntered over to her. She held out her hand. “Lily, President of the Silver Drakes Riding Club.”

Jojo smacked it. “Jojo Siwa! But, err, you probably know that.” She tugged Lily closer. “Selfie!” She said holding up her phone and snapping a pic of both of them. She let Lily go after.

Lily grinned. “I do. I follow Jorvikgram like everyone else.”

Jojo waved her phone. “You’re part of my jorvikgram story now!” She said as she posted the picture.

“I’ll be sure to download it,” Lily promised. “My Club is looking forward to coming to watch the show.”

“Radical!” Jojo looked excited. Her eyes darted back and forth. “You want a dance lesson first. Just so you can be on the edge of coolness.”

“Sure,” Lily agreed.

Jojo led her through some of her signature moves. “You’ve got it!”

Lily laughed. “I’ll teach the other girls and we’ll do a show.”

“Maybe if you’re good enough you can get up behind me and be my, like, back up dancers.”

“That’d be great.” Lily wrinkled her nose. To her, Jojo seemed a bit lonely. It had to be tough being alone on Jorvik. “Say, I have an invite for you. Actually, it’s not an invite. It’s more like an order to appear. Baroness Silverglade wants you to join her for dinner. It’s kind of like,” Lily paused. “Okay, not the mayor, since the mayor of this town is a pony, but more like the President of the area asking. She owns a lot of land around here and she wants to know more about you.” Lily made finger guns at Jojo.

Jojo’s eyes widened. “Really. Um, wow.”

“I don’t think you’re really getting the option to refuse.”

“What should I wear?”

“Well, the Baroness likes roses and purple. If you have a nice dress, tonight would be the time.”

“I have, like, the perfect thing! This is going to be so cool. What is she like?”

“Ice queen, but she does have a soft heart. She cares a lot about this area and her people. I hope you like Greek food. If you don’t, um, Antonia, her chef, makes this apple smothered pork chop that’s to die for, not literally, but it’s delicious.”

“I am down with the Greek food.” Jojo fiddled with her sequin dress. “Um, Lily, I’m supposed to go meet someone named Loretta at this festival site. But the only transportation they have around here is horses.”

“Haven’t been on them much?”

“Not really. Come with.”

“Absolutely,” Lily agreed without reservation. She should check on what the Bobcat girls were doing for decorating the area anyways. One never knew with Loretta. “I think Tan is a mega Siwa fan. She’s Loretta’s right hand girl. If it’s not right, Tan will get it fixed. Come on, you can meet my horse, and we’ll find you a nice pony.”

“A pony?”

“They aren’t so far from the ground,” Lily winked. She actually liked Jojo. She didn’t want to intimidate her like she’d intimidated James.

Jojo relaxed slightly. “Sweet.”

They went to the stable and after making sure Jojo met Mayor Peanut, who through James, had greetings for her. She took selfies with him. Lily introduced Jojo to her horse. More pictures of Lily and the horse together mostly. And then, they found her a nice steady Jorvik Starter Pony to ride. Jojo took a self of her and the horse together.

On the ride, Jojo was full of questions about how long Lily had been in Jorvik and was it all so rural and did she like it and so on and so forth. Lily answered freely enough. She didn’t mind telling Jojo about herself. She made it a point to point out special things about the parade route. The Bobcat Girls and the Ponies had worked the rainbow and sequin streamers into the ivy, and put rainbow sequin swag bunting and the big bows both inside and outside of the archways. There were huge bunches of ombre rainbow balloons too.

On the fences, they’d put more bows, and swags of sequin bunting, and bracketed the places where they ended with balloons. At the base of the fence post, they’d put the lanterns. Lily took a picture and texted it to one of the girls.

Jojo bounced in the seat of her saddle and took pictures. Her fingers flew over the keys as she captioned them.

“On it!” She got a response to her text from Regina.

Tan met them as they entered the site, jumping up and down and waving. She was ecstatic to point out the decorations.

At the festival site, there was more of the same, lots of sequin swag bunting, lots of bows, tons of balloons. One of the carts with a rainbow awning had set up to sell merchandise. They had set up a photo wall with both pastel and bright color rainbow curtains behind it but they were all sequins. There were bows and gold beads too.

Jojo insisted on doing several selfies and included both of them.

Tan gestured at a tent with a rainbow awning.

“For the friendship bracelets and to make the bows,” Tan explained.

They’d left a large empty area in front of the stands.

“So everyone can dance,” Tan said as to why all the benches were further back. “We’re having our rainbow swirl sugar cookies and milk. The Farmer’s Market is just over the fence so we thought it’d be too much to have food.”

Jojo’s eyes widened. “There’s a farmer’s market.”

“Sure, it’s free for anyone to go to,” Lily said. “If you want to check it out.”

“Do I ever!”

Tan jumped in. “I can take you if you want! Linda sent over these program flyers for the craft tent with a map so everyone knows where to go.” She jogged off and came back. “Here. I hope you get some time to go to all the festivities between sets.”

Jojo read it over. “This is so awesome. I can’t believe you’re doing this much stuff. I’ll definitely have to get around. I don’t know if I’ll have time to see the other performers though. Bummer.”

“There’s a charm bracelet in it for you if you do,” Tan said. “I’ll come with you and we can collect the charms together.”

Jojo grinned. “I’m sure Selma and Saffi would like to come too. This will be great.”

Lily nodded at Jojo. “Well, I need to check in with Loretta then. You two have fun at the Farmer’s Market and I’ll see you tonight at dinner. I’ll make sure Godfrey comes to pick you up.”

“Godfrey?”

“The butler.”

“Butler. Got it.” Jojo nodded. She grinned at Lily. “Thanks for taking the time to come with me.”

“She’s renting a pony from Fort Pinta stables,” Lily said to Tan.

“I thought it looked like one of theirs. I mean, though, why would you be out to see the Welshies on South Hoof yet. Though you really got to do it. Have you ever ridden with a wild horse herd? It’s so totes amazing!” Tan beamed at Jojo.

Jojo looked a bit leery. “I’m down,” she said trying to be game.

Lily took off. “Dinner’s at six,” she called over her shoulder.

Lily rode down to Moorland Stable proper. There were tons of camper wearing Jojo bows and they grinned at hers pointing at their heads. Lily gave them a thumbs up.

They gave her thumbs up back.

Lily was quite relieved to see that the Bobcat girls had managed to use the rainbow decorations instead of the pink ones. She stopped by Julie next to one of the entrance gates. “Any problems?”

“Conrad won’t let us decorate the forge. We’re going to do it anyways,” Julie eyed her nails. “Do you think I should do a rainbow manicure? That’s the thing right?”

“If you want, maybe one gold nail, to be hip,” Lily advised. It wasn’t that the Bobcat Girls were bad people. They were just a bit vapid and shallow.

“I better wait until I don’t have any chores left to do.” Julie sighed. “We haven’t been able to recruit anyone else. They all want to run off and form new clubs.” She glowered at Lily.

“Viva la revolution.” Lily said blandly. She tipped an imaginary hat to Julie and trotted around the stable to check on Loretta.

Loretta widened her eyes at her. “You will not believe all the trouble putting up these decorations has caused. Josh is refusing to talk to me after I put hearts on his poles.”

“Poor baby,” Lily said. “It looks nice.”

She looked towards the Pole Bending track. Josh knelt next to his poles with his hat knocked back and a roll of tape meticulously taping down each heart. She wasn’t getting involved. Nope. Let Josh and Loretta sort it out between them.

“And I told him that it’s Rainbow Week. Unless the skulls were painted like rainbows, they had to go. Now he’s threatening to leave Moorland. I don’t know what his problem is? This is Rainbow Week and it has to go off perfectly. Tan’s so busy setting up the festival site making sure it’s perfect for Jojo that I’m not sure she’s going to get the parade outfits done in time.”

“Jojo seems pleased with the site.”

“Something’s going right then,” Loretta huffed. “I don’t know why she decided to come up with new parade outfits, last years were fine. I mean, they’re black with black.”

“I thought they were nice. They had the black vest with the black capris, right?”

“Yeah, but no, ‘the power of friendship compels me’ or something. I told her that it better not be anything like Daxton’s rainbow vest. It had better be fashionable or I’m not wearing it.”

“It can get rather loud very quickly,” Lily agreed. “That was the danger in the decorations too.”

Loretta wrinkled her nose. “That might be the first thing we’ve ever agreed on.”

“Well, as long as Tan hasn’t taken them apart, you still have last years if hers turn out to be not fashionable.”

“True,” Loretta chewed her lip.

Things looked under control enough. Lily rode through the stable area to check out all the different decorations. She breathed a sigh of relief. No one had tried to sneak the pink things in at all. A quick tour through the other courtyard revealed their photo wall set up in front of Moorland’s distinctive camp office.

Lily took the transport back to the winery and directly into some teasing about her adventures with Jojo.

“As Tan says, don’t be jelly,” Lily rolled her eyes. “Jojo’s an enthusiastic and sweet girl.”

They all giggled.

“You’ll meet her soon enough for dinner,” Lily sighed. “And you can get your selfies with her then.”

“I think we’re about done,” Pauline said.

“It looks great,” Lily said. There were bunches of balloons everywhere to fill up space. It really made the whole thing come together and not look tacked on. “Where is everyone else?”

“Decorating the pavilion and setting up our photo wall,” Pauline said. “We’ve got the supplies for the crafts locked up in the tack room right now. I think we can lock them up in the arena overnight.”

“That sounds like a good plan.”

“Make it so,” Pauline said and texted it out.

Lily rolled her eyes. “While you’re making me out like Captain Picard, Number One. Tell everyone to dress nicely for dinner. Dresses.”

Pauline nodded. “We better rotate shower time.”

Lily decided she better inspect everything. She wanted to have a good report for the Baroness.

Jojo Siwa slid out of the car in front of the huge Greek style manor and looked around, her eyes huge in her face. She smoothed her skirt.

Lily darted forward to greet her. “Jojo, glad you came.”

“You didn’t say it was so fancy,” Jojo whispered.

“Baroness implies fancy,” Lily implied. “You look great.” And Jojo did. She’d put an ombre purple sequin bow in her hair which was thankfully down instead of her signature ponytail. The top of her dress had a huge blown out rose done in smaller sequins on it. It covered her entire chest. The skirt was a darker purple large sequins and the sleeves matched the skirt. Her ballerina flats had bows on them too. Fortunately, only the bows had sequins.

Lily didn’t know what the Baroness felt about sequins. It didn’t matter. Jojo looked decent.

“You look nice too.”

Lily glanced down at her Winery Rose Evening dress. She didn’t think the white color made it any less formal but it matched Pauline’s lace dress she’d bought at the Jorvik Shopping mall color wise. “Francezka Ironsaddle, big Jorvik designer. She did all our outfits. The Silver Rose opens tomorrow,” Lily gestured at the building almost hidden now behind the trees in the reflecting pool. “Well, not all of our dresses, Francezka only designed three and it is difficult to find nice dresses here on Jorvik.” Lily tucked her arm around Jojo’s and led her up the stairs. “Try not to let her intimidate you.”

“Too late,” Jojo said.

The girls were waiting inside beaming brightly. Lily made introductions and Jojo kindly did pictures with all of them.

“Okay, phones away,” Lily said once they were done. “And on silent!”

They all tucked phones away.

Godfrey opened the doors of the dining room promptly at six. The Baroness stood up to greet them at the head of the table. There was gleaming crystal glasses, elegant china, and more silver flatware than most of them had ever seen.

Lily introduced Jojo to the Baroness.

“Ms. Siwa, please, take a seat on my right.” And a glance at Lily had Lily seated at her left. Linda sat next to Lily. In fact, everyone who worked at the Manor and even Anastasia and Aaron were in attendance. The girls took up the middle of the long table while Aaron ruled the other end with his sister. (Anastasia’s dog had its own chair.)

The Baroness asked Jojo about herself as the soup course came out, the lemon chicken soup Lily noted. Jojo was happy to talk about herself, her music and the messages she tried to sing about friendship, being kind, and supporting each other, and her v-log. Though Linda had to interrupt to tell the Baroness what a V-Log was.

“A visual diary for the public, how, interesting,” the Baroness said politely.

Pauline sat next to Jojo and with low voice prompts managed to get her to talk about Jorvik and meeting the Jorvik Starter Ponies and since Jojo phrased everything enthusiastically (like they figured she would) the Baroness didn’t get offended over anything. Jojo loved Silverglade Castle and raved about the food she’d had at the Farmer’s Market.

Anastasia managed to slip in a question about Jojo’s fashion style.

Lily had no idea what the Baroness was hoping to learn or Anastasia for that matter.

After one of Aaron’s sundaes, it was time for Jojo to leave.

The Baroness walked her out to Godfrey’s car. “Ms. Siwa, it’s a pleasure to see young people in this day with such passion and enthusiasm for what they do. You appear quite genuine rather than being an act. You’re always welcome to back to my part of Jorvik.”

Jojo brightened. “Thank you!” She gasped and got in the car.

Godfrey smiled at his employer nodding in approval before he got in the driver’s seat and took Jojo back to Fort Pinta.

Lily concluded that probably couldn’t have gone any better.

FOR THE ACCOMPANYING IMAGES PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE MY WATERMARK AND CONTACT INFORMATION. THANK YOU. I get it. Some of you might get excited and want to see this stuff in the game, especially the clothes, tack, and pets. However, the only way I want to see this in the game is if I get paid for it. If I see it in the game and I’m not paid for it, there will be hell to pay. You think I’m salty. I’d be angry. Personally, I’m not going to send this info to SSO. If you do, leave my contact information there! Don’t give them any excuses to steal.

Now, I’ll know you haven’t read this note if you leave me comments about how ‘salty’ I am about the game and if I hate it so much I should do something else. I am doing something else. It’s called Mystic Riders MMORPG Project. Mystic Riders however is a very baby phase game. You can check out our plans on the game dev blog. (Skills, Factions, Professions, Crafting, Mini-Games, 25+ horse breeds!) If you know anyone who would be interested and has money or contacts about game making, direct them to the blog.

#star stable #star stable online #sso #fan fic #jorvik reimagined #star stable salt #silverglade reimagined #many nods to ruth westside #completely harmless

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justkending · 5 years

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Used to Be Overlooked. Chapter 17.

Summary: Steve Rogers was walking down the streets of Brooklyn after finishing a mission. The goal was just to take some time to clear his mind along the city streets, but when he runs into a gorgeous young lady that looks extremely familiar… How can he go about moving on? Who is she? What does he know her from? Was that memory even from this decade?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (Rosalyn Ember/ Y/N ?)

Word Count: 4100+

Warning: SLOW BURN. Soooo slow, but sooooo worth it...

Chapter 17:

“Miss. Ember!” Tony shouted as he spotted you across the room. Thus, making everyone he was talking to, and also within a 30 foot radius of you two, turn their heads to see who he was talking to.

“Mr. Stark,” you breathed out through a tight smile, not happy with the attention.

You heard Bucky chuckle on your arm knowing exactly how uncomfortable you were.

“Oh, Mr. Lieber! You have to meet Rosalyn here!” Tony said patting an older mans back. “This right here Stan, is the nation's youngest woman scientist in her field of microbiology and epidemiology. That’s not even counting the multiple other fields that she is ranked extremely high in as well.”

“Is that so? Well, it’s nice to meet you Miss.-” the man with lightly tinted sunglasses, and a nice suit with no tie started, but you realized he hadn’t heard your name.

“Ember. Rosalyn Ember,” you said pulling your arm out extending your hand that was wrapped in Bucky’s. “It’s nice to meet you Mr. Lieber. Stan Lieber correct?” you asked smiling at the man who just had a warm presence around him.

“That would be correct my dear. My friend call me Stan Lee though,” he smiled widely. “Now, Mr. Stark correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t most scientist not usually models as well?” he said scanning your outfit and self.

You chuckled at the compliment from the man that could easily have been your age, but not in this body.

“You would think,” Tony laughed patting his back. “Stan here is quite the charmer, isn’t he? Stan why don’t you tell the young lady here what you do?” he said looking down at him.

You crossed your hands in front of you and looked down at him. He was about a foot shorter even standing tall.

“I am an illustrator and publisher for children's books and such. Nothing special like you dear,” he said in a humble manner.

“I highly doubt that you’re any less special than me,” you said waving him off. “What books have you published? I’m sure I’ve seen some.”

“You read children's books in your free time?” Bucky asked.

“I volunteer down at the library twice a month to read to the kids, and at the orphanage three times a month,” you smiled at him as if it were nothing before turning back to Stan. He shot you a surprised look, but a grin formed realizing you were even more surprising than he thought before. A good surprising though. A type that he wished more people in the world were like.

It was true though. You had gone to the orphanage when you could because even if you didn’t actually grow up in one, like your history said, you were an orphan and you did miss your parents dearly. It was always eye opening to see all the children running around and living life as best they could when so much was taken from them. The least you could do was read a few books and spend time with them where you could.

Stan went on to share a few of his well known books, and you remembered seeing a lot of them in the top sellers and top reads sections when looking for new ones.

“Well, I have to say Mr. Lee, I think you are changing the world out there just as much as me. If not more,” you winked making him blush and smile at you.

“I like this one Tony. You should bring her around more often,” he nudged Tony getting a smirk out of him.

“That’s the plan,” Tony said turning to you. “Hey, Stan. I think I see your wife over there waiting for you at the bar. Looks likes she’s up to no good.”

Stan looked around finally spotting the women Tony was talking about. “Sounds about right. I should probably go,” he laughed. He turned back to you grabbing your hand. “It was a pleasure meeting you my dear. Hopefully I’ll see you around sometime. Maybe at a book signing?” he winked kissing your hand.

“I’ll keep a look out for you. I would love to chat again,” you said kindly back.

He nodded and started walking slowly through the crowd to his wife. You watched until he was out of sight with a smile plastered on your face. He was the cutest human ever.

“Got a new crush there?” Tony said breaking you out of your stare. “Should I warn Cap that he has competition?”

You rolled your eyes at his comment, but couldn’t get rid of the smile.

“He was sweet was all. He has a presence about him that makes you feel safe and welcomed.”

“You’re not wrong. Stan is one of the most down to earth men I’ve met,” Tony said looking at him in the distance. “Anyway!” he turned back to you. “Would you look at that dress?” he said throwing his hands out ever so dramatically, and motioning up and down. “It fits the person in it so well. Did Pepper get you that?”

“No, I actually made it,” Both boys sent you a shocked look. “Well, my mom made it way back when. I just fixed it up a bit to fit the theme more,” you shrugged as the boys jaws dropped some.

“You made that?” Bucky asked.

“Yes,” you laughed at their reactions.

“Is there anything you can’t do?” he breathed out.

“Where’s the fun in telling you that answer Mr. Barnes?” you said with a teasing smirk making his jaw drop more and his eyebrows raise. “If you two are done catching flies in your mouth, mind helping me get a drink?”

“Right! Right!” Tony said standing straighter and looking around. He waved down a waiter who quickly came to you with a tray of champagne. “Here you are my lady,” he said handing you one, and then Bucky taking one for himself.

“Thank you. Not that it will do much of anything, but the thought is nice,” you sighed taking a sip.

“Can you not get drunk? Or even tipsy?” Tony asked before Bucky could ask himself.

“Nope. Side-effect of the experiment. Heal too fast,” you shrugged finishing the drink and setting it on a nearby waiters tray.

“I get that,” Bucky mumbled before taking a nice swig of his own and finishing it off quickly.

“Well, Thor is here tonight, if you want to see if he has any of his ‘special drinks’,” Tony said nodding over to a tall broad man with long blonde locks of hair. He was in a dress shirt and no tie or jacket. Less formal, but he didn’t look like one to wear a full suit. Still handsome though.

“I think I may just do that,” Bucky said looking over at him. “Before we get hammered though. What do you say we find Steve and ask if he wants to join us?” Bucky said offering his arm once again.

“Sure. I would absolutely love to ask Steve if he would like to get plastered with us while he is with dozens of children,” you laughed sending him a raised eyebrow saying, ‘Really? Think this through?’ to Buck.

“Right. Probably better to wait for the after party,” he laughed. “We’ll see you later Stark,” he shouted over his shoulder.

“Take care of her Bucky!” Tony yelled before turning to more guest.

“So,” Bucky said once you weren’t in such a crowded place. “I’m assuming you know, I know.”

“I wouldn’t have said the things I did earlier if I didn’t.”

“True.”

“Steve said you suspected it, so I told him he might as well tell you my story. I hope that I can trust you keep it a secret still, correct?” you said sending him that terrifying look that make his heart jump in his throat.

“Yes ma’am. Of course. I would never-”

“You don’t have to be scared of me Bucky,” you laughed at his now stiffened muscles. “I just need to make sure you understand how dire this is. It’s not something to share. At all.”

“No, for sure. I understand completely,” he nodded. “And I’m not scared of you,” he scoffed definitely not selling it.

“Sure you aren’t,” you laughed.

You two eventually approached what looked like a photoshoot area with a nice gold backdrop with the name of the foster center written all over it. Looking through the crowd you saw Steve pop up from a cluster of kids and he had a huge grin on his face. Sam was a couple of yards away talking with another group of kids who were just as excited.

“You know, he didn’t use to be this good with kids back in the day. He thought he would break them if he held them, and it carried on for a while,” Bucky whispered in your ear as he watched you focus on Steve intently.

“Is that so?” you said never looking away.

“Yeah, but then Tony started have these events, and other things that required us to visit kids in hospitals, homes, and all over to bring them a little hope. After just a few times, he became a natural. Kids swarm to him like a moth to a light.”

“A light indeed,” you said to yourself with a soft smile as you watched Steve pick up a younger girl about 4-5 and prop her on his hip.

“Wanna go meet them? I’m sure they would love to meet a princess,” he said motioning to your dress.

“Oh, I’m far from a princess Bucky.” you giggled snapping out of your thoughts. “There are far more people here tonight that look more like a princess than me. But thank you kindly.”

“You even talk like one,” he laughed as he started bringing you closer to the bunch. “But in all honesty? I haven’t seen anyone as stunning as you tonight. I think you beat out the competition.”

You turned giving him a soft smile. “Thank you Bucky. You know how to make a girl feel special.”

He nodded and turned seeing you had approached the herd of kids that were climbing all over Steve and listening closely to a story he was telling about a mission. Nothing too gory of course.

Next thing you knew, the little girl in Steve’s arm who had a small little tiara on her head and a cute little Cinderella dress on, gasped looking over at you.

“Look! A princess!” she shouted making all the kids look at you, and Steve turn and smile widely at you once he made eye contact with you.

“A princess indeed, Katie,” Steve said not breaking his eye contact.

You blushed uncontrollably at the kid and Steve’s look. Bucky nudged you slightly making you look up to see a smirk playing on his lips.

“Told ya,” he whispered.

You rolled your eyes playfully before gently hitting his arm and turning back to the group. You walked over to Steve and the little girl and smiled at them both. All the other kids watching you closely.

“The only princess I see here is you sweetheart,” you said booping her nose causing her to giggle and bury into Steve’s shoulder in happy embarrassment.

Steve watched as you interacted and his heart grew in size then started to overheat.

“Now that I can see everyone,” you said turning to the group of boys and girls. “I see quite a few Prince Charmings and Princesses. Look how handsome and beautiful the group is!” you said covering your mouth in shock.

“I’m not a prince!” a little boy shouted from the side. “I’m Captain America!”

You noticed, that unlike the rest of the kids who were in nicer and more theme based clothes, he was wearing a full Captain America outfit. Shield and all.

“Well, would you look at that?” you said bending down to his level. “You have everything Captain America, don’t you?” He nodded proudly. “Down to the handsome face too.”

Steve heard you, and if he wasn’t blushing before… he sure as hell was now.

You smiled at the little boy making him laugh and run into your arms. You were shocked by it, but recovered easily before he could knock you backward. You let out an ‘oop’ as you found your balance, and felt a hand on your shoulders steading you. With the little boy still tucked into your arms, you looked up to see Steve with the little girl, Katie, still balanced on his hip, and his other hand holding you in place. You looked up mouthing thank you, and he sent you a nod with a subtly grin.

The little boy finally pulled back and you held onto his waist as he looked up to your face.

“Are you a princess like Katie said?” he asked tilting his head in the most adorable way.

You laughed at the remark. “No, I’m not. I’m a scientist actually,” you answered.

“She looks like a princess though, doesn’t she kids?” Steve asked looking at the group, and still having a hand on you.

They all shouted loudly and started jumping up and down.

“Yes!”

“I want a picture with the princess!”

“No, me first! I saw her first!” Katie shouted in Steve’s arms reaching down to hold you.

Steve, Bucky, and you started laughing at the uproar.

“Slow down there kids!” Steve said making them calm down a little. “How about we all take a picture together? Princess Rose included. Pepper, does that sound ok?”

You looked up realizing that Sam, Pepper, and the photographers were already snapping pictures the whole time, and the two giving you both mischievous smiles.

“That sounds perfect,” Pepper answered. “Ok everyone! Go ahead and get together. Sam you too.”

Sam nodded and did as instructed. You rose to your feet with the help of Bucky’s hand, and all of you clustered together for the picture. You stood close to Steve who just put Katie down because she wanted to stand by her friend. The little boy who was dress at Captain America was standing right in front of you.

Before the flashes started going off, you felt Steve’s hand snake around your waist to pull you closer to him gently. You looked up seeing him trying to rally all the kids together that were near him, and realized he had pulled you closer without thinking. God, this man was truly going to be the death of you. Why hadn’t you spilled your guts out to him sooner?

“Ok everyone! Say cheese!” Pepper shouted making everyone look toward the camera.

“CHEESE!” everyone shouted.

After a few dozen pictures, one of the foster care workers started telling the kids that they were going to go eat before the speech later. So they started lining up and grouping together again. They waved bye and gave Sam, Steve, you, and Bucky, who was completely surprised by the gesture, hugs before they left.

They were heading out when little Mr. Captain America broke from the group and came running back to you.

“Abraham!” the leader shouted, but he didn’t pay any mind to her.

“Miss. Princess?” he said out of breath once he reached you.

“Hey little guy,” you said bending to his level again.

“Will you dance with me later? Mrs. Stark said that there will be dancing.”

You laughed as you grabbed both of his hands.

“I would love that Abraham. I’ll find you later, ok?” he nodded. “Now, hurry back to your group.”

“Thank you!” he smiled giving you a quick hug before running back to the group. “I get to dance with a princess!” he shouted.

You giggled at the little boy that shared your father’s spirit and name. You were watching him intently as you disappeared with the group. The only thing bringing you back from your thoughts was the warm touch of Steve’s large hand grasping your shoulder.

“Looks like I have some competition,” he whispered in your ear making you shiver at the closeness.

You turned facing him only inches apart since he didn’t move.

“You might have a better shot if you put on that stealth suit of yours. Little Abraham was giving you a run for your money,” you winked patting his shoulder before gingerly walking away leaving him in awe of you as you walked over to Pepper to catch up.

“Dude, that dame is something else,” Bucky said smacking Steve’s back once you were a good distance away.

“I think I’m out of my league,” Steve mumbled still watching you as you gracefully laughed about something that Pepper and you were talking about.

“Oh, there’s no question about that. That’s old news,” Bucky chuckled loudly, and smacking his friend again getting a glare from him. “Come on old man. Let’s go get your princess and get a some food. I need something to get my mind off of all these gorgeous women around me.”

Steve nodded rolling his eyes as they started over to you.

“Truly though Pepper, you didn’t have to, but we greatly appreciate it,” you said laying a hand on Peppers arm.

“Again, no need for the thanks. Tony was an idiot and gave you two 2 days to prepare. It was the least that I can do,” she said grabbing your hand and patting it. “Also, was this the dress that you already had on hand?” she asked pulling back and examining it with her mouth open.

“Ha ha, yes. This is it,” you laughed as you slightly turned to show it off a little more. What? Your mom and you made it. Might as well show it off to give the world a little taste of the genius that was you mother.

“This is stunning!” she said clapping her hands together.

“Careful there. There’s a few men around watching you very closely. They may just snatch you from me,” Steve said bringing a hand around your waist and gently pulling you to him again. You giggled as you leaned into him more. “That or you’re going to make them faint. I would prefer the latter.”

“Oh hush. No more about me!” you said not wanting the attention off you once again. “What exactly should I be expecting tonight Pepper? What really happens at a Tony Stark party?”

“What doesn’t happen?” she mumbled rolling her eyes in a playful manner.

“Pepper, is always having to keep an eye on Tony at these things. He tends to be a little more all over the place than a normal host is,” Bucky said on the other side of you.

“Might as well be babysitting,” Pepper huffed looking around. “Speaking of which, I lost the child. I’m going to go find him and make sure he is behaving himself.” She smiled waving to you all to before walking away. She stopped and turned around. “Oh, Steve and Bucky?”

“Yes ma’am?” they said in unison.

“Speech and donation reveal is at 9, so about 30 minutes. Some of the kids have bedtimes, so we are trying to get it done early. Make sure you are at the stage a couple of minutes beforehand.” she instructed.

“Copy that,” Steve nodded.

“I’ll be watching the time,” Bucky added.

“Thank you boys! Take care of Rose too. This can be a lot,” she winked sending you a smile before turning.

“Well, you heard the lady. Let’s get Rose here a drink for the evening,” Bucky smiled at you and Steve, putting his hands in his pockets.

“What kind of drinks are we talking?” you asked.

“We can save the good stuff for later tonight. I’m thinking some champagne should hold us down for now?”

“As long as we have the good stuff at some point,” you said turning and wrapping your arm in Steve’s.

“Am I missing something here?” he asked turning with you.

You looked up at him.

“You have a new member of can’t get drunk remember?” you smirked. “Word is there is a God of Thunder who has some drinks that will change that.”

“Thor?” he looked up at Bucky. “Do you think she can handle that stuff? I mean it was meant for Asgardians.”

“You would be surprised what I can handle Mr. Rogers,” you sassed before Bucky could get a word in. Both boys looking down to you. “I bet you I can hold more than you two can.”

“I don’t know about that Y/N,” Bucky said quietly and with a cocky smile. “This stuff is pretty potent.”

“I thought you two learned your lesson about challenging me,” you said unhooking from Steve and turning to where you were in front of them with your arms crossed.

Steve immediately missing the feeling of you by him.

“It’s not that-”

“10 bucks says I can out drink you tonight,” you said looking between the two.

“Both of us or-”

“Either of you. Pick your player,” you shrugged.

Bucky turned to Steve who was looking at you proud, and turned to his friend showing that maybe he should back down from you.

“What do you think Stevie? Should I take her?”

“I think I’m going to want to watch and remember her destroying you, so I’m only drinking a little tonight. This is all you,” Steve shrugged.

“Ok. Fine. I’ll take that bet doll,” Bucky said with a cocky smirk as he extended his hand.

“Deal,” you shook sending him a look that once again made him shiver at how intimidating you can be. “Now, I should probably find my friend that I bought with me tonight.” You turned on your heel looking around. “I haven’t seen her since we came in.”

“Let’s head into the main room. I’m sure we can find her,” Steve said coming back around and extending his arm for you, which you gladly took, and you all walked into the room keeping an eye out for Claire and Josh.

After about 10 minutes of looking around, and light chit chat with the two men, you gave up and went to the bar that had finger foods and every drink you could think of.

“Scotch on the rocks please,” you smiled at the bartender who was about to ask you if you were sure, but Steve cut him off.

“I wouldn't fight her on it,” Steve said quickly shutting the bartenders mouth. He nodded and did as instructed.

“Thank you,” you smiled politely before taking a sip and looking out into the crowd. “Shouldn’t you two be heading to the stage? It’s almost time for the speech.”

Steve looked down at his watch and nodded.

“You’re right. Bucky you ready?”

Bucky had finished off the same drink you had got and let out a content sigh after the burn.

“Yep.”

“Do you want to come with us or-” Steve started looking at you.

“No, no I couldn’t. This isn't about me. You two go,” you waved them on.

“I don't want to leave you stranded,” Steve smiled showing he actually felt bad at having to leave you once again.

“Steve, I’m fine. I can handle a few minutes by myself,” you said placing a reassuring hand on his bicep.

“Are you sure?” he said not wanting to give up.

“This whole evening is about the kids. I’ll watch you wow the crowd from back here. Plus, I still need to find Claire,” you smiled looking around again. “You two need to go, or else you’ll be late, and Pepper will be hunting me down next.”

The men laughed, and Bucky grabbed Steve’s shoulder.

“Come on man. I think she’s capable of taking care of herself for 30 minutes tops. She’s done it this long,” he winked at you making you grin back at him.

“Yeah, yeah. Ok I give up,” Steve laughed. “Just make sure I can find you later. I hoping you have room on your list for a dance with me if there isn’t already a line of course.” Steve grinned dipping his chin down to you.

“I think I can fit you in,” you played back.

“Good,” he smiled before Bucky pulled on him and he turned back from him to you. “I’ll find you soon.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” you shouted as he started blending into the crowd.

The last thing you saw was his blue eyes watching you, and the whites of his teeth from grinning widly before he disappeared fully.

“You are going to be the end of me Steven Rogers. And I can’t wait,” you whispered to yourself before taking a small sip of your drink.

Chapter 18

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the-observant-frisbeetarian · 5 years

Text

Chapter 5

Auf Wiedersehen, Sweetheart by George deValier

Feliciano lay in long, sun drenched grass with Ludwig beside him, smiling, a ray of orange sunlight turning his hair to gold. He reached for Feliciano and pulled him close with warm, strong arms. Feliciano gasped, ran his fingers through that golden hair, shuddered at the soft touch of Ludwig's lips on his neck. All was silent around them… no one else existed in the entire world. Feliciano threw his head back and moaned. "Ludwig…"

A deafening bang exploded in his ears and Feliciano's eyes shot open, blinking in the sudden soft light. It took him a few moments to remember where he was, and when he did, he could hear Lovino's frantic breathing cut through the silence of the bedroom. He turned his head to see Lovino limp heavily from the front door to the dresser, take the glass tomato Antonio had given him from its surface, and clutch it tightly in his hand before smashing it suddenly to the ground. Feliciano blinked in shock and pushed himself upright, the last vestiges of sleep falling away. "Lovino, what are you doing?"

Lovino barely noticed him. He just dropped to his knees, placed the lantern on the ground and searched through the shards of glass until he found something. He held the tiny object up to the light. Lovino stared at it, unmoving, breathing heavily, before he closed his hand over it and clutched it to his chest. He laughed bitterly. "Bastard."

Feliciano pulled himself out of bed, confused and worried. "What is it?"

"Nothing. It's nothing." Lovino put his head in his hands briefly. "Oh God, it's nothing, nothing."

Feliciano dropped to the floor beside Lovino, grasping his hand and opening it to see what he held. It was a plain, silver ring. Lovino did not protest when Feliciano took it and held the ring up to the light, turning it over in his fingers. There were letters inscribed on the inside. Feliciano read out the unfamiliar words. "Te quiero. What does that mean?"

"Nothing," Lovino repeated firmly. "Forget it." He snatched the ring back and thrust it in his pocket. "Just forget you saw it, and I'll forget I saw it, and we'll all just forget that any of this ever happened." Feliciano got the feeling he was talking about something other than the ring.

"Forget that what happened? Lovino? What happened?"

Lovino just shook his head and pulled himself to his feet. "Nothing," he repeated.

"What's the time? Why are you home so late? Where is Antonio? Grandpa said you hurt your ankle, are you all right? Lovino, you look like you are going to fall over."

"Feliciano," said Lovino as he limped shakily to his bed. "Go back to sleep."

Feliciano nodded reluctantly, realising that was the most he was going to get out of Lovino tonight. "Will you at least let me bandage your ankle?" Lovino responded, but it was muffled by a pillow. "I'm sorry?"

"I said, Antonio already did that. Now shut up."

Feliciano smirked at that. He quickly swept up the broken shards and discarded them, a little disappointed as he watched them fall into the bin. It was a shame that Lovino had to break something so pretty just to find out what was inside it. Te quiero. He would have to find out what it meant. Feliciano sighed and climbed back into bed, hoping that he could fall back into the same dream he had been woken out of.

The wind carried with it a deep and bitter chill as Feliciano walked through the cold morning air. The winter had been unusually mild so far, and even though the day before had been unseasonably warm, there had been a sudden change almost overnight. Feliciano could even make out snow on the mountains. Along with the sudden freeze, dark clouds had settled on the horizon, and Feliciano watched them uneasily as he strolled along the road. He never had liked winter storms, with the freezing rain and the piercing lightning and the thunder that rolled off the mountains and echoed back twice as loud. When Feliciano was little, Grandpa Roma used to say that the thunder was the old Gods fighting each other. That just scared him more.

Feliciano was fairly sure Ludwig would not be waiting for him this early, but he made his way towards the oak tree anyway. And when he made out the familiar military uniform and blond hair in the distance, his heart leapt and he ran.

"Ludwig! Ludwig, you came!" Feliciano stumbled as he reached the tree and laughed breathlessly when Ludwig grasped his arms to steady him.

"Careful," said Ludwig, but his lips twitched in a small smile.

"I was worried you wouldn't come ba -" Feliciano stopped himself. "I was worried you would be too busy."

"I am busy, but... not enough to keep me away." Ludwig shrugged helplessly. "I think only one thing would be."

The words sent a dizzying thrill through Feliciano, even as they filled him with dread. He did not ask what that thing would be... he did not want to think about that now. Today he wanted to forget the dangers, forget the right and wrong. Today, he just wanted to be with Ludwig. He looked down and realised with a jolt that Ludwig was still holding him by the arms. Ludwig noticed at the same time and immediately dropped his hands, turning red. "I'm sorry, I..."

"Come with me." Feliciano did not give Ludwig a chance to finish, to start overthinking and grow embarrassed. "I want to show you a place." He grasped Ludwig's hand then turned and headed across the field. "You like walking, don't you? That's good because it's fairly far away. Oh, but don't worry, we'll get there before noon. I'm not going to lead you into the mountains, Ludwig!"

"Uh... just where are we going?" Ludwig sounded a little surprised, but as though he was trying to hide it.

"If I tell you, it won't be a surprise!"

"It's a surprise?"

Feliciano laughed gleefully. "It is now!" Actually, he was not even completely sure himself where they were heading. But he was sure he would find the perfect place. A place where no one could find them; where they could be all that existed in the entire world. A place far enough away that by the time they walked there and back, they would have spent the whole day together.

Usually this field would be well tilled, but lately there had been little time for the usual work. The green grass brushed almost to their knees, occasionally brightening to yellow when the sun broke through the dark clouds. Feliciano was relieved to see that the darkest of them remained at a distance. Ludwig's hand remained warm and firm in his as they ambled side by side, heading towards the sloping hill at the end of the field. Feliciano swung his basket by his side and wondered if he would miss the market again today. He hoped so. After all, how could be not prefer to spend the day wandering over the countryside hand in hand with Ludwig? It almost felt like they could just keep going… keep going towards the mountains, away from everything, and never come back. Feliciano snuck a sideways glance at Ludwig to find him looking back. They both immediately looked away.

"The weather has certainly turned," said Ludwig quickly.

"They say a storm will hit before the spring," said Feliciano, before remembering the sentence as his code from the previous day. He glanced nervously at Ludwig, but he did not seem to have noticed anything unusual.

"It looks like it, doesn't it. Are you cold?" asked Ludwig.

Feliciano shook his head and smiled happily at the concerned tone in Ludwig's voice. "I'm fine."

Ludwig nodded. "And… how are you? After yesterday, I mean. Are you all right, Feliciano?"

Feliciano suddenly remembered the events in the town square and wished he hadn't. Today he was supposed to be forgetting all that. "Well... yes. Thank you for being there to... thank you for being there." Ludwig had not released his hand yet. Feliciano clutched even tighter to it.

"I did not want you to see that. You should not have to see things like that." Feliciano's chest leapt but he kept his eyes on the grass beneath their feet. Ludwig was silent for a long time. "We're not all like that," he said finally, almost a whisper.

"I know that. Of course you're not." Feliciano was certain, beyond any doubt, that Ludwig was one of the best men he had ever known. To compare him for a moment to those police in the square, whose job was to torture and maim and murder, was unthinkable. "You're a good man. I can tell."

Ludwig turned his head sharply, looking almost upset. "I've always been able to control things. But I am not strong enough to control everything, apparently."

"What a silly thing to say, Ludwig. No one is strong enough to control everything. Not even Grandpa Roma. And he's the strongest man I know. Once a tractor broke down in the field and Grandpa pushed it all the way home by himself. With Lovino and I sitting on it and yelling at him to go faster."

"He sounds a bit like my grandfather."

Feliciano was always so happy hearing even the smallest thing about Ludwig's life. He tried to imagine Ludwig's grandfather; if he was tall and strong and handsome like Ludwig, or as different from him as Grandpa Roma was from Feliciano. "Maybe our Grandpas would be friends if they met."

Ludwig gave a small shrug, but he did not look convinced. "Who knows."

The grass grew shorter beneath their feet as they reached the edge of the field and headed up the sloping rise. Clusters of trees dotted the landscape before them, the mountains rose in the distance, and the green rolling hills on all sides were splashed with patches of red and orange and purple. Ludwig stayed silent for the most part, letting Feliciano ramble on and point out the landmarks below as they climbed - the broken down tank that had sat by the roadside for a year, the outline of the village in the distance, the rows of farm houses growing smaller below them. With his stomach fluttering madly and a sort of wild excitement running through him, Feliciano felt the concerns and dangers and fears melt behind him the further away he walked with Ludwig. He felt practically giddy as he looked down at their hands still clasped… Ludwig had not moved to pull away. He passed his basket to Ludwig before leaning down to pluck a flower. He then placed it carefully in Ludwig's jacket. "That's a giglio bianco." Ludwig smiled and Feliciano's heart skipped a beat.

"White lily."

"Esatto!" said Feliciano, smiling back. He rattled off the names of the flowers he recognised as they passed. "And there is an agno casto, and those are valeriana rossa. And oh, here, we grow this in the garden." Feliciano plucked a sprig of rosemary and pressed it into Ludwig's jacket buttonhole next to the lily. "And there's rosmarino."

"That's for remembrance," said Ludwig. Feliciano blinked quizzically. "It's from Shakespeare. Hamlet," Ludwig explained.

"Oh!" said Feliciano in understanding. "Yes, Grandpa read that to us a few times. 'Pray you, love, remember.'" He smiled wistfully. Grandpa always used to read English stories to him and Lovino, back before the war started and there were too many more important things to do. "Well there you are, Ludwig, now you will not forget me!"

"Feliciano, I don't need a sprig of rosemary to remember you. Nothing could ever make me forget." Feliciano laughed happily as Ludwig cleared his throat and quickly changed the subject. "You're not too cold?" he asked again.

"It is not so bad while walking." Feliciano gave Ludwig a strange look. He had already answered this question. "Are you cold?"

"No. Your winters here are very mild compared to my home."

"Really? Does it also rain a lot, like in England? Do you get lots of snow? Is it… oh, Ludwig, look, let's stop over here!" Feliciano noticed a small copse of trees, like a little dark island in the middle of the vast rolling green, and pulled Ludwig over to it. It was darker under the overhead foliage, but the sunlight still streamed through and bathed the thicket in gold and shadow. Feliciano finally let go of Ludwig's hand to wander between the tree trunks, leisurely reaching up and picking a leaf off each one. He twirled them absently between his fingers. "Do you miss it?" he asked, peering back up at Ludwig through a low hanging branch. "Your home?"

"Of course. Very much. And my grandfather. And my brother." Ludwig followed Feliciano at a short distance as they wandered under the dark cover of leaves. He seemed quite content to follow wherever Feliciano led today.

"And your friends?"

Ludwig scratched the back of his neck nervously. "I've never had many friends."

Feliciano was surprised. "No friends?"

Ludwig shook his head. "Gilbert was always the popular one. Usually people just seem afraid of me. Or I suppose I just don't talk enough to..." Ludwig shrugged. "I don't know."

Feliciano found that strange. He was usually afraid of everything... and yet Ludwig did not scare him at all. He reached up and plucked another leaf from a tree. "I'm not very good at making friends either, Ludwig. Although it's not because I don't talk... actually, I think that might be the problem. I mean, I always try to be nice to people, but they usually end up saying 'Shut up, Feliciano, you're so annoying!' or 'You're nothing like your Grandpa, are you?' or they just look at me strangely and walk away. You don't ever do that, though. You never tell me to shut up."

"That is because I do not want you to shut up."

Ludwig always seemed to know the exact thing to say to make Feliciano's heart leap and his knees weaken. He turned quickly to hide the silly smile that spread across his face, continuing to weave between the tree trunks and pick leaves. He came to one where the branch was too high and jumped a few times, his fingers straining to reach the leaf just centimetres out of his grasp. Then his stomach tightened when he felt Ludwig walk up behind him. He could smell the familiar scent of his jacket; could feel Ludwig's chest inches from his back, his close presence like an electrical charge. Ludwig reached up, his arm brushing Feliciano's shoulder, and plucked the leaf from the branch before pressing it into Feliciano's shaking hand. Feliciano just stared at it dazedly, suddenly overwhelmed with that increasingly desperate desire to touch Ludwig. He turned, almost in a daze. Ludwig was still so close behind him. But it wasn't close enough. Feliciano reached up and planted the leaf in Ludwig's buttonhole, his fingers lingering too long on the firm chest. Ludwig raised an eyebrow.

"Soon I will have a garden in my jacket."

Feliciano laughed, forcing himself to drop his hands and look at the ground. He tried to breathe deeply; tried to remember how. He took a reluctant step back and shivered.

"You are sure you're not too cold?" asked Ludwig.

"No," said Feliciano immediately, hiding his shaking hands in his pockets.

Ludwig sounded unconvinced. "Your jacket does not look warm enough."

"It is just a little colder under the trees, that's all." Why did Ludwig keep asking if he was cold?

Feliciano heard a shuffling and looked up in surprise to see Ludwig shrugging off his jacket. He turned red and held it out, staring at his feet the whole time. "Here."

Oh. Because he was trying to give him his jacket. Feliciano bit his lip. It was such a silly gesture… something that Grandpa Roma would do to make the girls in town giggle. And yet Feliciano felt lightheaded, like his chest would burst, and his lips pulled into a smile he could not control. He was filled with such ridiculous happiness at the insistent gesture.

But then he looked at the jacket. The military grey, the decorations on the chest, the lines on the shoulder, the badges at the collar. The lily and rosemary; the eagle and the swastika. Feliciano's stomach dropped. Could he wear that? What would that mean? Before he could make up his mind, Ludwig took a step towards him and placed the jacket over his shoulders. Feliciano gasped, a sharp breath, inhaling the clean and warm scent. The jacket fell heavy and much too wide over his shoulders. He pushed his hands slowly through the arms and laughed when they did not reach the cuffs. Then he smiled up at Ludwig. Ludwig gazed back intently, his blue eyes bright. And Feliciano knew it was all right. It had to be all right. Because right now, it wasn't a military jacket. It was Ludwig's jacket.

"We're nearly there, Ludwig," said Feliciano, still unsure where they were headed. But he just took Ludwig's hand again and drew him out of the trees, into the sunshine and further up the green hill. They continued to climb as the sun rose higher and the chill of the air around them lessened. Feliciano was not sure if the new warmth that flooded him was from the sun, the jacket, or the fact that Ludwig again made no move to pull his hand away.

It did not take much longer before Feliciano found a suitable destination, a ruined structure that sat close to the highest point of the sloping hill. The ceiling of the old church had long since crumbled, but a few broken pillars and stone wall remnants remained scattered around a cracked courtyard. Grass and weeds pushed insistently through cracks in the stone floor, and long, green tendrils grew twisted around the few remaining arched windows.

Feliciano jumped up onto the eroded barricade that encircled the ruins, Ludwig holding him steady by the hand. He pointed out over the fields that spread out below them, the houses and roads and buildings that looked like a tiny doll's village. "And look, Ludwig, there's our oak tree."

"Yes, it is very beautiful," said Ludwig, looking not at the view, but up at Feliciano. "Don't fall."

"Don't be silly Ludwig, you're holding my hand, I won't fall. And if I do you'll catch me." Feliciano made his way unsteadily along the rocky wall, clinging firmly to Ludwig's steady grip. He walked until they reached a spot where a few tall stone fragments blocked the direct sunlight. Feliciano smiled down into Ludwig's worried face. "Tell me more about your home. Tell me about your village."

"Very well, but only if you stop and get down before you hurt yourself."

Feliciano laughed and let Ludwig help him down. He sat on the broken wall, gesturing for Ludwig to sit beside him. "Well?"

"Well," said Ludwig thoughtfully as he sat. "It is small. And very similar to what you have here… farms, and fields, and trees. And yet different… wilder, almost. There is a beautiful castle that overlooks the town. And it is very old… I believe the castle dates from the fifteenth century. And in the village there is a beer hall, one that I go to with Grandfather and Gilbert every Sunday after church." Ludwig smiled slightly. Feliciano reminded himself to breathe. "All our lives we have gone to that same beer hall. And everyone knows each other; we have known each other our whole lives. It is warm and friendly. It is wonderful. It is home." Ludwig's face was alight, and the remainder of his awkwardness seemed to fall away. Feliciano was transfixed.

"I'd like to go there one day." A sudden low, muted roar broke the stillness of the morning. The familiar sound of distant bombs echoed off the mountains, but Feliciano determinedly ignored them. "Can we go there one day, Ludwig?"

Ludwig closed his eyes briefly. "Yes. We can go there one day." At that moment, the sun broke through the clouds and rose above the ruins behind them, shining down brilliantly, illuminating the green sloping rise, the clusters of trees, the bright patches of colour, the wide open fields and the scattered houses below them. Looking across the beautiful and familiar view, Feliciano could understand Ludwig's love for his home; his need to fight for and protect it, to serve in its name. It was something Feliciano understood far too well.

"I'd bet your village is just as pretty as this, Ludwig," sighed Feliciano. Pretty, beautiful, glorious... just like this day that he wanted to last forever. "Ooh, I know, I'll photograph it for you!" Feliciano reached into the basket Ludwig had placed on the ground and took out his camera. He hefted it up and angled it towards the stunning view before him. Ludwig immediately sat up straighter and leant over to look more closely.

"What's this?"

"My Grandpa's camera! Isn't it fantastic?" The camera was for the rare occasions he might have to take photographs of strategic positions. Instead Feliciano liked to take photographs of birds and flowers and pretty girls. "Lovino taught me how to develop the pictures and everything. Smile!" Ludwig didn't, but Feliciano took a photograph of him anyway. "Here, now take one of me."

Feliciano pressed the camera insistently into Ludwig's hands and tried not to think of the irony of handing a German a camera which was intended to be used against him. He just gave Ludwig a bright smile, almost laughing as Ludwig took the photograph. "There. Now, I'll develop them tonight and show you tomorrow." Feliciano waited for Ludwig to hand the camera back, but he just turned it over in his hands, staring at it intently. Feliciano waited as Ludwig looked it over thoroughly before finally looking up apologetically.

"This is a very good camera. One of the best."

"Really, is it? I don't really know much about that. Machines like this confuse me. I can never get the radio to work properly, I always seem to get someone yelling in Russian. And the first time Grandpa let me use the telephone I somehow had a thirty minute conversation with a man in Dublin. He was very nice but he kept calling me Fred." Ludwig laughed and Feliciano's stomach flipped. He so rarely heard that wonderful deep laugh.

"Well, it is certainly a wonderful machine." Ludwig placed the camera back in the basket. "And you are a strange, wonderful man, Feliciano. You are…" Ludwig stared at him in that way which confused Feliciano, delighted him, made him nervous and made the world stop around him. "You make me question everything I ever thought I knew."

"Um… I apologise?" said Feliciano, unsure if that was the correct response.

"Don't." Ludwig managed a smile and Feliciano's heart thrummed. He was fairly sure he was going to burst from happiness soon. It could not be possible to be this content just sitting and talking to someone. But this whole day had been wonderful, and Feliciano could never remember a time when he had been happier. He wondered if this was how Lovino might feel around Antonio if only he would calm down a little. Which reminded him…

"Ludwig," said Feliciano. "Te quiero." Ludwig turned white, then red, looked for a moment as though he was going to fall over, then began stammering a response before Feliciano interrupted him. "Do you have any idea what that means?" Ludwig paused, closed his eyes, and let out a long, shuddering breath.

"Oh. Oh, I see." He shook his head and almost laughed. "Why?"

"Do you know what it means? I think it might be Spanish."

"It is."

Feliciano was incredulous. "Why didn't you ever tell me you spoke Spanish, Ludwig, that's not fair, no wonder it is so easy for you to learn Italian when German is really hard for…"

"I don't speak Spanish," interrupted Ludwig. "It's just that my brother had a good friend who was Spanish, before the war, and he taught us to say a few words."

"Oh." Feliciano almost felt embarrassed. He was not used to the feeling. "But you understand 'Te quiero'?"

Ludwig turned red again. "Well, it means... from what I remember, which might be wrong, I think it means… I love you." Ludwig said the words in a rush. Feliciano was not sure he had heard them correctly.

"I lo… oh." Feliciano stared into the distance, a little dazed. "I love you? Really?"

"Yes." Ludwig shifted uncomfortably and smoothed his hair absently.

"Oh." So Antonio was in love with Lovino. Feliciano could not say he was surprised, really. That would certainly explain a lot. And was really quite obvious, come to think of it. No wonder Grandpa Roma was worried. Maybe he thought Lovino would run away to Spain. Feliciano broke out of his thoughts and looked sideways at Ludwig, who stared fixedly at the ground. "What is 'I love you' in German?"

"It's... well, it's..." Ludwig went still and took a steadying breath. "Ich liebe dich." Ludwig said it so softly Feliciano could barely hear.

"I'm sorry?"

Ludwig looked up out across the fields, clenched his hands into fists, then turned to face Feliciano. "Ich liebe dich."

Feliciano froze, caught in those eyes, the colour of the sky behind the clouds. Ludwig was so close. So warm, so real, so everything… "Ti amo." Ludwig blushed deeper and Feliciano stumbled over a few words, trying to explain while at the same time realising that he meant it. More than anything else he had ever said, he meant it. "In Italian, it is 'Ti amo.'"

"Ti amo."

Feliciano shivered at the words, even though Ludwig was only repeating them. A familiar silence settled around them, heavy with hope and tension and uncertainty and confusion. It was abruptly broken when a massive roar tore through the sky. Feliciano looked up to see three planes flying in a triangle formation overhead. He still had not quite gotten used to the planes that were always flying overhead these days.

"Those are ours," said Ludwig, a hint of relief mixed with the pride in his voice.

"Wow," said Feliciano, watching as the planes disappeared into the distance almost as suddenly as they had appeared, leaving three white trails in their wake. "Is that what your plane looks like, Ludwig?"

"Yes."

"What is it like to fly in one of those?"

"It is…" Ludwig paused for a moment, searching for a response. "There is no word for it. Not in English, not in German. It is… indescribable."

"You love it. Flying." It was obvious when Ludwig spoke about something important to him. His eyes shone brighter and his carefully composed stiffness almost drained away. It was mesmerising.

"It is everything to me."

Everything. Feliciano nodded and absently plucked a weed that grew through the stone wall. He listened to the gentle sound of the wind rustling through the grass as the roaring of the planes finally disappeared. Then he took a deep breath and came to a decision. Some things are just worth the risk... "Do you have a girlfriend, Ludwig?" He was fairly sure Ludwig would have mentioned by now if he did, but Feliciano did not know another way to ask what he wanted to know.

"No," said Ludwig firmly. "My only girl is my Messerschmitt."

"Who's Mrs Schmitt?"

Ludwig almost laughed. "No, my plane. She's a Messerschmitt Bf 109. Her name is Greta."

"Your plane's name is Greta?"

"Yes."

"Greta Schmitt."

This time Ludwig did laugh. "Just Greta. We all name our planes. They are very special to us."

"But there is no special girl." Feliciano was aware that he was treading dangerously, but he did not want to stop.

Ludwig answered slowly. "No."

"Why?"

Ludwig's eyes flashed as he suddenly stared heatedly at Feliciano. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing!" said Feliciano quickly, leaning back, a small shock running through him. So Ludwig could look scary after all. "I didn't… I mean, I just… you're just such a nice guy and all I thought you would have had a girlfriend, I'm sorry if I upset you, I really didn't mean to."

Ludwig's eyes softened then he sighed and looked at the ground. "No, I am sorry. I just... no, I do not have a girlfriend."

"Why is that?" asked Feliciano carefully.

"Because… well..." Ludwig sat stiffly, on guard once again, far from his relaxed demeanour of earlier and nowhere near his normal composed and controlled self. "This is nothing, forget about it."

Feliciano's heart started to pound. "But, it sounds like there is a reason, tell me."

"Please, Feliciano." Ludwig's eyes were wide and he almost seemed to be trying not to panic. "Just leave it."

"I don't want to leave it, there's something you want to say, but you're not telling me! What is it?"

Ludwig did not answer right away. "You could never understand," he said finally, then immediately winced as though he had said too much.

"Maybe…" A small hopeful suspicion started to swell in Feliciano's chest. "Maybe I could. Understand, that is."

The silence was absolute as their eyes met. Feliciano felt like he was waiting on a knife's edge and he couldn't move, his body rooted to the spot, unable to look away, his breath coming too fast as the air became heavy with tension around him. How did time always seem to stop when Ludwig looked into his eyes like this? Ludwig finally tore his eyes away, his expression pained and conflicted. "Maybe I will explain another time."

Feliciano shoulders sagged as he let out a deep breath. "Oh." He was filled with frustration and disappointment once again. He did not even know what he had been waiting for, but he was fairly sure this wasn't it.

"I will explain, I just..." Ludwig leant forward briefly, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. "I need to think."

"That's all right. I can wait, Ludwig. I don't mind waiting." Feliciano hesitantly reached out and placed his hand on Ludwig's, half expecting him to push it away. But Ludwig immediately clasped it in his. "I'd wait forever."

The hours flew by like seconds, until to Feliciano's surprise and anguish, he noticed that the sun was swiftly descending to late afternoon. He did not want the sun to descend. He did not want the day to end. He never wanted to leave this place. Feliciano was starting to love these places - these magical spots scattered across the countryside where it felt like the world stopped and he could forget about everything but the grass beneath his feet and the sky above him. Places like the little thicket of trees and the oak tree and the golden field around it. Places he sat and spoke with Ludwig like they were somewhere else, somewhere only they existed, where they were not enemies and there was no war and no Resistenza and no sunset when Ludwig had to turn and leave.

"You will miss the market again today?" Ludwig's voice almost startled Feliciano.

"Yes." Feliciano did not know what Grandpa Roma would say now that he had missed the market three days in a row. Neither did he know how he would explain it. And he wasn't really surprised to find that he didn't really care.

"We had better start walking back."

That familiar sinking feeling settled in Feliciano's stomach. "Yes."

Ludwig stood slowly, pulling Feliciano reluctantly to his feet. They walked back slowly, silently. They did not need to speak. It was one of the first times in Feliciano's life when he was completely comfortable walking beside someone in silence. As they headed across the rise, down the hill, into the field, their steps grew slower and smaller until they were ambling and almost pulling back as they approached the oak tree. It was only when they reached the tree that Feliciano finally spoke, looking down at Ludwig's jacket as he prepared to reluctantly take it off. "Oh, I lost your flower."

"That's all right, I still have the other one you gave me." Feliciano blinked in surprise. "The red flower… the other day," Ludwig explained. "You had it in your pocket."

Feliciano's eyes widened in understanding. His chest swelled with joy, that Ludwig would remember and keep such a silly little thing. "You kept that?"

"Of course. I keep it in Greta's cockpit. It is my lucky charm."

But that joy turned into a now familiar ache when he looked up into Ludwig's face, into his eyes. Because Ludwig would soon be leaving him again, and Feliciano could not be certain he would come back, and this time the thought physically hurt. Feliciano shrugged off Ludwig's jacket, feeling immediately colder. He handed it over reluctantly. "Be careful tonight. Come back to me. Please. Tomorrow."

Ludwig nodded, his eyes dark and conflicted. "Yes. Tomorrow, Feliciano." Then he turned to walk away. And something inside Feliciano snapped.

"Wait, no."

Ludwig stopped short and turned back, looking worried at the almost panicked tone in Feliciano's voice. "Feliciano? What is it?"

Feliciano clenched his hands, tried to remember to breathe. Had he really said that? Was he really going to say this? But he had no choice. He could not let another day end like this. "Don't leave like this again."

"I don't..." Ludwig's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "It is getting late, Feliciano. You know I have to leave."

"Not like this. Please don't just say goodbye and walk away and…" He was unable to stop speaking the words. "I don't want you to go, Ludwig. I don't want you to go into battle. I don't want you to move base. I don't want you to go home to Germany. I want you to stay here with me, forever." Feliciano could not look at Ludwig. He could not bear to see the way he might be looking at him.

Of course the tears came. Feliciano did not bother trying to stop them. He was unsure of what he was saying, unsure of what was happening. All he knew was that he could not stop. "I'm sorry, Ludwig, I am. I don't know what I want but I… I know that if you just say goodbye and walk away again I won't be able to stand it, I won't, because every time you do I feel like I'm dying and it hurts so much." He finally looked up to find Ludwig staring at him with an expression he could not read, almost like he was angry, and still Feliciano could not stop. "Please, Ludwig, don't just walk away this time, please stay and… and I just need… I just need you to… I need you closer, and…"

Feliciano clenched his eyes shut, angry at himself that he did not know what he wanted to say, or how to say it. He jumped when he felt Ludwig's fingertips cold on his cheek, then pressed into them, so scared that Ludwig would push him away. He opened his eyes to find Ludwig's burning into his. His fingers felt like icy fire as they traced over Feliciano' cheek and into his hair. Feliciano was just about to lose control and fall against him when Ludwig reached out and pulled him close until their bodies pressed together. Feliciano gasped at the stunning, perfect feeling. Yes, like this. Closer, like this - this was what he wanted. And then Ludwig leant down and his lips were against Feliciano's ear and Feliciano nearly cried out from the feeling.

"I said I would explain…"

"I… what?" Feliciano could hardly concentrate on Ludwig's words. All he could feel, all he could think was Ludwig's arm around him, Ludwig's fingers in his hair, Ludwig's lips whispering against his ear…

"Earlier. I said I would explain… another time. Not now." Ludwig spoke with barely suppressed urgency, his grip on Feliciano almost painful. Feliciano tried to lean further into it.

"Why, Ludwig?" Feliciano clutched the front of Ludwig's jacket with shaking hands, pressed closer, inhaled the smell of his hair. "Tell me…" He could feel Ludwig's heart beating... why was it so steady when Feliciano's was pounding like a drum?

"Meet me here tomorrow."

"I'll be here." Feliciano tried to hide himself in the curve of Ludwig's neck, to block out the sky and the world and everything in it until nothing existed but the two of them. "I promise I'll wait. I'll always wait for you." Ludwig straightened and pulled back, even as Feliciano tried to stop him. His eyes still held that familiar look of conflict, but they seemed calmer somehow. Feliciano wished he could feel the same but all he felt was devastation that once again Ludwig was leaving him. He swallowed past the lump in his throat. "Auf wiedersehen, sweetheart."

"Bello, ciao." Ludwig held him for one moment more before tearing himself away and marching towards the road. Feliciano turned immediately and looked up at the growing storm clouds with wide, wet eyes. He was breathless, confused, stunned. And he could no longer watch Ludwig walk away.

Next Chapter

Disclaimer: This story belongs to George deValier. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I own nothing.

#Auf Wiedersehen Sweetheart chapter 5

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moodyvalentinestories · 5 years

Text

O Rachel, Wherefore Art Thou My Student | Irrelevant

Summary: Chapter 9: Irrelevant of “O Thomas Hunt, Wherefore Art Thou My Professor?” but from Hunt’s perspective. | The night of the Freshman Awards Show… and a certain student kept pushing Thomas’ buttons. | This is not a complete standalone story (yet) so make sure you have read Wherefore Art Thou My Professor first.

Notes: I often write chapters from other characters’ POVs anyway because it helps me understand them better so I figured I might as well publish them.

Also, you can read this on AO3 if you prefer that.

Every semester, he had to endure it: the Freshman Award Show. It was the reason he never wanted to teach Hollywood 101 again. Hosting it was the worst part of his job – or at least one of the worst parts. However, he didn’t have much of a choice.

Straightening his tie, making sure he looked presentable, he grabbed the cards from his desk and headed to the theatre. He hadn’t seen any of the projects yet – save for the scene he’d seen Rachel Fields and her friends perform – and he didn’t particularly look forward to seeing them. They were all made by Freshman with precious little experience. All he could hope for was for them not to make a fool out of him.

Still lost in thought, Thomas reached the theatre. Before he could go inside, though, he noticed a young woman running out of the building, towards a park bench. Even in the dark, he recognised her immediately. It was none other than Rachel Fields. She looked absolutely stunning – her gold dress, which was just sexy enough while still remaining tasteful, sent a wave of inappropriate thoughts through Thomas’ mind. Yet it was clear that she was in distress.

While his head was debating whether or not he should talk to her, his feet had already started walking. He came up behind her and before he could even say anything, she spun around. “Didn’t I tell you to get us some seats? I swear, I–”

She stopped mid-sentence, presumably when she realised it was her professor who stood in front of her, not whoever she thought it was.

“A little irritable tonight, are we?” Thomas said.

“Just… the nerves.”

He hadn’t expected her to say that. During every interaction they’d had, she had been quite confident – cocky, even. “I must say, you did not strike me as the type to get nervous,” he said, an eyebrow raised.

“That’s because you don’t know me at all,” she replied and rolled her eyes, turning back around to walk away from him.

Thomas tried to convince himself that it would be best to just leave her alone. He certainly didn’t want to follow her. Yet that was exactly what he did. “You made it seem like you believed in what you created. Is that no longer true?”

She seemed just as surprised that he stayed as he was. “No, it is…” she said as she sat down on the bench nearby, leaving Thomas to be unsure of what to do.

He briefly considered sitting down next to her but decided against it. He’d be going inside in just a few seconds, after all. “Then you have no reason to be nervous. Get back inside before anyone notices–”

Before he could finish his sentence, Rachel interrupted him. “I do have a reason! Just because I think I did a good job doesn’t mean others will, too.”

And once again, she’d said something he didn’t expect. Except this time, it was a rather disappointing surprise. With a scowl, he shook his head at her. “And now you care what the general public thinks? You truly manage to fall below my expectations every time.”

He was already walking towards the theatre, somewhat frustrated with her for a reason he couldn’t discern, when she said something else. “I care about your opinion.”

Stopping dead in his tracks, he wondered if he’d heard wrong. “What?” he asked as he turned back to her. She’d never shown that she cared. She’d only disrespected him – more times than one would expect, given the short amount of time she’d been at the university.

“I just mean… I need good grades if I don’t want to get… expelled. And I… I can’t have you, a member of the board, hate me,” she stuttered.

Hate her? Thomas wasn’t sure how he felt about the peculiar young woman, but one thing he did know was that he didn’t hate her. So all he could do was let out a chuckle as he came up with the most blatant lie he’d ever told. “I do not hate you, Miss Fields. You’re far too irrelevant to me.”

As soon as the words had left his mouth, he regretted them. It may have been the right thing to say, but the look on Rachel’s face as she heard them was – for lack of a better word – heartbreaking.

He was about to apologise and tell her that he didn’t mean it in an offensive way at all, but she ran past him, back into the building. He was left standing there, dumbfounded. While he realised what he said was hurtful, he hadn’t expected Rachel to be so… fragile. She’d always seemed rather tough.

After a few minutes, Thomas walked inside as well, and stepped onto the stage to start the show.

Even though hosting it was a tedious task, he was grateful he at least got to do something to take his mind off the conversation with Rachel. Until she and the boy she’d paired up with walked onto the stage.

The way she strode towards the mic with determination, Thomas knew this wouldn’t go over well. And he was quite certain it was entirely his fault.

“Remember how Professor Hunt said he wouldn’t assign us a project for this so we wouldn’t blame him if it turned out terrible?” As she spoke, the boy next to her tried to take the microphone from her. He, naturally, wasn’t successful. Rachel was a force to be reckoned with and, clearly, she wouldn’t let anyone stop her once she set her mind to something. While Thomas admired that, he knew he had to step in. She’d already embarrassed him enough and he wasn’t going to let her do so any further. “Well, guess what, we had the displeasure of getting our assignment from him personally. Now, I am proud of what we made of it, but I’d just like to say–”

Once he reached the centre of the stage, he ripped the microphone out of Rachel’s hand. “That’s quite enough, Miss Fields,” he said, keeping one of his hands on the mic so the entire audience wouldn’t hear. “What do you think you are doing? Are you trying to get expelled?”

As angry as he was with her for embarrassing him, he was far more worried for her. She was being a little brat and, knowing how many professors sat in the audience, he knew it wouldn’t help her case. Not that he cared. He simply didn’t feel like her talent should go to waste.

But she didn’t look angry. In fact, she didn’t show any emotion whatsoever. She simply shrugged.

With a shake of his head, Thomas handed the microphone to Rachel’s partner, who was clearly overwhelmed. He said something about the film, but Thomas couldn’t hear. He was focused on Rachel, who just stood there awkwardly.

As the speech was over, and the film started to play, Thomas grabbed Rachel by the arm before she could go back to her seat and pulled her backstage, to a small office that had once been his. He shut the door behind them, not even bothering to turn on the lights before he started yelling.

“Are you completely out of your mind?”

She didn’t look at him. She didn’t even speak. She simply shrugged, again.

“Did I not tell you not to embarrass me?” he asked, still far too loud, in an attempt to at least get her to speak.

“Why would I care if I embarrassed you?” she snapped. “Maybe you’re irrelevant to me, too.”

He let out a sigh. Of course, he’d already suspected this was the reason for her behaviour. Nonetheless, it was quite immature. “Is that what this is about?”

Again, she only shrugged. Her unwillingness to speak to him got on his nerves. She got on his nerves.

“Miss Fields, that was not personal. You’re simply a student. I have no reason to hate you. Strongly dislike you, especially after what just happened, yes. All I meant was that you should stop flattering yourself by thinking I care enough to hate you.”

She rolled her eyes at him, and despite feeling the urge to scold her for it, he didn’t and let her speak. “Whatever you say, Professor.”

He didn’t know what else to say. Clearly, she wasn’t going to have a reasonable conversation with him. Looking out of the window, he wondered why he even tried. She was a child who was, quite obviously, never going to listen to him. She’d told him earlier she cared about his opinion but she didn’t act like she did.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered after a while. “I really fucked up, didn’t I?”

He didn’t say anything. She was right. She had fucked up. But what was he to say? He knew he was partly at fault for her lashing out. She was just a college student, still trying to figure out her place in the world. And he’d told her she didn’t matter.

“It seems your film has ended. You should get back to your partner,” he simply said and led her back to the theatre.

#thomas hunt #thomas hunt ff #hwu #hollywood u #hwu hunt #professor hunt #wherefore art thou my student

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mugglelissa · 5 years

Note

Kylux red string of fate modern au

Thanks for the prompt! I’ve never written/read this theme before so I hope I did it justice:

Strings of Fate

Blurry masses of trees whizzed passed, a green smudge against the pale blue sky. Ben pressed his forehead against the window and felt the smooth glass cool his warmed skin. There was an odd stirring in his stomach, not quite car sickness, but something else--something rooted far deeper. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy visiting his Uncle Luke or that he wasn’t looking forward to meeting his new baby cousin, but there was a fierce clenching in his gut that warned him away. No, that wasn’t it--not away. Rather, he felt as if his insides were all twisted up, as if a thin but taut string was holding him together and pulling him along.

“Ben,” his mother announced as she put the car into park. “We’re here.”

He clicked off his seatbelt and stepped outside. Even the ground felt unsteady under his feet. Maybe he was getting sick; maybe it was entirely something else.

An hour later, Ben was getting restless. Uncle Luke and his mother were busy oohing and aahing at the pink wrinkled bundle called Rey and Ben still didn’t feel any better.

“Can I go to the park?” he asked, tugging on his mother’s sleeve.

She turned around and raised an eyebrow, taking in his flushed face. “Alright, but only to the one right out front. Don’t wander off from there.”

Ben nodded his agreement and rushed out the door. The burst of cool spring air was a balm to his heated skin. The relentless tug from before returned, stronger this time, and Ben nearly ran as he made his way towards the brand new playground in front of his uncle’s complex. He was halfway towards his favorite swing set when he stopped abruptly in his march.

Bright and vibrant, shining like a brand new penny, Ben’s eyes were drawn to the head of a reddish-blonde boy leaning against the slide. The sunlight reflecting off the metallic surface didn’t hold a candle to the dazzling shade of rusted-gold illuminated in the other boy’s strands of hair.

Ben’s feet moved of their own accord, like a moth to a flame, only coming to a halt when he was a nearly in front of the other boy. He must have looked quite a sight, eyes wide open and mouth slightly ajar. The fair-haired boy did not seem impressed.

“Can I help you with something?” He asked, mouth twisting into a scowl.

Ben dumbly shook his head but his lips parted all the same. “Your hair…”

“What about it?” the boy snapped, hands defensively smoothing the glowing locks.

Ben shrugged, a blush staining his cheeks. He toed nervously at a mound of loose pebbles. “It’s beautiful.”

The boy’s brow furrowed in confusion, but the look in his eyes softened ever so slightly. “I don’t appreciate being made fun of,” he replied stiffly.

“I’m not!” Ben protested earnestly. He took a timid step forward. “I--”

“Armie,” a woman’s voice rang across the playground. “Where did you go? Your father’s here to pick you up.”

“Armie?” Ben snorted, against his will. “Is that really your name?”

The blood drained from the other boy’s face. “Yes,” he hissed, anger filling his voice. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“No,” Ben chuckled, unable to control the laughter bubbling in his chest. “It’s just different, that’s all.”

The boy marched over, grabbing Ben’s shirt and yanking him closer. “I told you not to make fun of me,” he growled, fury glinting in his pale eyes.

“I wasn’t,” Ben insisted, a trickle of fear rising up his spine.

“Liar,” the boy spat, hastily letting go of Ben as he pushed him away.

Ben wobbled off balance and began to fall, his ankle smacking against the foot of the slide. He cried out in pain as he slammed into the ground, his knee landing right onto a jagged pile of gravel. Blood began to well up on his skin, slowly dripping down his leg. The other boy’s eyes widened, a flash of remorse forming on his face.

“Armie!” the woman’s voice returned. “Hurry up, your father hates to be left waiting!”

The boy’s head whipped around and, without a second glance back, he quickly rushed across the street and away from Ben.

True pain began to bloom in his injured knee. Ben’s vision swam as he watched the boy run away through a haze of unshed tears. He vowed to himself from that moment on to stay away from boys with shining copper hair. He hoped with all his heart to never meet that ill-tempered boy again.

II.

“And over here you can see First Order U’s library. Impressive, isn’t it?”

Ben rolled his eyes as the tour guide droned on about the first edition books the university's library held. Even his class advisor seemed a bit bored, stifling a yawn as he checked his watch every few minutes. Ben only signed up for this tour at his mother’s insistence. He had already picked out and applied to the art school of his dreams but his mother was adamant he should keep his options open. First Order University seemed a fine enough school, but it wasn’t really Ben’s style.

“Here is one of our open quads, perfect for studying out in nature,” the guide continued, arm waving enthusiastically at the open grassy field.

It seemed to Ben more students were laying out on blankets or playing frisbee than doing any actual studying. That was, except for one student.

Ben’s attention was quickly snatched away from the monotone tour guide and instead focused intently on a young man sitting on a bench beneath a tree. An intimidatingly large book was propped open over his lap and he chewed delicately at the tip of his pen as he studied it. What really caught Ben's eye, however, was the young man’s stunning hair. Gleaming in the sunlight, more copper than gold, the shining rays lit his vibrant strands to ethereal glowing. The shade was unique, alluring and oddly familiar. Ben felt a sharp twinge, a phantom pain of sorts shoot through his knee. He swiftly pushed the sensation aside.

A quick glance towards his advisor, tour guide and other students showed their attention was now fixed on the campus cafe in the other direction. Ben casually walked away, his pace increasing as he drew closer and closer to the young man.

“Mind if I join you?” Ben asked cheerily, gesturing to the empty spot on the bench beside the young man. He raised an eyebrow but nodded in agreement, returning his attention back to his book. Ben peered over the young man’s shoulder, eye catching on the header of his notebook.

Armitage Hux

“Armitage?” Ben muttered under his breath. Why did that sound familiar?

“Excuse me?” the young man icily asked.

Ben raised his hand in apology. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to be nosy. Is that your name?”

“No one calls me that,” the young man huffed in annoyance. “My name is Hux.”

“Hux,” Ben said with a smile, liking the way the word rolled off his tongue. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Ben.”

Hux sighed and placed his pen inside the book, partially closing the pages. He gave Ben an accessing look. “What are you, fifteen? Are you a professor’s kid or something?”

“No,” Ben bristled. “I’m a senior.” Hux raised a suspicious brow. “In high school,” Ben admitted, frowning at Hux’s answering smirk. “But I’m not some kid,” he muttered. “I’m eighteen.”

“Really?” Hux asked, a glint of interest entering his eyes. Ben’s pulse sped at the sight. “Eighteen you say?” He slowly looked Ben up and down, a considering expression across his face.

Ben swallowed roughly. “Yes, and I--”

“Ben!” Jordan, his classmate, rushed towards him and grabbed his arm. “You better come quick, Mr. Daniels isn't happy that you wandered off.”

“You best be going, Ben,” Hux chuckled with amusement. “You wouldn’t want to get detention, now would you?”

Ben scowled at him, not sure if he was angrier at Jordan, his advisor, or the gorgeous student--Hux--who had now returned his attention back to his book. Either way, it was a lost cause and he allowed himself to be pulled away and back towards the group, disappointment sinking into the pit of his stomach.

III.

The beer was cheap, and mostly flat, but Ben finished the last dregs of it before placing the empty glass back on the bar. He didn’t come here for the drinks anyway, and he doubted anyone else did either for that matter. Tonight, he was going to let loose and celebrate.

It had only taken several after-hour study groups but he finally passed his art history course. Now he only needed a few more credits and he would be ready to graduate for good. The music swelled and Ben let the beat course through his veins. The drinks might be weak and overpriced, but the music was always good and the crowd better. He made his way onto the dance floor, pushing past a sea of sweaty, writhing bodies.

Lights flashed from the ceiling, a collection of red, blues and pinks casting colorful shadows on the people below. He scanned the crowd, looking for a suitable partner to dance with, when he spotted a familiar sight. That particular shade of copper, the one he often dreamed about, now looking more of a rose-gold under the flickering lights, was right there, center of the room, body moving gracefully to the beat.

Ben’s feet moved quicker than his mind could process it, and he found himself right against the other man. Could it really be? Could this gorgeous stranger be the university student he chatted with those few years ago?

Ben’s hands went to the man’s hips, swaying in time with the music. The man’s piercing gaze settled on Ben, his eyes squinting as he took him in.

“Do I know you?” He asked, his voice faint over the pounding music. He didn’t seem perturbed by the stranger suddenly dancing against him, hips sliding together as his arms lightly draped over Ben’s shoulders. Then again, the patrons of his bar hardly ever cared about that sort of thing.

“Maybe,” Ben answered, leaning in to speak directly into the man’s ear. He felt the man shiver in return.

The song changed, the beat dropping lower and deeper. Ben moved with it, pressing closer and slotting a thigh between the other man’s legs. The pulsing music thudded in time with Ben’s hammering heart, his blood ran hot as the man moved with him. The man was slightly smaller than Ben, slender but with lithe muscles. Ben could just imagine how his body might feel beneath his own. He felt this thumbs press harder into the man’s hip bones, pulling him closer. Heat built between them, muggy air brushing against their sweat-slick skin.

Arousal pooled in Ben’s stomach and he leaned in again. “Come home with me,” he murmured, allowing his lips to brush against the man’s ear.

His studio apartment wasn’t far, just a few blocks away. It would take no time to get there, wouldn’t be long before he could undress the beautiful man before him, have him tangled in his sheets, panting his name, arching into his body.

The man’s pupils were blown wide, desire swimming in the pale green depths of his irises. Still, he reluctantly shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

Ben’s lower lip jutted out, and he found his lips pouting of their own volition. “Why?”

A broad arm wrapped around the man’s chest, pulling him away and off of Ben. “Here you go, darling,” the intruder said, handing the red-haired prince of Ben’s dreams a drink. “Hope you weren’t waiting too long.” He gave Ben a smarmy smile. “Thanks for keeping my boyfriend company while I got us some drinks. I can take over from here though.”

Ben’s beautiful stranger shrugged apologetically and allowed his boyfriend--Ben’s stomach turned at the word--to bring him closer as they began to dance and grind together. Ben backed away, knowing when to admit defeat when it stared him in the face. He half-heartedly searched for an other dance partner but soon gave up the chase. He could hardly see anyone else when the lights kept shining on that head of copper, and those elegant, pale limbs.

The man continued to dance with his boyfriend, their bodies entangled on the dance floor, but his gaze remained fixed on Ben. That bluish-green stare, the color of the ocean, drew Ben’s attention to him again and again like the sea at high tide.

It was only with great will and a heavy heart that Ben finally broke their connection and, utterly dejected, left the bar to go home.

IV.

Ben pulled nervously at his sleeve, hating the restrictive feeling of the crimson button up Rey insisted he wore tonight.

“Stop fidgeting,” she reprimanded, swatting his hand away from his wrist. “You look great.”

“I don’t see why I had to dress up,” Ben complained.

Rey sighed and gently knocked her shoulder against Ben’s arm. “A button up and a pair of clean jeans is hardly dressing up,” she chastised. “Oh!” She pointed excitedly towards the door. “Look, Poe and Rose are here. I’ll go bring them over.”

Ben watched her bound away with a small smile. Despite his complaints, he was glad his cousin was here to help calm his jittery nerves. This was the first art showing he’d ever had at a real gallery and he was grateful to have his family and friends here for support.

Patrons had been filtering in and out for the last hour and, while a few did stop to glance his at section of works, so far none had seemed interested in buying. He adjusted his collar one last time, ready to approach an older couple who was perusing his collection of prints, when he heard a familiar voice.

“Art’s not really my thing, Phas.”

“Oh come on,” a women replied. “You need more culture in your life.”

Ben quickly spun around to follow the voices. An alarmingly tall woman with platinum blonde hair stood next to…him.

It could hardly be anyone else; Ben knew that exact shade of golden-red hair by know, could paint the color in his sleep. He looked divine--stunning hair swept back, revealing his gorgeous eyes and pretty face. The collar of his crisp white button up peeking forth from the rich, blue sweater he wore over it. His charcoal slacks were perfectly tailored, showcasing the enticing lines of his thighs and curves of his calves.

Ben’s mouth went dry at the sight. The man’s tall friend wandered off, leaving him alone as he moved slowly from installation to installation. Ben could only stare as the man stopped in front of his biggest piece, an oil painting he’d named ‘Strings of Fate.’

Collecting his courage, Ben approached him.

“Do you like what you see?”

The man turned slowly, eyeing Ben carefully from head to toe. “Not too shabby,” he replied with a small smirk. Ben’s face flushed at the implication. The man smiled again and returned his attention to the painting. “It’s beautiful,” he admitted softly. “I’m not well versed in art but the use of color, the red, golds, and copper it looks like…”

“Sunlight?” Ben offered, his pulse racing.

The man nodded his head. “Yes, it’s hard to explain, but it feels, it feels familiar.” He turned his head to study Ben once more. “Sorry, do I know you from somewhere?”

Ben nodded, stepping closer, heart lodged painfully in his throat. “I think so.”

The man’s cheeks stained pink but he held his ground, face full of curiosity. His gaze flicked briefly down towards Ben’s lips before returning quickly to his eyes. Ben leaned forward, the incessant tugging in his chest stronger than ever.

“Ben!” Poe tacked him from the side, slinging a friendly arm over his shoulder. “Look at the turnout, it’s amazing. I always knew you had it in you.”

The man cleared his throat and stepped back. “Oh, are you the artist?” he asked Ben, his voice oddly strained.

“You bet,” Poe answered, arm still heavy over Ben’s shoulder. Ben tried to brush it off but Poe, as always, was a bit stronger. “Our Ben here is super talented.”

“Your Ben?” The man said slowly, a look of disappointment flashing across his face. “I need to find my friend, excuse me.” He gave a small, sad smile to them both before turning on his heel and rushing away.

“Poe!” Ben hissed, finally pushing his friend away. “What the hell!”

Poe’s face wrinkled in confusion. “What? Did I embarrass you?”

Ben shook his head and sighed. “No, but I think you chased that guy away, acting like you were my boyfriend or something.” Ben craned his neck but couldn’t seem to find the tell-tale flash of copper amongst the crowd.

“I was just being friendly”, Poe replied apologetically. “Sorry about that. I’ll go find him for you and explain.”

“Forget it,” Ben muttered, patting Poe on the shoulder in a reluctant act of forgiveness. He took a steadying breath and did his best to shrug off the feeling of bitter disappointment. “Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.”

“Do you believe in soulmates?”

Rey paused mid-stir, teaspoon caught between her fingers as she arched a curious brow at Ben. “Soulmates?”

“Yeah.” Ben nodded, lifting his own steaming mug and peering into the swirling coffee. “Fate and all that, you know?”

“I suppose so,” she answered thoughtfully, resuming in adding a copious amount of sugar to her tea. “It’s sort of a romantic ideal but actually I do think people are placed in our paths for a purpose. Why do you ask?”

Ben took a sip from his cup, hissing in dismay as the hot liquid burned his tongue. He glared at the offending coffee and set it down. “You know that guy I’ve been looking for?”

“The mysterious red-headed stranger?” Rey relied with a sly grin. “Of course I know, you never shut up about him.”

“Oh, be quiet,” Ben muttered without any real heat. “It’s been months now and nothing. I can’t seem to find any info on him, not from locals at the bar, not from what I thought was his old university. I haven’t seen him again and...well I just think if fate really existed it would all be a bit easier.”

Rey frowned thoughtfully and played with a stray sugar packet. “I don’t know,” she began slowly. “I’m not sure you can dismiss the workings of the universe so easily. Why should it be easy? Nothing epic in life ever is.”

As if to answer her musings the sky opened up outside with a thundering roar and rain began to pour onto the pavement.

Ben parted ways with Rey, waving her off as she jumped onto the cross-town bus back towards her apartment. Luckily Ben’s own studio was only a block away from their usual cafe and he quickly ran down the street, jacket overhead as a makeshift umbrella. He was fumbling for his keys, ready to push past the gate when a loud crack of lightning startled him. The slick metal fell from his fingers, splashing into a puddle before skidding down the sidewalk.

With a small groan of dismay he bent down to grab them when an other hand reached out, grasping his keys out of reach. Ben felt a jolt as his fingers collided with the pale, slender ones in front of him. That familiar clenching in his gut tightened steadily as he raised his head and saw the man before him.

Shocked green eyes widened, lovely lips parted in surprise. Unruly damp hair, a deeper red when wet, fell carelessly over a most welcome face.

“Hello,” Ben said, heart racing and face breaking into a startled grin.

“It’s you,” the man replied, a similar astonished smile spreading across his lips.

“Ben,” Ben helpfully supplied. He belatedly realized that their hands were still touching. He reluctantly let go.

“Hux,” the man offered. The name buzzed in Ben’s head like the lyrics to a forgotten song suddenly remembered.

Ben toyed with his keys, the cold jagged edges scraping against his nervous hands. “It’s raining,” Ben stated, immediately wanting to smack himself for the stupid observation.

“So it is,” Hux replied, amusement lacing his voice. He titled his head to look up at the sky. Rivulets of water slid down his throat.

Ben watched a single drop glide down towards his collarbone. He swallowed roughly. “You should come inside,” he offered, gesturing towards his apartment.

Hux gave him a bemused look. “I hardly know you.”

Ben boldly took a step forward, heartened that Hux’s response wasn’t precise a no. “But you do,” he said quiet but firm in the space between them. “On campus, years ago. You were reading that ridiculously large book, studying intently until I interrupted you.”

“That was you?” Hux chuckled to himself. “Of course. Of course it was. You were such a gawky kid back then, you’ve certainly grown through the years,” he added appreciatively.

Ben allowed the slight about his teenage self to pass, if only for how Hux was looking at him now.

“And then years later, at that bar. You were gorgeous in the crowd, dancing freely, warm body against mine—“

“Until my boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—came and interrupted us,” Hux finished, recognition dawning on his face.

“And then at my art show—“

“I remember your art show.” Hux took a step forward.

“You ran off before I could ask you, before I could tell you…”

Ben leaned forward, letting the gentle movement of his lips complete his sentence. Hux pressed back into the chaste kiss, his mouth trembling against Ben’s.

“Will you come inside?” Ben asked again, brushing against Hux’s soft, willing lips.

“Yes.”

It didn’t take long after Ben recommend they both to remove their wet, rain-soaked clothes before the offered towels were cast aside and they were tumbling onto his bed.

Ben's hands sunk into those much desired golden-red locks, fingers tangled into the soft strands, pulling Hux closer and closer.

He could hardly get enough, even after his slick fingers slid inside Hux’s tight heat, even after he replaced those fingers with his stiff cock, even after he rocked inside, pressing into Hux as deep as he physically could get--still, he wanted more.

He wanted to bury himself inside, live in Hux’s blood, settle into his bones. The aching pull seemed reconciled, finally satisfied to be close to the object of his dreams at last. Ben watched the pleasure spill forth from Hux, his face twisted in ecstasy, and wondered if he, himself, could ever get enough of the perfect beauty beneath him.

The rain settled outside to a light drizzle, the gentle drops falling melodically against his windowsill. Grey light shone through the partially open curtain, casting faint shadows onto their tangled limbs.

Hux’s soft hair tickled Ben’s cheek as he moved closer, setting his head against Ben’s shoulder. His fingers lazily traced the raised scar along Ben’s knee cap.

“How did you get this?” Hux asked, sleepiness pervading his voice.

“It was a long time ago,” Ben replied. It was long ago, and yet Ben had never forgotten. “I was just a kid, visiting my uncle, when I met another child on the playground. I offended him somehow, something about his name, and he pushed me. Anyway, I wound up falling and cutting my knee. It wasn’t deep but pretty wide and it wound up leaving a scar.” Ben looked over and found Hux looking alert now, his eyes tense and brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Hux pinched the bridge of his nose as if he warding off a headache. “I mean it can’t be…”

“Tell me,” Ben urged.

“I just have this memory of when I was young, at my mom's new condo. There was this annoying kid who stared at me for ages and then went on to make fun of my name. I—I remember pushing him and he fell. I always felt a bit bad about that,” he admitted sheepishly. “But, there’s no way what was you.”

Ben sat up, eyes glowing with excitement. “Armie?”

“No,” Hux shook his head in stunned astonishment. “I don’t understand, it doesn’t make sense. There’s no way…”

“Why not?” Ben replied, pulse racing with this new discovery. His chest grew tight with emotion. "Don’t you believe in fate?”

“Hardly,” Hux scoffed. “This was all chance, purely strange coincidence.”

“That’s not true. I think there’s a reason we’ve been meeting again and again.” Ben bent down to nuzzle at Hux’s ear. “I think we were meant to be.”

“Ridiculous,” Hux mumbled, but still he leaned into the touch. “You don’t even know me.”

“But I do,” Ben promised. He reached forward to grasp Hux’s hand and intertwined their fingers, pressing kisses like promises unto his knuckles. “I do.”

fin.

#kylux #my fic #prompt fill #red string of fate #soulmates #meant to be #vday #fic #romance #dressesandcarresses

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illegiblewords · 5 years

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Sephirot, The Fiend

What is it like when you pull back the curtain

And realize every wrong is a right?

Your world is rusted like a dirty razor

The edge is calling tonight

The edge is calling tonight (The edge is calling tonight)

The sun is setting, darkness taking over

A date with chaos and you're dressed to the nines

Salt of the earth salting your own fields

Road to destruction that is true and tried

You walk the path laid before you

The call of reason, you refuse to abide

Necessity is an inventive mother

Promising sanctum that

She cannot provide

She is the hand that rocks the cradle

The wind that breaks the bough and leaves you to die

And there She leaves you to die (And there She leaves you to die)

You'll find slumber when the world comes tumbling down

Sweet dreams, baby. Sleep tight!

Retreat where lesser men lead

Flee from what you do not see

Heed the dark within your being

Turn away

Disobey

I'm the end and the beginning

The faith that feeds the unbelieving

A tightening knot to staunch the bleeding

Say my name

Sephirot

The seventh hell's become your seventh heaven

Rose of redemption but a thorn in your pride

Waste no more time fighting your demons

Lay down your arms and let the evil inside

And then you let it inside (And then you let it inside)

You let it eat you till there's nothing left at all

So you can feel that you are truly alive

Better to serve in a waking nightmare

Than rule in their paradise

What is gold, always glitters

But it still comes with an unpayable price

Treading out upon the stagnant waters

Our savior waiting for a turn in the tide

You are the night at the end of the tunnel

The empty void where the serpent lies

Where the serpent lies (Where the serpent lies)

The angels graze in the meadows of excess

They must needs go that the devils drive

Retreat where lesser men lead

Flee from what you do not see

Concede your mind unto the fiend

Turn away

Debts are paid

I'm the end and the beginning

The drug that gives the wretched meaning

The answer every soul is seeking

Say my name

Sephirot

People talk a lot about Sophia, The Goddess. I’ll do a talk for her too but frankly Sephirot is hugely underrated imo and the Warring Triad as a whole deserves serious analysis.

Before anything else, I need to make a bow to higherallagan on reddit for pointing out “someone let Fray write the lyrics.” Because there is no better response than that lol.

In terms of analysis, there are hardcore layers going on.

First, for the triad as a whole I’m going to pose the possibility that they represent the Freudian trio structuring the psyche. These are Id, Ego, and Superego.

Id would be base, instinctive desires stripped of all reason. This is the only personality structure present at birth and ties into bodily needs, wants, and impulses. To feed, to fight, to flee, to fuck, these all tie to the Id. It is immediate gratification, it is to seek pleasure and avoid pain or “unpleasure”, it is unconscious chaos and drive without will. The Id offers no judgment of value, no morality. The union of Eros and Thanatos, or sex and death, exists here.

Ego I would argue is represented in Sophia, while Superego is Zurvan. I’ll go more into Ego and Superego for each of them respectively, but the very short version would be that Superego is intellect and morality while Ego is pragmaticism and the negotiation between Id and Superego in the context of reality.

Naturally Sephirot would absolutely, 110% be Id. This isn’t just because he’s introduced first but also ties into the lyrics of his theme and the motif woven into his nature as an eikon. He is cited as representative of the first tree and its worship. Beyond this, Sephirot through the fight is shown using attacks including Ein Sof Or, summoning Binah and Chokmah, etc. These, along with the name Sephirot itself, all reference the Tree of Life in Judaism as well as Kabbalah specifically. There are ten sephira (singular for sephiroth), or individual nodes on the Tree of Life.

Disclaimer, the English transliterations can be read a few ways. I personally write and pronounce “Kether” as “Keter”, sounding like “kee-tehr”. In actual Hebrew it’s probably pronounced “keh-th-ehr” or “keh-tehr” but I’d need to see the vowel forms to know for sure. I am not known for my ability to pronounce things correctly haha.

Anyway. The singular English words listed under each sephira are not necessarily a clear indicator of what each stage means in practice. I’ve actually done a huge amount of research and do know how to articulate every step. Ex. Keter/The Crown is the moment in which the very possibility of change begins on an internal level. This is well before any externalization of change. It could be the instant that potential energy could begin its transformation to kinetic energy. It could be the seed of an idea that has yet to grow, let alone breach the soil of the mind into action.

The Tree of Life as a whole can be mapped onto any kind of change, from mental to physical to emotional. It also happens to map onto the Big Bang, which is its original representation. It is creation and change, navigating internal and external.

As a concept, the Tree of Life is hugely sacred within Judaism as a faith. Being as Sephirot is an eikon (or primal) specifically however, it exists as a simplified corruption of that concept. This was, in the context of the game, interpreted as being an Id-defined Satan figure similar to what is found in Christian tradition. The serpent lying in the empty void, which ties to negative change or the creation of evil rather than something divine. This is the tempter in the Garden of Eden.

The role of temptation is hugely present throughout The Fiend’s lyrics, again tying to Id specifically. As much as I love the joke about Fray, honestly this does resonate strongly with themes presented in the Dark Knight questline.

If we interpret the song as being specific to the Warrior of Light, it reads something like this:

What is it like when you pull back the curtain

And realize every wrong is a right?

Your world is rusted like a dirty razor

The edge is calling tonight

Warrior of Light has been following the path set by Hydaelyn throughout the storyline, often at their own expense. This has at times been extremely painful on a personal level for the WoL, and requires ignoring the easier, safer, or even more pleasurable alternatives. On top of this, the idea of pulling back the curtain to realize something implies that the WoL has been in deep denial that not only is there another option, but it would feel better to take that option.

Besides being 3edgy, the dirty razor line states that the WoL’s world is old, filthy, ineffective, and painful. Despite this, the WoL forces interaction with it in such a way that is not only self-destructive, but could very well kill them. After all, even after you’ve finished getting split open by something rusty the infection sets in and tetanus will follow.

The edge is calling tonight (The edge is calling tonight)

The sun is setting, darkness taking over

A date with chaos and you're dressed to the nines

WoL is giving up and on some level eager to succumb to temptation and selfishness.

Salt of the earth salting your own fields

Road to destruction that is true and tried

You walk the path laid before you

The call of reason, you refuse to abide

Working hard destroys the earth, or more specifically the WoL themself. It is a form of rendering themself barren on a personal level, a spiritual death. Again, following that path Hydaelyn gave as well as the paths expected by the people of Hydaelyn who see WoL as a hero. That little voice at the back of their head going “maybe we should not” gets ignored.

Necessity is an inventive mother

Promising sanctum that

She cannot provide

She is the hand that rocks the cradle

The wind that breaks the bough and leaves you to die

WoL might not want to perform these tasks anymore but believes it is needed to survive and for the world to survive. In the end though, the idea that trying to fill that need will lead to salvation, to safety and certainty, is not accurate. In the end, no one and nothing will be there to save the WoL themself and they will be destroyed in this pursuit along with everything/everyone they sought to protect. It’s a fool’s errand.

And there She leaves you to die (And there She leaves you to die)

You'll find slumber when the world comes tumbling down

Sweet dreams, baby. Sleep tight!

Only in failure will the WoL find rest, finally free to forget obligations as everything collapses around them.

Retreat where lesser men lead

Flee from what you do not see

Heed the dark within your being

Turn away

Disobey

The WoL might be the most powerful person in the world, but they can still choose not to fight and be selfish. Leave the painful work to “lesser men”. Avoid threats that are not immediately relevant to you and take care of yourself alone, stop following the orders of others.

I'm the end and the beginning

The faith that feeds the unbelieving

A tightening knot to staunch the bleeding

Say my name

Sephirot

Id is present from birth until death, from the beginning of the world until its end. It is self-preservation when trying to do too much gets you hurt, and while it won’t heal the wound itself it will stop you from bleeding out further.

The seventh hell's become your seventh heaven

Rose of redemption but a thorn in your pride

Waste no more time fighting your demons

Lay down your arms and let the evil inside

The world might go to shit but WoL at least would be personally okay. The idea of going back to heroism would become utterly distasteful because of all the pain it promises. It’s time to stop feeling guilty about these things and just embrace it.

And then you let it inside (And then you let it inside)

You let it eat you till there's nothing left at all

So you can feel that you are truly alive

A WoL who becomes wholly selfish 1) ceases to be WoL 2) sacrifices empathy, morality, everything they’ve ever believed in or cared about at the altar of the self. And in return they can be a hedonist and protect themself from being hurt by others.

Better to serve in a waking nightmare

Than rule in their paradise

What is gold, always glitters

But it still comes with an unpayable price

It would be better to give up everything else, all thought of a better world and protection for all, and do the best you can by yourself even if reality sucks. The alternative is enormous responsibility in a world that is good, a paradise, that is understood to be fragile. Of course paradise is tempting but the personal cost of getting there is too high.

Treading out upon the stagnant waters

Our savior waiting for a turn in the tide

You are the night at the end of the tunnel

The empty void where the serpent lies

Stagnant waters = the world, the situation, will always be like this. WoL is waiting for things to change. But even after all work and travel, it will ultimately lead to nothing. The WoL will eventually break and give up and become what the eikon Sephirot foretells.

Where the serpent lies (Where the serpent lies)

The angels graze in the meadows of excess

They must needs go that the devils drive

The good people of Hydaelyn will become soft and vulnerable in paradise and inevitably, more “devils” or wicked people will have them at their mercy.

Retreat where lesser men lead

Flee from what you do not see

Concede your mind unto the fiend

Turn away

Debts are paid

Concede your mind unto the fiend = you know I’m right. Turn away, debts are paid = You’ve done enough, stop.

I'm the end and the beginning

The drug that gives the wretched meaning

The answer every soul is seeking

Say my name

Sephirot

The drug that gives the wretched meaning = when everything else has broken you, you will have only yourself and you will have no choice but to say your self is enough. The answer every soul is seeking = everyone wants to know on some level that they are enough, that they have personal value, that they are worth saving and protecting, that they have a right to pleasure and happiness of their own. That they can pursue their id as nature has always been driven and not feel ashamed.

Tbh I do think Beauty’s Wicked Wiles/Lakshmi’s theme has similar motifs woven in and could possibly be read as a continuation of the WoL’s desperation to escape. But that would be another post.

#Sephirot the Fiend #final fantasy 14 #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #warring triad #hardcore analysis under the cut

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