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kob131 · 7 months

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Pokemon Team Symbolism in Pokemon

You would think a series that emphasizes a colorful cast of creatures would try to use them to symbolize a character and their journey.

They have. Just not as often as you would think. It's damn good when they do though.

What Symbolism?

The symbolism I am talking about is using a Trainer's Pokemon to demonstrate aspects of the Trainer's personality and/or journey. For example, a Pokemon evolving after the Trainer has reached a turning point in their story or a Pokemon's move or Ability to demonstrate a personality trait that isn't so obvious.

Gen 1

Now normally I would begin off by talking about how a Pokemon represents a character and how they change alongside the Trainer...but Gen 1 doesn't really...have this.

This isn't an insult or anything- Gen 1 simply doesn't have the variety to pull this off. For example, what Pokemon can you use to represent Misty within Gen 1? Maybe Seaking or Gyardos but there's a reason why, in her Heartgold/Soulsilver rematch, she uses a Milotic due to it's heavy association with the fluidity and grace of water alongside being a counterpart to perhaps Gen 1's most famous Water-Gyardos. It's because no other Water type can really symbolize who Misty is, especially since there are no rematches to give her a more expansive team. And Misty's one of the EASIER people to make a more symbolic team with.

I guess of particular note is Blaine's use of Arcanine as his ace, due to how supplementary material implies he helped make Mewtwo and how Arcanine is referred to as the 'Legendary' Pokemon. Or Alakazam's immense power and almost alien appearence fitting with Sabrina's creepy vibe. And Giovanni using Nidoking and Nidoqueen, Ground/Poison types, can symbolize his leadership of Team Rocket and his status as the Ground Gym Leader. It's all cool... But not really anything special.

Gen 2

Ah here's the good shit.

This is where Game Freak started experimenting with more...expressive uses of Pokemon. Before we get to the big example, I want to try and talk about some of the other trainers.

In particular, I want to make a special mention of Clair and Lance's teams. With Clair, her team consists of three Dragonairs and a Kingdra. Now this doesn't look all that special aside from the Dragon-Type's status as being uber powerful in earlier gens but it does gain quite a bit of significance if you consider her relationship with Lance (him being her stronger and older cousin that she's implied to feel inferior to) and his own team. Namely that her Dragonairs all only have one move seperating them (Surf/Thunderbolt/Ice Beam) which is very similar to three Pokemon from Lance's team...except that the moves chosen (Thunder/Blizzard/Fire Blast) all have higher BP and the Pokemon in question are his Dragonites, the fnal stage of Dragonair. Meaning that Lance's team is basically an upgraded version of Clair's, showing why she feels so inferior to him.

And this chink in her armor is further emphasized through her ace, Kingdra. Kingdra's typing of Water/Dragon actually removes the signature Ice weakness that Dragons have (as well as giving it a STAB against the Swinub line the player will likely try to use against her) but it leaves it weak to Dragon-Types still. Meaning Lance's mastery will lead to Clair facing a harder battle. And for extra points- Lance's Gen 3 rematch team even gives him a Kingdra, further connecting them.

Now to move on- Silver.

I've come to the realization that Silver might be one of the most important characters in Pokemon. Not story wise mind you- he basically falls off outside of his Gen and it's remakes. But rather, in his writing. Because Silver's team actually includes the first notable use of Evolution to symbolize a Trainer's personal development. In his own story, Silver begins as your average edgy teen with an obsession with power and being a badass, even though you keep whooping his ass. However unlike Blue, Silver actually reacts to being beaten by you as he grows more and more frustrated. This coincideces with everyone he fights telling about how cruel and abusive he is acting towards his Pokemon. And by the time you beat him in Victory Road- he accepts what he did wrong and works to improve himself, not just his Pokemon. And this is shown as his Mt. Moon fight (...Really Game Freak?), his Kadabra and Haunter have evolved, meaning that Silver had to have become more personable to get someone to trade with him and his Golbat evolves in Crobat in his finale fight, a friendship based evolution. (Bonus points- Zubat/Golbat are commonly used by Team Rocket members, with Giovanni their leader being Silver's dad.)

This really shows how a Trainer's team can be used to symbolize their growth as a person. I can't wait to see what the next Gen accompli-

Gen 3

... God damn it.

So Gen 3 kind of falls back a bit in turns of using Pokemon teams for characterization. You have the usual basic symbology- like Brawly the martial artist using martial arts focused Fighting types, Norman being an everyman and a mundane but everpresent presence in your life being the master of powerful Normal types and the sea surrounded Sootopolius having a Water Gym. But nothing like the interplay between Lance and Clair or the subtly of Silver.

Best I have is the quite and sensitive Wally using the sensitive and shy Ralts evolving into the powerful Gardevoir/Gallade. But poor Walley doesn't get much time. The rivals...aren't really characters in Gen 3 and I've never played the Gen 6 remakes. For fuck's sake- they didn't even fully evolve her starter in the original games!

At least the Gym Leader aces do a better job of portraying them. Like Tate and Liza's Double Battle makes them like souped-up versions of the twins you've encountered in the game, their teamwork is shown through their Claydol always having access to Earthquake while their other Pokemon have some way of mitigating its team hitting function. Steven's love of rare stones and minerals is shown through him using the fossil Pokemon and Metagross. Or Winnoa's love of the sky being shown through her cloud-shaped Altaria. And Wallace's love of elegance being echoed in Milotic.

... Let's move on.

Gen 4

Okay, we're getting better.

Specifically, I'm talking about Barry. Specifically, his second to and last fights alongside his general team composition.

In his second to last fight, Barry fights you in Calvacade City, right before the sixth. By this point, most players will have evolved their starter. After all, Byron's team is edging Level 40 and the starter's evolve at Level 36 (Infernape/Empoleon) or 32 (Torterra). This is because Barry hasn't hit his turning point yet, in his loss to Jupiter at Lake Acuity which results in Uxie's capture. This causes Barry to become more serious and focused in his later appearances, as shown by his team battle with the player and his final fight at the Pokemon League having his starter fully evolved.

There's also the fact that Barry's team is actually rather well balanced, better than even Blue's team. As it turns out, Barry's family has a history of being tough trainers as his Dad, Palmer, is a Battle Frontier member. The Battle Tower, in fact. Which is basically the Pokemon location for 'ultra tough battles.'

Of course, there's also Cynthia. Her team is where Game Freak really go out of their way to try and capture the feeling of a 'Pokemon Master'. She begins with Spiritomb, a VERY rare Pokemon that the player likely knows nothing about. She also wields Milotic, a former Champion's ACE; Lucario, another rare Pokemon that you can only get from being gifted an Egg; Togekiss, a Pokemon that involves evolution through friendship and a Gen 4 stone; Roserade, a similar Pokemon to Togekiss through it's evolution line as well as being Gardena's ace and Garchomp, a Pokemon that takes advantage of Gen 4's more varied BST distribution to be a kind of Master of All pseudo-legendary. All of this together showcases Cynthia's power as a Champion- the varied methods of evolution display her wide range, the rarity of her Pokemon show her extensive travels, her use of former aces show her higher rank and her own ace being almost specifically stated to take advantage of every single advantage possible show her sheer strength.

Of smaller note is also Volkner and Flint, friends as shown in game, having similar kinds of teams whose aces are Electrivire/Magmortar, two evolutions of Gen 1 counterparts Electibuzz/Magmar with Gen 2 baby pre-evolutions. And Rorak and Byron's Aces, being Ramphardos and Bastidon, showing them to both be miners and having Byron be a Steel Gym Leader, when Steel is essentially an upgraded version of Rock, to show them being father and son.

Gen 5

Oh this is the good shit.

Gen 5 is famous for the MASSIVE leap in story quality and it really shows. Ignoring the two green elephants in the room for right now, let's start with the rivals.

With Bianca, her story is all about wanting to go out into the world with her childhood friends to live out her dreams, like them. However, she comes to learn that she might not be suited for being a Trainer since even with her strong resistance to her father's demands- she can't really keep up with the other two. And this shows in her battles- Namely that she fights you less frequently than Cheren (five vs. his seven) and with Cheren having better strategies.

Speaking of, Cheren is someone heavily focused on becoming a stronger Trainer and being determined to overcome the Player, which is reflected in his team. He not only fights you more often but his team is at a higher level before the post game than Bianca and he's one of the Trainers in the series to use extensive use of held items. It also demonstrates a knowledge of Pokemon battling than most Trainers in the series, showing why he'd qualify for being a Gym Leader in the sequels.

Then we have perhaps the two who stand as the standards, if not pinnacles for great team symbolism- N and Ghetsis. With N, it's already noted that for each battle he partakes in, he catches nearby Pokemon and uses them for his battles. And it's already said that he does this because he thinks capturing Pokemon is wrong and that humans and Pokemon can't coexist. But the interesting thing comes from his teams in the original games and the sequels.

In the first game, N is unique in that he sends out his ace, Zekrom/Reshiram, first. While on a gameplay level it makes sense as your own dragon will be sent to the first slot, it works on a story level too as N sees this fight as the big, determining battle to see whose side is right with your dragons representing your sides of the conflict. I even think N will always start the fight with the Fusion attack of his dragon, showcasing how you have affected him and his view of Pokemon and humans. You also have his other Pokemon- like how he has Carracosta and Archeops, the fossil Pokemon, and Klinklang and Vanillux, a futuristic Pokemon and a Pokemon inspired by a modern beverage, showcasing Black and White's duality and focus on the past and future while also showing N's deep connection to Pokemon old and new. And finally we have his Zoroark, a Pokemon shown in the opening of the game as a Zoura to have been with him his whole life, likely feeding into his beliefs through its experiences...and how said beliefs were based on lies.

Then we have his sequel teams, themed after each different type of weather for each season (Rain for Spring, Sun for Summer, Sand for Autumn and Hail for Winter)- implying that not only is N such a masterful trainer that he has mastered multiple kinds of teams but also showing that he's unwilling to force himself onto nature and Pokemon, instead working with them to achieve the best they can.

Very much unlike his father, Ghetsis. With him, he starts with the defensive and stalling Cofagrigus which uses Toxic and Protect to slowly whittle away at the player with his Mummy ability representing the way he infected and controlled N; Boffluant with Reckless demonstrating his wild emotions and how he views his Pokemon as expendable; Seismitoad and its sweeping power to demonstrate his threat; Bisharp with Defiant to show his status as the final boss as well as how he truly commands Team Plasma much like how a Bisharp commands Pawniards; Eelktross and it's almost leech like appearence to show how he used N and his Hydrigeon, Gen 5's Pseudo-Legendary and known for its violent disposition to show what Ghetsis is really like.

This gets especially blatant with his sequel team, which is far less effective with his Sesimitoad losing Swift Swim for Poison Touch, losing his Bisharp and Boffulant for Draipon and Toxicroak and finally his Hydriegon losing its Special set for an inferior Physical set (the only upside being a maxed out Frustration. Which...yeah, three guesses why). All to show how far he has fallen, how he has lost his ability to lead by this point, how corroded his mind actually is now and how he's lost his effectiveness.

We even have some interesting symbolism in the Gym Leaders, like with Clay's ace, Excadrill, not only being based on a mining tool but also seems to be perfectly designed to defeat the ore-based Roggnerola line (with Ground/Steel attacks to it's Rock, Mold Breaker to ignore Sturdy and Sand Rush/Sand Force to take advantage of the line's future Sand Stream ability). Things are looking up once aga-

Gen 6

... I need to stop pissing in the face of fate.

So...Gen 6, probably the worst Generation of Pokemon, has next to no interesting Pokemon symbolism. Cool, the dancing rival has Pokemon that use dance moves. ... That's it. Trevor wants to travel Kalos because his parents left him behind but his team is a Raichu, a Aerodyctal and a Florges. Shanua is aimless and has a crush on the player character, gets the type-weak starter and fights you twice. Calem and Serena are the kids of famous Pokemon battlers...but their teams aren't very well put together.

The Gym Leaders have nothing. Best is Wulfric, a bulky guy, uses the iceberg Pokemon Avalugg.

The villain leader Lysander does use a Pyroar in his matches, matching team Flare's colors and showing their obssession with beauty. And Malva also uses a Pyroar to show she was a supporter of Team Flare.

That's it.

.... Moving on.

Gen 7

Getting back on track. Again.

First up is Hau. In the Sun and Moon games, Hau is a very laid back and generally easy going guy who doesn't put much stock into the battles he gets into. While this would normally be seen as a good thing, a few characters call him out for his easy going attitude which ends up affecting his performance in battle. The culminates in his loss in Aether House, hammering home that he cannot continue this path. And so, he works harder to become stronger for the sake of his friends. It's around this time the games visibly have his starter, previous stuck in its middle or 'teen' evolution, grow into it's final stage. There's also quite a bit of Fighting Type hate in his team, from his Pichu knowing Charm and it evolving into a part Psychic type, his Eeveeloution also having Charm and Baby-Doll Eyes as well as having a Noivern on his team. Showing that he's still focused on beating his grandpa, Hala. And yet, he's still proud of his heritage, as shown with his Tauros (commonly found on Melemene island as a Ride Pokemon) and his Crabmomible (the ace of his grandpa).

Things don't end there, since there's also Gladion and his ace, Type: Null. Gladion is a runaway young team having recently lost his dad and basically his mom (since she goes either coocoo from neurotoxins in the original games or goes all Count of Monte Cristo on aliens in the Ultra games). Much like his ace, Gladion is bound and chained by his past, driven to either stop his mother or protect who he has left but can't really take advantage of his strengths because of it too. So instead he's kind of stuck seeking power even when we know he's way in over his head. That is until he meets the player and Hau, whom he learns to trust and put his faith into. And by the end- he's free as his family is safe and he can pursue the life he wants. A story neatly packed into Type: Null's own evolution, going from a rampaging beast bound and restricted to a freed and kinder creature. For bonus points, out of Gladion's other six Pokemon- three of them are friendship evolutions with one being a Lucario, a Pokemon that only follows those who have justice in their hearts.

Oh and you get a nice dose of N with his Zororark imitating his Silvally, showing that his threatening demeanor is just a really complicated version of teen angst and coping.

Speaking of coping- Guzma. A tough looking leader of Team Skull...whose actually a man who grew up abused by his dad before beating him up and running away, took up the Island Challenge and is now a washed up leader of bitter people desperately trying to make something of themselves. And wouldn't you know it- He uses the Bug Type, a type that gets shit on both in universe and out for its weak members and generally being outclassed. This shows Guzma's inner weakness and connection to the weak and discarded Team Skull. They're also some of the more threatening Bug Types, including his rather strong ace Golisopod. This Pokemon in particular represents Guzma, as it begins as a weak and scared Wimpod before evolving after a lot of hard work into the threatening and determined Golisopod. Rather fitting for a man who once jumped into an interdimensional portal to fight aliens and also got involved in the downfall of the Super Interdimensional Gay Mafia. Awesome.

Moving back to the blondes- Lusamine. Said mother who went coocoo over her husbands death. A woman obsessed with the beauty of Pokemon, herself deceptively beautiful for a violent and destructive person. Her team consists of Pokemon commonly considered beautiful or cute...while also being rather strong. Those being- Clefairy, a kind hearted and helpful Pokemon showing her loving nature that is either hidden or wrecked; Lilligant, a Pokemon heavily associated with beauty and grace that requires skillful care to ensure its flower blossoms to show her geniune love for Pokemon; Lopunny, a cautious and active Pokemon that also displays Lusamine's kinder side; Mismagius, an eerie witch-like Pokemon known for its cries harming but sometimes helping others, showing Lusamine's violent mood in the earlier games before being switched with the kinder Lopunny; Milotic...we've already talked about it and Bewear, a giant fluffy Pokemon that loves to give hugs...that smooths and crushes those it hugs due to not understanding its own strength. ... Take a guess as to what this Pokemon represents.

And finally we have Lillie. A girl who starts off scared, indecisive and unable to do anything until events force her to help out or lose everything. WIth the likes of Hop and the player's actions, she's inspired to take a more proactive role in battles...while still not being the best and acting as support. As shown with her team being support based Fairy types. A type that just so happens to be heavily connected to feminine beauty. And her signature Pokemon is a Friend Guard Clefairy. ... Did I mention Lusamine's first Pokemon in all her fights is an offensive Magic Guard Clefable?

Sadly can't say too much about the Kahunas- they aren't really focused on. It's more the Totem Pokemon...and those aren't teams. So...moving on.

Gen 8

Okay, get a snack and a drink. We're going to be here for a while.

Let's try something simple- Marnie. One of the more static trainers, this isn't to say she doesn't have any symbolism on her team. It kind of seems odd for someone like Marnie, who isn't even really aggressive in her rivalry with the player, to be using a Dark type team, since Dark types are known for their underhanded tactics and propensity for malicious behavior. But it does make sense when you see that she hails from Spikemuth, which is the hometown of Team Yell. Said team is, in actuality, her brother's Gym Trainers having gone off to support her. This is shown by her team being made up, while perhaps not fully moral Pokemon, are the more beign Pokemon of their types. Like her Liepard, Morpeko and Grimmsnarl are all more akin to tricksters rather than the malicious Pokemon usually associated with the Dark Type. Even her Poison type is a Toxicroak, a Pokemon known for its toxicity but not for any underhanded tactics. This is also a Pokemon that appears frequently on villain teams, hinting at her connection to Team Yell. Further connecting her to them is Scrafty, a Dark/Fighting type she shares with her brother Piers. Over half her team also has a type ADVANTAGE over Team Yell, indicating how she not only controls them but also takes over for her brother in the end.

Yeah, that was one of the more...easy examples. Bede is a bit more complex. He starts off as your typical example of a 'jackass rival', being smug and condescending to you and your friend Hop. As he seems to be a call back to the likes of Blue, Bede uses the Psychic type, which was infamously overpowered in Gen 1. However, Bede is..not good. His team entirely consists of Psychic, Normal and Fairy attacks which sounds good...until you remember that A. this leaves Bede with no means of answering Steel types which resist Psychic, Normal and Fairy and B. Half his moves use his Pokemon's inferior attacking stats (like Gothorilla used Rock Tomb and Galarian Pontya uses Special moves). These kind of leave him as an ill fitting opponent despite his arrogance. And that weakness to Steel types likely isn't a coincidence- his benefactor is Chairman Rose, a Steel type specialist who helped Bede become a Gym Challenger before revoking his right later. Around this time, the Fairy Gym Leader Opal takes a liking to him and proceeds to drag him off. Next time he appears, he shows up as Opal's apprentice and successor, becoming a Fairy type trainer. From here, we see that he has learned a bit of humility and understanding on where he went wrong. This nicely coinsides with his team having far more diverse type coverage, being fully evolved and even having a coverage move against Steels. Coolest part is that Bede retains half his team, with his formerly pure Psychic Ponyta and Hattrem evolving into Psychic/Fairy Rapidash and Hattrene, which is now able to stand against Rose. Even so, he still cares for him, as shown by his Mawille, a Steel/Fairy Pokemon, being his lead. It's part Steel typing and Intimidate ability summing up Bede before his encounter with Opal and displaying Rose's permanent impact in his life.

And yet they both pale in comparison to your main rival- Hop. Hop is the childhood friend of the player character and brother to the current Champion, Leon. An energetic boy with high hopes for his travels, he starts his adventure with his Wooloo (this game's first Normal type) and the starter weak to yours. SO naturally you beat the crap out of him. Simple as always. .... Except. Hop...doesn't just take it. When you beat him after obtaining your first badge, he briefy bemoans how he's weaker than you before admitting he need sto keep his guard up. And this isn't a one and done deal. He later loses to Bede who proceeds to insult him, telling him that he's dragging his brother's name through the mud. Which he later admits to really affecting him. And so...Hop does something that no other trainer in the series has ever done. He does a near full revamp of his old team. He benches his Wooloo and Corvisquare he had been using up until then for various different Pokemon in not just his next fight but the one after that. And after each loss, Hops becomes more and more despondent. After all, if he can't beat you even after overhauling his team twice then does he really stand a chance of beating his brother? However, upon hearing about the Galar legend about the Darkest Day, Hop resolves himself to stop doubting himself and simply focus on getting better, as shown by him returning his old Pokemon (now fully evolved), including a Pinurchin and adding the Snorlax he had been using before. So alls well that ends well.

Until you beat Hop in the semifinals before proceeding to beat his brother, the so-called unbeatable Champion. The man whom he looked up to. The man he dreamed about beating and surpassing. The man YOU just beat after beating him multiple times. ... Yeah. After the credits roll, you and him are called back to the resting place of the Legendaries where Hop asks to fight you once again. And here's the return of one the Pokemon from his 'doubt' period. And once again, Hop loses to an asshole insulting him (Sorward or Shieldbert) and even run off with the Legendaries' items, causing a huge hit to his confidence. It even makes him question whether or not he can even help you as you try to catch the brothers, even though Hop had done as much in the plot as you had. Even though he kept one of the items the Legendaries used to fight Eternatus. Even though he helped you BEAT Eternatus. Which is far more than can be said of most rivals. But Hop proves himself once more- he helps quell the raging Dynamax Pokemon, helps defend you as you chase after the brothers and even risks his life to go quell one of the Legendaries as it runs wild. All culminating in an honor that no other rival in the series has gotten: Hop catches the opposing Legendary and adds it to his team. Proof that he is just as much a hero as you are.

And he deserved it.

But this section is going on long enough by this point so we really need to move on. Because Hop sets a standard for the next Gen of Pokemon.

Gen 9

We're FINALLY at the last Gen as of this post's making (Gen 9 Teal Mask DLC). And...fuck my arm is tired.

So, let's try to get the Gym Leaders out of the way quick. Because yes- The Gym Leaders all have some kind of symbolism, rivaling their Gen 5 counterparts. Like Katy bemoaning that she's forced to go easy on Trainers is neatly symbolized by her cute ace Teddiursa becoming the fierce and violent Ursaring; Brassius' signature artwork being a stone statue of a Grass Type with his ace being a Tera Grass Sudowoodo, a Rock Type that emulates a tree; Kofu being a seafood chief using a team themed around seafood (including the self fillieting Veneluza); Larry's ordinary profession belying effectiveness shown through his Tera Pokemon sharing it's type with it meaning it gets extra damage; Rhyme being a rap artist connected with the dead through her Tera Ghost Low Key Toxicricity ect. I can't speak too much about them cuz shit's gonna be long.

Let's start with Arven. A boy who isn't much of Trainer, closed off and hostile because of his parent(s?)'s neglect- Arven doesn't really have any Pokemon to speak of at the beginning. He has a Skwot...and that's it. He even admits he just caught the damn thing. But as he travels with the player, slowly opening up to them and becoming friend with them, he catches nearby Pokemon and uses them to fight off the Titans. And he does a pretty damn good job- His Pokemon will always have a type advantage to be advantageous and each are fairly decent Pokemon in their own right (Cloyster, Scovillain, Garganacl and Toedscruel) along with his previously caught Greedent and his old friend Mabosstiff, an intimidating but loving and loyal Pokemon. Much like Arven. And like Mabosstiff, Arven gains friends and allies in his efforts through his adventure with the player.

One of said allies is Penny. An unassuming girl who the player saves from being harrassed by a group of deliquents called Team Star...who ends up being a skilled hacker and also the LEADER of Team Star under the pseudonym of 'Cassiopea'. And Penny's team is...entirely standardized with six Eeveelutions that share the moves Baby-Doll Eyes, Quick-Attack, a STAB move and a single coverage moves. A rather...underwhelming team of Pokemon, especially for the climax of a storyline. ... But that's intentional. Penny maybe the leader of Team Star but, as you could probably guess, no one had ever even SEEN Penny face to face before. While Team Star have formidable Trainers in their upper ranks, Penny never took to the battlefield personally. Penny is not a fighter and her team reflects this. Her Eeveelutions are not specially trained Pokemon- they're effectively pets. This is why they all have low-level moves in their movesets: they're hold overs from when they were Eevees that were never removed because Penny never had a reason for it. In fact, Quick Attack and Baby Doll Eyes arguable work better for a pet (being able to zoom around quickly to release energy and beg for food) than a battler. Hell, her Pokemon all provide some kind of utility and two of which are friendship evolutions- they really ARE pets.

Next we have Nemona, the rival character of the game. Unlike the other rivals, Nemona is in fact a more accomplished trainer than the player at first. In fact, she's so strong that this combined with her obssession lead her to becoming isolated from her peers. And for a peak at her strength: she beat the Top Champion of Paldea while still holding back. And it shows in the contrast between her fights with the player throughout the Victory Road story. She constantly talks about holding back, carefully considering her team to match what you should be at that point. And her teams are, consequently, nothing special. Just some basic level up moves. Right up until the very last fight of the storyline. Nemona, having changed her class from 'Pokemon Trainer' to 'Champion', is not only using a full team but is now packing STAB for each of her Pokemon AND coverage moves to smack your Pokemon hard no matter the matchup. Even with her choosing the starter weak to yours- her team is made up of rare and powerful Pokemon like a Goodra (pseudo-Legendary), Orthworm (a Pokemon previously fought as a TITAN), Lycanrock (a speedy Rock type), Pawimot (a Pokemon with the rare Electric/Fighting type) and a three segment Dundunsparce (a bulk and strong Normal Type that's also a 1/100 evolution, showing her sheer talent). Unless you overlevel your team, Nemona will be knocking out some of your team. As befitting a Champion. Moreso than fucking Geeta...

And if that's not enough, we also have the Professor stand in- Director Clavell. Introduced as the well meaning, attentive, kind and reasonable principal of the Academy, you would be forgiven for thinking that he might just be okay fight. ... He has more strategy to his team than 90% of Trainers in the series. No really.

He starts with an Oragnuru, a Pokemon noted for its intelligence and ability to use tools. FIttingly, it's a support Pokemon that lacks the usual weakness to Ghost types that Psychics have (important as SV is lousy with absurdly strong Ghosts), Oranguru will debilitate your team with Yawn to smack you with Dream Eater, Foul Play any cheeky Physical Attackers and use Reflect to shore up his team's Physical weakness. He then uses an Abomasnow, which sets up snow to further boost its defense. He then uses it to smack your team hard with STAB, perfect accuracy Blizzards, Wood Hammers and priority Ice Shard. And you want to kill it quick because it setting up snow means it can use Auorua Veil, effectively Reflect AND Light Screen in one. Which is bad because his next Pokemon is a Shell Smash using Poltigeust that spams Shadow Ball for STAB and Sucker Punch to punish priority and revenge killers. And it ALSO has Will-O-Wisp to weaken Physical attackers, which is bad because one of his next two Pokemon can be a Hex-spamming Amoongus which also has the lovely combination of Toxic and Spore to fuck with your team. And it has Giga Drain for recovery. Literally the only thing separating this Pokemon from its competitive counterpart is lacking Regenerator and Leftovers. He can also have a Gyardos, an almost evergreen Water type with a ton of coverage. Telling that his easiest Pokemon is a possible Houndoom. Oh and he uses the starter not picked in the beginning. The one strongest against you.

Really goes to show that Clavell really did earn his spot as the Director.

And if this was just about the base game, I could end it here. But even with all this and more- this wasn't what inspired me to make this post.

No, that would be the Teal Mask DLC and its two key players- Carmine and Kieran.

Starting with Carmine, a basic overview of her story here- she's a dickhead who has a more caring side but is basically covered by her being utterly awful at expressing herself and not being the best sister. She doesn't like outsiders due to people treating her hometown of Kitakami as a tourist trap but grows more open as she befriends the player. Why am I saying all this?

Because her team is a perfect representation of this.

She will always start her fights with a Poocheyna that evolves into Mightynea. A threatening Dark type that excels in pack tactics and is known to follow strong Trainers. Showcasing that despite Carmine's dickish attitude- she's most certainly a skilled trainer while also demonstrating how she bosses around her little brother.

Next is her Morpeko. An Electric/Dark type that wildly switches mood based on hunger, from friendly to aggressive. This duality is a summation of Carmine's character- how she switches from arrogant and standoffish to kinder and sweeter.

Then comes her Swadloon that evolves into Leavanny, a kind and nuturing Pokemon known for taking care of small Pokemon by weaving clothes for them. This showcases Carmine's real feelings for Kieran as despite acting like a bully towards Kieran- she geniunely loves and treasures him. Hell, the Pokedex in Scarlet even deviates a bit from its usual depiction of Leavanny to mention its protective instincts, similar to Carmine's own protectiveness.

Next comes her Ninetails, a Pokemon based off a kitsune and known for its mystical power but vengeful nature. A rather apt summation of how Carmine usually acts- a strong trainer but very easy to set off.

Finally comes her Poltchageist that evolves into Sinistcha- a Pokemon exclusive to her hometown of Kitakami, a Grass/Ghost type that tries to trick people into drinking it in order to drain them of their lifeforce...but failing most of the time. Whereas Morpeko is an overview of Carmine and Ninetails is the usual side of her, Sinistcha is what Carmine really is at the end of the day- a harmless fool. While she can burn people much like her Sinistcha can through its signature move and Scald, she means no ill will and can't do much to hurt anyone. And she can help as much as she can harm, just like how Sinistcha can aid others through its ability, Hospitality.

And what makes this interesting is the effectiveness of the team. As her Mightyena has one of the most useful lead abilities in Pokemon along with Howl to boost it's Sucker Punch and Play Rough; her Morpeko taking advantage of Aura Wheel's Speed boost through a held Focus Slash; Leavanny being a setup sweep through Swords Dance and Fell Stinger; Ninetails supporting the team through Disable and Will-o-Wisp and Sinistcha negating Grass' Fire Weakness through a Berry- it communicates that Carmine is an effective trainer. Fitting as her school is said to be specifically focused on Poke Battles.

But even this pales in comparison to her brother, Kieran. A shy boy who starts out looking up to and befriending the player character, neatly shown through his first two fights being simple 2-3 Pokemon fights. And as the story progresses, we learn a bit about him. That he expresses an admiration for the ogre in the village myth, having defeated three strong Pokemon by itself. He admires that strength and the seeming independence it has, since he himself wants to be strong and relied on due to his sister's unwitting damage to his ego through taking over his tasks. He even comes across having a crush on the player character to add to his likeability.

Then you meet the mascot of the Teal Mask DLC and the ogre from the legend, Ogerpon. Through a series of events involving Carmine making you swear not to tell Kieran about this to preserve his feelings and Kieran evasdropping- he learns that we met Ogerpon and we unknowingly keep lying to him. Which, considering we met the Pokemon he had been admiring for so long and being his first friend...he takes it hard. Things spiral out of control as his mental state burrows down, with him lashing out at the player character and Carmine for percieved injustices, eventually resulting in Kieran challenging the player for the right to be Ogerpon's partner...even though she had already chosen the player character. Even Kieran admits this is selfish but still pushes for it.

It's around this time that his team starts changing for real. Before his team consisted of a Yanma, Furret and Poliwhirl; all with unremarkable moves. Now his Yanma is a dedicated Special Attacker, his Furret is a setup Pokemon using a breeding move to clean hazards and get a Dragon Dance boost; his Poliwhirl evolves into Poliwrath with Haze to clear boosts and he adds a Applin evolution, Dipplin, based off of the candy apples he likes. His next battle has him shelve the Furret for a Cramorant, he adds a Gilgar to his team and his Yanma has evolved into a Tinted Lens Yanmega. ANd then there's his final team.

A Shiftry with a Focus Sash and the new Wind Rider ability with tailwind to boost Speed and Attack at once; the afromentioned Tinted Tens Yanmega so resistances are less effective than ever; Dipplin for more speed control and Leftovers for recovery; Probopass with Sturdy and pinch berry to become a cannon of a Special Attacker; Poliwhirl is now a Belly Drum-Sitrus Berry user to be a massive sweeper and now a fucking Yache Berry holding Gliscor. ... This is one of the most well put together teams in Pokemon history. Which, again, makes sense since Kieran is ALSO a student at Carmine's school. And not only that- he is actively trying to prove himself worthy of Ogerpon. He will obviously put out ALL the stops to beat you.

And the symbolism isn't just limited to movesets. Each Pokemon have...eerie undertones. Yanma, despite its looks, is a rather big Bug Type known for moving very fast and keeping a close eye on prey with Yanmega capable of crippling foes with its wingbeats and BITING the heads off prey. Shiftry can level houses and its Violet entry posits that it's based off a bird Pokemon that recieved divine punishment. Both representing Kierian's radical change. Poliwhirl goes from a dopy sleep inducing Pokemon to powerful swimmer, reflecting his desire for strength. Probopass manipulates the little mini-units to catch prey and Gliscor is a terrifyingly effective predator, reflecting Kierian's sheer hostility by this point. And Dipplin, the last remainder of the child-like innocence his team once had after Furret gets benched? Its apple is hollowed out and filled with two dragons, unlike Flapple and Appletun who coexist with the apple. Much like how Kieran's childlike demeanor has been hollowed out into a shell.

And just like how Kieran's story isn't done with the Teal Mask- datamines and experimentation with Eviolite has revealed Dipplin will be getting an evolution in the Indigo Disk.

Conclusion

You would think a series that has a core gameplay mechanic like Evolution, basically the symbolic progression from childhood to adulthood, would use these aspects for characterization more. But the history of this is rather bumpy, since the games have prioritized gameplay over story for so long. But good god damn, I would say that Pokemon beats out its contemporary in SMT for using its Mons cast for symbolism when it does.

I mean, you don't write an essay of THIS length over nothing. And I would like to remind people- I glossed over a few things. As in depth as this is: it's not all encompassing.

So I do think Game Freak deserves credit for this.

#Pokemon #pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon analysis #nearly 7000 words

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every-aj-needs-an-angel · 9 months

Text

Part 7 of Vegas AU!! It's so long but I'm so excited for you all to meet Charlie!! This is my first ever OC character I hope I did them justice 🤞 and apologies for being late it's Neil Gaiman's fault. I did have my weekend of editing planned out until he ripped out my heart and stomped on it so I spent last weekend as a burrito instead, sorry.

Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 3 -- Part 4 -- Part 5 -- Part 6

Eddie insisted they drop the car off at the hotel and walk to the parlour instead. Not that Steve minded, Eddie had assured them it wasn't far and although the streets were busy, the night air was cool and with Eddie by his side everything seemed kinda magical; almost like anything was possible.

Robin was already back to her usual self, chattering away with Chrissy. He couldn't hear what they were talking about precisely, but it was happy chatter filled with gasps and laughter, so he figured it wasn't for him to worry about. Chris was more than refreshed from her nap and seemed pretty relaxed again as she practically dragged Robin giddily down the sidewalk, fingers entwined and arms swinging adorably.

Steve couldn't help but smile at them, and Eddie seemed equally endeared, grinning fondly as he linked his pinkie with Steve's as they strolled along after their best friends. A street performer was playing a gentle tune on an acoustic guitar, the shop lights were casting a warm glow over the street and the scent of Italian spices were floating out of one of the restaurants as they passed by, all leading to this romantic air that felt more like Paris than Vegas.

The bubble was quickly broken by a group of dudes across the street heading in the opposite direction, whooping and hollering a chorus of "Vegas!" Eddie snorted derisively at the display, making Steve giggle. God, as if I was one of them! The jocks hadn’t seemed to have received the memo to grow the hell up, somehow still stuck in the delusion that because they were someone in high school that the world owed them a favour.

Steve had a feeling Eddie would’ve despised him in high school, and quite right, too. Nothing about Eddie screamed ex-jock, in fact Steve would put money on him being anything but. Not that he was sure what he could've been precisely. A band geek, maybe? Eddie knew a lot about instruments, chatted easily with Robin when she'd brought it up, but hadn't mentioned being in marching band himself.

Steve supposed he could’ve been a nerd, he knew Eddie was crazy smart, he easily kept up with other people even when Steve himself got entirely lost. And Steve could so easily picture it too, Eddie with cropped curls, big glasses and a bow tie. It was an adorable picture, but unlikely. No, Steve swinging closer to him being a theatre kid, especially given his and Chrissy's little display in the desert. Either that or maybe he'd been on the debate team, knowing a lot about everything and impassioned speeches were something they were good at.

He was distracted from his spiralling thoughts when Eddie bumped his shoulder playfully, "Whatcha thinkin' 'bout?" Eddie asked.

Steve glanced over, enjoying the sparkle in his eyes and the gentle smile gracing his face, "Who you were in high school. I'm torn between theatre or debate club?" Steve said softly, because the more he thought about it the more he swung towards theatre, but he hoped he wasn't way off, he didn't want to insult him.

Eddie let out a self-deprecating sigh, his expression shuttering, "Couldn't be more wrong, I'm afraid. I did help with staging a couple times, but I was- uh- well, I wasn't exactly liked in high school," Eddie admitted forlornly.

Steve's internal panic fell quickly from shit I've insulted him to huh? "Really?" Steve asked disbelievingly. Because surely not! Who wouldn't like Eddie?

"Yeah, nah, I was just the school freak. Eddie "The Freak" Munson. That was me for five years," Eddie muttered at the floor, like he was ashamed, like that was anything close to who he was.

Steve felt anger rise up his throat, the urge to protect Eddie putting his shackles up. He desperately wanted to go back to that time and place and make anyone who wanted to call Eddie that say it to his face, make his King Steve persona useful for something, make them apologise and grovel for ever making Eddie feel like he was anything less than the incredible man he was.

Steve stopped in his tracks to breathe through the sudden fury sitting in his chest. Chrissy and Robin were already waiting for them at the end of the street, a few more minutes wouldn't hurt. Eddie had stopped a pace or two away, still staring at the ground, still feeling the pain and humiliation those bastards had put him through for five years. But it was as though the rest of the world had melted away as Steve dragged Eddie to him by the hand, lifting his chin with gentle fingers and cupping his face; feeling simultaneously like he was holding something as exquisite as a butterfly and as substantial as the whole damn world.

"Eddie," Steve spoke softly, waiting for Eddie to look at him instead of over his shoulder, "Baby. That's not who you are! I didn't know you then, but I guarantee that's never been you! You are so much more than those small-minded, dickless, hopeless nobodies could ever even hope to comprehend! You're Eddie Munson! You're amazing!" Steve told him fiercely.

And if Steve wasn't in love before, seeing the adorable shade of crimson Eddie had gone and the bashful smile affixed to his face made Steve want to reach into his chest, pull out his beating heart and place it into Eddie's precious hands.

Their moment was quickly interrupted by his best friend, "Oi! Dingus and Dorkus!" Robin yelled from the corner, drawing both of their attention, "Less romancing, more moving, we haven't got all day!" she called, only half joking.

Eddie’s grin turned mischievous as he grabbed one of Steve's hands that were still dangling in mid-air and pulled him into a run to catch up with the girls, laughing like a little kid the whole way. Robin rolled her eyes as he and Eddie scampered passed them, dashing further down the road and skidding to a halt outside an inconspicuous shopfront; Chrissy and Robin skipping leisurely after them.

The four of them gathered on the pavement outside of Clarke's, it was a pretty indistinct store, only distinguishable from the surrounding shops in that the windows were covered with white film and the name was written calligraphy style, black lettering on a plain white background.

Eddie and Chris shared a look Steve couldn't quite decipher before Eddie took him by the hand and dragged him through the front door. The bell that jingled as they entered had barely finished tinkling before the person behind the counter came flying at them, "Eddieeee!" they exclaimed, throwing themselves into Eddie's open arms.

Steve could only stand there gawking at whoever the hell had just thrown themselves at his husband; trying desperately to push down the irritation he felt prickling his skin as they held Eddie longer than was strictly friendly. It didn’t help that they were gorgeous, tall and slim with an awesome purple mohawk, dressed casually in Converse, daisy dukes and a tie-dye vest that had “they/them” tagged all over it. And it really didn’t help that they were covered in tattoos, not just a few like Eddie, they probably had hundreds, every inch of skin he could see was covered in a multitude of different coloured inks.

Eddie had caught them easily and had wrapped them tightly in his arms, exclaiming, "Charlieeeeeeee! How're you?" he asked, squeezing Charlie tighter.

Steve wasn't jealous, he wasn't. That clawing, gnawing, burning sensation in his chest was just from fast food and a short burst of exercise. Steve tried to avert his eyes as Charlie pulled back, cupping Eddie's jaw in the same way Steve had just done to him not five minutes before, and he felt more than saw Robin reach for his hand, letting her touch soothe him.

"I'm good, I'm good, but how are you?” Charlie asked, tucking a piece of Eddie’s hair behind his ear, “Jeff said I might see you," they added, tilting their head with genuine concern.

And the thing was, Charlie seemed lovely, very compassionate and very concerned. Steve really was trying his hardest not to hate them, but he couldn't help feeling the desire to put himself in between them. To take Charlie's hands off of Eddie because it felt like someone had walked into his house and had started randomly touching his stuff; because Eddie felt like his and as much as he was trying to swallow that feeling down into the depths where it belonged, he could feel his hands unintentionally clenching, squeezing Robin’s hand tightly. He could feel his spine straightening and his shoulders squaring, like he'd come up against a bear instead of someone Eddie knew, and Steve had to consciously roll his shoulders, trying desperately to fight the overreaction.

Eddie didn't say anything in reply, but something on his face must draw Charlie's attention away from Eddie and to the group at large because Charlie let go of Eddie altogether and looked over at the girls, grinning fondly at Chris when he caught her eye. Then Charlie looked over at Steve, eyeing him like a cat, sizing him up before Charlie's smile turned a little lecherous, "Oh, but you got right back on the horse, didn't you?” Charlie said to Eddie approvingly, “Who's this pretty thing?” they asked, coming towards Steve, hands outstretched like a kid in a toy shop about to start picking up all the dolls.

Except Eddie stepped quickly into Steve's space, batting Charlie's hands away, "Hands off my husband, Kohl!" Eddie didn't sound mean per se, but there was a definite warning in his tone. Oh! That's hot!

Charlie baulked, eyes going wide in disbelief, "Your husband?!"

Eddie nodded decisively, "My husband," he confirmed. Charlie's face went through a multitude of expressions before settling on something that looked almost like pride. It seemed to spur Eddie on, he preened and wrapped an arm around Steve's waist, physically pulling him into their conversation, "Stevie, Sweetheart, my cousin, Charlie Clarke. Char, this is my better half, Steve Harrington," Eddie introduced.

Steve’s brain was short-circuiting. Eddie’s cousin, he’d been possessive over his cousin hugging him! God, I’m too tired for this. Luckily for Steve, autopilot took over, his stiff upbringing coming in handy for something as he shook Charlie's hand cordially, but he'd apparently married into a family of huggers because the two cousins laughed as Charlie threw their arms around Steve’s shoulders, squeezing him tight.

It'd been a while since Steve had felt so fucking stupid, in reality he had no right to be possessive over anything Eddie did, they were only technically married after all and just because they were continuing to have fun didn’t mean that he had a right to overreact like that.

Yet at the same time he couldn’t control that buoyant feeling, realising Eddie had chosen to introduce him to his family when he could’ve called Charlie and asked for a recommendation for Robin, or just taken her to any parlour on the strip, but Eddie had chosen to bring them to family. To his cousin who was proud of Eddie, and accepting of the fact that Eddie had got married, hadn’t even asked for details just threw their arms around Steve like he was one of them now. And god did it feel good to be introduced to someone as not only Eddie's husband but his better half. Which given half a chance was a title Steve'd happily wear proudly for the rest of his life.

A vision of them having a reception, Eddie walking him around the room introducing Steve as his husband to all his relatives, Steve doing the same with Eddie, popped unbidden into Steve's mind. Oh, Christ! I absolutely cannot think about that!

Releasing Steve with a genuine smile and patting Eddie affectionately on the cheek, Charlie chortled, "Well, he couldn't be your worse half could he!" they teased.

Eddie rolled his eyes playfully, nudging Steve with his elbow bringing him in on the joke, "Kohl's still bitter about being replaced," he taunted, winking at Steve conspiratorially.

Charlie scoffed, "I think you'll find, I replaced you with Vegas!" they jibed, making Eddie laugh heartily. Feigning pushing Charlie away as they kissed Eddie affectionately on the forehead, before wandering off to wrap Chris in a hug, "Chris! How're you, kitten?"

Chrissy beamed at Charlie, kissing them on the cheek, "I'm good, darling, I'm having the best time!" she told Charlie realising them and tugging Robin closer by the hand, "This is Robin, she'd like something done if you've got the time?" Chrissy asked so sweetly, Steve wondered how anyone could ever say no to her.

Charlie puffed out a breath in mock consideration, "For my favourite girl's girl?" they asked, rubbing their chin and looking Robin up and down, quickly caving from the facade, "I've got all the time in the world," Charlie added, already flipping the sign on the door from Open to Closed, flicking the lock, "Come on out back, tell me everything!" they said as the girls followed Charlie behind the counter through the open door into the backroom; Chrissy chatting away about their day, leaving Steve and Eddie truly alone for the first time since that morning.

Steve suddenly felt nauseous, he wasn’t sure whether it was the butterflies that’d suddenly sprung to life in his stomach or the worry that maybe somehow Eddie had sensed his reaction to Charlie, that maybe he’d be in trouble for being jealous. And the longer the moment lasted the two of them just staring at one another the more unsure Steve became, he wrung his hands, no longer knowing what to do with them.

He wanted to draw Eddie to him, put his hands all over him, like he was desperate just to touch him. And he hadn't ever felt like that, like he couldn't focus, couldn't control himself, like he wanted to be a giant, so he could keep Eddie in his pocket, like he wanted to shrink himself down, so he could live in Eddie's so he would never not be touching him.

His racing thoughts were staring to make him panic, he could feel his breaths getting short and faster but Eddie, his calming, steady Eddie just looked at him so softly like he was thoroughly endeared, pulled Steve into his arms in one swift motion and kissed him so soundly that every thought flitting around his head just floated away until there was nothing but the pressure of Eddie's lips, the smell of fading sunscreen, mixed with cologne and the underlying something that was just Eddie, and the fizzling excited feeling in Steve's sternum he felt every time their lips were locked.

It felt like they spent forever and barely any time at all in each other's embrace before Robin calling their names eventually broke through into Steve's consciousness, making him reluctantly pull away. Not that he could leave the safe little bubble Eddie had created for them right away. Steve had to rest his forehead against Eddie's to keep the connection for a few seconds longer, just to keep him close, to keep breathing him in while he got a hold of enough of his bearings to function. Eddie hummed quietly to himself, softly pecking Steve’s lips once more before taking his hand and leading him into the back room.

Robin snorted when they entered, and he couldn’t exactly blame her. It seemed he’d somehow managed to pull all of Eddie’s hair free of its tie and his lips, although kiss swollen, were pulled tightly into a sunny smile. "When you two are quite finished," Robin chastised with a raised eyebrow. Steve knew she was joking with them, but he couldn’t help the immediate rush of guilt he felt.

This was supposed to be their holiday together, supposed to be her special trip, her special day, yet he was wrapped up in someone he was stupidly desperately in love with and considering the chances of him ever seeing Eddie again as soon as they all went home were pretty slim, he felt terrible that he’d stopped focusing on his best friend.

Eddie didn’t seem too bothered, in fact he seemed more amused than anything, "I'm sorry Bobs, I just can't get enough," he purred, laughing raucously when she mimed gagging, turning back to the book in her lap with a roll of her eyes.

Charlie pressed a drink into their hands with a gentle "here you go" before flopping down next to the girls on the comfortable looking sofa. Robin was flicking through a stack of books filled with drawings, Chrissy pressed tightly to her side, looking over her shoulder. Eddie put his glass down on the coffee table and sat in the lazyboy next to his cousin, effortlessly pulling Steve into his lap, tucking his chin over his shoulder and wrapping his arms around his waist. It’d stopped surprising Steve that Eddie just did things like that, but he was thankful for his dexterity that he’d managed not to spill liquid all over the tiled floor in the process.

Steve placed his glass on his knee, watching Robin flick through the images, wondering what she’d pick. He half expected the cousins to start up a conversation and was trying to give them as much privacy as possible, so they could talk, even if it was only small talk.

Steve didn’t have cousins of his own, but Tommy had had three. They weren’t very close, but that was unsurprising he supposed given they lived on the other side of the country and only really saw each other every couple of years for family get together’s. Steve had been allowed to go to one once when Tommy’s gran had died. It had devastated Tommy, and Steve had only been allowed to be at the funeral to keep Tommy from crying and embarrassing the family. Apparently, 10 was too old to cry when you lost the only adult who'd ever really loved you.

He’d met Tommy’s cousins at the wake, and they were awful. The things they’d said to Tommy were way out of line and whether it was because they were grieving or just because that’s who they were Steve didn’t know; honestly he didn’t care, he was just glad when Tommy never spoke to them again. And he'd always thought that if that was what cousins did to each other, he was glad he'd never had any of his own.

Except neither cousin said anything, they just stared at each other for a while and then Charlie asked, "So, I hear you're from Hawkins?"

Steve pulled his eyes from where they’d glazed over watching the pages of the book flick, to Charlie. It was obviously aimed at him, and although they had asked almost conversationally, there was a fierceness in their eyes and a definite tone. Steve knew the beginnings of a grilling when he heard it, and he was suddenly glad for Eddie's proximity, especially when he wrapped his arms instinctively tighter around his waist.

Max had been the last person to give him the “what are your intentions” talk. It’d hurt mainly because he had thought she'd liked him, and he knew she'd hated Billy, especially after the incident with Lucas. He couldn’t afford to think about that now, if he had any hopes of making this work past this holiday, he had to make a good impression. And that was a thought that only continued to make him more nervous, the thought of fucking this up for good was unbearable, his heart rate kicking up and his mouth going impossibly dry.

He was so nervous he could only nod his affirmation, barely even registering the telltale smell that it wasn't water in his glass as he took a large swig, only realising that it was neat vodka when he choked as it burned down his gullet. Jesus Christ!

Eddie smacked Charlie's shin with the back of his hand while he rubbed soothing circles on Steve's back, "Jesus H Christ! Warn a person, Kohl! You mean bastard!" Eddie chastised, leaning forward to check Steve wasn't dying as he hacked up a lung, tears blurring his vision as he tried to breathe.

Charlie sprang off the couch, "Come now, Bear," they said, quickly crossing the room in two strides, "You know better than anyone that my fathers' were married long before I came along," Charlie quipped, pulling a bottle of water out of one of the cupboards and handing it to Steve with a whispered "Sorry, honey. Are you alright?" joining Eddie in rubbing his back gently, "Plus, I didn't hear you warn him either!" they said to Eddie accusingly.

Eddie sucked in a breath, no doubt ready to retort when Chrissy interrupted, "My darlings, are you fighting? You know how Pa hates it when you fight." Chris spoke softly and sweetly, but something about the way she said it made sure both cousins were quick to back down.

Eddie sighed heavily, back to fussing over Steve as Charlie sat back down on the sofa, making a point to look anywhere but at their cousin. A heavy quiet settled over the group, the only sounds in the room coming from the rustle of turning pages and the quiet music playing on a radio in the corner of the room; Endless Love sounding out of the tiny speaker.

Steve inadvertently caught Eddie's eye as he fretted over him, brushing Steve's hair back away from his forehead and combing his fingers through the hairs at the back of his neck, and the look in his eyes was enough to take Steve's breath away. Eddie was looking at him with such a deep intensity, Steve felt like he was being sucked into a vortex. Becoming almost overwhelming when Eddie started mouthing the lyrics, it felt like Eddie was the one saying the words, like he could possibly mean them and Steve felt it for a second, his own feelings mirrored back at him in Eddie's gaze.

But then Robin accidentally kicked the coffee table, swearing loudly and rubbing her foot, effectively snapping their attention to her and breaking the moment like popping a bubble. Chrissy carefully pushed the table away from Robin with her foot, effectively covering the sound as Steve gulped audibly.

He began purposefully glancing around the room as the song switched to Let's Stay Together, he knew he'd give himself away if he looked back at Eddie. Knew he'd be able to see Steve's true desires if their eyes met and something about Eddie seeing how deep the well of affection Steve felt for him went terrified the living crap out of him. And honestly, he wasn't sure his heart would survive it, if he saw and heard it reflected back from Eddie, and then he never saw him again. Steve knew it'd destroy him, there'd be nothing of him left for Robin to piece back together.

For the first time since hearing Eddie sing in his shower, Steve wished he'd stop when Eddie started crooning the words under his breath into Steve's shoulder where he'd pressed his face against him. Steve felt panic rising back up his throat, constricting his chest, and he knew he needed to focus on something else before he lost it completely.

He'd never been in a tattoo parlour before, it was a brand new experience he could throw all his attention at, and he'd never been more thankful. He had nothing to compare it to, but Clarke's seemed nice, white tiled floors that sparkled just so in the overhead lighting, but he knew a cursory glance wouldn't be enough to hold his attention enough to drag his anxiety back to neutral, so he began counting things trying to quell the emotions filling him and slow his rapidly beating heart.

Ten spotlights in the ceiling, nine bottles of something lined up on the counter against the wall, eight leaves on the potted plant in the corner, seven business cards on the pin board, six framed paintings, five hooks on the key hook by the backdoor, four different coloured painted walls, three workstations with comfortable looking black chairs like what you'd find at the dentist, two magazines on the coffee table and one tattoo artist, watching Steve intently.

Before Charlie had a chance to ask, Steve took in the thousands of photos of different body parts adorned with pretty patterns and colours all over the walls that threw a question blindly into his mind, "Did you do all of these?" he asked gruffly, his throat still not quite recovered, both from choking and the lump that had formed no matter how much he tried not to listen to Eddie, indicating the wall behind Charlie's head with a tilt of his own.

He cleared his throat inconspicuously, knowing he'd hit the jackpot question when Charlie's face split into a manic grin, almost the exact same look Robin had whenever someone asked her about her theories; ecstatically animated with sparkling eyes, like you could see the words being formed behind them.

"Not all, no, but I've done the majority. There's two other artists working here, but I've been here the longest," Charlie told him, glancing proudly around the room, calming Steve somewhat, "Do you have any?" Charlie enquired, giving Steve their undivided attention, clearly genuinely interested in the answer.

Steve shook his head, "Me? No. They're beautiful. I love Eddie's but erm..." and Steve realised he was about to say his parents wouldn't allow it, like they had any control over his life and he was so sick of having thoughts like that. He knew it was way past time he learned that he liked what he liked, and his parents would always be indifferent to it regardless of what he did, there was just no pleasing them. So if he liked tattoos, if having one was what he wanted, that was for him to decide; there was no right or wrong that would suddenly win their affections.

Luckily, Steve was saved from elaborating by Robin’s excited gasp as she pointed to a picture in the book she was flicking through, "That one! That's it! Can I have this one, Charlie?" she asked excitedly, bouncing up and down in her seat like a kid on the way to the seaside.

Steve clambered out of Eddie's lap, so they could all gather around the book, looking down at the page of drawings, "They're adorable, babe!" Chrissy declared joyfully, and she was right; it was a simple design, a little upside-down teardrop with giant eyes, the human depiction of an alien's head, but it was very cute.

Charlie grinned at Robin, "Perfect! You want colour or just as they are?" they asked, getting off the sofa and heading across the room towards one of the stations.

Robin didn't even hesitate, "Just as they are!" she decreed, jumping up and practically dancing around the room.

Somehow, the book had ended up in Chrissy’s lap, who was staring at the little picture with such adoration Steve wondered if you could force something into existence by pure thought alone. Luckily, Robin stopped moving long enough to notice, kneeling in front of Chrissy and looking up at her through her lashes, "Why don't you get one too?" Robin asked coyly.

The look of awe Chrissy was directing at his best friend nearly knocked him off his feet, "Really?" Chrissy asked with heartbreaking disbelief in her voice.

Except Robin panicked and suddenly second-guessed herself, she started backtracking, babbling, "Yeah, I mean, if you want. You don't have to, don't feel like you've got to. I just thought it'd be nice, y'know? And you seemed to like it, you said they were cute, but that doesn't mean you'd want them forever, right? Maybe you could get something different? Maybe we could all get one? Just like a souvenir?"

It'd been a long time since Steve had seen someone look at Robin like that, like she was the miracle Steve knew her to be. Chrissy was misty-eyed, her smile stretched so far across her face, Steve worried it might split in two. She looked like all her dreams had come true, and maybe they had; he knew all he'd wanted growing up was for someone to say yes to something he actually wanted.

"Bobbie!" Steve interrupted gently, nodding his head towards Chrissy, successfully redirecting Robin's attention away from her internal panic. The two girls beamed brightly at one another as Robin knelt up, crowding into Chrissy’s space; Chris nodding tearfully like she’d just accepted a marriage proposal instead of an invitation for a matching tattoo. Steve could stop himself from smiling affectionately at them, "That's a brilliant idea, if it's okay with Charlie?" he asked, turning purposefully away from the girls, giving them a moment of privacy.

Charlie grinned from their station, where they were busy getting set up, "This is my joy, doll, the more, the merrier!" they said affectionately, patting the chair, inviting Robin to come and sit.

“Yes! So we’re all getting one, right?” Robin asked, giving Steve a quick squeeze around the middle as she passed him.

Steve planted a kiss on the top of her head before she let go, “If you’re sure?” he asked, asking with his eyes as well as his mouth as she backed away from him towards Charlie, just to make sure she hadn’t backed herself into a corner, but she seemed pretty certain and who was he to deny her anything after he’d essentially ruined their platonic couples getaway by falling in love.

Chrissy sat with Robin while Charlie worked, holding her hand and talking her through it, even though it took surprisingly less time than Steve assumed it would. The radio in the corner only had time to play a few songs that he barely had time to register as he watched Robin intently, making sure she wasn't in too much pain or panicking, but she was fine, she was happy. When Charlie sat back with a satisfied grin and a questioning eyebrow, Robin looked down at the little alien looking up at her from her finger and grinned even as tears sprung into her eyes, sliding quickly down her cheeks.

It was so unlike her. Steve had always been a total wreck, a good song, a sad movie, he cried but not Robin; she was always the one making fun of him. This was unprecedented, and he didn’t really know what else to do other than to spring up and wrap his arms around her shoulders, pressing his face into her hair even as she insisted she was fine.

Robin put up with his fussing for a whole minute before she was patting his arm and trying to wriggle out of his grasp, “Honestly, dingus. I’m just… so happy. Look,” she said, wiggling her finger at Steve and laughing wetly.

He didn’t really want to leave her side, but Chrissy was trying her best not to crowd into them, even though Steve could tell she wanted to and when Eddie patted the sofa next to him softly, he knew he was right. Knew that from that moment on he wouldn’t always have to be the one to protect Robin. Knew that he’d find it hard to move over and let someone else help when he’d been the one doing it for so long, but that it was something he was going to have to wrap his head around.

He wandered melancholically back to the couch, letting Eddie wrap him in his arms listening to the rumble in his chest as he sang softly along with the songs coming from the radio, watching as Robin slid out of the chair and into Chrissy’s embrace, excitedly showing her her finger and seeing Chrissy mirror her excitement back.

Charlie did a bit of cleaning and tidying while the girls chatted before patting the chair again, and after asking Robin another twenty times if she was sure she wanted them to have matching tattoos, Chrissy sat for hers.

Steve couldn't help but admire her strength because she barely even flinched as Charlie pierced her skin. Robin had tried to be brave, but he’d recognised the signs she was trying not to show, the same signs from when she’d lay in agony on the couch once a month and Steve wouldn’t even need to ask, he’d just get the heat pad and, depending on the weather, either the rocky road ice cream or a hazelnut hot chocolate.

Chrissy didn’t even seem to notice and his admiration for her must shine through because Eddie pressed his face into his jaw, "This isn't her first," he whispered into Steve's ear. And it's not that it surprises him exactly, he just never would've guessed, but maybe having Eddie as a best friend taught her things he's yet to learn.

Steve hummed, pushing Eddie back into the sofa, so he could snuggle into Eddie's side. He felt safe, tucked under Eddie’s chin with his arms securely wrapped around him to feel the pain he was feeling for his younger self. He so wished he'd known the four of them when he was a teenager, wished he'd had the chance to be himself sooner, wished he was as sure of himself as Chrissy was.

Unfortunately, Eddie mistook his clinginess as nervousness, muttering in his ear, "You don't have to get one, if you don't want. I won't either, and then it'll just be a thing for them-"

"It's not that. I want to. I do," Steve interrupted quietly, "It's just... I realised earlier that the only reason I've never done a lot of things I want to do is that I'm still fearful of disappointing my parents, even though they're already disappointed and there won’t be anything I can ever do to change that. I just want to be more like Chrissy, she's living her life for herself, y'know?" he admitted, surprised at how good it felt to let that out.

Eddie nodded solemnly, pulling him closer and bringing one hand up, fingers splayed in the hair at the back of his head, "She wasn't always this way," Eddie muttered, playing absentmindedly with the strands, "It takes practice and good people around you who are ready to really see you and what you want and remind you it's okay to take it. I was as lucky to find her, as you were to find Robin, and we're both luckier still to have found you two," Eddie mumbled, placing a kiss into Steve's hair.

Eddie sighed heavily, "My dad wasn't a good man, but my uncle was. He realised I was in a bad place. Always getting into fights at school, no friends, no family. When my dad first went to prison, my uncle stayed with me at my dads, until I came home from school one day black and blue and on the edge of tears. He cleaned me up and calmed me down, and then he sat with me and asked me what I wanted. Asked me if I could live anywhere in the world, where would I want to live. And when I said I just wanted to live with him, he literally just picked me up and took me to live with his family."

He huffed wistfully, "They cleared out their office, so I could have my own room in their home, even though both Charlie and I said we'd be fine sharing. They made me feel so welcome and honestly, for years, I felt so left out because Charlie called Wayne dad, but I felt like I couldn't even though I wanted to more than anything. And then I met Chris, her stepdad was the one to rescue her, from her mother of all people, but she always called him dad. One day I asked her why, and she said to me, "Moms and dads aren't the people who give you life, they're the ones who raise you, who show up for you and love you no matter what"."

Both Chrissy and Robin were chatting vibrantly with Charlie, so they hadn't heard Eddie’s mumbled story, nor the sob that hiccuped out of Steve's chest, even though he had been trying his hardest to focus on their smiles in order to quell the flood roaring through him. Eddie tightened his grip, rubbing his thumb soothingly along Steve's ribs. His story was as beautiful as Eddie himself, and Steve knew deep down that he was right, that you can't live your life for people who never bothered to love you enough to even be classed as your parents.

Not when he had Hop and Claudia, who actually deserved the titles. They’d been taking care of him in the way his parents should’ve for as long as he could remember. They were the ones who loved him, who showed up for him, who he called when he had a bad day, who he knew he could rely on no matter what, who dropped everything to be at his side whenever he needed them.

He was lucky to have them, Claud was the one who fussed and coddled and cared; icing wounds, forcing him to eat home-cooked meals, doling out endless affection and letting him get away with murder. And Hop, well he’d come into his life on the day he needed a dad the most and honestly Steve wasn’t sure where he’d be if he hadn’t. Not that it had stopped Steve from putting the man through hell. Steve hadn’t wanted to, not really, he was just young and rebellious and angry, and he’d needed an outlet for that.

But Hop saw him and continued to see him, no matter how many times Steve acted out or tried to brush him off. Hop always stood there and took whatever Steve threw at him, calm and steady most of the time and even the times when Steve pushed too hard and Hop stormed off, he always came back. And although he might not have been the best at saying it, or showing it in any of the traditional ways, Steve knew Hop loved him. He was more of a dad than his own had ever been.

Admittedly, Hop was a little miffed when Steve came out, not because Steve was bi but because Steve had hidden the fact that the real reason he had moved to Indy was to be with Billy, to really be with him in a way they couldn't be in Hawkins. Except all Billy did was drag him out to Indy, continue to ignore and neglect him and make Steve feel like it was his fault he was acting that way, when in reality he was just cheating on Steve with just about anything with a pulse.

So yeah, Hop had been a little miffed but only because he hadn't been able to stop his boy from getting his heart broken, hadn't been able to give Billy a shovel talk so genuinely terrifying he wouldn't have dared to treat Steve that way, hadn't been able to do what he did best, which was protect his kids from harm, even if the only harm was heartbreak.

The Billy Incident had led to their agreement, anyone getting past the third date came to dinner with Hop, so they could be sized up and terrified before Steve had the chance to fall too hard and get his heart broken by someone just wanting to mess him around. And thinking about it, Steve was a little scared of what Hop's reaction was going to be when he found out Steve was already in deep; not that he thought Hop would be mad with him, just that he might be disappointed, which somehow seemed worse.

Steve wondered if Eddie's uncle would be equally unimpressed. If Eddie called him dad now. If his uncle knew how much Eddie loved and respected him. Not that he had time to ask because Charlie had finished with Chrissy and the cleaning and was in the process of calling Steve over, until Robin took one look at him, red-eyed and uncurling himself from Eddie's side and dragged him unceremoniously out of the room with an “excuse us” so she could check in with him.

She of course went on a minutes long rant, reminding him he didn't have to do anything he didn't want to, taking no interruptions, so Steve could explain that his being upset had nothing to do with a tattoo. When she did finally let him get a word in edgeways, he only had to say the word parents before she was nodding sagely, she might not understand exactly, but she saw the way his biological parents were with him in comparison to the way Hop and Claud treated him. She had once jokingly asked him if he was too old to be emancipated and adopted, and honestly, Steve kinda wished he wasn't too old for that.

By the time he’d convinced Robin that he was okay, Eddie already had his tattoo done like she'd ordered with a bark at them as she'd marched Steve out. He was sad he’d missed his opportunity to sit by Eddie’s side as the girls had got to, but he could hope he’d get another chance some other time. Steve sheepishly clambered into the chair next to Charlie, feeling excited and nervous all at once.

Everyone's eyes were on him, and he didn't want to be the wuss of the group, but Charlie was great, keeping him distracted with easy conversation, "So, you're from Hawkins, right? Did you go to Hawkins Middle?" It sounded a lot less like the Spanish Inquisition this time, more like curiosity, even if it was oddly specific for someone who grew up a few towns over. Steve happily hummed his affirmation, trying his hardest not to speak, so he wouldn't shout "OW!" like he wanted to, but then Charlie looked up at him, a truly mischievous smile spread across their face, "Taught by Mr Clarke?" they asked, eyes gleaming.

Steve's brows drew together because yeah he was, but how did-? "Oh my god! Your dad is Scott Clarke?" Steve yelled in astonishment as it all fell into place.

"The one and only!" Charlie proclaimed, laughing merrily and bending back over his finger, getting back to work.

And what the actual hell because Steve had grown up hearing stories of Mr Clarke's kids, Eddie and Charlie. Steve had spent a year looking forward to Monday mornings because Scott would be so excited to tell his students all about his weekend and all the weird and wonderful things he and his family had got up to.

Honestly, Steve had always been envious that they spent time doing things together, even if some of the stuff was weird as hell, like deconstructing and rebuilding the TV for fun. And Mr Clarke was the best teacher Steve had ever had, he was so caring and supportive and obliging, and had the patience of a saint, for those few middle school years all Steve wished for for Christmas was for his parents to be more like him.

Then, when Steve had become the kids' official babysitter, he'd really got to know Scott and he'd talk so proudly about his son's band, always inviting Steve to concerts, but heavy metal wasn't cool enough for King Steve and when he'd started up with Billy, he'd declared it lame, so Steve never went. But to think that maybe if he'd gone, he might have met Eddie all those years ago and neither of them would've had to suffer heartbreak and terrible partners.

Steve was broken from his musings by Charlie announcing "ta-da" and when he looked down, there was a little alien staring cutely back up at him. A souvenir. A reminder. An unspoken bond. Something they shared that'd outlive all of them. He'd never been happier with anything in his life.

The first words out of his mouth weren't the "thank you" he'd intended, but "Corroded Coffin" which snapped everyone's attention from Charlie's work to Steve.

"What did you say?" Chrissy asked breathlessly.

Steve shrugged, "Corroded Coffin. Scott, Mr Clarke, he talked endlessly about camping trips and hiking trails and a garage filled with, what I always imagined being absolute chaos, but knowing the way he kept his classroom was probably as neat as a pin. And then years later, I babysat kids in his AV club, and we'd chat, he told me about his kids band, Corroded Coffin," he admitted, refraining from imitating their dad.

"He talked about us?" Charlie asked, looking a little misty-eyed over at Eddie, who looked a little tearful himself.

Steve smiled wistfully at the memory, "All the time! We all knew stories about you two. The time you got stuck up a tree was a particular favourite," Steve informed them, making Chrissy cackle and Eddie and Charlie look varying degrees of offended.

"We weren't stuck!" Eddie yelled indignantly.

Steve couldn't help the giggle that crawled up his throat, "No? So Scott didn't have to call the fire brigade?" he asked faux innocently, sending the girls into hysterics.

Charlie found the funny side when Eddie blushed deeply, "Actually, I got down by myself eventually, Eddie was the one clinging to the trunk, wailing," they added, Chrissy flopping onto the couch, so she could roll around laughing.

Steve couldn't help feeling endeared by Eddie's pout as he muttered under his breath that it was Charlie's fault they were up the tree in the first place. Steve pulled him to him by his belt loop wrapping his arm around his waist and resting his head against his stomach and mumbling "You're so cute!" Eddie brushing his fingers through Steve's hair.

When Charlie had finished giggling, they called them all over so the four of them could put their matching fingers next to one another on the counter, Charlie using a Polaroid camera to snap a photograph for the wall. Charlie then proceeded to wrap up their tattooed fingers to keep them safe, giving Steve and Robin detailed instructions on how to care for their new tattoo.

They unfortunately didn't get to stay with Charlie much longer, they'd gone back to the sofa to chat some more when two of Charlie's colleagues, Tee and Bee, arrived. They were surprised to find the parlour so full on a random Wednesday night, but they were excited to meet Charlie's big brother.

Except after two more vodkas, Eddie decided when he heard You're The First, The Last, My Everything coming through the radio speaker, it was time to serenade Steve again, which after three vodkas Steve was absolutely fine with; Charlie on the other hand was just embarrassed to be the sibling of someone who considered "that" dancing.

They were promptly shooed out of the backroom and after a round of hugs and kisses, with many promises to see each other again soon, the two couples took a tipsy stroll back to their hotel, hollering loudly into the night.

my beautiful tag list @estrellami-1 @gregre369 @adhdsummer @nerdfighteratheart @anaibis @hbyrde36 @dolphincliffs @marinarasarah @deadflowercollector @lunabookworm @a-couchpotato @wonderland-girl143-blog @ddharrington @abstractnaturaldisaster @lololol-1234 feel free to lmk if you want removing 💖

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Part 8

#a massive 7000+ words #i'm so sorry #if you're still following this you're an angel but you also know i suck so i don't really need to keep saying it #steddie vegas au #steddie au #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #oc charlie clarke #background buckingham #background clarkson #platonic stobin #platonic hellcheer #steve's pov #aj writes

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chloecherrysip · 1 year

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teeny, tiny mario & luigi post-movie fic snippet!

I want people to believe me that I really am working on this!! I'm just slow and busy and also this fic is going to be really long because that's just the way it goes with me!! So here is a little preview. BUT FIRST, SOME CONTEXT.

I think it's really fascinating to consider how the star power works and what exactly it can fix or not fix when used in the context of the movie universe. I really like all interpretations! My personal interpretation is that even after the invincibility wears off, it still gives the user(s) one heck of an adrenaline rush for several hours. Rest? Food? Water? Don't need it! Honestly, you don't even think about it! You feel ecstatic and on top of the world and ready to run a marathon. There's just boundless energy for whatever needs doing (which may include helping clean up a completely ravaged city block).

But at the end of the day, the star's permanent effects are not absolute. It WILL heal major injuries, but it can't erase the strain of dehydration, lack of food, lack of sleep, etc - it can only delay all that for a while with its surplus of extra energy. And when the rush finally, finally wears off for good? All of that hits HARD.

Anyway, snippet time under the cut. :)

Mario's loud, gasping breaths seemed like the only sound in the world, echoes bouncing wildly all around.

"Luigi," he finally managed to wheeze — very quiet at first, then again, much louder. As gently and carefully as he could manage, he scooted up into a sitting position and turned his brother over onto his back, cradling him. He was still out cold. Mario patted his face.

"Hey, Luigi. Wake up for me, all right? I'm here, Lu. I've gotcha." He patted a little harder, steadfastly ignoring the way his hands were shaking at that point. Every second passing with no change stretched on like an eternity and then some. "You're all right, everything's all right. Come on, Luigi, snap out of it..."

Up close, Luigi looked very pale, sweat beaded all along the line of his cap. How had Mario not noticed that before? He'd been too caught up in the rebuilding efforts, too distracted by Peach and Toad and the thought of that hypothetical house. How could he not see that Luigi was starting to struggle? What kind of brother was he?

The kind that does something really, REALLY stupid because of pride or "destiny" or whatever you wanna call it. The kind that not only drags his brother down with him to do the stupid thing, but almost gets him killed because of it.

Mario's shoulders sagged. He gripped Luigi tighter, pressing his little brother's face close to the crook of his neck, if only to try and desperately ground himself in the knowledge that he could feel him breathing still, at least. Their injuries were gone, it was true, but for Mario, it was like the star had just shifted the pain around instead. He could feel it pressing up from under his skin, a deep well that was ready to split him open all the way through if he let it.

It no longer seemed like he'd just been in a magical world on a whirlwind adventure, or that he'd defeated a spiked turtle monster with anger issues and saved Brooklyn in a glorious, technicolor blur. Now, he was just a small, ordinary man in a dark sewer room underground, exhausted and terrified and unable to help the person he loved most.

#mario movie spoilers #mario movie #mario and luigi #super mario bros #cherrysip fic #super mario bros movie spoilers #i didn't say it was gonna be a happy snippet :) :) :)#it's BIG BROTHER ANGST TIME babyyyy #my HOPE is to finish this by the end of this upcoming weekend MAYBE??? gosh i wish #i'm like 7000 words in and only just now getting to the main scene....why is it is so LONG....there's just so many FEELINGS

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insertmesoftly · 2 years

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Reasons To Keep You Here (Yuri x AFAB Immigrant Reader) Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

The first to know about your marriage was, of course, the Forger family. Yor burst into tears and went for a bone-crunching hug with both you and Yuri in her arms.

Loid stood behind her, a hand under his chin and he thought about this new development. You with Yuri? …. This could be good or bad for him. Surely, Yuri would insist on moving to your apartment to be close to Yor. But a married life could lead for a good distraction… Loid was cautious on the whole but gave a warm smile and congratulations. He had to turn this to his advantage.

Anya…. Anya was confused. She knew the two of you were NEVER romantically together. Sure you might have gotten friendlier but… what happened to the plan to marry you to someone else? Why Yuri? Had you really become that desperate??? Her thoughts stayed with her as Yor continued her cooing.

‘OH, I KNEW YOU TWO HAD SOMETHING! Yuri, you were so adorable when you kept asking me questions about her! And I saw the way you looked at him, Y/N, and how interested you were in my stories!!! I knew it, I knew it!’ Yor let you both go. You nearly fell to the floor but Yuri caught you and you both slumped together as Yor continued her excited bouncing, heading to the kitchen.

‘THIS CALLS FOR A CELEBRATION! I’m making us a FEAST!!! Oh that’s right… I need to buy some stuff. STAY RIGHT THERE! I’ll be right back!’

‘I’ll go with you. We might as well do our entire grocery run today. You two can look after Anya, right?’ Loid wanted some more time to think about how to approach this. Also… he needed to make sure Yor wasn’t planning on making one of her ‘special dishes.’ You agreed to staying behind. Yuri crossed his arms but did the same. As soon as the married couple left, your new fiancé gave out a big sigh.

‘…. Yor took this way too well. Did she really think we liked each other?’

‘I know… it’s a little… off-putting to realize she always hoped we would do this. No offense but…’

‘No, same here. Eugh.’

‘… atleast we can use this to our advantage? No one suspects a thing!’

‘Yeah… I guess…’ You turned to look at him. He was still visibly pouting.

‘…. You’re sad Yor wasn’t upset.’

‘Shut up.’

You gave him a sympathetic look… which was replaced by shock as you noticed Anya’s…. peculiar face behind Yuri. Eyes squinted, mouth taught, the little girl oozed disapproval and pity. You panicked, wondering how much she heard.

‘Oh, Anya, haha! It’s been a while since we played any games, right? How about it? You get to choose!’

Anya would normally be delighted to play anything with you, you always made it easy for her to win and had the best reactions! But…

Anya’s gaze was fixed on Yuri, who felt her stare and glowered back. As usual, his violent thoughts were broadcasted but largely unneeded with how intense his face was.

‘Pipsqueak should keep quiet and behave if she knows what’s good for her.’

Anya sighed, much like Yuri had just minutes prior. She turned to you and patted your back.

‘Marriage… is so complicated…. I wish you luck.’

‘Huh? What? Anya?!’

There was no ceremony. You both agreed it was unnecessary. The prospect of making this sham public with a show like that… really put the two of you, who are such private people, off. All it amounted to was signing paperwork Yuri could make sure was processed properly himself, and the celebration food and gifts the Forger family kept insisting on giving them. You were content with it only being this… but Yuri still remembered your brothers.

As you both walked around your apartment, cleaning for his eventual move to your place… he offered to invite your family for a dinner. You responded almost automatically.

‘A dinner?! Now?? You… you haven’t even moved in yet! They’ll… they’ll know somethings up because there was no ceremony. My step- dad keeps up with the news, they’re going to know about the law! They’re going to be very judgmental of you for marrying me! They’ll think I tricked you… or that you’re a p-pervert, or… or…. They might not even-‘

‘Hey!’ Yuri was surprised by your strong reaction. He dropped what he was using to wipe at a wall to come and grab your shoulders. ‘Hey, hey, it was just a suggestion. Not for them, but for your brothers…’

He knew your home life was rough but… he was confident in his ability to deal with your parents. You shouldn’t worry.

‘I’ve dealt with people like your step-dad. By the time he leaves, he’ll be so impressed by me, he’ll be begging you to let your brothers visit.’

Yuri was being… cocky. His attitude allowed a smile to slip in your lips, but… your anxiety was still flaring. It’d been so long since you saw your parents… since you’ve gotten to cook for your brothers.

… you shakily gulped and nodded. ‘Okay. Okay…. I guess you ARE… the perfect son-in-law he could ask for.’

Yuri grinned, confidence boosted by your agreement. ‘Yeah! Take it from me, he’ll be eating out of my palm by the end of the night!’

Yuri was trained for persuasion.

The invitation had been sent. Your mother had agreed. The day had come and you were so… nervous. You wore a dress you kept for rare occasions. Yuri noticed your get up immediately and couldn’t keep his comments to himself.

‘So you DO own a nice dress! Had me fooled.’

‘… I haven’t worn this in three years. I didn’t think it’d still fit.’

To be honest… you weren’t sure if it did. It felt incredibly tight and you knew you’d be sore tomorrow. But you were already this far… With the food ready and dinner plates set, the guests were all that was missing. Your knees wobbled as you went to open the door when you heard them knock.

You were first greeted by the intimidating presence that was your past caretakers. Your step-father had more grey hairs, but still had the same hard eyes and scowl. Your mother was still clinging to his arm, trying hard to pretend she was oblivious to the tense atmosphere.

Your nerves hardened like steel, and you prepared yourself on instinct for the unpleasantness, but two heads half your size hit your stomach. Your brothers got in front of your parents, they could not wait any longer. They clung to your dress and swayed you from side to side as they yelled.

‘YOU LIAR!!!’

‘YOU TOLD US YOU WOULDN’T MARRY YURI!’

‘WE DON’T ACCEPT THIS!’

‘BEHAVE, you two! Let your sister go!’ Your mother’s harsh tone got the two boys to do as she said immediately. They still pouted, but stepped aside to let their mother walk up to you, arms outstretched.

‘Oh, Y/N!!! It’s been SOOOOO LONG! My darling!’

She swept her arms around you and gave you a smooch on your cheek. She lingered too long on your shoulder, humming as she looked at your new husband. You struggled not to push her off.

‘Woooow, Yuri, I presume? You’re as good looking as I’d hoped you’d be! I’m so proud of my daughter!’

Your mother let go of you and moved to Yuri, loudly admiring him. Yuri had on a polite smile. He was compliant and well-mannered as he responded to her every word. You held your breath as your mother asked for your step-father’s thoughts on the man.

‘Oh, look at that! He’s so respectable, isn’t he, darling? Surely, he’s a good man for our Y/N!’

‘A good man wouldn’t marry a woman like Y/N.’

The room got quiet fast. You nervously looked at your step-dad, then at Yuri. His smile didn’t falter.

‘I can assure you, I’m the best there is.’

‘… I doubt that.’

Tensions were flaring. You and your mom looked at each other. She clapped her hands and did what she was best at. Deflecting.

‘Well, where’s the food? We are starving!’

You had cooked plenty of food. You made your brother’s favorite, a chicken dish your mother used to make regularly for you, but your step-father disapproved of immensely.

For ‘the adults’, a beef dish and wine Yuri got from work. He bragged explained a business trip he had taken far away, and insisted your in-laws enjoy the fruit of his labors as an important government worker. Your mother flattered Yuri as she continued sipping on her glass. She talked enough for everyone, dominating the conversation with shallow pleasantries. Yuri was good at responding to her, passing as a charming and well-rounded man. You would be impressed any other day but… Your eyes kept flicking to your step-father, who ate but barely touched the wine. His face never changed expressions.

Finally, there was a lull in conversation, which Yuri took as a chance to do some work. He began talking about your step-father’s work. He is the head of the marketing department of a company selling beauty products. He presented himself as an admirer of his position and tried talking about marketing strategies. Praising the newest commercials, casually lying that you keep up with their products and bought their latest powder to wear for tonight. Your step-father took his first sip of the night.

‘Really? Y/N is still as unpresentable as always. Perhaps my products aren’t for people like her.’

Yuri’s smile slightly faltered, but he was quick to pick it up, still his tone dropped a bit. ‘Isn’t your company’s motto, every woman deserves class?’

‘There must be exceptions to every rule of course.’

Yuri narrowed his eyes, his brain itching. Your father was truly unwilling to bend and proving to be undeserving of anymore facade. What was it that made him so spiteful towards you specifically?

‘With all due respect, I fail completely to see anything worth criticism about your step-daughter. Is it because she wasn’t born here? Neither was your wife. What’s so different about the two?

Your step-father made a noise of indignation. ‘Your taste is truly the worst if you don’t know. Or maybe Y/N has simply tricked you into not realizing. I’ll be a good Samaritan and spell it out for you then. MY wife knows her place. She’s never once questioned or given me trouble. She learned to look the part she should and to shut her mouth on matters unbecoming of her. She’s become a respectable example of what people from her country can become. But that girl?’

He pointed straight at you. Unabashed disgust for your very existence.

‘Rude. Unwilling to conform. Unable to learn modesty. She tried my patience time and time again while she was under my roof. She is nothing like her mother, she lives just to spite her!’

‘D-Darling! That’s not true!’ Your mother tried touching your step-father’s shoulder but he slapped it away.

‘SHUT UP, SERENE, I’M LETTING HIM KNOW. Y/N was a menace, always fighting with her classmates and putting the blame on them, dirtying whatever pretty dresses her mother would buy for her, and hell, SHE WOULD ALWAYS YELL BACK AT ME WHENEVER I PUT HER IN HER PLACE. No respect for authority! No respect for her place in this country! Clinging to things from the country her mother fled from like these-‘

He pointed to the children’s chicken. They cowered from his hand.

‘Uncultured dishes! It’s like she doesn’t want to be here! Why did you marry her? You should’ve let her be deport-‘

There was a cracking sound as a chair flew from the table, and suddenly, your stepfather’s body was pulled right across the table, dishes spilling as his body was dragged by Yuri’s grip. His fist was taught with the man’s shirt collar, almost suffocating him. Yuri’s eyes were like pins. The entire family was speechless.

‘I work hard to protect this country. I do everything in my power to make it the best damn place to live in. To make it the safest. To make our people the best.’ His face turned to repulsion as he continued.

‘You are undeserving of the things our government provides you. You’re not worthy of your citizenship OR your status. I don’t work for people like you.’

He let go. Your step-dad fell harder still, barely catching himself from faceplanting the floor.

Nobody moved. No one knew what to do or say. You father took a bit to get off the table, he trembled but his eyes were vicious. He wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of anything. His wife was on him as soon as he stood, napkins on hand, wiping at his shirt. He shook her off.

‘Maybe I should send a strongly worded letter to your offices then. They should know the type of employee they have! You do not represent what this country is!!! Your values are not fit for your position over people.’

Yuri grimaced… but it turned into a smile.

‘You’re free to do as you please. I sure hope you’re ready for the letter you get back.’

‘… I will be.’ Confused, but still bitter, your father now turned to you with all his leftover malice.

‘Say goodbye to your brothers. You’re never seeing them again.’

Your heart sank and your tears began waterfalling. Your worst fears solidified. Your mother got up and couldn’t even turn to you. She looked at the floor and took her boys’ hands, leading them to the door. They kept glancing at you with tears in their eyes, afraid. You still stared at the door when she closed it.

Yuri let out a sigh and raked his hand over his hair. ‘That man is a piece of work. His concerns were…’ Yuri remembered his coworkers. His job. He understood the things your father was concerned were…. Or should BE…. Validated but…

Your sobbing broke him from his thoughts. His eyes widened and he realized too late. You had just been told tonight was a failure.

‘Wait… Y/N, it’s ok-‘

‘Ok?’ You turned to him, trembling slightly. ‘It’s ok? I told you I didn’t want this dinner, but you convinced me! You told me this could be my chance to see my brothers more! I hate that man, but I still put on a dress to keep things peaceful! And you!!!’ You were so mad. You pushed him into the wall behind him. It actually made him stumble from surprise at your rage. You placed a finger on his chest, accentuating your points.

‘YOU. Engaged him! YOU! INSULTED HIM!!! Now he’s never going to let me NEAR Kris and Charles!!’

Your anger had dissipated. Just remembering their faces had you back to sobbing. Yuri was still dumbfounded by your reaction. He had messed up. He had assured you he wouldn’t… and he failed. He felt uncomfortable seeing you cry. How can he comfort you? What can he do? He thought about Yor, what she’d do to make him feel better, and… He steeled himself as he wrapped his arms around you. He was tense, but careful. The contact made you momentarily stop your cries.

‘Yuri?!’

‘… I can fix it.’

You looked up at him, tears still streaming. He couldn’t look at you, embarrassed by your staring, he moved you away from his embrace, but kept his hands on your arms.

‘Give me three days. I promise you. You’ll see your brothers as often as you want.’

The reassured tone. What was it about him that kept making you want to trust in it? In him? You stopped crying, wiping your face. What’s done is done. If Yuri says he can fix it… you’ll just have to see. It’s not like it can get worse.

‘Alright. But I’m still mad at you.’

‘…………….. that’s fine.’ Yuri moved his hands away to cross them over his chest. He got enough courage to look at you properly again. He was relieved, seeing you the slightest bit better. He was still unexpectedly… feeling apologetic. So he moved to the table and began gathering the dishes.

‘I can clean.’ It’s what he used to do to help Yor out all the time. IT felt somewhat familiar. ‘You should grab some of the dessert you made and sit on the couch. I can do this for you.’

You were honestly surprised by the sudden shift in Yuri’s personality. Your chest felt warm having someone care for you like this. You tightened your lips, suppressing the emotion and moved to help him.

‘That’s alright. You can wash and I can dry them. We can eat together when we’re done.’

True to his word this time, you opened your mail to find a letter from your father, unexpectedly. He was… uncharacteristically urging you to come and take the boys out for ice cream that Sunday. He’d even give you the money for your trip.

… what kind of magic is this? You walked back to your home in adaze. Yuri was moving the last of his boxes to his room. You would sleep separately, of course. He took one look at you and smiled.

‘Good news?’

‘… what did you do?’

Yuri turned away, trying hard to hide the smirk that was coming on his face. He was doing a poor job. It gave you chills to hear him say,

‘I have some very good friends that can make any man of his status see reason.’

It was easy. There was already a file on the beauty product company’s conspiracies, failed products, mass trash dumping, shady business deals. For the sake of peace, there’s been a rocky relationship between the head of the company and his boss. Having someone complain about his favorite puppy, Yuri… was of course unacceptable.

Yuri’s smile fell from his face and he continued what he was doing like nothing had happened. ‘By the way, since everything is good now, how about treating me? I didn’t get to try that chicken you gave your brothers…’

You clutched your letter and really looked at Yuri as he walked into his room. You were beginning to realize… he may be more influential than you thought. More important. How did you get to be the wife of someone like that?

‘Uh… yeah. I still have the ingredients…’

‘Great! And we still have the wine, too! Maybe what happened that night was for the better.’

Same, cocky Yuri. You grimaced as you passed his door to go to yours.

‘I wouldn’t go that far. You still messed up.’

‘One day you’ll thank me. I finally put your step-dad in his place! I know you enjoyed it a little.’

You put away the letter in a drawer. You would save it. Your smile was genuine and this time, you let the warmth from before stay. You were Yuri’s wife now. You were partners in crime.

‘Yeah. I wish I could’ve given him a punch.’

Unbeknownst to you, Yuri had come inside your room, newly excited and now laughing. ‘Then, how about you forgive me, and I’ll let you get a good one in if he ever tries something again. Deal?’

You laughed back, getting up and shoving him slightly out of the way.

‘You’re so violent! …. Deal.’

The mood was good as you had your dinner, ate, and watched a bit of television together. Neither of you could have suspected that Yuri’s plan had brought a new problem.

Yuri forgot to tell his boss he was married at all.

Yuri's boss looked deep into the events that led up to this. Out of nowhere, Yuri has found a wife. A wife that was an immigrant. Someone who would have been deported just a few days after their marriage.

He is getting suspicious about his puppy growing soft and 'helping the enemy.' After all, he was his studious, sadistic student who previously only cared about his sister and the government. He just so happened to fall in love with an immigrant? Unheard of!

He begins putting pressure on Yuri, stopping him one day to bring him to his office. There, he congratulates Yuri and… Yuri immediately tenses. He realized he had overlooked his work getting involved. Fuck. He was prepared for suspicion. Instead, his boss invites Yuri and his wife to dinner with his family. He wants to congratulate them since he didn't get to go to their wedding.

Yuri can recognize his tone. Even though it posed as friendly, the underlying intent was clear. He wanted proof that this marriage was legitimate. Yuri cheerfully agreed and said that his wife would be delighted to know more about him.

So, the interrogation would come later. Yuri had time to prepare.

Yuri had Yor dress you up for it, something even you had to bite your tongue and agree on. This was serious. Yor was elated that her brother was taking your debut to his boss so serious! She cried as she agreed to pick out clothes for you. She promised she’d make you beautiful! Yuri could only look at you with doubt as he pushed you towards her. He had to go to his tailor to repair a suit.

The whole day spent with you, Yor, and Anya out and about. Anya was enthralled by the lessons Yor was teaching the both of you on fashion; what would help you stand out, what would help you blend in, how to properly cut a skirt if you ever had to run for your life. It was fascinating, and it began making you see Yor in a new light. Your respect for her grew tenfold.

Your day didn’t end with just clothes-shopping. You were brought back to Yor’s home to let her do your hair and make up. Loid was home, and offered to make snacks. Upon catching him up on the stakes of this make over, Loid very calmly walking into Yor’s bedroom the guestroom where Yor was helping you to begin giving you advice. Despite his calm tone and pleasant smile, it felt like he was grilling you, telling you all about proper manners you should remember, possible conversation topics, and, as a last ditch effort, an excuse to give if you had to get up from the table. By the time everything was over, you felt like a new person. An exhausted person. You were dreading the next hours of your life.

Nevertheless, there was a knock on the door. Loid opened the door.

When Yuri saw you, he was... impressed. Your slouching could still use work, but you looked like you were more poised. Not to mention, his sister worked wonders with making you conventionally pretty. HE gladly thanked his sister and you were on your way. You personally couldn’t help feeling like this ‘new you’ made you look more like your mom. More like the woman your step-father wanted you to be. It made your skin crawl. You stumbled a bit with your walk, making Yuri turn around. He asked if you were okay. You told him what you were thinking.

Yuri snorted. ‘That was the point! You’re playing a role. We both know this isn’t you, but it’s what will help us keep you safe. It’s only for one dinner.’

He looked back at you, trying a joking smile. ‘Don’t be like me and blow it.’

… You sucked it up and gave your all in your greeting when the wife of his boss opened her door.

Everything was actually going smoothly. The topics Loid had quizzed you with were coming in incredibly handy… enough to make you question his foresight. Every delighted answer and quaint movement of your hand added a tally to your score. It was a miracle the chief's wife was immediately endeared to you... uncomfortably so.

It felt a bit… jarring sometimes, the way she spoke about you. She praised you like a child, impressed by the manners you showed and the topics you knew about. She spoke so flagrantly, gleefully, telling her husband that you were clearly a proper member of society! The type the government surely made that rule for!

The chief... was not convinced.

The whole dinner was being misread by Yuri. He had let himself somewhat relax as all attention was on you, and you were doing fine. There were times when he’d jump in, but everything was going well. He didn’t consider that his boss wasn't looking at you for any mistake; his eyes had stayed solely on him.

And it picked up on his never once having touched you, even as you almost tripped getting up to go to the restroom. He did not believe in your marriage.

He's had enough by the time you come back. After staying quiet most of the dinner, he very forcefully uses his wife bringing up the subject to talk about it. How he fears that it could have led to some hasty get-togethers that would prove fruitless.

He picks up his glass and goes further to explain his views on marriages of convenience. They sicken him. There’s no use keeping someone around that shouldn’t be here. IF they are unwanted, they are not needed in this country. These are just facts. He glances at Yuri and smiles. He’s glad his protege is smarter than those who fall for outsiders that trick them. It’s clear that his wife is proper. He picked a good one.

But… just to ease his old mind better. He wishes to see the couple kiss. The wife goes along eagerly, thinking it cute. Yuri is sweating bullets, the irony not lost on him. This is what he had forced on his sister. Panic enveloped him, pierced by his boss’s stare. What was he to do now? He really didn’t want to, he’d never-

All thoughts slipped past his mind as you grabbed his hand. He recoiled on instinct, but it was stopped as your other hand cupped his face and traced his jaw. What was happening?

'What do you say, my darling?'

Your eyes were soft, and your smile looked genuine. It was a sight he hadn't seen before. He stared like a fish as you continued to egg him on. You caressed his cheek, it exploded with color but he didn’t move away as you placed it firmly there.

'I hope you don't mind if I lead today.' A spark in your eye made his stomach flutter and he had to stutter a response of confusion.

'Eh? Eh?? N-No-!'

His first kiss. It would be his first if he let this happen. He couldn’t! He shouldn’t!!! It wasn’t part of the deal! But-

You closed in fast. His eyes zeroed in on your parting lips before he closed them and took in a shaky breath. This was happening... He was letting this happen??! He felt a pressure against his lips that gave him a jolt-

... wait. It didn’t feel like another pair of lips...

He didn’t open his eyes until you let go of him. The mischief in your grin solidified his theory. You faked it.

His boss and his wife were speechless. There were no more complaints. In fact, his boss now saw what potentially drew his student to this woman. She had seemed docile and sweet, but the hunger as she jumped at the chance to kiss him, even in front of strangers?

... Yuri needed someone like that.

The boss's wife you off with left-overs and a promise to invite you to another dinner in the future. Yuri was still left with half a mind over the ordeal, so you took over the goodbyes. You carried the dishes given as you both walked out of their property. The sun was setting, it'd be a long walk home, and Yuri was not getting out of his daze. You shuffled your load to free a hand and tugged on his jacket. He jumped like a startled cat and screamed defensively.

'WHAT? WHAT NOW? STOP TOUCHING ME!'

You'd nearly dropped the food as he waved his arms around, but you caught it in time. With the look you gave him, Yuri finally calmed down. He was still being an ass, though.

'... you did that way too... naturally. You've done that before, right?' Yuri's brain was wrecked as he tried recalling if you had any previous relationships. All his data had pointed to no, but you must have!!

You shrugged. 'I told you I've never had a lover before. But... I did end up helping to clean an acting studio. There was a demonstration on how to fake kiss once.' You laugh at the memory. 'I remember being fascinated. How funny that it’d come in handy!' You give him a wink and you stick out your tongue cheekily.

'It's all about the tilt. You have to hide it.'

Yuri's face still echoed a bit of redness, but he had to admit he was impressed. He grumbled with himself, letting just a bit of it show.

'..... you did good today.'

It made you stop. 'Huh?'

‘I won’t repeat myself!’

‘What? Nooooo, come on, if you’re going to praise me, please continue! See how I took over to make sure we didn’t fail? I saved the day! Unlike you-‘

Yuri took the opportunity of your rambling to take the dishes from you and started to walk faster. 'Yeah, whatever, let's go home already. I bet Yor would like some of this ham.'

You were immediately snapped from your stupor. 'Wait? No! That's mine!! COME ON, YURI, THAT’S THE ONLY THING THAT GOT ME THROUGH THE CONVERSATION!' You follow him as best you could but the bastard was faster and unrelenting.

In the end, Anya ate all the ham and went into a food coma.

It was a week after the social battle with Yuri’s boss. Everything had finally been cooling down as you and Yuri fell to a new routine as ‘newlyweds.’ Though you were in charge of most of the cleaning and cooking, Yuri wasn’t opposed to helping out to do something everyday. He was a good roommate, not messy or nitpicky. Life was peaceful.

The icing on the cake came one day as you went to turn in your latest art to your work’s office. The boss pulled you aside and told you, halfheartedly-

Your comic strips have won the recent poll for most popular Sunday strips! You are ecstatic as you walk out of the building. Blinded by your joy, your first instinct was to call Yuri’s work to tell him. As the source of your latest inspiration, he had to know!

Yuri was in the middle of an intense interrogation. His victim, nose bloodied, teeth missing, kept pleading for mercy. He swore he didn’t know anything. Yuri’s eyes narrowed and he gave a sly smile. It’s fine, the man can take his time.

Yuri pulled a new tool of torture. ‘I’ve got all day to help you ‘remember-‘

‘Sir, we need you for something.’

‘…. I’ll be back. I hope you’re more talkative by then.’

He was told that you were calling him as soon as he was out of the door. He wondered what would make you interrupt his work; he’s warned you multiple times about using this line! You were not allowed to do so unless it was important! He was slightly miffed as he got the phone from the receptionist.

It immediately changed to bewilderment. Then cheer.

You’re the most popular?! Your workplace has conceded and will be paying you more for your strips?! You’re finally getting the recognition you deserve!! Yuri is so proud!!!

When you ask him how long he’ll be ‘in his office’ that day… because you wanted to treat him to dinner for all his support, Yuri’s heart skipped a beat. He faced away from the receptionist, suddenly very aware that he was being watched. The cord prevented his privacy.

‘You dummy… this is YOUR victory.’

‘Yeah, but I want to celebrate with you… you’ve done so much for me, Yuri!’

Aughh how can he pass this up? His scowl is contrasted with his burning cheeks and he tells you he’ll try to finish soon. They should get dinner at around 7. You agree and tell him you can’t wait! Yuri hangs up and has to control his face as he steps away, but his coworkers can tell he’s in a good mood now. They tease him as he passes them by.

When he returns to his interrogation, he lets his face slip back into a smile. A genuine one. It confuses the victim.

‘Change of plans… it looks like you’re on a timer for your life.’ Yuri leaves the small tool he previously had for a bigger one. A scarier one.

‘I only need you to keep one hand… which one do you write with?’

You both made it to your reservation separately. You were first to arrive and were seated immediately. It wasn’t a fancy place, but you’d heard it had good food and good staff. When the waiter came to get you a drink, you’d realized part of it was true.

The waiter immediately recognized you like you did him. You went to school together.

Yuri walked in on the two of you deep in a discussion. His initial smile was immediately replaced by his usual frown. He sat down as loudly as possible, letting the chair scrape, and his briefcase hit the floor as he sat. His presence cut the conversation short. But it didn’t deter the waiter, who with a smile, asked.

‘Oh, this is your husband?’

Being called that… it brought Yuri back from his black cloud. Your response made his eyes widen too.

‘The one and only. My darling.’

.. all previous emotions were now forfeit. Yuri was flabbergasted, looking from you to the waiter. He nervously coughed, trying hard to get into his role.

Your husband.

Your darling.

‘Yes… hello.’

‘Heh,’ The man grinned. ‘He’s shy?’

‘Pfffttt, not at all!’

The two talked a little more before the waiter finally took their orders and left. Yuri was still feeling a little put off, so he tried remedying it by talking about your strips. He congratulated you again, praising you. You were delighted by the support. You reciprocated quickly, reminding him that none of this would have been possible without his involvement. In true Yuri fashion, he accepted the credit and began flaunting it a bit, teasingly wondering to himself if maybe he should be the one the raise goes to. You playfully gave him a smile and reminded him of his horrendous attempts at art. He said those didn’t count, but you both laughed. Just in time for your food to come.

… unfortunately, that seemed to be the only time you two had gotten without being interrupted. The waiter kept popping his head, chatting you up, taking your attention away to reminisce and to talk about the good days.

Yuri kept trying to butt in. He’d remind the waiter of his job. He assured him the boss let him slack off once in a while. Yuri tried sending him to get him more tableware. He was always quick to come with a smile and a new story for you. Yuri was exasperated and it was like you didn’t notice. You were too busy focusing on him instead of what this dinner was supposed to be. Even when he finally left to attend to other customers, you brought up a bit of your history with him to fill in the gaps.

You told Yuri about how he used to be very popular because he was the best-looking and friendliest guy. Yuri scoffed, commenting that he may be friendly but he’s lost his looks. You tell Yuri there’s nothing wrong with the way he looks now. He looks great! He may have gained some weight but he was still as bright and warm as ever, with new thicker arms to boost. Your compliments only made Yuri stew more.

This time, when he came back, the conversation took an unexpected turn. He had forgotten to tell you he’d gotten married. Yuri almost choked, but managed to save himself smoothly. He was taken! You were taken! That was the end of that, right?

He looked at your face as your old friend chattered about his lovely wife. Your smile was genuine at first as you listened to him go on and on. It… disappeared as soon as he said her name.

‘You remember Veronica? She was always so sweet. I’m so lucky she gave me a chance!’

‘Oh… yeah haha… I’m so glad for you!’

Yuri knew there was something with this wife of his. He didn’t like that the man didn’t notice how uncomfortable you were at all. He didn’t like that you were just letting him continue. Yuri put his foot down.

‘Excuse me.’

You both turned to look at Yuri. His glare was on full effect and aimed straight at your friend.

‘I came here to congratulate my wife and you have been taking up all of her time. Can you please excuse yourself from this table until we are ready for the check?’

‘Oh…. Uh… yeah…. I’m sorry….’

The man got up and left, finally leaving you two alone. There was a bit of silence as he looked you over. He asked you straight up what was up with ‘Veronica.’

You were a bit startled, realizing that Yuri was paying attention to your talks… but you smiled. You shouldn’t be. He’s always paying attention to you. You shakily laughed and sucked in a breath.

‘Remember my dad’s complaints about me starting fights and messing up my mom’s dresses?’

Yuri’s brain ticked with the memory. His frown deepened. ‘Yeah?’

‘Veronica really loved bullying me.’

‘Hmm.’

Yuri got closer, invested in the new anger welling inside of him. ‘And here this guy’s talking about how sweet she was as a kid. How come he doesn’t know?’

You had nowhere to hide from Yuri’s stare. You clutched your sides as you explained. ‘He… has always been detached from things. He was the popular and friendly boy. Veronica didn’t want him seeing her in that light and he… never had any reason to suspect anything.’

‘Well that’s dumb.’ Yuri slammed a hand on the table, glowering. ‘How can someone be so blind for so long? He probably knew but just didn’t want to get involved! And now he’s married to a woman like her!’

‘Yeah…’ You sighed and stared at your food. ‘I guess that’s just love. It makes you not want to see the person’s flaws…’

… Your tone. Your defense of the man. Your smiles and eagerness to give him your attention. Yuri’s brain clicked. He got up and threw much more money than was necessary on the table.

‘We’re leaving.’

‘What?’

He came around to your side and took your hand.

‘Come on.’

‘Yuri??’

You were out the door before you could tell your old friend goodbye. Not that you wanted to… it was actually preferable to stumble after Yuri under the streetlights. This was familiar by now.

‘You liked him.’ Your mind stopped but Yuri didn’t. He kept walking and talking.

‘You liked that jerk! And you still do?!’ He finally let you go, turning around to confront you. ‘Don’t try to deny it! We both know there’s only one reason you would laugh at jokes as bad as his! Really?? Him??’

Yuri was acting way out of line, his face warped and his movements exaggerated. Your cheeks reddened, having been caught, you were furious as you tried to explain yourself.

‘He was the only guy that was nice to me! Of course anyone would fall for that!’

This put a pause on Yuri. You continued. ‘Nobody liked me. Everyone either left me alone or picked on me. Veronica had them all convinced that I was a violent girl… and he was the only one that kept talking to me like I was normal.’ You hugged yourself, a bitter smile on your face.

‘I always thought… he must just be naïve. He never asked me about the fights or about my life. But it didn’t matter anyways. The conversations were mostly always about him anyways. You were right.’

You shrugged.

‘He’s always been a jerk.’

Yuri took only a bit to process this. He crossed his arms, and nodded to himself. ‘Yeah, I was right. But… don’t be too hard on yourself. It’s like you said. When you love someone… you’re blind to the bad stuff.’

You laughed and decided to keep walking. He followed right beside you.

‘What about you? Have you ever been in love?’

Yuri blinked. He could only ever think about his sister. She was his world. Admitting this now… felt silly. It’s how the two of you were introduced. You already knew how he viewed his siter and you still asked. That meant you were just making sure if there were any others. He shook his head.

‘I never cared. And I never will.’

You laughed again at his serious tone. ‘Oh come on, dream a little! I’m sure there’s someone out there who would love your eccentricities!’

Yuri looked at you strangely. ‘Have you forgotten we’re married? There is no ‘someone’ as an option anymore.’

You furrowed your brows and took the information in. That… felt wrong. You stopped again, mulling it over.

‘This… this only has to be temporary, Yuri. It’s okay if you fall in love with someone. We can work out a divorce-‘

‘What? No! don’t be fucking stupid, Y/N. After all the trouble we’ve gone through.’

Yuri was back to being riled up. You were spewing nonsense now out of nowhere! ‘There is going to be no divorce in our future, not unless YOU find someone! Stop worrying about my love life, it’s never going to happen! We agreed to this!’

‘No we didn’t!’ You insisted. This wasn’t what you wanted. Yuri was young, good looking, and a good man. He deserved to be happy…

Your eyes showed how seriously you chose your words. ‘I can’t ask you to sacrifice your life for me like that. You’ve already done so much for me, Yuri. Please. If you meet someone you want to-‘

‘FUCK!’

Yuri’s patience finally wore thin. He took you by the arm, yanked it, and knocked heads with you, stopping your sentence. You immediately shielded your now throbbing head.

‘OW!?!?’

‘SHUT UP!’

‘WHAT THE HELL!!!!’

‘SHUT UP SHUT UP!!!’

His hands moved to hold you face firmly, cheeks squishing. You could only look on in bewilderment as he continued his tirade.

‘YOU AREN’T ASKING ME TO DO THIS!!! YOU NEVER EVEN CHOSE ME, REMEMBER??? IT WAS ME!!! I DECIDED TO MARRY YOU! I DECIDE WHEN TO GO. AND I SAY, UNTIL THE DAY YOU FIND SOMEONE BETTER…’

He stopped when he felt your breath on his face. He… hadn’t realized he was so close. You were locked in a stare, to which he immediately let you go. He tried regaining his composure as he continued.

‘You…. You’re stuck with me, ok?! We’re in this together!!!’

You didn’t know how to process what you were told. Maybe the hit to the head was part of the problem. All you could do was give him a dazed nod, unable to notice the heat left over on your cheeks. Yuri was all too conscious to his, though, and he turned away from you quickly.

‘Never bring that up again… good gracious as if I’d leave you like that. I am committed to every decision I make, Y/N! Never forget that.’

‘Yeah…’ Your mind was finally clearing, you touched your head again. Despite the pain, you smiled. ‘… you’re a really good man.’

Yuri’s shoulders shook. He had the urge to hit you again… but he refrained.

‘Yeah? Way better than that loser at the restaurant?’

‘Pfft. Yeah. You’re genuine with your kindness. Men like him don’t stand a chance against you.’ Your eyes. They were soft again. It made Yuri lose his breath.

‘Y-Yeah. Whatever. You can keep telling me how amazing I am at home.’

The walk was uneventful, but nice. Halfway home, Yuri asked about your head, but by then the pain had mostly gone. He hadn’t hit you hard, it was mostly the shock, you assured him. Still… he risked his pride by petting your head. You looked at him with such confusion that he immediately rectified this by telling you that he’d hit you once more if you questioned his conduct again. That night served to calm a bit more of your anxiety over this marriage…

And it firmly cemented your want to never piss-off Yuri again.

You woke up with a bruise that made you cancel plans with Yor the next day.

Part 4: Here

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myreia · 3 months

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Divergence of the Heart

CHAPTER FIVE: THOSE OF NOBLE STOCK

Chapter Rating: Teen (full story rating is Explicit) Characters: Aureia Malathar (WoL), Aymeric de Borel, Thancred Waters, Hilda Ware Pairings: Aureia/Aymeric, Aureia/Thancred, Thancred/Hilda Chapter Words: 7,127 Notes: Set during the Heavensward patches. Summary: Aureia Malathar may have made a name for herself in Ishgard, but her deeds come with a hefty personal toll. Despite her victories at the Grand Melee she has never felt more unsure of herself. Her relationship with Thancred—the person she thought knew her the best—is strained, yet she cannot abandon him. Aymeric is falling for her harder with each passing day, yet she cannot bring herself to accept it. All may be fair in love and war, but at least war is predictable. Love on the other hand… Chapters: 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 Read on AO3

Aureia lingers in the shadows, huddled in her coat, breath misting in the night air as she stares up at the building looming before her. Like all the estates befitting the Ishgardian nobility, the Borel Manor is an imposing display of high arches and ornate decorations. Elegant spires reach for the heavens, black against a sea of twinkling stars, and stained-glass windows glow with a welcoming and lively warmth from within. A handful of steadfast guards patrol the gate, attentively surveying the street for signs of trouble. Though this part of the Pillars is hardly prone to bustling activity, there is good reason for the Lord Commander’s residence to have tighter security than most.

Though Aymeric himself may be keen to forget it, the attempted assassination is fresh in many of his inner circle’s minds. Ishgard may be more acclimatized to its new state now the Dragonsong War is well and truly over, but swift and drastic political changes do not come without a price. The chances of some disgruntled adversary trying again are too great to ignore.

She sighs, shivering in the cold, and tucks her hands into her armpits. The thick leather sits oddly on her shoulders, suffocatingly heavy and offering little warmth. She is beginning to regret wearing the damn thing. The more she thinks on it, the more she feels as though strolling up to his manor armed and in her combat gear will turn what was supposed to be a relaxing dinner between friends into a glorified business meeting.

And maybe this is all that it is, she thinks, knowing full-well it is not.

What is her personal relationship to Aymeric anyway? They have circled each other for more than a year, true, but it was always within the context of greater—yet impersonal—events. Politics, battle, the birth of a nation’s new era… How does one become friends through events as momentous as that? This is not like her bond with Estinien, informed by weeks of reluctant travel and time spent snapping at and figuratively stepping on one another’s toes until begrudging respect set in.

This is different. This is…

Stop it. Stop fooling yourself. You practically proposed this dinner as much as he did and you want to back out now? So what if he might be in love with you? Is that truly such an awful thing? What in the seven hells is wrong with you?

“Can I help you, mistress?”

Aureia jerks back and instinctively reaches for her rapier, eyes wide as she stares the young Elezen guard in the face. “No, I—I’m fine, thank you.”

He glances at her weapon. “Then I must ask that you move along,” he warns sternly. “This is no place for idle loitering.”

Her surprise evaporates in an instant. “I am here to see Ser Aymeric.”

“Is that so? The Lord Commander does not accept audiences in his private home, and certainly not from wandering adventurers.” The tone of dismissal is impossible to ignore as his gaze lands on her rapier. “I must ask again that you move along.”

She flushes. Most times she would be pleased that her face has gone unrecognized, however in this case it is both amusing and mortifying that she will have to leverage her name to simply get through the gate. “Tell me, what is your name, ser?” she asks, hand still on the hilt.

“Gillesoireaux, mistress. Now, you must—”

“Move along, yes, I heard you the first time.” She raises her chin, calmly brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, exposing the point. “I would be very interested to hear what Aymeric has to say when he discovers you prevented the Warrior of Light from attending a much long awaited for dinner.”

The guard blanches. His gaze passes from her face to her rapier and back again, noting her mixed Hyur and Elezen features. Her image has been passed around Ishgard long enough now most citizens have some idea of what she looks like even if they haven’t seen her at official events.

“I’m sorry, mistress,” he says. “Even if you are the Warrior of Light, as you claim, I cannot allow you to pass without verification of your identity—”

She folds her arms, annoyed. “What verification? What else do I need to do to prove I am myself?”

“I—”

“That is quite enough, Gillesoireaux, thank you.”

Aymeric’s voice resounds from beyond the gate. Peering past the young guard, Aureia finds him on the threshold to the manor, a slightly perplexed look in his eye and an amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. For once he is not dressed in his uniform, but the refined doublet and hose common among the Ishgardian nobility.

Gillesoireaux’s mouth opens in shock. “But, ser, I must protest—Lucia—”

“I commend you for fulfilling your duty so thoroughly, Gillesoireaux, but I believe I know the identity of my guest well enough to recognize her. Now, if you please. Allow her to pass. It is quite cold out tonight.”

The young man’s cheeks turn red. Swallowing his pride, he nods in respect and stands aside, gesturing for Aureia to proceed. She walks quickly through the gate and up the stone path, a strange flush on her cheeks and a queasy feeling in her stomach. Though she suspects she and Aymeric will both find this incident amusing to reflect on in a few days time, for now she can’t determine whether she is embarrassed about it or simple anxious for the dinner that lies ahead. She was filled with giddy happiness several nights ago at the prospect of spending time with him. But now she is here, on the doorstep of his estate…

Where is the confidence she had that evening outside Estinien’s room? It takes more willpower than she would like to admit not to excuse herself and run straight to the Brume.

Do me a favour and go with him for once. Give it a chance, for Fury’s sake. He will never shut up about you otherwise.

“I apologize for the trouble,” Aymeric says, ushering her through the door. “Gillesoireaux is young and takes his duties very seriously. I suspect fear of being tricked into letting unsavoury personages through overcame his good sense—though I fail to see how any Ishgardian citizen would fail to recognize you on sight.”

“Oh, I’m not sure about that. For all he knows, I might have been Hilda in disguise masquerading as the Warrior of Light in a bid to further ingrain lowborn citizens into your ever-expanding social circle.”

He sighs soberly and closes the door behind her. “Though I would hope none of my staff share those proclivities, it is a sentiment often echoed in the Pillars—”

She lays a hand on his arm. “It was a joke, Aymeric. And not a very good one.”

Aymeric coughs, covering his embarrassment, and glances at her. The corners of his eyes crinkle with a wry smile as he notes her rapier. “You came fit for battle, I see,” he says, raising an eyebrow.

She frowns, folding her arms defensively across her chest. “The last Ishgardian dinner I attended ended with me drugged and on the floor. You never know what will happen—” Gods, Aureia, did you really just say that? “—besides, you’re not one to talk! Not once, in all this time I have known you, have you graced my presence without your greatsword. Or your armour.”

He stares at her, taken aback by the sudden deluge of words. “I…” A small chuckle escapes him. “I suppose you speak the truth. Lucia has said as much before. Routine is no small comfort, one that I perhaps rely upon too often and unthinkingly. One could say it is fortuitous that tonight I have finally relinquished some of my habits that are consequences of profession and position.”

“Are you sure? You have done away with the armour, but I’m not entirely convinced you’re not hiding Naegling behind your back.”

He laughs again and takes a step back, spreading his hands in a very un-Aymeric-like way. “Then perhaps you will have to examine me for yourself,” he says. He turns out to one side, then to the other—to call it a twirl would be too much—and sinks into a low bow. As he gazes up at her from behind long, dark lashes, the coy smirk on his lips feels private. Personal. Just for her. “No hidden weapons, greatswords or otherwise.”

She smiles, buoyed by his gentle humour, her mind reaching for a witty remark—and pauses. A shadow moves in her peripheral vision. She blinks, ripping her gaze away from Aymeric to dart around the foyer. A butler—tall, Elezen, genteel in the way of the Ishgardian upper crust, with all the quiet confidence and experience that Gillesoireaux lacked—enters the foyer and glides effortlessly across the room, stopping only to bow politely to them both. His piercing eyes linger on her in a way she does not like, taking in her tunic’s deep neckline and the tips of her ears poking through her hair.

Only then does she realize that the hall is far from empty. Behind Aymeric it unfolds in a kaleidoscope of marble floors and blue-trimmed walls, floor-length windows framed by sweeping velvet curtains, the crystal chandelier that is somehow gilded yet not gaudy, a magnificent staircase ascending to the second floor. It’s exactly the kind of staircase the demure little protagonist of those romance chapbooks Tataru stockpiled from the Jeweled Crozier would use to make her grand entrance. The butler is not the only servant here; a handful of others are going about their evening tasks while furtively glancing in her direction and eyeing her up.

She doubts she meets their expectations.

Aureia glances back to Aymeric, catching him still in his bow. Heat sears her cheeks—damn damn damn it—and she ruthlessly hopes the colour doesn’t show on her pale face. Maybe she can brush it off as a result of the brisk evening air.

Wind burn. Right. Is that where we’re at? I’m not blushing, it’s wind burn.

The butler appears a foot behind Aymeric, thick grey brows drawn together in an obvious frown, and clears his throat.

Aymeric jolts out of his bow and straightens, reverting seamlessly into the posture of the Lord Commander. Professional. Polite. Adroit. The picture of knighthood and chivalry. She knows him well enough know it is a role as much as the Warrior of Light. But the way he inhabits it every day, fully and resolutely, as fulfillment of his duty to his country… Sometimes she worries he is more the façade than the man.

“Marcel!” he says. “My apologies, I did not expect—”

“Merely here to receive your honoured guest, my lord, but I see there was no need,” Marcel interrupts smoothly. “I did not realize that you had departed your private office so early before dinner. Is there a change in your schedule I was not made aware of? I can amend my timetables—”

“No, that is quite all right, I assure you.” Aymeric lowers his head, almost as if he has been scolded like a schoolboy. “I was happy to greet Mistress Malathar myself.”

“Did you wish to return to the study? Mistress Malathar is early. I am happy to escort her to the sitting room in the meantime. Or perhaps the library. Your parents’ collection on Ishgardian cultural and religious history may be of particular interest to her.”

“That won’t be necessary, Marcel, thank you.”

The butler nods and places a hand over his heart, bowing deeply. “I am ever but your humble servant, my lord.”

Giving Aureia a calculated look, he excuses himself and departs briskly down the hall.

Aymeric coughs, a flush on his cheeks, and awkwardly links his hands behind his back. “Shall we?” he says hesitantly. “It seems we have some time before dinner is served. No sense in standing in the threshold, I wager. Unless you have a preference for waiting here, of course…?”

“Hm. You know, I do love a good foyer. And you have a particularly beautiful entrance hall.”

His eyes brighten. “Is it not? My parents did find much enjoyment in their taste and style…” He trails off, noting her expression, and sighs and shakes his head. “That was a jest, I see.”

“It was.”

“I am making a fool of myself once again.”

Aureia cocks her head and sweeps across the foyer. “Not a fool,” she says affectionately, taking his arm in hers. She’s uncertain where the impulse came from, but it feels appropriate in a hall like this. Maybe Tataru’s chapbooks had a more lasting impression on her than she thought. He doesn’t seem to mind or find it odd, at any rate. “Just incredibly easy to tease.”

“Incredibly easy? Well then, I shall take note. Perhaps I can put up more resistance next time.” He guides her down the hall, strolling towards a pair of arched glass doors. Count Edmont would never have the like in his manor. “But your remark did remind me that this is still very much my foster parents’ home. Their vision, their tastes, an inarguable inspiration to their peers. Perhaps they expected me to make changes once I inherited the estate, but I never could bring myself to overturn their memory. This house is as much theirs as it is mine. I count my blessings and my fortunes every day for the life they provided me.”

“I see.”

He eyes her, glancing down from his towering height. “You must forgive Marcel,” he continues. “He was the former viscount’s butler and he has been with the house since before I was born. He may be curt and fiercely protective of the Borel name—and, if you will allow me a moment of honesty, perhaps a little too protective—but his intentions are well-meaning.”

He pushes the doors open. They swing outwards to welcome them into a sitting room decorated in soft blues and periwinkles. A warm fire crackles merrily in the hearth, casting its dancing light around it.

“Protective?” Aureia asks as he shuts the doors behind them. Though any servant passing could spot them through the glass, at least the sound will be muffled, affording them some privacy. “How so?”

Aymeric gestures to the nearby settee. “There is a particular sense of Ishgardian propriety about House Borel’s old guard, so to speak,” he says carefully, waiting for her to sit down.

She sinks into the cushions, fingers plucking unconsciously at the frilled edges of a nearby pillow. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“I hold Marcel and his staff in nothing but the highest regards,” he continues, seating himself opposite her. A strange stab of disappointment pangs in her heart. Almost as if she wishes that he had joined her on the couch, close enough to touch. Close enough for her to lay a hand in his, to thread her fingers with his in imitation of that night in the infirmary. “But their enduring devotion to my foster parents’ and their reputation does blind them. My adoption caused a stir among the high and minor houses alike, one that was not easily mitigated. Gossip behind closed doors can be as brutal a warfare as any battlefield. Marcel does not intend any disrespect, but I believe he wishes I carry on my parents’ good name without subjecting it to further slander.”

Her gut tightens into a familiar knot, an unwanted prickle creeping down the back of her neck. “Why should inviting me to dinner be the cause of slander for your House?” she says flatly. “I thought we were friends.”

“And we are, are we not? Aureia, there is no person on this world whom I am prouder or happier or honoured to call friend—”

“You staff seems to think differently. Where would they get that impression, I wonder?”

He coughs, covering an awkward smile. “They are an imaginative lot, it is true, but—”

“Marcel’s concerned, isn’t he. He is Ishgardian through and through. The old kind, that is. Warrior of Light or not, he sees a half-Elezen woman appear on your doorstep and there is only one thought in his mind.”

A pause. He closes his eyes, wincing with pain as if she had stabbed him in the gut. “Yes. You see it plainly.”

Aureia exhales a long breath and folds her hands, resting them on her knees. This is not the conversation she imagined she would have upon entering his house, but it seems it has raised its ugly head regardless. “I’m sorry,” she says slowly. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He opens his eyes, relief flickering across his face. “You have not. Far from it. If apologies are required, it should be from me to you. On behalf of certain ancient gentlemen who are far too entrenched in their ways to avoid jumping to conclusions.”

There is a part of her—a niggling part, deep down, thrashing around in her mind that she must stamp out lest she let it slip across her tongue—that wants nothing more than to ask him point-blank what Marcel would do if they were more than friends. If he loves her the way she thinks he does it must be on his mind. She can imagine the horror on Marcel’s part, the conclusions he would race to while watching the son of his beloved viscount fall for a woman of mixed heritage. Bastard Elezen children are one thing in Ishgard. But bastard children with Hyur blood in their veins…

Her heart hammers, rising panic creeping across her skin. That would require so many elements to fall into place, so many variables to go both right and wrong. Besides, it’s not like she could ever… she can…

Not this again.

“Aureia?”

His voice resounds quietly in her ears, a blanket of calm and warmth. The sound of him so close yet so far away cuts through her panic, dispersing it as easily as the sun melts mists in its morning glow.

She raises her head, meeting his eyes, and instinctively pushes a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’ve never told anyone this,” she says quietly. “Not even Hilda. But Haurchefant warned me near a year ago that Ishgard may judge me harshly not for who I am, but what I am. He believed I could win them over easily, that the nobility’s contempt for me would melt as soon as I gave them something to talk about other than exile, refugee or half-Elezen. He had more faith in the goodness of his peers than anyone. Perhaps a little too much. He hoped my association with his father would count for something, but I’m not certain if this city is prepared to judge me for anything other than who my parents may have been. And I’m not even Ishgardian.”

Aymeric nods and leans across to take her hand. “It should not be this way. And I do not wish for it to continue this way.”

She smiles faintly, running her thumb across the back of his hand. “I don’t care what they say about me,” she says firmly. “I’m a hero to some, a villain to others. I can live with it.”

“You should not have to. If there was a way—”

“Please, Aymeric, I’m begging you not to draft a new statute on my behalf. You can’t decree change and expect centuries-old beliefs to change overnight.” She pauses, her teeth scraping her lower lip as she considers her next words. An admission, one she hasn’t shared with anyone. “You know, when I first came here, I thought it would be easier to pretend to be Hyur. Even now, it’s easier to keep them hidden. But something in the city is changing. You’ve changed it. Hilda is changing it. And perhaps I am, too. In a few years, who knows? It could be different.”

“It could. It is my most fervent hope that it is. But Aureia, you should not have to hide who you are to placate the misguided few.”

She shrugs. “It’s fine. It is what it is.”

“It is not to me.”

Her heart stutters. There is such genuine warmth in his voice and in the way he is looking at her, she can barely breathe. He has quite literally knocked her speechless. She shifts her weight, pulling herself to the very edge of the settee so she can have a firmer grasp of his hand without straining her reach. If it weren’t for those glass doors, she may have very well thrown herself down next to him. Or into his arms.

Either feels appropriately impulsive. Like the protagonists of Tataru’s chapbooks.

Hells, why do you keep thinking of those? This isn’t some fairy tale.

“Aureia,” Aymeric says gently, his fingers still entwined with hers. “If it’s not too presumptuous of me… may I ask you a personal question? Where in Eorzea do you call home?”

“I’m not Eorzean.”

The words are out of her mouth before she has time to think about them. She bites her lower lip, silently cursing her slip of the tongue. Aymeric, thankfully, has not noticed. He simply waits for her reply, patient and understanding. If anything, judging from his expression he seems to regret his curiosity out of fear of prying into a sensitive topic.

“I apologize,” he says quickly. “Please, do not feel imposed to tell me more than you wish—”

“It’s fine,” she interrupts. “It’s not something I often want to talk about.”

And not for the reasons you’re thinking.

Where is home? Rolling meadows, babbling brooks, the scent of loamy earth and the rush of the sea. The bones of metal streets, wires above and below thrumming with magitek, air so freezing she can’t feel her nose, the metallic tang of blood industry in the air. These are the two sides of Garlemald—temperate Locus Amoenus, where she was born, and the glacial Imperial capital, where she was honed into a killer. Spy. Agent. Operative.

She had no home after she defected, not until Ul’dah. And though the scars of the bloody banquet have now healed, she can never see it the same again.

Two homes. One she rejected. And one who rejected her.

Secrets upon secrets. A different person then, under a different name, a name she never wants someone like Aymeric to hear. She has told no one her origins, not even the Scions. How would they react, knowing their dearest friend was secretly the very thing they were fighting against? It would be reasonable to admit the truth to Lucia, who as a Garlean defector and Aymeric’s left hand would be most likely to understand.

But she is anything but reasonable. She killed her former self the day she left. Better to let Kira decay for good then let her history be exhumed.

“Corvos,” Aureia says finally, careful not to use the Garlean name for the region. “I was born in Corvos. It doesn’t have much meaning to me now. I have no interest in seeing my parents ever again.”

“Corvos?” He raises an eyebrow. He has noted her tone and sagely avoids the topic of her parents. She’s thankful—she’s not sure if she could undergo another incident similar to Hilda’s blunt scrutiny when she asked which Elezen parent had a dalliance with a Hyur. “You are very far from home.”

“The world’s a big place, Aymeric. There’s a lot that goes on outside your own borders. I never could stay still for long.”

“A thirst for adventure?”

A faint smile tugs at the corner of her lips. “For a better version of myself.”

The glass doors open, throwing streaming light into the room. Aureia jerks back and pulls her hand from Aymeric’s, situating herself deep into the settee’s cushions. Aymeric is not so fast. He remains hunched over, his hand hovering in the air, still grasping at where her retreating fingers had once been.

Shit. Dinner. Right.

Marcel clears his throat. “Dinner is served, my lord,” he announces, observing the scene before him with commendable detachment. If he disapproves of her, he will not let it show. “My lady.”

Aymeric rises to his feet, offering his hand to her. She pauses, mind flooded with question—should she take it? Should she not? Will Marcel see it as burgeoning romance if she does? Will he see it as burgeoning romance she is trying to hide if she doesn’t?—and stands up, hands falling straight to her sides, gripping a fistful of her leather coat.

Down the hall to the foyer, through a set of heavy double doors and into a hallway lined with windows. She almost has time to appreciate the view of the square outside before Marcel is ushering her through another set of doors and into a room whose purpose is utterly baffling to her and seems to be nothing but a square-shaped entry hall of some kind. Finally, he throws open the doors to the dining room and steps aside, bowing them in with the grace of an expert butler.

Aureia’s eyes widen. She slows her pace, boots scraping against the polished wood floors as she stares gobsmacked. The dining room is softly inviting with its familiar blues and warm hearth, the long table is outfitted for more than a single guest. Candlelit and with more cutlery and plates than she knows what to do with. Surely there has to be a purpose for the three separate wine glasses at each setting. And that is to say nothing of the mouth-watering smells coming from the feast laid out before her.

All of this? For us? Aymeric, what in the hells?

Her stomach growls. He had to have heard it. Both him and Marcel.

Aymeric smiles, nodding for her to sit even as he strides around to the other side. She smiles tentatively in return and draws out her chair. For some reason, sitting at this table feels… important? Momentous? Decisive? As if the full House of Lords and House of Commons should be here in attendance and they are calling upon her to make yet another decision about the fate of their nation.

A dinner invitation should be a simple night at a tavern with good ale and good meat, not something amounting to a full fucking wedding feast. But then this is Aymeric. She should have realized what she was getting herself into the moment he sent that letter. It’s why she panicked dressing for this event. Because he always has to make it an event.

Aymeric is a man of extremes. Although he may come across as quiet and steadfast, there is a recklessness in his dependability. Fervour in his resolve. He has never been one do things halfway, he commits hard and fast with every fibre of his being or not at all. This dinner has been denied to them too many times, of course he is giving it his all. Whether he is in love with her or not is a moot point. This is a declaration of sorts, one made grander by how long it has been put aside.

He is Ishgardian through and through.

Genteel. Proper. Lavish. He is giving her so much, showering her with so much, his affection is as suffocating as it is heart-warming. A part of her is desperate to retreat into the shadows and flee. Maybe even crack a window open and dive over the balcony like Estinien.

If only they could have stayed in that sitting room. All she wants is to spend time with him, talk with him, without all of this…

“Wine, my lady?” Marcel’s voice sounds above her shoulder.

Aureia blinks. Somewhere between seeing the table and her thought crisis, she has removed her rapier and stashed it on a nearby chair, sat down and pulled hers in as far as it will go. “Uh yes, thank you,” she says, shifting in her seat. The chair creaks beneath her. An inelegant and unladylike sound. The butler must be appalled. She coughs. Desperate to put her restless hands to use, she fidgets with her coat’s collar as he fills her glass.

Marcel sets the decanter expertly on a tray and takes a step back. “Shall I take your coat, Mistress Malathar?” he asks.

She drops her hand, the question cutting through her distracted mind. “I’m fine as I am, thank you,” she replies curtly. “Though admittedly I am not well versed on current Ishgardian dinner protocol, the Lord Speaker may have changed something without me noticing. Should I be giving you my coat or have I committed an abominable faux-pas?”

Aymeric snorts with laughter. The sound is faint and not very like him. It makes her smile.

The butler is not impressed. “I was merely inquiring as you seemed uncomfortably warm at the dinner table and your coat, mademoiselle, could be at fault,” he says, migrating around the table to serve Aymeric. “Though I will take this opportunity to inform you that it is not customary for lords and ladies to dine in their overclothes.”

“Good thing I’m not a lady.”

“All is well and good, my lady, and I thank you for it. I fear you would be inappropriately dressed should you remove your coat.”

Aureia flushes, her skin prickling, too embarrassed to be angry. “I—”

“Thank you for your service tonight, Marcel,” Aymeric interrupts. There’s a cold look in his eye. He holds out his hand, gesturing for him to stop pouring. “Protocol or not, custom or not, she can keep her coat and wear what she pleases. I think it fits her well.”

The tone in his voice communicates far more than his words. This will be addressed—firmly and without question. The manor’s staff will all no doubt hear of it.

The butler’s mouth tightens. “Very good, my lord. Shall I send Timothien?”

“No,” Aymeric replies. “I believe the Warrior of Light and the Lord Commander are more than capable of handling this ourselves. We will not be needing anything else tonight. Please inform the staff that I wish to spend this evening with a cherished friend.” He glances across the table, his gaze finding hers. “Nothing would give me greater happiness.”

Marcel sets the wine and tray on the table, bows stiffly—once to Aymeric, once to Aureia—then turns on a heel and vanishes through a set of side doors. In the silence that follows, she can hear nothing but the crackle of the hearth and the steady, forced rhythm of Aymeric’s breath.

“I am as horrified as I am disappointed. He should never have—”

“I should have worn the dress,” she blurts.

He blinks. “The dress?”

She scrunches up her face. “Dress. Gown. Maybe that would have been appropriate attire. Maybe I should have done more with my face. Changed my mind. Last minute. It’s why I was late.”

“You weren’t late.”

“Wasn’t I? I missed our agreed upon time by almost a bell—”

“And dinner was not ready, so there was nothing to waste. If anything, I asked you to arrive earlier than necessary because I selfishly coveted time for us to converse alone. These moments with you are precious to me. But experience tells me there is never enough time, and sooner or later duty will call for one or both of us.”

Warmth floods her chest. Ignoring the blush on her cheeks, she sweeps a lock of hair behind her ear and reaches for her glass. “That doesn’t sound selfish to me. You are allowed to live, Aymeric. There has to be a day you can live for yourself. Not the House of Lords or the House of Commons. Or Ishgard.”

“Have you conversed with Lucia of late? I am certain she has said similar words once. Or twice.”

��She’s observant. You should listen to her.”

“I am listening to you.”

The lilt of his voice sends an excited shiver curling down her spine. Certain she will become tongue-tied if she answers him now, she grips her glass and takes a sip, the luxurious red wine sitting headily on her tongue. It is the most exquisite thing she has ever drunk. She may not be an expert in Eorzean vintages, but she’s spent enough time around Gibrillont to identify the signs of luxury wine. For all she knows, this wine could be a hundred years old and costs tens of thousands of gil.

And he thought to serve this tonight? To her?

You’re being an idiot. Don’t read so much into it. You’ve dined with Count Edmont, you know this is how the aristocracy does this sort of thing. This is nothing special.

She glances over the table, taking in the sumptuous food. Soups and meats and roasted vegetables. Pastries piled on a platter. There is risotto in front of her, mixed with something she thinks may be black truffles. Truffles. Aymeric is either trying desperately to impress her—unlikely, he’s not the sycophantic sort—or he really is…

What did I tell you about reading too much into it?

“Forgive me if this is strange to say,” Aymeric continues, reaching for the decanter and finishes filling his glass. “But I would rather you come as you are, not what you think you should be.”

She pauses. “What do you mean?”

“The dress you spoke of. Frankly, I do not care what you see fit to dress yourself in, nor how closely you choose to follow Ishgardian customs. It would make my heart heavy indeed to see you forgo the very essence of yourself and trade it for traditions that are not your own. I would not argue we besmirch custom and culture wholly and throw them to the wolves, but rather I do not believe their sanctity should go unquestioned. One must take part in tradition out of choice, not obligation. Traditions are precious and deserve to be celebrated, but to embrace them blindly does not equate respect in my eyes. There will always be those for whom tradition fails, and those who tradition forgot.”

He exhales a long breath and lays a hand on the table near his glass. “Perhaps you count yourself among them, more at home amongst the good people of the Brume then the lords and ladies of the nobility. I can lay no blame at your feet for preferring Foundation to the Pillars when some here see your very existence as an affront to the fantasy they deem a civilized society. Regardless, you have notoriety and grand stories of your accomplishments precede you. To some, you are as much a fixture of this era of restoration as the House of Lords and the House of Commons, or the efforts of the good overseers and caretakers of the Firmament. But as wont as the people are to place the Warrior of the Light upon a pedestal, so too are they to forget there is a very real woman at the heart of those tales. I shall not. You cannot be anything other than yourself, and I will not ask it of you.”

She raises her head and meets his eyes, her heart throbbing in her chest. Gods, why must he be like this? What has she done to deserve a friendship like his?

“Perhaps it is something we share, then,” she suggests, a quiet smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

He blinks, startled, and chortles to cover his surprise. “We do?” he asks.

“Aymeric, consider what you have accomplished. My hand may have brought an end to Nidhogg’s wrath, but it is you who had the conviction to pull Ishgard out of this war. Break down the walls this country encased itself in for centuries. Bring an end to the cycle—”

“It was not I who should be accredited with such deeds, but rather men and women far greater than myself. Lord Haurchefant and Estinien and Ysayle, to say nothing of yourself. I can still see you there on the Steps of Faith, striding fearlessly towards the wyrm. It is not a moment I will soon forget.”

“You place too much importance on it—”

“You think I say that as a commander commending his greatest general for feats in battle. It is not so rote as that. Ishgard held its breath that day and you—”

She exhales sharply. “Would you let me finish?”

He bows his head. “Of course,” he says, unable to hide his smile. “Consider me suitably chastised.”

Aureia pauses, twisting her hands together beneath the table. What can she say to get her point across? Whenever she pushes the importance of his political maneuvers, he seems keen on derailing the point to praise her actions in combat. Perhaps that is the soldier in him or the rhetoric of Halone, though in Ishgard, they are often one and the same. The fast and dazzling heroism of victory in battle will always trump the slow, tedious work of reform.

She turns her head, her gaze wandering the dining room as she gives herself time to think. Lights dance on the opposite wall, drawing her eye to the hearth and its crackling flames. A set of portraits hang above the mantlepiece, depicting a wise Elezen noble and his wife. Grey-haired, strong features, kind eyes… These must be his adoptive parents. The former viscount and viscountess. By all accounts they loved him dearly, placing no blame on him for his accident of birth.

He has spoken little of them. Considering her difficulties with her own family, she would never want to press the matter. But she can’t help to wonder how much of him came from them. He may have called Thordan “Father” in those final days, but his true father—the man who raised him—is remembered here, his memory hanging proudly upon the wall.

If there is anything she knows all too well, it is that family is a very different thing from blood.

“When the whole nation looks to you, what do they see?” Aureia says finally. “On one hand, the commander who did not come from noble stock. The bastard who stood in the face of bloody tradition and sought another path. The reckless fool who defies century of tradition. On the other, the viscount who has nothing but love for his country. A noble man and a man of righteous faith, for whom there is no sacrifice too great if it means bringing Ishgard to the dawn of a new day. Aymeric, you are as much an enigma to your nation as I am. If they forget the Warrior of Light is a living, breathing person with blood in her veins, then so it is true for the Lord Commander. You are an ideal to them, at once a traditionalist to be trusted and a maverick to be praised. A visionary.”

She takes a breath and forges ahead. “But the problem with ideals is that they are just that. Ideals. The work ahead of you will be longer and more gruelling than fighting any dragon. My duty is done the moment my enemy is felled, but yours is just beginning. There will come a time when your people will see you not as the ideal they believe, but the man you are. And, in my experience, there are not many who like to see their fantasies broken.”

His gaze passes over her, blue eyes piercing and stern. For a moment, she wonders whether she has upset him, but then his expression breaks into a blinding smile. “Eloquently put,” he says, running a thumb across the stem of his glass. “Are you certain you are not fit for public speaking?”

She rolls her eyes. “Fuck, no.”

He snorts with laughter, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“I think I only had one of those in me for tonight,” she continues. “Best let Alphinaud write my speeches from now on.”

“I suspect he would jump elatedly at the chance.”

“Though—and I mean this quite seriously, Aymeric—please don’t ask me to make a speech. I’ll stand impressively in the back with impressive armour and an impressive weapon to make the right impressive impression, but I can’t promise anything more than that.”

His expression falls.

She cocks her head, brows drawn together in confusion, tongue pressed against the back of her teeth. Did she come off too strongly? He’s accustomed to her sense of humour by now, surely, but from the look on his face he seems almost… upset. “I’m sorry,” she says. “If I’ve made a fool of myself and put my foot in my mouth—”

“You did not,” he interrupts. “If truth be told, you simply reminded me of Estinien. I’m certain he has told me as much the same, more than once.”

A strange discomfort twists in her gut, a raw sense of loss. Not for her own friendship with the wayward dragoon—she is certain she will see him again someday, and if anything she understands all too keenly his desire to vanish into thin air after the torment he has suffered—but rather for Aymeric’s. He lost something greater than she did the day Estinien left. A decade of unconditional love and comradeship abandoned, and here he is, but a few days later, spending an evening with her rather than searching for his dearest friend.

“I suspect he has rubbed off on me,” she says carefully.

He laughs. “And I fear the disasters we must need circumvent if he had remained. I trust you both dearly, but together? Ishgard would never be the same.”

She snorts, grinning at his gently teasing tone, the knot in her gut relaxing.

Aymeric clears his throat. “But enough talk,” he says keenly. “Our dinner awaits and Marcel would be well and truly disappointed should our food grow cold.”

“We wouldn’t want to disappoint Marcel.”

“No. We would not.”

He catches her eye. Something passes between them—a shared moment, a private joke, something just for the two of them. It makes her feel light, buoyant with joy. Heart thrumming with happiness, she reaches for her glass, gripping the stem in unpracticed hands. Too used to Gibrillont’s flasks and tankards. With the right pressure and speed, she could snap the delicate crystal in two.

Maybe that’s why there’s three glasses at each setting… Gods, you really won’t let that one go, will you? Just ask him.

“A toast, perhaps?” she says, raising her glass.

He smiles and raises his own. “A fine idea,” he replies. “To friendship?”

“To friendship.”

#ffxiv #ff14 #final fantasy 14 #ffxiv fic #ffxiv fanfiction #ffxiv wol #aymeric de borel #aureia malathar #oc tag #writing tag #long post #in case the read more breaks there's +7000 words in here ahhhhhhhh

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