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the-pen-pot · 24 days

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'The druids mentioned a Quercetum is ailing: a blight of some kind.' 'Sounds painful,' Gwaine said from where he and Elyan rode behind them, the tack jingling in rhythm to the horses' steady pace. 'Do they need an ointment or something?' Merlin snorted. 'A Quercetum is a grove of oak trees. I don't think one of Gaius' creams will do much good. It needs me and Arthur to set things right.' ------ When Arthur assists Merlin in a magical ritual, he realises just how much could truly be his, if he only had the courage to ask for it.

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Of Root and Sea and Sky

Arthur Pendragon watched the man who rode the pretty bay mare at his side, his seat confident and steady after years in the saddle. Merlin sat straight and at ease, his clothes suitable for travel but far more fine than his baggy servant things. A dark coat of soft leather fit across his shoulders, showing off his narrow frame and the subtle strength that lay within it. The blue tunic beneath, Arthur had noticed as they departed that morning, matched his eyes. Tight breeches clad his thighs, no longer threadbare at the knees and hems, but sturdy and perfectly tailored.

The sight had a detrimental effect on Arthur's composure, and he'd had to tear his gaze away more than once since they'd set out from the citadel.

'Where are we going?' he asked, proud that he managed to keep his voice steady. Now was not the time to be caught mooning over Merlin. He could not tell when the unfortunate admiration had begun; only that it had been years. It had grown since their first meeting, unacknowledged as they seemed to careen from one calamity to the next. It was something Arthur had learned to live with: not just the lust that glowed in the pit of his belly, but the love that threatened to bloom in the caverns of his heart.

He was fortunate to call Merlin his friend. He had resigned himself, long ago, to the realisation that anything more was nothing but a fantasy.

'The druids mentioned a Quercetum is ailing: a blight of some kind.'

'Sounds painful,' Gwaine said from where he and Elyan rode behind them, the tack jingling in rhythm to the horses' steady pace. 'Do they need an ointment or something?'

Merlin snorted. 'A Quercetum is a grove of oak trees. I don't think one of Gaius' creams will do much good. It needs me and Arthur to set things right.'

That, at least, Arthur understood. After his father had succumbed to a blade in battle and Arthur became king, Merlin had spent long evenings drinking wine with him in front of the fire and explaining the ancient connection between the throne, the magic and the land itself. They sustained each other, the rule of a kingdom going far deeper than the crown upon someone's brow.

In the days before the Purge, magic had been an integral part of every realm in Albion. A mere twenty-five years without it had sent many lands plunging into poverty and conflict. The earth withered, and the corruption his father had railed against found a home in the hearts of ruthless men.

Slowly, that damage was starting to heal, and it was something that could only be achieved by a ruler who took his vows seriously and a sorcerer who used his power well.

One of his first acts as king was to overturn Uther's laws. He had done it for the good of his kingdom, of course, but if he were honest, there had been more pressing, personal reasons to make it legal once more. He cast aside tyranny for Morgana and Merlin, neither of whom deserved to live in fear.

He still remembered, sometimes, how pale they had been when they confessed to him – terrified. In that moment, Arthur's character had been tested. The balance could have gone either way. He could have fallen back on everything his father had told him, leaning into the safe foundation of prejudice, or he could have tipped forward into a future of possibility, one that led his realm into a golden age as the wounds of the past began to fade.

To his shame, it had not been an easy choice, but in the end, he had placed himself firmly on the side of sorcery. Now, more than a year later, Camelot flourished with a new kind of peace.

'Anything we should know?' Elyan asked, raising his voice to be heard as they left the road, guiding the horses through last year's leaf-litter. It rustled as they picked their way through the boles of the trees, following Merlin's lead.

'Not really. It shouldn't take long, but these are holy places to the druids. Swords should be set down outside the edge of the grove. There's a good chance the magic will hide us from your line of sight. Don't interfere. Not unless I call for you, or you'll throw the whole thing off and we'll have to start again.'

Arthur hid a smile to hear the calm authority in Merlin's voice. It shouldn't surprise him. Even as a servant he'd had a way of speaking sometimes that gave others no choice but to listen. Now, with magic legal once more and its study permitted, Merlin only grew stronger and more knowledgeable of his abilities.

And with each passing day, Arthur found it easier to accept the druids' claims. He looked at Merlin and could well believe it when they said that he was the strongest warlock to walk the earth – and the nearest thing the magical community had to a king of their own.

And Merlin was his: his court sorcerer and his closest friend. Perhaps that was why Arthur had not spoken of the way he felt. One by one, so many of his excuses had fallen away, revealing the fear that lay at the heart of his silence. In truth, he had far too much to lose, and so he held his tongue and let his longing flourish unheeded.

A huff from Hengroen broke into his thoughts, and Arthur frowned, focusing once more on their surroundings. At first, he could not understand what had made his gelding tense, but before long he noticed the smell in the air: sweet, dry rot and arid earth. It was out of place in the lush, flourishing woods, tickling at the back of his throat and stirring some prickling, instinctive awareness to life. He was not like Merlin. He could not tap into the living world all around him and hear its hum, but he could detect that something was amiss. His kingdom bore a wound, and he could not leave it to fester.

'Gods.' Gwaine's curse was low and sympathetic as they brought their horses to a halt, staring. The oaks stood in a cluster, occupying a broad clearing amidst the more slender pines. Yet where Arthur would have expected to see tender young leaves, there were instead withered branches. Strong trunks were bleached bone-white except for where dark blisters pocked the bark, and more than one large branch had fallen from the stark canopy to lie, twisted and ruined, upon the ground.

'What happened?' Elyan breathed, sounding devastated. 'What could do this?'

'That's what we're here to find out,' Merlin promised. 'You two stay here. Arthur and I will need to be in the middle of the trees to work out what's caused this and set it right.'

'Be careful. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.'

Arthur threw a glare in Gwaine's direction, but it softened the moment he got a look at his face. There was no customary leer, and the joking tone in his voice had fallen flat, dragged down by his concern. He and Elyan were more lax with protocol than Leon, but they still took their duties seriously. While they may understand that they needed to keep watch from a distance, that didn't mean they were comfortable having either Arthur or Merlin out of their sight.

'We'll be all right,' he promised as he slipped out of the saddle, the leaves rustling under his boots as he unstrapped his scabbard and set his sword aside. 'Merlin knows what he's doing.'

'Course he does,' Gwaine replied, all unapologetic confidence as he dismounted, stopping at Arthur's side and lowering his voice. 'He'll blast anyone who tries to harm a hair on your head. Just – Be careful, yeah? Watch his back?'

Arthur clapped a hand on Gwaine's shoulder. 'Always.'

Elyan took Hengroen's reins, promising to tend the horses as Merlin jerked his chin towards the grove: a wordless invitation. Each rustling footstep left the knights further behind, their weapons drawn and at rest, ready to fight any danger that made itself known.

'They'll be all right,' Merlin murmured, resting his palm against one of the ailing oaks.

'The trees?'

'No. Well, yes. I meant Gwaine and Elyan.'

'There's plenty of dangers that lurk in the woods,' Arthur pointed out.

'But nothing they can't handle. Besides, I put a up a ward as soon as we entered the forest. It covers more than a mile. If anything crosses it meaning us harm, we'll know about it.'

Arthur's heart fluttered, and he stepped closer, bumping his shoulders and grinning as Merlin nudged him back. He shouldn't be surprised about the wards. Merlin had been feral about protecting the people he called his friends, right from the start. These days, he made sure they were safe without apology, weaving stunning magic as if it were as easy as breathing, and it warmed Arthur through from soul to skin.

'So, what exactly are we doing?' he asked, peering up at the sad remnants of the trees. 'Can you really fix this?'

Merlin's long fingers grabbed the sleeve of Arthur's jacket, tugging him towards the centre of the grove. 'Remember what I said about how, once, rulers of their kingdoms were tied to the land? How they can act as conduits?'

Arthur suspected he knew where this was going. 'You plan to use me in the spell, don't you?'

'Not... exactly.'

Merlin stopped, turning to face him, and in his expression, there were subtle hints of that same old pain that had come to the fore whenever Arthur, in his uncertain past, had twitched away from Merlin's magic. It had happened more often than he'd like to admit, back when he had first confessed. His father's teachings were hard to shake, and Arthur had needed time to learn there was nothing to fear. Not when it was Merlin who wielded the power.

'If I can pour the spell into the land through you, it will have more strength and precision. This' – He gestured at the trees around them – 'is caused by a corruption in the natural magic of the earth. I can cleanse it without you, probably. You don't have to do anything you don't want to. It's just that it would be easier if –'

'Merlin.' Arthur reached out, grabbing his hands and holding on, bringing the rush of words to a halt. He wished he could ease those scars of uncertainty that lingered still, not in his own heart, but in Merlin's. He had spent far too much of his life hiding what he was. Too many years had passed where he had heard, time and again, that magic was something monstrous, and Arthur hated to see him apologising for what he could do. As if his power was a curse, rather than a blessing. 'Of course I'll help you. Just tell me what I need to do.'

Merlin's grin was bright and infectious, showing his dimples and making his eyes gleam, yet he still gave Arthur a probing sort of look. 'Are you sure? I mean it. There are other ways.'

'You're the one who has been harping on at me about how king and kingdom are connected. Besides, I want to help.' He looked at the trees, stark and suffering, and saw nothing more than a cry for mercy.

Perhaps they were not important to the people within Camelot's walls, but there was more to his realm than the souls sheltered in the citadel. The druids had started to creep back in, tremulous and uncertain, but with growing confidence. This was their land, too, and he would not deprive them of assistance simply because of his father's old prejudices. 'You said this was a sacred place. Why? What makes it special?'

Merlin looked up at the window of blue sky above them, criss-crossed by the bare, skeletal branches. 'Oak is supposed to have a lot of magical properties. Different groves have different qualities. Some are meant to imbue strength to those who seek shelter beneath their boughs. Others offer wisdom. This one is a Sōþfæstnes.'' The word rolled of his tongue, comforting to Arthur's ear for all that he didn't understand it. 'A place of honesty. The druids use them for ceremonies and meetings. They believe you can't utter a lie when in one of these. They're used for handfastings, too, so that people know the vows are genuine.'

'Are they right?' Arthur was still not sure where the druids and magic came together. There was a whole system of belief that he knew very little about. It was part of the reason Merlin kept reminding him that he was not a druid himself. He had power, but not the culture that the druids valued so highly.

'I don't know.' Merlin shrugged. 'In a way, I don't think it matters. The druids believe it's important, so it's worth fixing. Besides, it would be a shame to see these trees die.'

That, Arthur could agree with: on both counts. 'Where do you need me?'

He watched as Merlin closed his eyes, his body falling motionless as a sudden, playful wind swirled the leaves around them. Arthur did not know what he was looking for, but it seemed he found it as he reached for Arthur again, guiding him to a spot that looked like any other. 'Hold my hands, and relax. This might feel a bit strange, but it won't hurt you. If you want me to stop, just say.'

That last part was added in a firmer tone, as if Merlin knew full well that Arthur wouldn't back down, even if his instincts were screaming at him to retreat. It was enough to make Arthur shoot a quick, imperious look in his direction, trying to hide the flutter of trepidation that stirred deep in his gut.

He'd seen Merlin perform magic before. He had stood on the periphery as he wrought his enchantments, revelling in the warm-sunlight sensation. Yet despite all his talk about the importance of the realm's ruler to the balance, Merlin had never invited him to be a participant. He'd always worked alone.

Now, as he watched those blue eyes flare bright, brazen gold, Arthur felt a new world open up within him. It started softly, like the breath of a summer breeze, gradually filling his senses. He could hear the steady hum of life throughout the woods; could sense the birds on swift wing or taking their perch, the dart of deer and the slippery chill of water as it seeped through the roots. The rich, heady perfume in the air intensified, and he could feel the pull and ebb of sap across his skin, sticky and vibrant.

Yet there was more. Hidden within those details there was a sense of something vast and ageless: a slow, steady beat like the pulse of the earth itself, resonating up through the bones of the world. Magic flowed there, pooling and diverging, collecting in knots only to disperse once more: an eternal lightning storm miles beneath his feet.

Yet where they stood, the light had turned thin and frail, its thick branches ebbing to threads as it choked and stuttered. Here, the magic had fallen out of balance. Arthur could feel how it threatened to drain away entirely. It had retreated deep, deep down, leaving the oak trees withered husks of their former selves.

'Ready?' Merlin asked, his voice little more than a whisper.

Arthur focused on the man before him. Seeing the world through the lens of magic, Merlin was like the sun, so bright his outline was almost lost. Yet Arthur could feel his heat and life: the warmth of a hearth and the cold splash of water on a sweltering day. He was helpless to do anything but shift closer, pressing near to the interface of that power as if he had been starved for it since the day he was born.

'Ready,' he managed, his voice little more than a rasp that faded to nothing as all that light poured through him and into the earth beneath his feet.

He had expected it to feel overwhelming, a surging tide threatening to eradicate every facet of his being. He had anticipated a struggle to contain it and feared being lost in its surge. He had never thought it could be like this: soft and brimming with love.

It did not smash through him, but whispered down his thighs and filled his chest with its glow. It rushed down to his feet and stirred the fine hairs on his arms into shivering awareness. Each breath tasted sweet, and as the magic reached out through him, he felt the tattered remnants of it in the earth stretch back, curving towards him like seedlings seeking the sun.

He watched them, not with his eyes, which had slipped shut in pleasure as Merlin's power filled him to the brim. Instead, it was as if it were the essence of himself that observed the world. Something deeper than skin and bone, intimately connected in ways he had never imagined. He bore witness to the magic's struggles to thrive once more, and he urged it on with the race of his heart and the mute cries of his being. He lost his breath, somewhere in the tumult of it all, until he felt that his own fate had aligned with the oak trees around him – that in this moment he would triumph or perish, and one was just as likely as the other.

And then, a single strand, as delicate as spider-silk, brushed against the plunging roots, and power surged up through the earth.

Arthur reeled as it exploded through him, his grip tightening fretfully around Merlin's hands. Yet there was no pain. It was euphoria and ecstasy: heat in his blood and the pit of his belly. Every part of him felt alive, tingling and pulsing as the darkness was washed away. It was like sunlight after the longest night, chasing off the shadows and bringing the warm touch of life in its wake.

Distantly, he heard the trees creak, their bark swelling as sap moved once more, sluggish at first, and then with growing urgency. The ground beneath his feet shifted as the roots shook of their rot, and overhead there was an ongoing susurrus as the magic rushed across the bare branches, doing the work of a season in a moment to shade them with a canopy of emerald green.

Yet there was something tenuous about it, and Arthur drew in a shuddering breath as he felt what he had to do. Merlin had provided the power. He had poured it through Arthur's skin and bones and blood, but it was up to him to anchor it in place. Without him, while the grove may not die, it would always struggle to thrive. The land would bear the scar, but with Arthur's influence, it could be healed in its entirety.

His lips parted, a question trembling on the tip of his tongue, but he did not need to speak a word. Merlin's magic was like his hands, strong and capable. It ran up his arms and curved around his shoulder, cupped his jaw and rested over his heart. And with it, silent but sure, came the knowledge of what he needed to do.

There was no incantation to utter – no grand spell to tie everything in place. Through the oaths he had taken and the crown he wore, he and the kingdom were one. All he had to do was accept the magic, and the land would welcome it in turn.

Once, it would have been impossible. Fear had been his foundation, and his father's words were nothing less than poison dripped in his ear. All his life, he had been told of the evils of sorcery, and yet, thanks to Merlin and Morgana, he knew his beliefs were flawed.

Morgana had been the one to show him the human face of sorcery – to bring the issue closer to home in a way Arthur had always secretly feared, but it was the man in front of him who had taken the time to teach him. He had shown Arthur that, in the right hands, magic was a gift. He had challenged his belief that it corrupted those who wielded it, because if there was anyone who Arthur truly believed was incorruptible, it was Merlin himself.

Yet it was also by his gentle explanations that Arthur came to understand that magic was far more than a mere tool. It was a natural force, like the winds or the tides: an essential part of the world that Uther had sought to strip away. To decry its nature was like shouting at clouds, utterly pointless.

And it was thanks to that quiet tutelage – to long nights in front of the fire and Merlin's steady, low voice explaining everything – that he was able to peel aside the lingering veils of his doubts and open himself to the power seeking admittance.

It was... indescribable. A falling star blazing through him, threatening to burn him up even as it chased off every last shadow. Each breath felt painfully inadequate, as if nothing as simple as air could keep him alive. His head spun and his muscles shook, his blood surging as his heart hammered fit to burst, driven wild with elation.

For one, fragile moment, he could feel his kingdom within him. Its rivers were his veins, its mountains his ribs and the valleys the spaces in between. He could sense the blaze of life and the tender cradle of death as existence unfurled through him, and he revelled and mourned in equal measure.

At last, when he thought he could bear it no more, the frothing tide began to recede, draining from him with a lingering caress that stalled the breath in his lungs. Every inch of his skin felt hot and aware, his flesh too tight across his bones. He came back to himself in increments, no longer standing toe-to-toe with Merlin, but slumped in his arms, that surprisingly broad chest holding him up as he sagged against him. His nose was buried in the hollow under Merlin's jaw, and one hand smoothed up and down his spine, coaxing him through it.

'You with me?' Merlin asked, his voice deep and rough. 'Sorry. I should have warned you it's a bit intense.'

Arthur managed a huff of agreement. He felt wonderfully drunk, warm and care-free. His senses echoed and blurred, so that for a moment he was able to enjoy the feeling of the sun on leaves he didn't have and the rich, dark earth between his roots. Gradually, even that dimmed from his awareness, binding him once more in the constraints of his human frame.

Yet there, on the very edge of his hearing, no louder than a breath of a breeze, there was a voice, soft and musical, whispering in his ear.

A truth, our dearest King, in thanks for what you have done for us: he guards his heart well, but he would be yours, if you would have him. He loves you, as you love him.

Arthur blinked, barely daring to believe his ears. At any other time, he might have written it off as the cries of his stupid, desperate heart, but Merlin himself had said that this stand of trees was a place for honesty: one where the truth found its way into the light.

'Arthur? Are you all right?' Merlin's hand was gentle as he cupped his jaw, lifting his chin so that he could look into his eyes.

He swallowed, feeling shockingly naked beneath the weight of Merlin's gaze. There, caught up in that bottomless blue, was everything he had never dared to acknowledge: tenderness, concern and a deep, abiding well of emotion that Arthur felt in kind.

He could feel the pressure of his choice before him – a split path that his life could take. On the one hand, he could retreat back to known territory: the realm of friendship, hard won and deeply cherished. Yet at the end of that road, he could see the end of them. One day the court would force him to claim a queen, and it would be duty, rather than distance, that steadily eroded what lay between him and Merlin.

Or, in this precious moment, he could reach for what he wanted: a life together and a love shared. Something he had thought impossible and still barely dared to hope for.

'Arthur?'

'I'm okay.' He flexed his grip where it was caught in the leather coat, the hide smooth like butter beneath his touch. 'I – I –' His voice hitched, tangled in the briar of his uncertainty. His courage – so dependable on a battlefield – threatened to abandon him, and he swallowed hard, pursing his lips. 'I'm okay.'

'What did you hear?'

He blinked, his gaze darting back to Merlin's in surprise. His hand still cradled Arthur's cheek, soft and careful, as if he were something precious. His body was a firm stretch of heat all down Arthur's front, and his heart thrummed, crying out for more.

After a breathless eternity of indecision, Arthur reached up, grasping Merlin's wrist. He turned his face to brush a kiss – butterfly-light, tremulous and desperate – against his palm. Merlin deserved so much more, and yet in that moment, it was all Arthur dared to offer him.

He heard the quiet gasp stutter past Merlin's lips, but he did not dare look at him. It felt as if he were awaiting judgement, the ecstasy of freedom or the horror of execution. He braced himself for Merlin to make his retreat, excuses on the tip of his tongue.

Instead, Merlin's free hand splayed across the small of Arthur's back, urging him close until they were nose-to-nose, their shared breath whispering between them. His voice was little more than a cracked murmur, laced with raw desperation as he repeated his question. 'What did you hear, Arthur?'

He shivered from head to foot, lost beneath his own, inevitable surrender. 'That you love me,' he managed, swallowing hard as he dredged up the words and laid himself bare. 'That you love me as I love you.'

The kiss scorched him, Merlin's mouth hot over his own as every inch of him sparked to life. It was no sweet, chaste brush of lips, yet nor was it restrained to wanton desire. There was devotion writ in the pressure of Merlin's lips and the stroke of his tongue. It was engraved in the strength of his arm around Arthur's waist, and he surrendered himself to it, clutching Merlin to him. Want and need, love and desire all battled for the upper hand, and Arthur was lost all over again, not to magic, but to Merlin.

He kissed him as if he would die without it. One hand gripped gently in that dark hair, the other crept beneath his jacket to clutch at his tunic, eager and desperate, fearful even now that this was some sort of figment that would vanish with the morning light, as so many of his dreams had done in the past. Yet not such cruel twist of fate found them. Instead, they kissed until they were breathless with it, shaking in each other's arms as years' worth of emotion finally revealed itself.

The only thing that stopped him from rutting himself blind against Merlin's thigh, right there in a grove of sacred oak trees, was the knowledge that Gwaine and Elyan were waiting for them back at the horses. It would only be so long before their knights came looking. As it was, while they might not get an eyeful, they would still find them both flushed, their mouths swollen and their clothes in disarray.

A regretful groan caught in his throat as he eased off, his kisses turning shallow and scattered. Try as he might, he could not pull himself away, and he stayed there, safe in the circle of Merlin's arms as they rested their brows together.

'Clotpole,' Merlin breathed, sounding unbearably fond. 'How could you not know I love you too?'

'You never said anything,' Arthur pointed out, deciding he had to defend himself, at least in that respect. 'You're never normally shy about telling the world how you feel.'

'It took you four years to acknowledge we were friends,' Merlin replied. 'I thought anything else might make you break out in hives.' He grinned, that bright, dazzling smile that Arthur loved so much. A moment later it softened, and Arthur looked into that face and wondered how he could possibly have missed it. Merlin's heart was right there for the taking: Arthur's, if he wanted it.

And he did.

Easing back, he held out his hand, feeling as if he were asking so much more as one word slipped free of him. 'Home?'

Merlin's blue eyes sparkled as if he had heard everything Arthur didn't say. The promises he made and the hopes he carried in his raw and bloody heart. Yet he did not hesitate or turn away. He met Arthur head on, unflinching, as if nothing could stop him seizing the future before them.

Those long fingers brushed against his palm before entwining with his own, and in his answer, there was the subtle glimmer of a promise. 'Home.'

As they departed, shoulder-to-shoulder and hand-in-hand, the trees ruffled their leaves and whispered their truths. One day soon, the two men would return, and there beneath the bower they would be hand-fasted to one another, their devotion absolute. Camelot would have no queen, but two kings to rule side-by-side in quiet triumph and eternal love.

And never would it falter.

#Merlin #Merthur #My fanfic

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stellarislune · 26 days

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Andrew x Darling ; Rewind AU pt 1

your 'drunken' last ditch effort confession towards the literature professor was unsuccessful. about two years into the future, you end up as andrew's assistant. (featuring our beloved luca ⭐✨)

LISTENER's POV

Large crowds of students, the road buzzing with cars going around and about in and out of the parking lot, and the looming view of the university's main building, looks absolutely nostalgic from where you stand.

It has been two long years since you have last stepped inside the academy's grounds. The familiar warmth of the memories you have had bubbled within your chest. Your gaze can't help but linger at the view. It is still beautiful and majestic, like it has always been.

Two years. It has been two years since you have graduated with a bachelor's degree, and a bittersweet regret.

You clutch your folder containing your approved resumé and application forms before heading in.

Throughout the past twenty three months, you have had a hard time finding a job that suits your taste — and one that is nearer to your current apartment. Your parents have always been kind enough to fund your education, and that kindness has extended even after you have finished college. Still, you are ashamed to not have found a suitable job until now. And the said job is at your own alma mater that is!

Finally, Finally. You were able to get a slot as a teacher assistant to one of the departments in the academy. They posted a job advertisement on one of their main pages during the holidays, and you managed to get your entry in there during the last few days of the application process.

It was nerve-wracking to wait for an email from them since you were not confident that you can bag a job; but, here you are now. Ready to have the chance to showcase your skills after all those horrid months of unproductivity!

You do need to check which specific department you’re assigned to so you came in earlier than you should have. They did not specify which spots on each college department were open, so you’re hoping that you get lucky enough to be under someone who will be patient in showing you the ropes.

Your face warms up and your heart beats faster with each stride towards the main office. The door is still the same old mahogany wood with a glass window at the upper half. From outside, you can see the people hurrying to and fro. Your hands went cold as you contemplated whether to go in or not. It’s not like you’ll be reprimanded or something, right? Haha.

After what seemed like forever, you opened the door and was greeted by a swarm of cubicles past the lounge. There’s people answering telephones, holding papers, and typing down on their computers. It's a whole different thing now that you're no longer a student.

There you were, fidgeting, not knowing what to do or where to go next, when a familiar black-haired man passed right down the aisle with a phone attached to their ear.

You gasp silently.

While he looks a lot more mature in his stature and pose, you can never forget his adorably sweet voice that greets you whenever you get the chance to talk. There you go, turning your head to confirm your thought, and you knew it. It’s really him.

Luca.

The person whom you have gotten close with ever since you started passing all your requirements in your literature class in person in his assigned professor's office. He's one of the remarkable—skittish but cute—hardworking teacher assistants that you have had the pleasure of knowing. You overhear the conversation being something about reprinting old test papers before Luca turns the phone off and puts it in his pocket.

You were about to call him with a wave of your hand as a greeting, but it looks like he noticed you already. His face blooms into a warm, excited smile as he sees you.

"Oh my gosh, Listener! You're here!!!" Luca immediately clings to you, wrapping you in his arms and just lifting you off the ground by a few centimeters in a swift bear hug. His warmth creeped into your own. "I haven't seen you in so long. I couldn't believe it!"

You laugh softly, hugging him real tight in return. "I missed you too, Luca! By a huge amount!" You huff as you let go of his arms first. "How are you? You owe me a lot of detail, mister. And, before you complain, my phone got stolen and-my laptop is broken so I had to get a new one. I was incredibly unlucky, I know.”' You cross my arms, shaking your head with a sigh.

"Well, ask away then, Listener. But first, let's head over there”, he points at the lounge area. “You're in luck because it's my free time for the next two hours~ All that's left for me is to clean up and box all my things in Andrew's office. " Luca leads you over to one of the long, red sofas that highly contrast the beige walls and the cream floor.

Box all his things? What-

"So," he starts as he sits down, facing you with interest sparkling in his eyes, "what brings you here all of sudden? Surely not to visit me right cause I am taken and I—"

You smack him with one of the pillows on the sofa. Earning a snort from the other. He shielded himself with his arm so his face wasn't harmed at any point—not that pillows can do that much damage anyway.

"Shut up, I already know how gay you are." You groan and roll your eyes, followed with a burst of a giggle. "You're so annoying."

"Pft, only because you're my friend! It's a privilege~ And, you literally love me. I'm the cutest person in the world. Your own words, not mine." Luca sticks his tongue out at you.

He's right. Luca was quite shy at first but now that you have gotten to know him better, he's shown more than just those shallow observed qualities people usually stereotype him with.

You sighed and handed Luca your folder containing your approved letter of intent, resumé, and your portfolio of notable achievements. He flips through each page, his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth as he concentrates. You stifle a smile at how absolutely adorable he looks, and wait for him to speak.

"Uh, so.. you're the new teacher assistant who's gonna replace me." Luca’s lips form an ‘O’. You mirror his expression in surprise. Luca is quitting his job? But he loves this work… The pay is good, the environment is great, and the professors themselves don't look that bad. Specifically, someone from the literature department but—we don't want to talk about that.

Your face contorts into a frown.

"I know I missed a lot of things but, what the hell– Why are you quitting! Is someone here bullying you?" Your brows turn into a knot and you make a great show of pulling your sleeves up to your elbows, pretending to size up some invisible enemy and throwing punches at it. "I'll deal with them for you. Lemme at 'em!"

Luca shakes his head and smiles fondly. Raising his left hand and pointing out the ring on his fourth finger. You put a hand to your mouth as your eyes darted from Luca then to the ring on his finger. You silently squealed as you took his hands and began to squeeze them tight.

"Luca! Oh, holy fuck. I'm so happy for youuuuuu!" It's your turn to just jump on him and hug the life out of him. You held him for about two seconds then, you sat your ass back on the seat. "Your boyfriend—no—your fiancé, better treat you well or he's gonna get hell from me." You threatened jokingly.

His boyfriend sometimes visits at the same time that you pass requirements in your previous professor's office, so you kinda are familiar with him. That doesn't stop you from being overprotective of your possibly best, most precious friend in the world.

"He's spoiling me too much actually." Luca pouts. "He's quitting his gaming stuff when I get home. He always, ALWAYS has chocolates for me. And he gives me kisses all the time." Luca's face is flushed as he cups both his cheeks shyly.

You feign chest pain as I clutch my heart. "Right in front of my single ass, huh?" You giggle. "I'm kidding. I'm so, so, so happy for you. I will prepare my wedding gift in advance!"

Luca's face turns into vivid confusion. "I thought you have a boyf—"

From behind Luca, the sound of a door opens. Luca’s head turned to it, and so did yours. You could not believe it but it is another even more familiar face.. One you know so well.

With dark golden, brown hair, black rimmed glasses, and stern gaze, your—you mean—the literature professor, Andrew Marston, emerges in full view holding a bunch of folders in his left arm and his phone in his hand.

Professor Marston walked in long, elegant strides towards.. the both of you. Despite the months that have gone past, he still has an aura of intimidation, wit, and an absolutely handsome charm. His lips were pursed yet his eyes — his eyes were lit with curiosity.

"Well, well. If it isn't you, Listener. Of all things to expect today, I had not foreseen any circumstances that include you being here today." Despite his words, his tone is laced with a hint of amusement.

You fiddle your fingers. "Hello, Professor." You squeaked awkwardly. "Good morning to you."

"Andrew." Luca stands up. His face looks extra mischievous even if his face is still, criminally, looking too innocent. "Listener will be your new assistant. Have you heard that news already?"

Andrew hums and taps his foot. "No, actually." He turns to face you. "You applied as my assistant?"

Then, at that moment, it really dawned on you. It is indeed real. The fact that, You, Listener, is Professor Andrew's assigned assistant.

Fuck.

You look at Luca with wide eyes for a second, then back at Andrew.

"I suppose, yes?" You cleared your throat. "I mean. Yes, Sir."

You blush profusely. Resisting the urge to just run away and maybe melt like a snowman under the thick heat of the sun.

Andrew nods slowly, as if taking the information in. At the exact time, Luca taps his shoulder and says, "I'll finish up my cleaning so Listener right here–," Luca shoots a finger gun at you with a grin,"–can put their things in without a worry in the world." And with that, he left.

Lord, take me now.

Leaving you to Andrew's mercy, like a bunny rabbit in a lion's den. Or whatever. You’re just exaggerating.

"Hand me your resumé. I assume that you do have them in hand, yes? You were quite the perfectionist during your college days, so I believe you'd have them right with you." Andrew commands without missing a beat. Reaching his free hand out to you.

You picked up your folder off the table and handed it to him. He takes it and puts it above the stack he's currently holding in his left arm.

"I'll see you in two weeks. Preferably at an early time. Say, 7:30 AM in my office? And bring your laptop or mobile gadget, along with stationary if you'd like. As much as I'd be delighted to indulge in this conversation, I have some papers to grade."

You nod. Listing it all down on your phone. You watch Andrew walk away. Probably to his cubicle where his files are kept, or something similar. The main office is where they usually encode grades and scores so that's not far fetched.

As you stand up and leave, a faint memory of Andrew's lips lifting into a somewhat triumphant smirk stays for a second before fading away from your mind. It probably was just your imagination.

You opened the doors out of the office and breathed in and out.

“See you in two week's time, Professor.”

⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa what do you think is gonna happen next? isn't luca so cute and adorable??? I love him so much. see you on pt 2 !

#zsakuva #sakuverse #andrew marston #strict professor #alternate universe #this has been brewing for too long #this is supposed to be a one shot

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prongslvl · 1 year

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BY YOUR SIDE, THAT'S WHERE I STAY - james potter

PAIRING james potter x gn!reader

SUMMARY a conversation between friends makes you question your boyfriend's career decisions. james reassures you.

a/n: just something short and sweet! i had a pretty long day so i thought writing something cheesy would cheer me up (it did). happy reading!

"say, i heard your boyfriend's pretty talented in magic?" your friend, whom you met working in hogsmeade, leaning towards you with a smile.

you weren't aware of the reason she brought james up, but you didn't complain. if anything, you're glad you finally have a reason to gush over him.

"yes, especially during our time in hogwarts, a little genius he is. especially in one of our old classes, defense against dark arts." you said with a grin, your pride for your boyfriend grew in your chest. "he even got scouted by the ministry of magic— they've never scouted anyone."

your friend gasped in amusement, "really? that must've been an honor! i presume he accepted it?"

you chuckle, "yes, but he decided he wanted to work with me in the shop."

"right, you own a bakery, yes?" you nod in confirmation. "that's sweet of him!" she placed her butterbeer on the table after she took a sip.

the memory of james declaring that he wants to spend more time with you and revealing that he quit his job to work in the bakery is one of the many moments of the curly-haired boy that made you giggle to yourself. it did worry that it might give him a bad record in the ministry of magic, but your worries were relinquished as soon as you brought it up when he showed you the departing letter he got from them.

ever since then, he'd be behind the till, managing the customers while you baked their orders. you two had unbreakable teamwork. it was way better than when you were alone.

"but it is a shame, though?" her words made you stare at her in confusion.

"what do you mean?" you asked, fiddling with the wooden mug.

"i mean, i'm pretty sure he got a really good position in his old job. it's just a shame he had to give it up. the ministry of magic could've gained a lot of help from potter." she shrugs, laughing to herself. "but that's just from my observation of my customers."

you weren't really sure what to say, and you were suddenly uncomfortable in your seat.

she seems to notice this, waving her hands. "but i'm pretty sure he knew what he was doing." if her words were meant to reassure you, they didn't really help.

you remained tight-lipped throughout the one sided conversation before she had to leave to get ready for her shift. you left the pub with a heavy heart and doubts in your mind.

you've known james since your fifth year at hogwarts and his love for the ministry of magic, specifically their auror job. there were times in your relationship where you'd both talk about your future together after hogwarts.

"once i get my job as an auror, i'll spoil you to the brim." james said as he held your hands, a grin on his face. "i'll support your business in every financial way."

"james, you do know you don't get a paycheck on your first day?"

"guess they'll have to make an exception for me, then." he joked, making you laugh at his antics.

but what both of you didn't know was how time-consuming it was for james to be an auror. in his first week, he'd leave in the afternoon and come back at breakfast. you'd be lying if you said you didn't hate it, because you did. you both rarely saw each other out of uniform, too focused on your respective jobs.

at first, you didn't mind it. it was yours and james' first time getting a job together, and you understood it always starts roughly. but when a week of not seeing each other turned into a month, even missing your anniversary, james knew it was the last straw. both of you haven't looked back since then, working happily together.

when you got home, your friend's words continued to echo in your mind.

has james ever regretted it?

was there a time when he talked to a rude customer and wished to be anywhere but here?

did he ever look at you mid-conversation, wanting to bring up his mind changing?

you frown, hugging yourself on your shared couch. the last thing you wanted to be for james was a burden, a shackle that prevented him from doing what he actually wanted. the mere thought of it made you teary-eyed.

you lightly sniffed as you wiped your eyes. this caught the attention of your boyfriend in the kitchen. james was writing down something for the bakery when he heard you. he immediately drops anything, rushing to your side.

"hey, hey. darling?" he kneels in front of you, holding on to your face. you didn't know what came over you; when you saw his face up close, it broke the dam in your eyes. tears began to fall even harder, no matter how you tried to stop it.

james furrowed his eyebrows in worry. he hugged you in his arms, burying your face in his chest. he didn't know why you were reacting this way, and concern was definitely an understatement. he kept hearing you mumble a bunch of sorrys, making him confused about whatever made you feel the need to apologize.

"don't apologize for anything. you didn't do anything wrong." he buries his face in your neck, tightening his grip on you.

you finally calmed down after a while, james sitting next to you on the couch. he still had his arm wrapped around you as you leaned on his shoulder.

"did something happen today?" james asked softly as he laid his cheeks on your hair, sneaking a kiss on your crown. you let out a ragged breath, preparing to answer.

"it's just— me and my friend from hogsmeade, we talked today." you start hearing and feeling james' hums as he continues to listen to your words. "she talked about your job, i guess, jobs." you chuckled bitterly.

it wasn't rocket science for james to realize what might've probably happened, he knew how sensitive a topic his decision was for you.

"i've never wanted you to give up on pursuing your dreams, james." you look at him, his eyes meeting yours. "i could never take that away from you, james, never. but i think my selfishness still did it."

he shakes his head immediately. james grabs a hold of your chin, caressing your cheeks.

"there wasn't a day where i regretted choosing you, choosing us."

"but it was your dream—"

"it was, my love. it was." james gently pulls your head towards him, giving you a kiss on your lips. "dreams come and go. a person can always change their mind." he gave your forehead a peck as he continued.

"meeting you made me change and realize what i really want, my love. you showed me the future i want to have as soon as you said yes to me." tears began to form once again in your eyes. james immediately caught them with a swipe of his thumb.

you sigh, interlocking your hands with his, "i don't deserve you, james."

he chuckles, "you deserve the whole world."

james pulled you into a hug once more.

"you're my dream and i'll never stop pursuing you."

#james potter fanfiction #aaron taylor johnson #james potter fluff #james potter imagine #james potter x reader #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders imagine #marauders era

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odinsonslut · 1 year

Text

Reformed pt. 1.

⊹ genre: fluff mostly

⊹ pairing: draco malfoy x female Hufflepuff reader

⊹ themes: slow-burn

⊹ summary: reader returns 6 years after the war. To her dismay, draco is her new supervisor while she trains as an auror. He had also managed to integrate himself into all her closest friends’ lives, making him unavoidable. Also unavoidable is the building tension between the two.

⊹ warnings: mentions of death, the loss of close friends, nothing explicit.

⊹ word count: 1.9k

⊹ a/n: eternally terrible at writing summaries, but this is a storyline I like way too much to leave as a standalone. It might be a two-part situation, maybe even a mini-series!! I don’t have solid plans for it yet; just trying to perfect building tension without moving too fast or being too overwhelming.

It had been 6 years since the war, and since you didn’t complete your last year of study with your graduating class, you ended up going back to school after the war with a few of your classmates, being a small group of students, it gave you the opportunity to connect with Hermione and Ginny. You really hadn’t seen much of either of them before the war being a Hufflepuff with barely any classes paired with Gryffindor.

The three of us found comfort in each other during the difficult period of readjusting to school life and feeling alone as Ron and Harry went on to be Aurors, and I was only able to keep in touch with Madeline, my best friend, who was in Ireland practising extensive herbology research to come up with more effective antidotes to those still recovering in St Mungo’s. The rest of the group just sort of dispersed. I’d have thought fighting alongside each other and experiencing shared trauma would have brought us even closer together, but the rest of them couldn’t stand any memory of Hogwarts or us as a whole, and I really couldn’t fault any of them for that. Losing our friends was difficult, and we couldn’t just be a group of fun-loving kids hotboxing in the astronomy tower’s store room anymore.

The girls took me in early on. Ginny and I bonded immediately over quidditch. As my team’s chaser for the past 3 years, my affinity for the sport nearly matched hers. We’d spend hours practising on the open field together, preparing her for the scouts attending the games this year. She was a shoo-in for the Holyhead Harpies, and while I’d have loved to pursue a similar career, I wasn’t nearly as talented as she was, despite her efforts to help me succeed alongside her.

Hermione was pleased to learn that I shared her excitement for learning and punctuality. We’d spend entire nights discussing, sharing, and reading books together in my single-occupied dorm, and since we were N.E.W.T students, we shared most classes, making long nights of studying in the Gryffindor common room all the more convenient. We grew closer the more comfort we grew to find in each other. We’d bake together in the kitchens with the elves once in a while. We spent a great deal of time mapping intricate policies that could be implemented one day in favour of the house elves’ rights movement we aspired to achieve. The three of us would often spend nights in each others’ dorms playing exploding snap, some muggle games Hermione and I introduced to Ginny, doing our makeup, and just being the young, carefree girls we never really got to be. It was freeing to heal parts of me with them. We had been inseparable ever since

It had been four years since you graduated from Hogwarts. You achieved exceptional N.E.W.Ts results but were never able to keep a job for longer than 4 months. You’d finally set out to Germany, where you’d spent the last three years in the Aurorial Appraisal program once you finally discovered your passion, and since you fought in the battle of Hogwarts, you were accepted with little difficulty. Upon completing the program, Hermione, as the deputy head of the department of magical law enforcement, whom you’d kept in touch with over the years, managed to secure you a job at the Auror office. You were to be a trainee appointed to a practising Auror for the first 6 months of the job.

Since the couple planned on moving in together but couldn’t quite afford the rent of an entire apartment on their own, Ron and Hermione invited me to move into the common room of the unit, to which I graciously accepted.

After a week spent unpacking and finishing our apartment came my first day. Hermione and I travelled to the ministry together since we both avoid apparition outside of dire situations. We bid our goodbyes as I made my way to the Office whose Auror I’d be shadowing for the next six months. I knocked on the door twice and stepped back, expecting the door to open for me. I waited two minutes with no response. I knocked again and again, no response. I huffed in annoyance, pulling open the door for myself to be met with a slender man sitting at his desk, the newspaper open, shielding his face from me.

“Excuse me, sir. I’m here for the briefing and introduction to my supervisor. Didn’t you hear me knock?” You couldn’t help but include the last sentence to what would’ve otherwise been a perfectly suitable first impression.

“I heard, just wondered how long you’d spend standing around wasting time before taking action”, replied a smooth, steady voice.

I scoffed. “Just thought I’d practice decent manners, but it looks like you’re out of touch with the concept enough not to recognise it.”

He chuckled softly in response, seemingly refreshed by my blunt responses. Finally setting the newspaper down, he extended his right hand towards me as he introduced himself.

“Draco Malfoy, a pleasure”, he spoke with a friendly smile. I was shell-shocked. His gentle aura seemed so unfamiliar to me. His eyes seemed to convey friendliness. His cheeks were lightly contoured with smile lines, and all I could think about was how it was possible for a man like him to form them. The only thing that looked familiar to me was the way his nose scrunched when he smiled, as it contorted into the same position when he sneered, which is predominantly how he addressed me throughout our years at Hogwarts.

“I remember”. I spoke harshly, allowing his hand to float awkwardly in the air as mine stayed glued to my sides, refusing to meet his palm.

He dropped his hand eventually, his eyes leaving mine to stare at the floor, hoping to think of something to alleviate the tension. My demeanour softened. Even the aversion of his eyes seemed like such a vulnerable display for someone like him whom, before this, I had only seen cling to his pride and perception. I softly told him how he should address me, and he nodded curtly in response, not wanting to say the wrong thing again.

My day was spent in the ministry itself. Draco took me through the theoretical aspects of training to begin with. Our conversation didn’t stray much from the work discussion after our initial friction at his conversational attempts.

Hermione got back home 3 hours after I made it home due to the additional responsibility that came with her position, I deduced.

I bombarded her before the door even shut behind her.

“You will not believe whom I’m training under for the next 6 months”, I practically shouted at her.

She kicked me in my shin with her sharp heel. I immediately keeled over, ready to over-exaggerate the pain I was feeling, when I realised her reasoning. Malfoy walked in behind her, straining his signature awkward smile that really only seemed to make its appearance whenever I was around him. I returned the uncomfortable smile before turning to Hermione with a pointed look.

“I figured the two of you would have bonded today. Guess assigning you to each other with no warning didn’t turn out the way I had hoped,” She spoke apologetically.

“Draco works directly under me, which is why I trusted him with you. We all get together every Monday for dinner. Tonight’s our’s since we’re breaking into the new kitchen; Malfoy makes a solid saffron-infused risotto.” She continued.

I could barely process any information when even more people walked into our now cramped entryway. Ginny ran into my arms as we both fell onto the floor, where we settled in a tight hug gushing over seeing each other.

Draco shuffled into the kitchen with groceries and a fresh baguette in hand, the rest of them piled into the newly furnished living room, and Ginny and I settled on the floor, refusing to detangle from our now loose hug while we caught up.

“It’s so surreal to me like you guys actually hang out with Malfoy? Sure you don’t keep him around as a makeshift house elf?” I asked, motioning to the kitchen.

Ginny and I had finally made our way to the living room to join the rest. After greeting Harry and the twins, I joined Hermione on the only beanbag she begrudgingly allowed Ron and me to tarnish her architecturally detailed living room with since it was a neutral tan.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “He’s changed a lot as a person, and you better get used to being around him. You’re still due to be partners after your training program, you know.”

I groaned immediately. “Why couldn’t I have been put under Harry or Ron?” I whined to Hermione

“They’re already partnered with each other”, she consoled. “Plus, you two have a lot in common. His food’s even better than yours,” she joked.

I gasped and smacked her arm. “I know where you live, Hermione Granger”, I fake sneered at her.

“You should join him in the kitchen”, Ginny spoke from the couch beside us “at least make an effort with the man before deciding you can’t stand him”.

“Though I’m sure this makes for a priceless view, you could make yourself useful. It is your kitchen.” He spoke, jolting me from my fixed position at the doorway.

“You haven’t left it long enough in the water,” I said as he lifted the saffron-infused water.

“Take over for me then”, he smirked as he took a step back from the stove.

I was taken aback by his newfound confidence but refused to let it overpower mine, so I walked up to the stove directly in front of him, taking the wooden spatula from his hand on my way over. I lowered the heat and allowed the dish to simmer to deglaze the wine, entranced by the warmth of his breath down my neck, the heat of his body just millimetres away from touching mine.

“Are you actually going to do anything?” He whispered just above my ear, tickling the skin surrounding it, the feeling moving all the way down my spine.

I failed to respond to him. “Looks about done.” He poured the saffron mixture in and picked the spatula back out of my hand. He stirred the saffron in, not moving from his spot behind me.

He moved, and I immediately exhaled at the blow of cold air that came with his absence. I didn’t miss it for long before he was right back, just a hair strand away from me. He dipped a small teaspoon into the dish and put it up to my lips, I tilted my head up, looking at him questioningly.

His soft fingers took hold of my chin, moving it back down and tapping my lips “taste”, he said. My mouth immediately opened in response. I nearly moaned at the soft, rich, perfectly seasoned risotto. He chuckled a breathy laugh.

“I’ll plate these. Why don’t you tell everyone dinner’s ready” he instructed, once again detaching from his spot behind me.

I went to do just that when I was cut off mid-announcement.

“What on earth did he do to you to leave you such a breathy mess?” asked George almost incredulously

“breathy and positively flushed” Fred chided

I heard Draco’s hearty laugh from the dinner table

I glared at the pair, ignoring Hermione’s inquisitive smile

End

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anotherhumaninthisworld · 4 months

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Élisabeth Lebas talking about Robespierre like he’s the Messiah or something compilation

[Edgar Degas] told me that, when he was a child, his mother one day took him to rue de Tournon to visit Madame Lebas, widow of the famous Convention deputy who, on 9 thermidor, killed himself with a pistol. When the visit was over, they withdrew with small steps, accompanied to the door by the old lady, when Madame Degas suddenly stopped, deeply overwhelmed. Letting go of her son's hand, she pointed at the portraits of Robespierre, of Couthon, of Saint-Just, that she had just noticed were hanging on the walls of the antechambre, and she couldn’t keep herself from crying out with horror: ”What! You still keep the faces of these monsters here!” ”Be quiet, Célestine!” Madame Lebas cried out ardently, ”be quiet… They were saints!” Discours de l’Histoire prononcé à la distribution solennelle des prix du Lycée Jeanson-de-Sailly held by Paul Valéry on July 13 1932, cited in Robespierre ou les contradictions du jacobinisme (1978) by Albert Soboul.

I was able to converse, between 1838 and 1839, with a famous parrot who had been the friend of Robespierre. He belonged to Mme the widow Lebas, the wife of the famous Convention deputy who chose to die with Robespierre, and the mother of M. Lebas, Hellenist scholar, who died a few years ago. Mme widow Lebas, a very respectable woman, whom I had the honour of seeing often in her little house in Fontenay-aux-Roses, where she would make the sign of the cross when she pronounced the name Robespierre, adding these words: Saint Maximilien. As for her parrot, when one said "Robespierre", it replied Hats off! Hats off! It sang the Marseillaise with perfect diction and Ça ira like a Jacobin. It was — and perhaps, thanks to its diet of grain, still is — a sans-culotte parrot, the like of which can no longer be found. Mme Lebas recounted with great emotion how she had managed to save this precious psittacus after Thermidor. It had been seriously compromised. After the arrest of Robespierre and Lebas, in the course of a long domiciliary inspection, every time the name of Robespierre was pronouned the parrot would repeat its refrain, Hats off! Hats off! The government agents had grown impatient and were about to wring its neck, when Mme Lebas, as quick as lightning, grabbed the bird, opened the window and set it free. The poor parrot flew from window to window, until it found a charitable person to open up for it; a few days later Madame Lebas was able to regain possession of this last friend left to her by Robespierre, the only one perhaps, besides his elderly mistress, who has remained faithful to his memory. L’Union médicale: journal des intérêts scientifiques et pratiques, moraux et professionnels du corps médical (1861) volume 12, page 258-259.

Finally our providence, our good friend Robespierre, spoke to Saint-Just to engage him to let me depart with [him and Lebas], along with my sister-in-law Henriette. Élisabeth’s memoirs, cited in Le conventionnel Le Bas: d’après des documents inédits et les mémoires de sa veuve (1901), by Stéfane-Pol, page 131.

…If you had been informed of my residence, I would have been eager to tell you the truth. The good that you say of our martyrs is not too charged: they were the true friends of liberty; they lived only for the people, for their fatherland; but some monsters, in one day, destroyed everything; in one day they assassinated liberty. Yes, monsieur, a republican like you would have been happy to know those men, so virtuous on all accounts; they all died poor. Note written by Élisabeth a few years before her death regarding ”a work treating the revolution” (l’Histoire des Girondins?). Cited in Ibid, page 147.

#élisabeth lebas #élisabeth duplay #robespierre #maximilien robespierre #frev #frev compilation #originally i was just planning to compile all the times babet says he’s virtue boy number 1 #then i was like ”…you can actually make a decent compilation only of times she uses religious adjectives to describe him??”

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prettyinpurplelights · 1 year

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IV.

“I cannot believe we actually made it.” Mia gripped your hand excitedly, her acrylic nails digging painfully into your skin.

“Girl, hold my hand any tighter and you’ll crush my bones. I won’t have a hand to collect my diploma with.” You giggled softly, prying her fingers off the back of your hand so you could lace your fingers together instead, her sweaty palm pressing against yours.

“Sorry.” She replied and you squeezed her hand in response. “I’m just so nervous, can you believe after all our hard work, we’re finally here?”

“I know.” You sighed, looking out into the audience of family members and friends that were filling into the giant cathedral to watch and support their loved ones on one of the most important days of their lives. You and Mia had finally come to the end of your degrees, and today would encapsulate the last four years of all nighters and countless assignments. You were graduating with a Master’s degree in fashion design and marketing, Mia in medical neuroscience with psychology. As well as saying goodbye to your university, you were both parting ways with the city too, leaving Marseille for Paris early the following morning. During your final year, your main project was to put on your own fashion show, making the pieces as well as being responsible for promoting and marketing the event. You didn’t sleep for several weeks, but it had all been worth it because the show was a huge success, landing you the highest grade in your cohort as well as a job waiting for you at Louis Vuitton, whom having interned for them the summer before, and after your show being such a hit, offered you a place at their headquarters in Paris. Mia had also secured a fellowship in one of the biggest hospitals in the country, working with their research department on new treatments and cures and finding the causes for all sorts of illnesses to do with the brain that she had tried to explain to you but had gone completely over your head. All you understood was that it was incredibly competitive and very hard to get into, so you were extremely proud of her, and very excited to start this new chapter of your young adult lives together. You had already leased an apartment to share, and moved almost all your stuff over during the summer break. It was now a matter of starting to unpack and make it more of a home when you both returned to Paris for the last time in less than 24 hours.

“Ouuu I see Elliot!” Mia squealed, waving her hand that wasn’t holding yours excitedly. “He’s with our parents, come on, let's go and say hi before grad starts.” She stood up, dragging you down the small steps where the choir would usually be during mass, instead, today, it was where the graduates were to be seated during the graduation ceremony. She pulled you through the aisle, mumbling a few excuse me’s as you weaved through the sea of people talking to each other, the atmosphere electrified with excitement and anticipation for the upcoming ceremony.

“Mommy, Daddy!” Mia's smile grew wider as she hugged her parents tightly. Her parents had moved to London when she was 14, her dad’s hotel business was expanding and he’d started to branch out into the rest of Europe. Mia was supposed to have gone with them but she didn’t want to move to England, and after a lot of bargaining, she’d managed to agree with her parents that she’d live with her grandmother instead, hence how you became friends, she had moved to Bondy late into the school year and the only spare seat in your form tutor was next to you and the rest was history. Unfortunately, Mia’s grandmother had passed away just before she was due to start university, and since she was officially an adult, her parents let her stay in France. She’d fly out to see them regularly but it had been a while since she last saw them, and they’re very busy people so you knew she was very pleased to have them here and you’re glad they could show up for her.

You hugged your own parents, your dad clicking at his camera repeatedly, making sure he had enough photos to commemorate this occasion.

“Dad, I don’t even think I’m in the frame in the one you just took.” You laughed at him, as he squinted behind the lens.

“Close enough! I’m so proud of you, my sweet baby girl.” He leant over to kiss your cheek before walking off, muttering about finding someone to take a group photograph.

“You know I don’t think he made such a fuss when I was graduating.” Elliot appeared by your side, his hand reaching up to grab your cap, to remove it so he could ruffle your hair. You ducked under his arm, knowing exactly what he was trying to do and pushed him away from you.

“Don’t you dare El, I was up at 6 this morning doing my hair, you’re not messing it up!” You scowled. “And besides, we both know I’m mum and dad’s favourite.” You added. A smug smile spread across your face as you shrugged your shoulders.

“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes. “At least I’m the smart one, all you do is play with pretty fabric all day.” Elliot had graduated with a degree in sports science the year before, ending up at PSG, working as part of their medical staff. From what he had told you, he was really enjoying himself, and it probably helped that it was the same team Kylian played for, those two together, you were sure they were putting the other PSG players and staff members through hell.

“You know without people like Y/N, the rest of us would have nothing to wear, you’d be naked right now.” Mia slid up to Elliot, her arm wrapping around his waist as his went over her shoulder and squeezed it.

“I know you wouldn’t complain about that.” He replied.

“Mmmm, probably not.” She looked up at him, pursing her lips as he reached down to kiss her.

“Ew, the both of you. Please, I’m literally standing right here.”

They both laughed, pulling away just as your dad returned, some poor 20-something looking boy in his stead, holding the camera.

“Where’s Marco? Is he not coming?” Elliot asked, craning his head around to see if he could spot your boyfriend.

“Um…he’s in Tokyo. We broke up.”

Ex-boyfriend.

“Oh shit, sorry sis. What hap-“

“Group photo everyone, quick together!” Your dad interrupted his sentence, and you were thankful for his extraness in that moment, not wanting to answer any questions about your break-up. Your dad ushered you, your mum, Elliot, Mia and her parents into a huddle. It took a couple of minutes to organise everybody, your dad was kind of a perfectionist; it’s probably where Elliot got it from. You were stood between Mia and your mum, your brother behind the both of you. You turned to face him and from the look in your eyes and the way your lip turned downward slightly, he knew what you were going to ask, the issue of Marco long forgotten. Someone else was on your mind now.

“He’s going to be here Y/N. He might be a bit late, but he’ll be here.”

“He didn’t come down with you?”

“I had to pick Mum and Dad up so we got a later flight, he said he’d make it down himself. He wouldn’t miss this. I’m sure he’s on his way.”

You nodded, as you turned back to the boy holding the camera, mustering up the biggest smile you could, trying to ignore the way your heart felt so heavy in your chest and the sudden way your gown started to feel stuffy and uncomfortable. You and Kylian weren’t on bad terms, in fact, you were great. It had been almost three years since you’d decided to take a step back from him, and focus on yourself and who you were outside loving him. Not to say you stopped loving him, you don’t think that was something you’d ever be able to do, but you’d reached a point where he wasn’t all you thought about and it didn’t dictate everything you did and consume your entire being. You’d even managed to date someone this year, your first official boyfriend, Marco, for about 10 months, until he had to move to Japan for a student exchange transfer and you’d mutually decided to end things while you were on a good note because long distance for a whole year was not worth it; you’d remained friends though. You liked him a lot, but you didn’t love him, which was one of the reasons why he’d also agreed, howbeit reluctantly, to break up before his transfer, he’d told you he loved you 2 months prior and you were still yet to say it back. He had wanted to stay for you, but you encouraged him to go, not wanting to hold him back, especially when his feelings were so strong for you and yours were…well, not as strong. You didn’t want to disappoint him if you still couldn’t commit several months down the line and he’d thrown his future away for you.

“Graduates please make your way to your assigned seats, the ceremony will begin in 5 minutes.”

You and Mia hugged your families one more time before making your way back towards the stage. Your phone buzzed in your hand as you sat down, bringing it up to your face.

“Kylian?” Mia asked, her inquisitive nature causing her to lean over your shoulder and read the text on your phone.

“Ouuuu Marcoooo.” She sang teasingly as sat back and unlocked her own phone.

Hey, I know we’re not together anymore, but you’re still my friend so I wanted to wish you luck today! ♥️ proud of you always

Thank you Marco 🥺 I really appreciate it. How’s Japan treating you?

It’s amazing. The culture is just wow. And the sushi DEFINITELY tastes better here. You’d love it.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, ready to type out a reply when he sent another message.

I miss you.

You heard Mia wince audibly next to you, obviously reading the conversation between you and Marco.

“Get your big ass head out of my business.” You bumped your shoulder against hers as you sent Marco a quick reply about the ceremony starting so you had to go, not at all in the mood to unpack what that “I miss you” meant.

“Shame. I liked Marco. He was good for you.”

“Mmmm.”

“At least he congratulated you, better than that idiot your brother calls a best friend.”

“Ky’s our best friend too. And I thought you were on his side? Team KyY/N?”

“That was two years ago Y/N. He couldn’t even be bothered to send you a message about not coming.”

“El said he’d be here.”

“You think so?”

“I told him about today personally. He promised me he’d be here. For the both of us.”

“Oh we both know which one of us he’s coming for. And honestly I couldn’t give a fuck if he shows up for me, no offence. But for you? I’m skinning him alive the second we get to Paris.”

“He’ll be here.” You whispered to no one, almost as though you were trying to convince yourself. He had given you his word he wouldn’t miss today when you’d called him a few months ago about it. Initially you thought it might be weird, speaking to him on the phone, since you’d only been texting recently, but the thing about you and Kylian is no matter how much time you spent apart, you never fail to fall right back into your usual stead of things.

You hadn’t seen him since your birthday at the end of January, where there’d been a sort of awkward moment when you’d introduced him to Marco, who then had been your official boyfriend for a couple of weeks. He had just gotten back together with Renee, they had been together since your little confrontation at the airport two years back when you’d told him to focus on her. They had been on and off since they’d started dating, from what you’ve seen in the media, Kylian never really talked to you about her. From what you’d read over the course of the years, they’d broken up a couple of times, not that you cared or were keeping count.

******

He picked up after 3 rings, his face filling the screen when he answered. You gave him a little wave and a smile spread across his features, his dimples greeting you.

“Y/N. Hey.”

“Hi!” You replied, your voice chirpier than you’d expected it to be.

“You okay? Did something happen?”

He must’ve noticed the way you anxiously chewed at your bottom lip, your telltale sign something was wrong or you were nervous. In a similar way, he would squeeze his eyebrows together and his nose would twitch involuntarily when he was feeling the same. The harder he scrunched his eyebrows, the less nervous he was, the increased frequency of frown lines strewn across his forehead meant he was more likely to be angry instead. You knew each other’s tics and tells, probably better than you knew your own. By logic you and Kylian should’ve worked, you complemented and contrasted each other in the most perfect ways, but for some reason, the universe didn’t seem to agree and rather preferred to have the two of you in constant awkward situations and miscommunications leading to petty arguments. It was a quite cruel joke to be honest.

“Um, no, everything’s fine, I’m good. I was just wondering what you were doing August 1st.”

“Hmmm, the league starts again the week after that I’m sure, so just training.”

“Or nothing, if that’s what you need me to be doing.” He added and you couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered a little bit his words.

“Well Mia and I are finally graduating on the 1st. My parents and Elliot will be there. I was wondering if you wanted to come-“

“I’ll be there.”

“Really?” He laughed at your response.

“Gummy, you’ve wanted to be a fashion designer for as long as I’ve known you. I remember when you took it upon yourself to be mine and El’s stylists in middle school, I don’t even know why I let you do that, you used to put me in the most ridiculous outfits.”

“All you wanted to wear to school was your football kit.” You rolled your eyes. “I was trying to broaden your horizon a little bit.”

“Even then, you had talent, I can’t even imagine what you’re able to do now.”

“Well not to brag, but I am on track to finish top of my class.”

“Didn’t expect anything less from my girl.” He smiled genuinely and heat rose rapidly to your cheeks as you looked away from him for a moment.

“Of course I want to be there for you. But are you sure you’re 100% about it? Not to brag, but I am kind of a hotshot on the football scene right now.” He mocked, using your words against you playfully.

“Oh shut up!”

He laughed again, before continuing.

“I’m serious though Y/N, I know you like to stay out of the limelight and stuff, I don’t want to ruin that for you or steal attention away. This isn’t a private party like your birthday.”

“I want you there Ky, I want everyone I love there. I’ll be okay.” You nodded. Just then, you heard your boyfriend call out from your bedroom, his voice growing louder as he neared you in the kitchen.

“You ready babe?” He wrapped his arms around your waist, pressed a kiss against your cheek when he noticed you were on the phone.

“Oh hey man!” He waved at the screen. “How are you doing Kylian!”

“Hey…Marco. I’m good.” The smile on Kylian’s face dropped briefly as he greeted your boyfriend with a slight grimace. You quirked your eyebrow, wondering what the hell that was about but now it was his turn to break eye contact, looking everywhere but at you and Marco.

“How’s Renee?”

“Ummm she’s good. We’re…good.”

“Still can’t believe this guy is dating the biggest supermodel in the world, very fitting.”

You scowled, turning to face Marco, his comment grating on you a little bit.

“As opposed to you dating what?” You questioned, daring him to say some more bullshit.

“The hottest, smartest, kindest girl in the world of course.”

“Hmmm, better be.”

“How did you deal with her quick temper all your life Kylian?” Marco asked, and you elbowed his rib in response.

“You see what I mean?” He laughed, walking away from you. Kylian didn’t even bat an eye, he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else in the world at that moment.

“So anyways-“ You started but Kylian interrupted you, the words tumbling out of his mouth faster than you could register them.

“I gotta go. But I’ll be there August 1st. You have my word.”

“Oh, okay, yeah sure. Say hi to Renee for me.” You had barely managed to get out before he ended the FaceTime abruptly.

******

That was the last time you’d spoken, save the occasional text, but not once had he mentioned he wouldn’t be able to make it to your graduation. So by the time the ceremony was done and you had collected your diploma and walked down the aisle to cheers from your family, received more congratulations and took even more pictures and said your goodbyes to your family, to say you were simply pissed off was a great understandment. Some fool had even thought it would be funny to do Kylian’s infamous goal celebration in front of the cameras before collecting his diploma which amused everyone in the cathedral but vexed you even more. Kylian had always been there for you, he’s always tried his best to be present when you needed him, this was one of very few times he hadn’t shown up for you. But it hurt still, this was probably the most important thing you’d needed him for, and he’d not even bothered to shoot you a text he would be a no show.

“I know for sure he got on that plane Y/N.” Elliot had tried to reassure you earlier when you’d walked him and your parents to the Uber they had booked to take them back to the airport.

“Well that means fuck all to me. He’s not here.”

“Gosh he’s such an idiot. I’m going to skin him alive when I see him.”

“Funny your girlfriend said the same thing.” You laughed, but not really feeling humoured in the slightest. “Don’t worry about it El, I don’t know why I expected any different from him.”

“I know he has the funniest way of showing it, but he cares about you Y/N. And he loves you.” You ignored his comment, giving him one last hug before he slid into the front seat of the cab.

“I love you El.”

“Love you too sis. Always. You and Mia have fun tonight alright? And I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

You nodded, saying goodbye to your parents once more before the car pulled away. Mia appeared at your side, leaning her head on your shoulder.

“Mia?”

“Mmhm?” She replied.

“Let’s get absolutely fucking wasted tonight.”

———

“Why the fuck did you listen to me when I said we should get wasted last night.” You groaned, flopping onto the couch, your suitcases abandoned by the door. You’d finally arrived at your apartment in Paris, a little before midday, exhausted and terribly hungover.

“You looked like you needed it.” Mia sat by your side, laying your head on her chest and rubbing your shoulders.

“You’re so lucky you recover quickly, I still feel like I’ve been hit by a monster truck.”

“I’m gonna go out and do some food shopping, I’ll bring you something. Get some rest.”

You’d practically gone straight from the bar to the train station. You, Mia and your group of university friends had gone out to celebrate graduating, and also spend one last night together before you all split and went your different ways. It had been a great night, but you’re definitely regretting it now, as you were sure the others were too. You hadn’t even had a chance to shower as you and Mia had to pack the last of your stuff and hand in your old keys to the landlord before 7am since the train to Paris Lyon was leaving Marseille St. Charles around 8.

You decided to take a long shower while Mia was gone, you usually felt much better after a good soak. You’re glad to have your little travel toiletries bag because you had absolutely no idea where anything was; the apartment was filled with countless unopened cardboard boxes. You had about two weeks before your new job started so you and Mia could hopefully unpack and decorate in that time.

Definitely starting tomorrow. There was absolutely no way you’d be putting together furniture and organising your wardrobe today, you planned to stay in bed as long as you could instead.

You had just stepped out of the shower when you heard the doorbell ring, probably Mia who had forgotten her keys. You wrapped your towel around you, securing it as you opened the door.

“Did you not take your key-“ You looked up, your sentence breaking down half way through when you realised it wasn’t Mia in front of you. You rolled your eyes, moving to close the door in his face but he was quick, his foot reaching out to block the door from locking.

“Y/N, hear me out, please.”

“I don’t give a fuck about what you have to say Kylian, take your foot out of the way before I crush it.”

“I have boba?”

You paused for a second, still refusing to look at him.

“What flavour.”

“Mango milk tea with passion fruit pearls. I brought croissants too, from the best bakery in Paris. Very expensive. Very tasty.”

You opened the door wider, letting him walk through, cursing him for knowing you so well. He set the items on the little bit of space he could find on the kitchen worktop that wasn’t covered in boxes before turning to look at you.

His eyes scanned your body, starting at your legs, stopping when his eyes met yours. You felt stuck to the spot, your blood turning to lead as your eyes remained fixed on his, his mouth slightly ajar, your heart pounding fast. You forgot you were angry at him for a minute, flashbacks of the last time he’d seen you like this flickering across your mind instead as you suddenly remembered you were wearing next to nothing. Your hands came up to cover your chest and legs, breaking the both of you out of your hypnotic state.

“Umm…I’ll be back. Gonna put something on.” You muttered.

“Yeah…umm…sure, I’ll wait here.”

You raced to your room as quickly as you could, ignoring the funny feeling in your stomach and the way your heart was racing like it was running out of time. You rummaged through the boxes, trying to find one that had some clothes in it. After a couple of minutes of sifting through books and shoes and everything else, you managed to find a bag at the bottom of one of the boxes with your gym clothing.

You pulled the shorts and a t-shirt over your head, rolling your eyes when you realised which top you were wearing. You walked back into the room with your arms crossed, trying your best to look angry as you faced Kylian, a smile spreading across his face when he noticed your top.

“Wipe that smug grin off your face, I could only find my gym stuff and it was the only top in there.”

“You work out with my name on your back?” He held out the boba to you, his eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Shut up. These jerseys are surprisingly very breathable.” You snatched the plastic cup out of his grasp, piercing the film lid with the straw and taking a sip.

“Well yeah, we do run around in them for 90 minutes so we’d hope they’re breathable. Remind me to get you a new one from this season though, that one’s a bit outdated.”

“This one’s just fine. Thank you for the boba.” You raised the cup at him before stretching your hand out, pointing to the open door that led to the hallway. “You can go now.”

“Y/N-“

“Kylian I don’t want to hear it. You think what, by bringing my favourite drink and cracking jokes everything’s okay?”

“No, of course not. I tried to call you last night.“

“And I didn’t answer for a fucking reason. Did it cross your mind maybe I didn’t want to talk to you after you stood me and Mia up?”

“Listen-“

“There’s not an excuse you can give me that’s valid Kylian. You promised me you’d be there. I kept looking out for you, the whole ceremony, even after it was over, we lingered around the venue for so long my parents and Elliot almost missed their flight back home. Of course I didn’t tell them why I wanted to wait around, they still think you’re the best thing that’s happened to them besides their own kids.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I got on the plane to come to you, I swear-“

“So you were in Marseille yesterday?”

“Yes, I was on my way to-“

“Funny you were in Marseille yesterday.”

“Y/N-“

“Because I was in Marseille yesterday, and this morning too actually, up until about hmmm, 4 hours ago? But I didn’t see you. At all.”

“Y/N-“

“You’re so-“

“Y/N STOP TALKING!” He suddenly yelled, your sentence cut off midway by his outburst. You don’t think you’ve ever seen this many frown lines across his forehead before, he must be really pissed. That makes two of you.

“Don’t raise your voice at me.”

“Well I don’t have a choice if that’s the only way to get you to fucking listen.”

“I don’t have to listen to anything you have to say.”

“You know what? You always do this. You always assume you know what I’m going to say, or how I feel so you just cut me off before I get a chance to even explain myself.”

“Because I know you’re going to come out with some bullshit Kylian! Always you and your empty fucking promises, I’m so over it. But sure, prove me wrong. Go on, explain yourself then.”

You raised your arms as if to say he has the floor to speak. He clenched his jaw, his lips in a tight line as the both of you stared at each other, a million and one emotions swirling around you. Anger, pain, disappointment, sadness. If looks could kill, the both of you would be simultaneously 6 feet under.

“I swear I didn’t mean to miss your graduation Y/N, I really wanted to be there. I literally got to the airport and I, I bumped into Renee. I swear it was unplanned, I had no idea she was going to be there, and we just started talking and she had a lot she wanted to say to me, and honestly I didn’t realise how long we were together for, I swear it wasn’t my intention to miss your ceremony.”

“So what was so important that you had to talk about there in that moment, for such a long time-“

“She wanted to get back together.”

“You broke up?” This was news to you, as far as you were concerned, Kylian was still dating her, you hadn’t seen anything in the tabloids about them breaking up.

“Yeah. A couple of months ago.”

“So you’re back together now? For what, the 5th time?”

“It’s complicated Y/N. I love her.”

A sharp but fleeting pain travelled across your chest and it took everything in you not to physically keel over. It was laughable, how easy it was for one person to completely lose feelings they claim to have had and fall in love with someone else, while the other couldn’t even utter the words to another, whether they meant it or not. Because the pent up feelings were still there, choking you, gripping your heart tight and rendering you useless, incapable of loving anyone else, but him. You felt like dying, maybe it would hurt less than living in this sick and twisted reality, this constant loop of being reminded he’s never going to love you the way you love him.

“Yeah, Kylian, I can tell. Because she clearly means more to you than I do. I told you about this weeks in advance, you gave me your word yet when something better comes along you’re quick to just brush me under the rug like you always do.”

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention. I didn’t even know how to talk to you when I realised I’d missed the ceremony, I didn’t think you’d want me there-“

“Of course I’d want you there, you fucking idiot, you’re my best friend. Why else would I ask you personally to come?

“I knew you’d at least be with your family, Mia, Marco.” He said Marco’s name with such disdain you almost laughed at the audacity he had to seem irked by the mere mention of your ex-boyfriend when he had a girlfriend of his own.

“Marco is in Japan. We broke up. For good.”

“Oh. I didn’t know.”

“Why would you? You don’t talk to me about Renee, I don’t talk to you about Marco. Some kind of unspoken rule right?”

There was a silence between you before he spoke.

“I’m sorry. I know you loved him.” For someone who’d been in your life for almost two decades, perhaps Kylian really didn’t know you as well as you thought he did. Or maybe you were so good at pretending you’d managed to convince everyone but yourself you’d been in love with Marco.

“Anyways Ky, I think you’ve done all your explaining. You can leave.”

He rounded the kitchen island, stepping closer to you so he could take your hand that wasn’t holding the drink, gripping it softly in his.

“Y/N, I really am sorry. Please, l don’t want us to start your move to Paris on a bad note. You have no idea how happy I am that you're finally here to stay. Let me take you out tomorrow. Just me and you, a celebratory dinner. On me. Heck I’ll even take you shopping, any store you like, I’ll carry all the bags and not complain one bit.”

A soft giggle left your lips and you cursed yourself for letting him get away with his shit so easily.

“Please, I’m sorry gummy. It won’t happen again. Let me make it up to you.”

“You better bring your shiniest Amex card tomorrow when you pick me up.”

“It’s a date.” He smiled, and you tried not to think too deeply into what he’d just said.

Just then, you heard the front door close, Mia appearing in the doorway with several shopping bags, singing to herself. She noticed you and Kylian stood in the middle of the kitchen, your hand in his and she rolled her eyes, knowing you had definitely let him off easy. Luckily for you, she wasn’t about to do that. She smiled sweetly, before reaching into one of the bags and pulling out an orange. It happened so quickly, you didn’t not anticipate the orange leaving Mia’s hand with such force, heading straight for Kylian’s head. He managed to duck at the last second, the fruit finding the wall behind him instead of his skull.

“Mia what the hell?!” He shouted.

“Fucking dickhead. You’re lucky that wasn’t a knife.”

/———-/

Part 4 finally 😭😭 just two more parts to go! Sorry it took so long please forgive me 🤞🏿 and it may seem like it’s going round in circles but they gotta do this stupid arguing and not talking about their feelings 5 times before they finally get their shit together so we’re getting close to the happy ending, very soon though it’s deffo going to get very messy before it gets better 😵‍💫 I hope y’all like it <3 (also it’s half 3 in the morning and I haven’t edited this entirely so I’m super sorry for any mistakes 🙏🏿)

Also I know the French don’t do graduations (shame if you ask me, I loved my grad) but I had to have one to fit the story 🤭

And I’m sorry for making y’all wait, im back at work and it’s hard to find the time to write (I had a bit of writers block) and also I find it hard to write super short pieces so it does take me a while to write so I’m super grateful to y’all for being so kind and patient 🥺🫶🏿

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michelle-is-writing · 11 months

Text

Unexpected ch.1, Spencer Reid

Word count: 2k~

Warning: angst - and a lot of it!

To most people, their childhoods are left behind in the past with very few memories recoverable. However, for me, my childhood memories stuck with me throughout all of my years of growing older. There were a few memories of playing outside and meeting new friends, but the abundant ones revolved around me spending time with a brunet boy hidden behind tortoiseshell glasses whom I adored, and at times, I'd like to think he adored me as well.

The reason why so many of my memories were filled with images of Spencer was because we were an inseparable pair as young kids. Despite him not going to the same school as me (since he was constantly moving to higher grades), we were still close thanks to us being neighbors. Both Spencer and I were only six, and we were playing chess on a regular basis instead of toy cars or dolls. Even so, the toy cars that Spencer's dad did buy him were never put to their intended use, and instead, examples for work problems with acceleration in advanced physics.

When the time came that Spencer turned eighteen, everything turned around. At the time, I discovered I was in love with him. I had grown to admire everything he did for not only himself, but his mom as well. He was putting himself through college with a lot of hard work behind him, while at the same time, caring for his schizophrenic mother who was inconsolable at times. To help out, I would watch her during the days and work on my school work at the same time. The conversations between Diana and I were always sweet with her telling me that she enjoyed the thought of Spencer and me getting together one day, but her words only made the oncoming heartbreak harsher.

One day, I was smiling with Spencer as he explained to me the laws he had learned in Chemistry, and on the next day, I was opening the door to a previously occupied apartment with nothing in sight. The furniture was gone along with everything on the walls. Diana was no longer at her bed either, and all that was left was dust bunnies in the corner. It appeared as if Spencer and Diana had left without saying goodbye, when in reality, that's what I was coming over there to tell them.

After months and months of hard work, my essays and letters got me into a college three states away that specialized with criminal justice and the many branches involved in it. For six straight years, I studied long and hard and managed to pull off a bachelor's in criminal justice and a bachelor's in psychology and sociology. My hard work paid off for once, and despite doing it with friends and family there to support me, I still thought about the missing person in my life. After a while, what hurt most was the realization that the boy whom I had grown up with for nearly the entire duration of my life was now a man who wouldn't be there for the rest of it.

With my specialties in profiling, I applied to the United States Department of Justice in an attempt to earn a position in helping solve missing cases with adolescents. However, our wishes aren't always delivered to us as I was instead given a place in the Behavioral Analysis Unit. I was happy and excited to receive this job, but when I entered the large and heavily secured building, I felt the air in my lungs escape me. Not because of pure exhilaration, but because of true and utter shock.

I had already met with the leader of the team I would be joining and got along with him well. Even over the phone, Hotch was a nice man, and I could tell he prioritized his team. Because of that, I felt confident that maybe I was in a place I belonged in for once. Although, my thoughts weren't all the same once my eyes landed on those of the man who I hadn't gotten to see grow older like me.

His face had smoothed out as well as his long hair turning wavy. His stature was now quite a bit taller, but he was still skinny like he was when he was younger. Plus, his fashion had changed just a little with the new addition of a dark blue tie and his brown eyes no longer windowed behind his glasses. Yet, at the same time, those brown eyes were the only things to not have changed through the years - they were still the brown eyes of the young man I loved years ago, and once my gaze caught his shocked one, I felt my heart plummet back into the love spell it was webbed in before.

As Hotch introduced me to the team, Spencer didn't say anything until everyone else had gotten a turn before hugging me to him, making my chest sting as I hugged him back. This was the person I once loved that left me in the dust during a time I needed him desperately, and now, he was the person I felt myself falling in love with once more with a certain pang following each beat of my heart. Although this pang was caused by the love I had for him, it was a painful pang that felt as if every breath I took would break a rib at any moment.

Weeks went by and I learned so much about Spencer. He had gotten even more degrees under his belt during the time we were apart, and he got to do so many odd things in his time at the BAU. He got to make-out with a celebrity in her pool; he contracted anthrax poisoning on a case; but most of all, he met and fell in love with a doctor by the name of Maeve Donovan.

The way he described her showed that he loved her like no other. He talked about how beautiful and intelligent she was while mentioning how he wished he could've known her longer. It was obvious that when she died, a part of him did too, and unfortunately, Spencer held no hesitation in telling me what that specific part was.

"I don't think there's anyone in the world that could compare to Maeve," He told me, staring out the jet window while I listened on, pretending that his swears of only loving like that once in his lifetime didn't stab me like a knife. "No one could ever be like her."

Barely a few weeks passed after that conversation that Spencer and I were acting as if we had never separated in our friendship. The only difference was the fact that it seemed like Spencer was holding himself back. He had no hesitation in telling me the things he said about Maeve, but anything that had to do with his feelings about himself was seemingly off-limits. Garcia even told me that I was the only person Spencer had opened up to about Maeve. He didn't feel comfortable saying anything else any other time.

There was even a time where Spencer and I had started a game of chess on our way back from a case. Both of us sitting at the mini table, we both exchanged moves back and forth while competitive smiles rested on our faces. "Do you remember doing this when we were younger?" I asked him, moving a knight to a different position.

"Of course," Spencer responded, countering my move with a knight of his own. "How could I ever forget?"

"You have an eidetic memory, that's right," I pointed out, giving a little chuckle afterward.

Meanwhile, Spencer happily shook his head. "No, it-it's not just that," He stuttered out, causing me to turn an eyebrow at him.

"Then what is it?" I questioned him, confused by his sudden nervousness.

However, what confused me even more was the drop of his smile that followed directly afterward. "...I don't know."

Despite all of this, we were still close to each other - just with a few missing aspects here and there in our friendship. Although this was the case, I still felt my overall attraction to Spencer remain the same. In spite of knowing that he would probably never love me back, I still swooned when he was near me, or when he would simply smile.

Then, it all came to a turning point one night.

We were lounging around his apartment after a late case before ultimately ending up in his bed, our clothes strewn across the room while our hands roamed each other's bodies like maps. Words were muttered and moaned through our lips with each moment of passion passing, and through it all, there was still a lack of depth that showed Spencer and his true self.

Out of breath, we both lie on the bed together with our chests heaving up and down. Spencer rests his arm lazily across my waist while my back presses up against his chest. Thinking about everything, my brain reminds me this isn't right - this is only going to make my feelings for Spencer grow. After this, I'm going to want more, and with the implication that Spencer might feel something for me after all, I know I'm going to need more.

"I miss Maeve sometimes," Spencer speaks up, causing my eyes to widen. "Really, I miss her all the time," He adds, my chest stopping in its motions as I wait for the next damning words to fall from his lips. "I don't know... how I get through without someone like her confuses me sometimes."

Hearing Spencer say these things causes my stomach to churn. We just finished doing something so intimate that only two close people do when they love each other, but I don't think Spencer feels that way. I guess I wrongly assumed Spencer's feelings for me, and I guess... I'm still not enough.

"I'll be right back," I murmur, not letting Spencer continue on his evening confessions. Leaving Spencer's hold, I stand from the bed and head into the bathroom where I quietly shut the door behind me and slide down against it. Pulling my knees to me as close as I can, I hang my head in a mix of shame and sadness. What have I done wrong in trying to let Spencer know I love him? What have I done so incorrectly that it's brought me to the point where I'm silently sobbing on his bathroom floor with so many horrible emotions flowing through me?

Although, did Spencer really want to do this because he has feelings for me? Or is he still so stuck on Maeve nearly half a decade later that he feels as if he's still with her and this means nothing? How could I ever be comfortable being in a relationship with him when it feels like he's forcing himself to be comfortable with me? I can't do that to him.

After a few more minutes of my sobbing, I wipe away my tears and stand from the cold tile floor before heading back into Spencer's bedroom. Seeing him now asleep on his bed with his arms held out waiting for me, I close my eyes before turning away. I know that no matter how hard I try, he won't view me as his girlfriend or partner. He'll see me as a replacement for Maeve.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, throwing my hands to my mouth to cover my sob. Thankfully, Spencer doesn't wake up as I'm putting my clothes on, and by the time I'm done gathering my things, he's lying on his stomach with his head pushed into his pillow. Walking toward the man I've loved all of my life, I feel my heart slowly break with each step I take, and by the time I reach his side, I feel torn as I whisper my last words to him. "I'm sorry I'll never be Maeve..."

Read the the second part here!

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #Matthew Gray Gubler #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler imagines #matthew gray gubler x reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds x reader

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battlekilt · 1 year

Text

Art by @ninjigma Seen in: Setting Suns AU, which is a Sith Obi-Wan AU. Also seen in: Aay'han—Mournful Celebration.

Clone Unit Alpha-110 “Kit”

From the logbooks of Nala Se Scientist #1401— Lead Manager of the Advanced Mutations Projects.

Scientific Ministry has decided to elevate my position to Lead Manager of the Advanced Mutations Projects. This promotion has afforded me an opportunity to access the genetic codebook of my peers, without sacrificing my own codes. Some have been resistant, but the ministry has been insistent, especially as the war drew to a close. At the time, we were unaware of any future where production of the Clones would be scaled back so significantly. Without livable tissue from the Fett Prime Donor, we have been forced to push the bounds of our abilities to clone further. At this time, we have been forced to repair genetic gaps with our older units. Ideally, Alpha-01, known as “Boba Fett,” would be the next best choice. However, he remains in custody with the Republic, and we are unable to secure access to the subject. Obviously, Alpha-00, known as “Omega,” candidacy as a donor subject remains inviable due to unit’s extreme distance from the agreed upon genetic template for our base model Fett Clone. Alpha-class Clones still remain our next best choice. Reviews of successful A-units narrowed one of our prime candidates down to unit A-77. Created by Ulni Drayris (Scientist #1033), developed the A-77-X iterative Template in pursuit of similar traits as I pursued for the Alpha-00 template.

(See attached notes for further comparisons between Project A-00-X and A-77-X.)

Project A-00-X was further used in the development of other projects. (Review Project A-00-75-XX, -13, -89-03) Similarly, Project A-77-X has been the progenitive temple used with several other projects and units, some of whom have been successful operatives in the field. (Review Units #01-1010, #27-5555)

NOTE: Unit #27-5555 has been terminated for classified reasons. Though, I protest the unit’s reclassification as a failure, as the subject showed impressive intellectual skills and remained true to the Clone’s operative base.

Additionally, our stock of Alpha-class units have been nearly depleted, same as our field-deployed Advanced Recon Commando. With fewer and fewer units derivative units made from the codes used for our Alpha-units, we have seen critical drops in suitable candidates for our ARC Cadet Corps. The commandant of our Clone Cadet Corps, Unit A-17, has informed me and the ministry that is tactically ill-advised; I have decided to put my weight behind his protests to the Ministry’s complacence on this matter. With this all these concerns in mind and my new liberty as the lead scientist of the AMP Department, I have opened up Project A-00-100-X.

FOLLOW-UP #1:

As of this log, Ulni Drayris has worked with me on Project A-00-100-X. Our first twenty units are gestating at this time, and the genetic code sequences look very promising.

Note: I have extended Unit A-00’s lab duties, and she has been my assistant on this project. This is an excellent opportunity to prove the intellectual viability of the Alpha subjects. To further her education, I have also assigned her duties in the matter of human reproduction and infancy. Her drive for self-education continues to please me, and I will encourage her curiosity. Hopefully, this will prove to the Ministry further application of human Clones—I find them to be quite fascinating and curious.

FOLLOW-UP #2.1:

Project Unit A-00-100-14 appears to be the most promising product of the project. Project Unit A-00-100-10 unfortunately does not appear to be as promising; it is exhibiting the same signs our early Alpha-class and Production units exhibited. Omega has informed me that humans call this a “failure to thrive.” Most unfortunate.

Personal Note: I confess… distressing to witness so close at hand. The sounds are truly… disturbing.

FOLLOW-UP #2.2.1:

Curiously, Commandant Alpha-17 has elected to take custody of Project Unit A-00-100-10. The infant subject is responding to the additional human care and exposure. I have convinced the ministry to allow this to expand our observation

Personal Note: It is quite pleasant to observe Omega express the innate drive to pass knowledge onto others as she instructs Alpha-17 in the means of care for a human infant. Though Seventeen would have never been considered for one of our nursery Clones to care for the infants, his signature determination has been redirected towards this endeavor. Fascinating.

FOLLOW-UP #2.2.2:

Project Unit A-00-100-14 has been redesignated to Alpha-114; it is currently in quarantine in my personal laboratory. Much to the surprise of many, Project Unit A-00-100-10 has managed to survived to its third month. Though, based on the behavioral history of Units #01-1010, this should not have been a surprise to anyone, including myself. Now that the infant has survived to this critical stage and even though we have elected to delay the infant’s immune system replacement due to concerns over survival probabilities, it has been given the designation Alpha-110.

FOLLOW-UP #2.2.2:

Alpha-17 has decided to unofficially name Alpha-110 “Kit,” which is a reference to what Alpha-17 believes are traits shared between Alpha-110 and Unit #01-1010’s temperament. A “kit” is the name for an infant fox-vulpes.

Personal Note: I do concur with Seventeen that Kit is tenacious, even if still remarkably small.

————————————————————————

Log Entry:

Project Unit A-00-75-67 has been killed in the line of duty. NOTE: This unit has always been referenced as other designations in past logs.

(See A-67, CC-7567)

Personal Note: This is highly unfortunate.

————————————————————————

Log Entry:

Alpha-00 has been taken by experimental Clone Unit #99.

————————————————————————

Log Entry:

Alpha-17 has gone AWOL and taken Alpha-110 with him.

Personal Note 1: I am alone now.

Personal Note 2: I do still have Alpha-114, though he refuses to talk.

In Summary: Alpha-77 and Fox are just about twins, just... with a time delay. Alpha-110 is a late-made little Clone that nearly dies in infancy, but Alpha-17 adopts the skrunky fella.

But this is Kit.

This is based on an amalgamation of several AU versions. Kit’s personality stays the same. 100% skrunky.

#clone troopers #alpha-17 #swtcw #original clone troopers #original clone characters #the clone wars #clone wars fanart #swtcw fanart #swtcw oc #bucket's ocs #kilt gets gifts #clone oc: kit #clone oc: alpha110

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bracketsoffear · 11 months

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Spiders-Man (Marvel) "He’s a collection of sentient spiders that are Peter Parker and took his identity. They are spiders, but they also manage to maintain the role of spiderman, keeping control over New York City, and probably terrorizing more than one person with the fact that they can disassemble themselves and crawl all over people."

Director Lee Harvey Oswald (The Department of Truth) "In The Department of Truth, the protagonist’s boss (and the director of the titular department) is a much older Lee Harvey Oswald, though it’s not explicitly known which version of him he is. As in, what story of the assassination is true? Is he the CIA stooge? The innocent patsy? The lone gunman? Our protagonist muses this question in the second issue and can only conclude: “He’s probably not the one killed by Jack Ruby.” And looking at the picture the comic paints of who he is now, he seems much more the type to spend his time in Howard Hunt’s circles than Kerry Thornley’s, if you know what I mean. He has become the image of the perfect Cold War-era fed with his browline glasses, dark suit, quips about a new generation gone soft, and an ever-present cigarette. And that’s because he always has been that. He joined the Department as an agent when he was 19, working to counter the Soviets and gain information on their country’s equivalent of the D.o.T. And we, the reader, do not know what happened on November day in Dallas, but neither does he, it seems. Kennedy stood against the Department and it was his job to take him out, but in that book depository, he saw the Scarlet Woman (see the Extinction poll) holding a sniper rifle, ready to tear apart the country’s sense of truth with a bullet. (Well, three.) But as the story of the assassination spread, so did the idea of Lee Harvey Oswald, the concept of the shadowy assassin that was seen on the front pages, the conflicting theories and paranoias made manifest. To quote Hawk Harrison (another character), “the living embodiment of every horrible thing people think the government is capable of, filled up into a man-shaped thing.”

And we don’t know which one was saved and which one was killed. And neither does he. He’s left contemplating whether or not he’s truly real or simply another fiction, but at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. Reality is relative, he’s no less real than this country is. No matter how human he may or may not be, he might as well be American paranoia personified in function. He’s a man desperate to do whatever it takes to uphold the ideal of what America is supposed to be, that Shining City on a Hill; a man fighting in a war of propaganda and information and disinformation, a war of stories and ideas. To quote Indrid Cold, he’s simply a “dream this country is having.”

For a brief moment though, he tried to escape from what he is in the way so many privileged young people of the 1960s did: growing his hair out and running away to San Francisco in search of drugs, free love, and an answer to his problems and existential malaise. He found the first two, the last is debatable. He finds himself in bed with an unnamed woman with whom he shares his fears about his nonexistence, about the country's nonexistence, only to pull a gun on her when he realizes that she laced his blunt with LSD. ‘Who the hell are you, and who do you work for?’ He asks, pointing the weapon in her face. “Do you know who I am?” She simply answers: “You’re not going to hurt me. I’m just a pawn in a bigger game. A patsy.” She knows. Of course, she does, she’s Company, a CIA agent involved with MKULTA, the agency’s infamous failed attempt at brainwashing its own citizens. “Was it you?” he asks, “Did you pull the trigger?” She tells him that they’re not the ones in control, that “Everyone misses the real conspiracy, don’t they? We’re the little shadow puppets they control. We do what they tell us to do. Some very smart, very dumb people thought they could control what America was without getting blood on their hands. They thought they were storytellers. They thought they were selling Coca-Cola and Chevrolet and hot dogs. They wanted to tell America that “It’s a Wonderful Life,” and they wanted America to believe it. Isn’t that right, Lee? But it’s not a wonderful life. People know that. People don’t want to get along. They want to fuck and feel good and feel righteous. The Department of Truth is selling America its own version of The Truth. Telling everyone Why We Fight. Why We Buy. Why We Believe. But it’s not working, is it? You know it’s not working. You can see the cracks forming all around us. You can see the fracturing. The Counterculture… It’s such a perfect little weapon. These kids think they’re fighting against some big war in Asia, but they’re on the front lines right here in Haight-Ashbury. They eat the lotus flower and they see themselves as little gods, and see their desires as something larger than they are. They sing their little protest songs, but they’ll be voting Republican before their first grays come in. I’m just a pawn. A patsy. I feed the kids the drugs and my bosses tell me that it’s to wash their minds, to see if we can push them, control who they are and what they think. It’s not working… This whole MKULTRA thing… Not how the men in suits want it to work, but me and the kids on the ground, we’ve been seeing it. They do it all on their own. They brainwash themselves. They become rancid, and bloodthirsty, and we have to feed them the blood they want.” “I don’t understand,” asks Lee. “Who killed Kennedy?” “You’re so fucked up that you can’t even how funny that is…” she continues, “Is it my bosses in Langley? Eisenhower’s military-industrial complex? The big bad commie-hating war machine, not willing to back down in the fight against the hammer and sickle, even if means having to kill our best and brightest? Is it Queen J. Edgar Hoover and his black-suited goon squad terrified that the kids are going to rise up and shoot their parents in their sleep? Is it the Italian mob, and Hoffa, and all their mobsters and teamsters angry that they’re losing their foothold,” No, she says. “It’s the same as it was in ‘63. It wasn’t any of them. It was you. It was me. It was all those kids smoking reefer on the street and thinking about free love. You can’t just tell them that things are going to be better forever like your idiot bosses thought. The kids want to fight for themselves. They want to own it for themselves. You need to let them taste glory.”

Lee wakes up with a campaign button in his hand: “NIXON’S THE ONE!” The next time we see him, he’s meeting the new president in the oval office, once again wearing a suit with his hair cut short. He has become almost exactly what the unnamed agent described, with one major difference. He succeeds.

History is, of course, written by the victors, and facts can be rewritten by them as well. After his “death”, the previous Director (Frank Capra, director of It’s a Wonderful Life) put him in the Department’s archives to try and figure out who the Scarlet Woman was, only for him to use the research to find a new way of doing things, a way to shift reality through manipulating what people believe to be true on a large scale through media, and symbolic imagery, and simple lies that serve to reinforce what the public wants to believe about this country, and for that, Richard Nixon appointed him to the job we know him in, Director of the D.o.T. Director Capra was a naïve idealist who truly believed that the American Dream was not only real but could be achieved through hard work. Lee knows that the American Dream is a lie, but my god, he will do what it takes to make it real, no matter how underhanded the tactics. If you can control the narrative, you can control the Truth.

For most of his tenure, it was the height of the Cold War, there was a distinct enemy to push against. It was a conflict of countries, of ideologies, of two superpowers trying to keep their way of life at the expense of the other, and it was the U.S. that won out. There is another version of the 20th century, the one that was once real, where the founding ideals of the USSR were much closer to being realized within its border, it was something better than what it became, but the U.S. won the propaganda war and what was once simply a fact had become a hazy fiction that never happened. And so the victor rewrites history. And how does one become the victor? Through whatever means necessary, from fabricating events that later became real, to assassinations, to media manipulation, to the creation of the Satanic Panic itself, playing off paranoia and Christian nationalism to strengthen the idea that America is something that exists, that the American Dream is worth fighting for. (And of course, in the case of the latter, to deflect media attention from the whole Iran-Contra Deal.)

And what did this victory get him? A hell of a lot of guilt and a shattered, post-truth society that he’s left trying to clean up the pieces of. The Department is no longer fighting an ideological battle against an equally matched enemy, they’re floundering against the misinformation and conspiracies they once spread, desperately trying to keep reality from falling into the hands of far-right reactionaries using their own methods (and in Lee’s case, his own stories) to try and rewrite reality in their favor. The D.o.T. is rotten to its core, an organization founded to uphold American hegemony, but now, they’re the closest thing to the heroes of this story simply because the other side is so, so much worse. Like Pandora desperately trying to stuff the evils she released back into the box, they’re trying to contain the lies they wrought upon society.

The phrase “post-truth society” is often thrown around concerning the present political moment, but the comic posits that this isn’t new. There has never been a unified societal truth. But it sure as hell is worse now when any internet fascist can go and rant about whatever fucking bigoted conspiracy they stake their brand on and sway thousands to their side. And we need to fight that at all costs. But preserving the status quo is not the way; I mean, look where attempting to do that left us. No, there’s another way. And that’s coming clean about everything. No more secrets, no more attempts to shape the narrative towards your ideal, the public needs to know. (And that’s the power of government transparency and the Fourth Estate, babey!)

Finally, I leave you with this monologue: “I know you don’t trust me. I don’t care. I’ve done enough bad shit, and spent the last sixty years of my life lying through my teeth every goddamn day. I don’t need you to trust me. But I need to trust you to know that the ends justify the means. You’re sour over your star-faced man. Hawk told you that he stoked the fire there, tried to make it seem realer than it was. That we had a vested interest in people believing that Satan was lurking behind every corner. I was younger then. I was stepping boldly. I was trying to defend the dream of what America was supposed to be. Not let those Russian fucks dictate our future. I’ve done many things that haunt me, more than you can imagine.”

#web poll #the magnus archives #the web #poll #marvel #the department of truth

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xxladyballadxx · 7 months

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Farewell

Clive Rosfield x f! reader

Summary: Clive and (Y/n) bid farewell to their 8 years old daughter (D/n). For some survivors to escape quickly on the Enterprise ship, (Y/n) and her husband Clive stay behind to fend off the demonic creatures and the demon king Dwirmaxit.

Note: Not connected to the story from the game. This was just an idea I came up.

Watching the hideaway burning in flames had your entire body quivering. The corrupted monsters ambushed the place you once called home and they took over the place. So many lives were lost. A few, however, have survived the attack. You panicked, rushing to go and look for your daughter with Clive.

Clive checked his chambers to see if (d/n) were there. “Mother, father?!” (D/n) hopped out from behind the desk, scared. “Little one!” you and Clive scurried to her, scooping her into your arms. “Mummy! Daddy! What happened?! Where is everyone?!”

“We have to get out of here, (D/n).” Clive spoke to her as calmly as he could. Screams coming from outside the chambers, you held (D/n) in your arms quickly, “Clive, we need to go.”

“Alright, stay close to me. There’s a lot of them out there.” Clive unsheathed his Invictus sword, preparing to slay whoever comes in their way. You followed Clive behind, running quickly as possible so no demons will get to (D/n).

A few monsters were blocking the way to the ship. Clive managed to cut them down without a struggle.“You three!” Mid is alive, so were the others. Charon, Goets, Gav, Otto, Harpocrates, Jote, Tarja and Blackthorne. A few people and children were alive. “Come quickly” Lord Rosfield was protecting the crew, slaying every monster that gets to them. Gav lent him a hand.

“Clive! (Y/n)!” Joshua arrived before the ship could depart, along with Jill and Torgal. “You’re all here!” you exclaimed, relieved to see them alive.

“For now.” Joshua sheathed his sword. “Quick! We must hurry to the ship!” Lord Rosfield escorted the survivors to the Enterprise, signaling them to move quickly. Mid hurries to the wheel, “Gotta get the hell out of here!” She shouted.

You slowly put down (d/n), moving the fringes of hair out of your daughter’s face as you bent down facing her, “(D/n), listen to me, I want you to get on the ship with Jill and the others safely.”

(D/n)’s voice cracked, full of worry and fear, “You and Papa are not coming with us?!” she began to tear up.

You gave a sad smile, a very broken one. Clive lowered down next to you, his eyes breaking up in grief, “Your mother and I are going to remain here. We’re going to buy you some time while you make your escape with the others.”

“No..” (D/n) whimpered, her eyes creating a fall of tears, “Please come with us!”

You pressed your hands lightly onto your daughter’s shoulders, telling her, “If we don’t stay here and keep them busy, you won’t make it out alive.” your voice breaking down. “If we don’t return, just remember that we will always love you, sweet daughter of ours.” Clive patted (D/n)’s head, a sad shattered smile clouded on his face, “Promise us you will be good to others, (D/n).”

“If we don’t make it…” your throat swallows in deepest regret, finding it hurtful to say this, “Jill and the others will surely take great care of you.” When you said this to her, (D/n) began to cry tearfully. You and Clive crashed in together to wrap her into a tight-loving embrace. “Know that we love you very much, dear sweet child of ours.” Clive consoled her.

“Let’s go, (D/n)...” Jill walked over to get (D/n), her voice mixed with sadness and grief. (D/n) goes to her, putting her small baby hand into hers. Two of them boarded the ship quickly. You stood up together with Clive, watching the little one leave with the crew. (D/n) set her eyes on her parents one last time, she continued to shed tears and then she looked away.

Time was wasting. You and your husband didn’t have the chance to say anything or to say farewell to friends whom you called family. Joshua wanted to tell Clive so badly that he wishes to stay behind and fight with him and you. He knew his older brother wouldn’t allow it.

So… Joshua allowed them to follow their own fate, knowing this was bound to happen.

When the ship sailed as far away as possible. You slowly turned your head around to face Clive, holding his hand. He caught your gaze falling onto him, your husband caressed your face, wiping a single tear falling from one of your eyes. “I wish this didn’t happen…” you said in a mumble, “But it just fucking did anyway…”

Clive slipped you into his strong arms, embracing you, “We will go through it together, my darling..”

The two of you pulled away for a moment, hearing an evil demonic voice from a demon lord himself. Dwirmaxit.

“I have been expecting you two…Clive Rosfield…(Y/n) Rosfield…”

You summoned your magic electrical whips as they smack the surface of the ground. Clive semi-primed into his Ifrit form, unsheathing his sword.

“Go no further..”

All faded to darkness as you and Clive clashed against Dwirmaxit...

══════════════════

・・・・Third Pov・・・・

The two lovers fought with all their might. They fought hard, holding off the demon lord as long as they could. Clive and (Y/n) fell into a pit of defeat. (Y/n) got slashed on the back, then earned a sword pierced through the stomach. Clive received a broken left hand. He was also stabbed. Dwirmaxit and his minions left, leaving them to die. (Y/n)’s mouth dripped with heavy blood. As she was laying down there in pain, she shifted her eyes to look at her dying husband Clive. They held out their hands to reach but were far from each other. Clive crawled up to his wife in his weakened state, blood stroked across as he went to her.

“(Y/n)...”

“Clive…”

They called out to each other’s names one last time. Clive reached close enough to hold his wife’s hand, their eyes focused on each other. They talked a bit before dying in peace. Talking about how they were grateful to have a daughter like (D/n), how they were to have her in their life. They couldn’t get the chance to speak about the crew and the most important people they became close with…

Their fate came to an end, death arrived upon them. They shut their eyes for eternity while holding each other’s hands…

Along with a broken smile…

══════════════════

Mid and the survivors were still at sea, they watched their own home fall apart. They never saw it coming. Many people got killed by the demons. The children cried in heartbreak, wishing this didn’t happen. One of the adults tried and comforted them.

Jill and (D/n) looked up to the dark sky together, they noticed two different coloured stars were fading out. The red star disappeared right after the yellow star. Jill figured out that Clive and (Y/n)’s fate came to a close. As much as it hurts for Jill to allow them to accept their fate, she sobbed. So did (D/n), she didn’t want to accept it. (D/n) hoped for their return even though they gave a clear sign they will never come back. Shiva’s dominant and the child held into an embrace as they shed tears together.

Joshua and his uncle suffered in silence while seeing them cry in grief. Gav and the others did the same thing. All were slowly beginning to accept Clive and (Y/n)’s fate, except Joshua since he had already accepted it.

The whole crew pressed on, moving forward. (D/n) set her eyes on the dark diamond sky, the spirits of her parents began to appear. They smiled down at their wonderful daughter. She shone a smile across her small face with tears dropping down on her cold pale cheeks, mumbling her final words to her dear loving parents.

“I love you, mother…father…I promise I will be good to others. I will cherish you both in my heart…Always…”

⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ END ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅

(A/n) - I do not feel sorry when I wrote this (LIE°՞(ᗒᗣᗕ)՞°) Hope you all had a good cry!

UNTIL NEXT TIME...

#final fantasy xvi #ffxvi #ff16 #final fantasy 16 #clive rosfield #clive rosfield x reader #clive rosfield x you #clive rosfield angst #ffxvi angst #ffxvi x reader #ffxvi clive x reader

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momoliee · 8 months

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Okay! now that I’m done rereading Mo Du by Priest, time for an overall review on the entire series! WARNING: unlike my previous book by book review, this review WILL contain spoilers, even if theyre not major, cause it’s more of an analysis than a review so beware!!

A piece of work about: a team of investigators, from the special crimes department, whose wildest wishes is not to spend the weekend working overtime; a sociopathic young CEO, who cant put the case behind his mother’s death to rest; five elderly policemen from the previous generation, two of whom have died under suspicious circumstances; and a never ending series of crimes varying from kidnappings to trafficking to murder and maybe even serial killings. If this already sounds complicated, then dont worry, cause it gets even more and more complicated to a point where you find yourself juggling two, maybe even three, cases at a time.

I’ll start with the characters:

Luo Wenzhou: a charismatic, quick tempered captain of the investigation team who’s a lil too full of himself but he still has a heart large enough to embrace everyone he comes across. i absolutely adored his character, his dialogue and quips, his fatherly demeanor in which he lectures his subordinates before proceeding to do exactly what they were doing, then buying them all food so they can overlook his shamelessness. Luo Wenzhou is the sort to overcrowd the room with his boisterous, loud personality; the sort elders lectured all the time for getting in countless troubles, but still openly favored anyway. He is bold, capable, kind, creative with his insults, and even though he’s always threatening to give everyone around him a beating, the most he does is smack them on the back of their head. His character is simple and easy to read, but definitely very lovable and warm.

Now meet Fei Du. Our beloved sociopath. Yes he’s an actual sociopath (he is NOT a psychopath, cause psychopaths are born that way, and sociopaths are MADE that way during their childhoods, which leaves room for them to heal and reverse what they were forced to learn and unlearn it all, a very important point. While we certainly meet a lot of psychopaths in the series, the difference between them and Fei Du is that Fei Du, later on, unlearns everything that was forced down his throat and heals, which is one of the themes in the series). Now what I really love about this novel, is that while in every other danmei, there’s always one shy and and quiet character while their love interest is always the loud and extroverted one, in this web novel, they are both equally flirty, equally shameless, equally extroverted, and equally bold in everything they do. While Luo Wenzhou’s charisma expresses itself in a more cocky, big handsome brave man type of way, Fei Du’s charisma is a lot quieter and more…seductive, sensual and silk-draped. His words are always as sweet as honey, he’s the sort to send flowers and wear expensive strong cologne, drive up to your work place in an expensive chic car, and open the door for you. A true Gentleman, the very opposite of the Hero and Savior, Luo Wenzhou, who’s a lot more aggressive and rough and protective.

But Fei Du’s character goes deeper than that. I absolutely loved how intelligent priest made him out to be, and i always looked forward to his explanations and deductions for every case, his chameleon like mindset and mirroring personality that seems to shift and change and adjust according to whom he’s talking to and what he wants from the person he’s around. His childhood is horrific, truly the most frightening backstory in any novel i’ve read, it exceeded my expectations the first time i read the series and completely took me by surprise, nothing i couldve ever expected. He is extremely manipulative, and up until the last few chapters in the last book, you still cant trust him or deduce his motives or know where he stands. And yet, priest somehow manages to make him no less lovable than Wenzhou, cause even if you dont know whether he’s evil or not, you still cant help but be fond of him.

I absolutely LOVE and ADORE fei du and luo wenzhou’s dynamic, with the way they spent the first novel bickering and fighting back and forth, unable to so much as stand being in the same room as each other, to the way they started shamelessly flirting back and forth and one upping each other in the next book, building up so much tension between them. And even when they got together, they still retained a very interesting dynamic, their relationship never mellowed down, it was still very entertaining through and through. A perfect enemies to lovers. (Also side note, i feel like if you were to take priest’s character Gu Yun from Shapo Lan, and split him in two, you’d actually get fei du and luo wenzhou. I feel like they represent the two different sides of Gu Yun, the flirty and seductive young master everyone wants to sleep with, and the capable and bold leader everyone would follow loyally to any battle.)

The rest of the characters, aka Tao Ran and Lang Qaoi and Xaoi Haiying and Zhou Huajin and basically everyone, are my CHILDREN i will protect them with my BLOOD.

Now for the plot, well, i’ve always been a mystery and thriller girl, so need i say more? All priest had to say was CRIME, and i came running. From the moment the first case presented itself, i knew this series was gonna become one of my all time favorites. I’m talking yellow “KEEP OUT” tapes, i’m talking forensics complications and bloody crime scenes, I’m talking clues and hints and evidence and suspects and a classic ‘who done it’. Every case was different from the last, so the series never felt repetitive or boring. Each time it was a different issue, a different pattern, a different plot twist. Priest definitely kept my nerves wrapped up in a twist throughout all five books, always on a look out for different clues and hints, always trying to put two and two together and figure things out along with the characters. She touched on topics from mass homicide to rape and pedophilia to prostitution and drug addiction to a wealthy family strife over inheritance to cults and the abyss behind victimhood and grief. I absolutely loved the range, how you could go from reading about the silly banter between the characters over what they should eat while they work overtime, to serious and deep discussions over trauma and justice, and what was the correct way to process grief and get over an event that ruined your life and the lives of everyone around you. Another thing that i loved, was how interactive the cases where. It felt like everything clicked, everything made sense, and nothing was overlooked. Every question i asked myself, a character in the book would ask and an answer would be presented, and every minor detail that was mentioned in the very beginning that i quickly forgot, was brought back later on and expanded on in more detail and care. It was an extremely fun read.

Finally, the overarching theme of the story, discussing the processing of trauma, grief, abuse and victimhood, as well as criminal psychology and the line between justice and self righteousness. I love how for every case presented, Priest always showed you the two sides to the same coin, the two paths anyone is presented with in the face of life altering events. Priest gives you the answer to questions like, why did Fei Du choose not to become like his father, an actual psychopath, why was he capable of undoing all the things his father taught him and why did he consciously CHOOSE that path, over simply following his father’s path of psychopathy and greed and apathy and murder. Priest presents you with characters that are born into circumstances similar to Fei Du’s, but with just the tiniest differences and alterations, they ended up on a complete different path, being on the opposite end of the interrogation room table, bearing handcuffs. But priest doesn’t give you all the answers right away cause where’s the fun in that? She leaves you wondering why fei du turned out different, or did he actually turn out different? Why didn’t he end up like all those other psychopaths who followed the lead of their parents? Till at last, she explains everything in the last book, and you put together a similar conclusion yourself just before everything is unraveled (if you guys want, i can do a whole meta analysis on fei du’s character, cause he is one of the most interesting characters that i’ve read about). Another example on the same circumstances but two paths concepts would be, without any major spoilers, the families of the deceased and the victims. Now i wont divulge into details not to insert any major spoilers, but whoever reads book 5, then reads the extras after the epilogue, will definitely understand what i mean. That was a brilliant stroke on Priest’s part, definitely genius.

This whole installment was intriguing, intricately woven, complex and simply mind blowing. You’ll laugh, cry, get anxious, feel relief only to end up anxious again, attempt to solve the cases along with the characters, stay up late while going over the INTENSE interrogation scenes, and meet all sorts of criminals and personas as you dive deep into their psychological thought process and motives. This series is a DEFINITE 1000000/10 to me, my third favorite danmei (right after the dumb husky and his white cat shizun by meatbun and heaven’s official blessing by mxtx). Also, there’s a pet cat :D

#long post but i couldn’t help myself #mo du #mo du zhe #silent reading #priest #danmei #danmei priest #danmei recs

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