#i wanted to put in lucia too but she was too hard to draw :( | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chavacerilla · 4 years

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chava fluff alphabet

a/n: i’ve noticed a significant lack of fanfiction for my main chava, and by significant lack i mean there’s literally nothing here. so here it is, a whole ass alphabet for my husband i love him word count: 9232

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?)

Chava finds everything attractive about you, but most importantly, he loves your smile. There’s something so special about how you sparkle at him, the corners of your eyes crinkling and your cheeks so perfectly rounded. The apples of your cheeks fit so perfectly in his hands, and he loves to capture your grin between his palms. If he could, he would keep your smile in his pocket until the end of his days, but that would mean it would cease to be yours, and that’s too much of a price to pay. So he settles for making you beam as often as he can, and basks in the warmth that covers his skin.

But above all, there’s no better feeling than the way you smile into his kiss, your teeth gently pressed against his lips, and he can’t help but pull you in again and again. He swears it’s his destiny to have fallen for the sunshine you pour into his life, and the days only get brighter.

Is there anything about Chava Cerilla that isn’t attractive?

The most attractive thing about Chava is his demeanor. He’s both the sharpest thorn and softest petal of a rose. He’s the perfect description of someone your mother would’ve called “rough around the edges,” but every time you meet his gaze, you know immediately that he’s got his entire heart open just for you. Anything you could possibly ask for, Chava’s ready and willing to get for you.

He’s passionate – every brush of his skin burns with affection. His eyes are constantly thoughtful, yet so, so intense. And God, when he pulls you into his strong arms, you feel so lucky that he’s got you, because you could absolutely just melt into his touch.

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?)

Chava absolutely wants a family. He can’t wait to have as many kids as possible, and let them run free along the plantation. There’s such a wealth of knowledge he’s attained that he wants to be able to pass along – what color of coffee cherries are the most perfect, the fastest route through the hedge maze, and even how to tie your shoes so they don’t come undone during the day.

There’s so much that your abuela taught Chava that he wishes to teach to someone else – or hopefully, a few someones. When Chava sees you, sitting in his passenger seat, staring out into the Colombian sky, he sees a future. A beautiful, wonderful future full of children and laughter and watching movies even though there might be school the next day. He remembers the days that you had together when you were young. Stories of abuela and Aurora and the mornings around the plantation are dying to be told to young ears. Those days full of imagination and wonder for the world.

He knows that he’ll see a glimpse of it again, if not now, then at the very most, the moment you both lay eyes on your firstborn. That feeling of magic is sure to come back when you finally, after all this time, have a child of your own. Together.

He knows he’ll cry immediately, overwhelmed with love at first sight. Oh, how he hopes that your kids will have your eyes – your abuela’s eyes – and a little piece of her will stay alive through them. He knows that he’ll kiss you both constantly until the end of his days. He’s not scared of waking up in the middle of the night to change diapers and never getting any real sleep again. Chava’s so excited, and would be reading parenting books and talking to all the townspeople, just to try and be prepared for what he knows is the most terrifying thing in most people’s lives. He’d stay up for hours talking to Aurora about Lucia and what her experience was like, wondering about how he can be the best father that he can be. His dream is to be the kind of parent your abuela was to him.

Everyone in town would be buzzing about Chava Cerilla’s first child. The descendant of La Dama Roja. Las Tres Hermanas would be teaching him how to braid hair, even though they know he wouldn’t need to know for another couple of years at least, but he asked so sweetly, how were they supposed to say no? Old man Beto would be handing off a new checkers set, and joking about how he always knew you two were meant for each other. Beto would sit with Chava for hours, just teaching him checkers strategies, that he knows Chava wouldn’t need for a long time, but Beto knows he might not be around long enough for that, so he gives what he can now.

You know that your children would be so massively, totally loved, by not just you and Chava, but the entire town. Still, it’s hard not to be afraid of having children. All that power to shape an entire person for better or for worse – it’s terrifying. But Chava has your back. Forever. It’s a lifelong commitment, but he’s never been more ready to commit to anything, especially when it comes to you.

Oh, and there’s going to be so many times when he falls asleep with your kids safely resting on his chest, cuddled up against him, a small sleepy smile resting on his face.

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)

Overall, Chava’s a huge cuddler. He loves any way he can feel your touch against him. Your warmth is just a comfort to him, and the endlessly strong and brave man for a moment just becomes your lover. He doesn’t have a specific preference, but his go to is just pulling you close to him, letting your head rest on his chest. The sound of his heartbeat will be music to your ears, and the way you draw shapes on his skin makes his heart ache towards yours. It’s the best way to see the sky above you, whether you’re in the back of his truck or laying out in the fields. He counts the stars reflected in your eyes before pulling you into his kiss, soft and languid against your lips.

He loves feeling able like he can protect you from anything, and wrapping you in his arms is a wordless way to speak his truth: he will love and defend you for all his life. Touch is really important to him, and it’s definitely one of his top love languages. When it’s hard to explain how he really feels, he’ll hold you, rest his head on top of yours, and just breathe. You’ll understand.

That’s what it’s like to be in love.

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?)

Going on dates together would be the sweetest nostalgia mixed with the excitement of getting to know each other. Spending most of your life apart, he’d have so many stories to tell you as you walk through the streets, arm in arm, until you get to your destination.

If you went for dinner together, he’d hold your hand across the table, squeezing it every time he remembers he loves you more than the world. Fancy dinners would be far and few between, but there’s nothing he’d love more than to see you dressed up. He’d put on his suit, and you’d get ready together, gently humming to music as you sit on the bathroom counter to put your makeup on. While he runs his fingers through his curls, you’d press your freshly glossed lips to his cheek. A smile would cross his face, but a fire sparks within his eyes as he pulls you into his arms, peppering soft kisses against your face as your laughs bounce off the bathroom tiles. One of his favorite moments is when you finally slip into your dress, and you share the intimate silence as he zips you up, his warm hands running over the fabric and he’ll whisper under his breath,

“How did I get so lucky?”

Each and every date ensures that he can lay his entire heart out for you. And in all honesty, that just means having a place where he can feel the world melt out under his feet until it’s just the two of you. It could be absolutely anywhere, just as long as he can see you smiling.

E = Everything (You are my ____ (e.g. my life, my world…))

You are my wish come true.

Chava spent years wishing on fireflies or “baby stars” as you would call them back when you were kids. Each time he walked through the cool night, he’d see those estrellitas and his heart would ache. His lips would move before he could even process what he was saying, and your name would fall into the open air.

“Regresa a mi.” (Return to me)

And every night, he’d walk through his maze, the soft grass crunching underneath the sole of his boot, and count the estrellitas until he lost himself in wishes for your return to Colombia. Sometimes, he’d bump into your abuela while wandering the plantation, and they’d walk underneath the milky moonlight, and she’d tell him stories of the two of you.

For a long time, he hid that he wanted to see you again. He would pretend like he was just asking out of curiosity. “When will she come back? Is she ever coming back?” and abuela started to pick up that his curiosity was not as simple as he had made it seem.

One night, he told abuela that he wanted to see you again back in Colombia. He told her it was his greatest wish. She smiled a knowing smile, and rested her frail hand on the side of his face.

“Chava, mijito, do you remember when you were little? She came when the sun was hot and you couldn’t bear to leave each other’s sides. Not for a single moment.

You were running around, playing tag, and she tripped up the stairs on the porch. My poor granddaughter, sitting on the steps. Her lip was pushed out all the way to the ocean and her eyes were full of tears. I remember wondering if she could even see.

But Chava, do you remember what you did?”

“No, abuelita. Not a clue.”

“You went right up to her and gathered that girl into your arms. She cried and cried and you just held her for as long as it took for her to calm down. I thought someone was going to call the police because of her wailing. Pero, Chava, you stroked her hair and wiped each of her tears away -”

“I did?”

“Are you surprised?”

“No.”

“Then let me continue.

Once she stopped crying, you picked her up and carried her into the house. You were both so small, so sweet. But you set her down on the couch and ran as fast as you could to get the bandages. When you returned, you wiped up the dried blood from her and when you placed the bandage on her knee, you pressed a besito to it, then you stayed on the couch together until you fell asleep.

And that’s when I knew.”

“Knew what, abuela?”

“I knew you loved her, mijito, and I knew you were going to love her for the rest of your life.”

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?)

Chava never had a defining moment to tell him he was in love with you. He’s always been in love with you. From the first moment you stepped onto the plantation, Chava has had his entire heart full of love for you.

Back then, it was just puppy love. His heart yearned to be with yours, but he didn’t know why. He walked with you wherever you wanted, played every game you wanted to play, and when you played house together, he’d kiss you on the cheek when he left “for work” and would tell you he loved you before the playhouse door shut behind him.

By the time he turned sixteen, it was beginning to be something more. He’d stare at the swirling ceiling, praying for the summer to come again. Though the heat could be excruciating and the sweat would pour down his back, you were the coolest shade and the sweetest lemonade. He’d suffer through it all for just a day by your side, capturing the tadpoles in the pond. You were his first kiss, and God, if he thought he loved you then, it was only going to get worse.

The summer before he turned twenty, he accepted he was in love with you. No other girl in town had compared to the time he spent with you. He’d never felt a connection to anyone the way he did to you. Your hearts were tied together even though you were 1600 miles apart. He spent hours poring over English books abuela gave him, just so he could put it into words. He never really had anything more planned than “I love you” but he was ready. He was so ready.

But you never came back.

Abuela said something bad happened to your parents, and you weren’t coming this summer. He’d never wanted anything more than to just hold you like he used to, and tell you he’d love you for the rest of his life. But how was he supposed to tell you, when you were so far away?

Every summer after that, he waited patiently for the day he’d finally tell you he loved you. And by the time he turned 24, he’d just accepted that you weren’t coming home. Not to him. Though his feelings could only grow stronger, his walls grew as he found himself more and more inside El Fantasma’s grasp.

And Chava loved you enough to let you be.

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

He’s so endlessly gentle. But he’s not afraid you’ll break. He holds you with reverence. You’re everything to him, and he’s constantly in awe of every part of you. Chava’s entire life has been building up to you, and when you’re with him, sometimes he forgets you’re not part of his imagination and you won’t fade away at his touch. His lips press softly against yours, his hands resting easy on your skin, and you just melt into him.

That doesn’t mean he’s not passionate though. When Chava really shows his passion and devotion to you, it makes your head completely spin. He’ll pull you against him and leave you breathless. He’ll steal all the air from your lungs and claim it as his own, clinging to you, because finally, his whole world is in his arms.

H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?)

Chava’s hands are always on you, whether that be on the small of your back or interlocking your fingers together or letting his hand rest on your thigh as he drives his truck.

He likes holding your left hand, knowing that one day you’ll wear his ring on it. The fact that you hold his right hand is a gesture that you’re his priority. And when you switch sides and hold his left hand with your right, he gives his dominant hand to you, because you were always the one destined to hold it.

His thumb constantly grazes the back of your hand, memorizing the feeling of your skin underneath his. He’ll press soft kisses against your hand, and if you close your eyes, you can feel him whispering between kisses,

“I love you.”

I = Impression (What was their first impression?)

Chava doesn’t remember the first time you came into his life. He was too young. You were just there. Not all the time, obviously, but the impact you made was permanent, in the same way meteors strike the earth. When you were gone, there was an obvious crater – a hole – in his life.

But there is one person who remembers.

One day, while on his walks with abuela, he got curious.

“Abuelita, do you remember when she first came to Colombia?”

“Sí, mijito.”

“Can you tell me about it?”

“Siéntate, Chava.

You were very small. Small enough to fit in the palm of my hand. They were coming for the summer, just when she was old enough to fly on the plane without causing too much of a ruckus. But they had just landed, mijo, and you were so excited that someone else was coming to visit.

I’d told you that you’d have a new friend about a month before, and you wouldn’t stop asking when they’d be here. I told you that if you kept asking, they wouldn’t show up, because you’d get too annoying. But you were hoping to become best friends, and I didn’t have the heart to tell you that they’d only be here for the summer.

So when they finally got here, I could see how excited you were. You didn’t stop smiling all day, and you chased each other around the fields until the moon was high in the sky. You didn’t know her yet, but she immediately became your favorite person in your small world. She was always special to you, from the moment you laid your little brown eyes on her.”

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?)

Chava can get a little hot headed and jealous at times. Abuela wanted you to marry either him or Sergio, and God, every time that lawyer is around you, he could honestly punch him in the face. He won’t say anything for sure, because he doesn’t want to come across as controlling, and he knows you’re allowed to live your life as you wish, but that doesn’t mean he won’t stare daggers at Sergio.

When the lawyer comes up to you, Chava will pull you just a little closer to him, his strong arms tense around your waist. From the corner of your eye you can see his jaw clench and the vein in his neck bulge as the heat surges in his chest.

But you stand on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek, and you practically hear his heartbeat falling steady again. He’ll close his eyes, feeling the warmth of your lips against his skin and take a deep breath.

He’ll remember that you belong fully to each other, and peace washes over him.

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?)

It’s kind of strange to think about, but Chava is experienced, no doubt about it. It’s a small town, and he’s definitely not a bad option. So over the course of his life, he’s been on a few dates and found himself in a few relationships. Though they didn’t work out, he learned every trick of the trade and put them in his back pocket, just waiting for the day you return home to Colombia.

For Chava, the best part of a kiss is the anticipation. You meet his eyes, hazy with need, and as you lean closer, he always takes a moment to wait. He breathes in the air from your lungs, forever trying to describe the feeling bubbling within him before he rushes towards you, finally letting your lips connect.

Each kiss languidly pressed against your lips is heaven on earth. His hands are constantly pulling you closer to him, holding your face, or tangled in your hair. He can’t stop how his hands desperately roam over you, constantly losing himself in your kiss. He loves to start slowly, letting his tongue drag across your bottom lip, and then as time moves, his heart beats faster and his kisses get more and more wanting until you’re dizzy from it all.

But it wasn’t always like that.

The first time you kissed, it was during the hot Colombian summer.

Chava sat on Abuela’s bed, the early dawn pouring over his tan skin.

“Abuelita, did you know she was my first kiss?”

“Dime, por favor.” (please, tell me)

“It was probably mid-July. Really, really hot, so we jumped into the creek. I brought one of those little plastic bags so we could catch tadpoles, and we ended up getting two in one bag. They’re always so fast, she was convinced that they couldn’t be separated. They were in love.

So she said they wanted to get married. They had to get married. So we spend all day, running around and picking flowers off the coffee shrubs to decorate the riverbed. She taught me how to make those – cómo se dice –

Daisy chains.

So we spend all day, weaving stems and flowers, preparing for this wedding, and as it started to get dark, we put fireflies in your jars.”

“Dios mio. My jars?”

“Lo siento, abuela. But yes, your jars. She would run after them, capture them in her hands, and I’d hold the jar. I just wanted to feel her hands against mine.”

Abuela reached out with soft eyes to put her hand on Chava’s cheek, running her frail thumb over his stubble. “Ay, mijo.”

“I know, I know. But once we had everything set up, and we were about to start the wedding, it was dark. I was holding the tadpoles in their bag. There was no moon. No light. And with only the fireflies to light the path, I slipped in the mud, and I- Abuelita, I knocked over all the jars and then I dropped the bag. The tadpoles, they swam away. My heart just sank.

It was all she wanted, all day, and I ruined it.”

“Oh, Chava, you didn’t mean it. Your legs were always so funny when you were young. She probably knew it was an accident.”

For a moment, Chava let his walls fall, laying down against the sheets and pressing his cheek into the pillows. Abuela ran her hand along the side of his face, brushing her fingers through his hair as he loses himself in the guilt of an action that happened over a decade ago.

“I still felt so horrible. And as I was sitting there, covered in mud, she sat down next to me. I was confused, obviously. She was wearing that white dress you bought her from the tailor. I remember thinking I’d ruined that too.

Pero, she leaned over to me, and she kissed me. I think she wanted to make me feel better. But Abuelita – I’ve never experienced another kiss like that.”

“Chava – mijito. That was a kiss of true love.”

L = Love (Who says ‘I love you’ first?)

Even though Chava frequently is known for treading lightly, planning each step before he takes it, he tends to run into everything headfirst when it comes to you.

He says I love you first.

One night, you were walking through the plantation together. The moon was high in the sky, the stars twinkling brightly overhead. Hand in hand, you let the wind lead your steps, and you found yourselves at the entrance on the hedge maze.

Without a word or a second glance, you dart inside, immediately hearing Chava’s laugh ring through the air as he gives chase. You seemingly move without any sense of direction, but you’re determined run makes him smile.

From a distance, he hears your delighted giggles as you reach a dead end. As you turn to face him, he sees your palms cupped together, hiding something in the space between.

Your voice is almost a whisper as your eyes soften towards him, “Chava, come see.”

As you let your hands open, a single firefly soars from between your fingers. Immediately, Chava’s sucked back into the memory of your first kiss, fireflies dancing around your heads, as your lips fell against his.

Overwhelmed with the feeling once again, he leans in to kiss you, holding you tight against him. The way your mouth grazes against his feels like home, and he can’t believe he’s finally returned to it.

He says what he’s known his entire life.

“I love you.”

M = Memory (What’s their favourite memory together?)

One time, Chava spent the whole summer talking about glow-in-the-dark stars. He saw them on abuela’s tv once, some infomercial that lasted way too long in between cartoons. But he was immediately taken by how cool they seemed. He’d never seen anything like it, but he desperately wanted some.

He didn’t actually spend every minute of every day talking about it, but he did spend a lot of time hoping to see them one day. You thought they were cool, but knowing Chava liked them too only made them better.

So immediately after you returned to the United States, you begged your parents to get you some. You begged and begged until they gave in, taking you to the store to pick out your very own glow-in-the-dark stars. But you didn’t put them up. You shoved them into your suitcase until next summer, not wanting to ever forget them. They’ll be safe there.

But the problem was that glow-in-the-dark stars don’t last that long. By the time you opened up your suitcase the next June, they had long lost their glow, becoming faded green plastic. Hot tears ran down your cheeks as you thought about how you’d disappoint Chava, but you didn’t dare tell your parents. You felt like they’d scold you for waiting so long. To make them buy a present that you’d eventually give to someone else.

So you packed them anyways, and when your parents parked the car on the plantation, you got out and ran straight into his arms, sobbing and clutching useless stars. He hugged you tight, immediately asking what was wrong.

“Chava, I ruined them.” You cried, showing him the box.

He furrowed his brow and marched you straight into the house, through the kitchen, and into the pantry. Closing the door, he inspected the stars through the clear plastic, and ripped open the package. They spilled out, scattering along the wood floors, but he noticed one, faint, green glow underneath a bag of rice.

A single star, surviving the test of time.

It was one of the widest smiles he’s ever worn. He was amazed by how beautiful it was, even though he’d never seen them in their full glory. You spent the next hour in there, taking turns making wishes on the faded plastic star until the pantry door swung wide open.

Abuela stood before you, hands on her hips.

“There you two are! I have a surprise for both of you.”

And in her hands were glowing green galaxies.

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

He loves to worship you in any way he possibly can. He presses kisses to your lips every morning and every night and every chance between. Chava doesn’t necessarily have the means to spoil, but he’d be damned if he didn’t show you his love every single day. You’re technically the rich one in the relationship now, with the sixteen-million-dollar estate. Chava’s just the plantation manager. It doesn’t bother him that you’re the one with the money, but he still saves up to buy you anything that you may mention in passing.

You could mention one night that you wish you had some mint chocolate chip ice cream, only to find it in the freezer the next night. It’s all the little things together that Chava loves to do for you. He’ll always bring you breakfast in the mornings, no matter what. He’d even try to do it when he’s sick, but you have to shove him back into bed and trade places for a day.

And even after everything he does, at the end of each day, he shows up with a red rose from the florist in town. He couldn’t go a day without showing you he’s so madly, truly in love with you.

It’d drive him insane if you didn’t know.

O = Orange (What colour reminds them of their other half?)

When you think of Chava, you think of green. Green like the everlasting Colombian coffee fields he walks through. Green like the hedge maze he’d spent so long cultivating to perfection. Green like the strength and calm you can see always running through him. The warm emerald green that shines through Chava makes you feel safe and secure.

While you walk through the plantation, and you run your hands through vibrant green leaves, you can’t help but think of Chava. His hands have loved every branch of every tree along this plantation over and over again. You think of those same hands running along your skin, and instantly feel the shivers running down your spine.

Green is the color of his love for you, ever growing and endlessly full of life.

When Chava thinks of you, he thinks of the deep blue night. The beautiful, almost black sky littered with flecks of shimmering stars. He thinks of the nights you spend collecting fireflies, running underneath the swirling, oceanic heavens. The deep blue is stable and trustworthy. He’d never doubt how the night returns after the sun sets, and he’d never doubt you. Not in a million years.

As he lays underneath the sky, he hears your voice in the constellations, deep and rich. You’re such a different kind of lovely to him, you might as well be royalty. He knows how beautiful the blue would be against your skin, and spends time just imagining it with a smile spread wide across his face.

Also he’s heard of the phrase “something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue” and he cannot wait for the day. His sky, his heaven, his deep blue ocean, his world, forever becoming his.

That’s what blue means to him.

P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?)

Chava uses a lot of different pet names. There’s not one word that can fully express how he feels for you, so he uses them as he sees fit. His two favorites are “mi alma” (my soul) and “mi cielito” (my little heaven). You’re the most important thing in his world, and the other half of the heart he feels like he’s always been missing.

When you were young, and you’d play house together, he’d come “home from work” and call you “cariño” (sweetheart). It’s what his parents called each other, when his father would come home and kiss his mother on the cheek. He’s always wished for their kind of love, and now he has it.

Sometimes he calls you “estrellita,” remembering all those nights he spent wishing on fireflies for you. On those teeny, tiny stars, sitting in the palm of your hand. Other days, he calls you "mi sol” (my sun), thinking of how your radiance exceeds that of any star, but is the reason his whole world is warm and vibrant.

When he calls you “mi media naranja,” he’s thinking of everything you shared during the summers, splitting everything down the middle (though secretly, he’d always give you just a little bit more). Mi media naranja translates literally to “my half an orange,” but more closely translates to English as “my soulmate.” One half of an orange only has another perfect half. Chava is absolutely sure you’re his.

Q = Quaint (What is their favourite non-modern thing?)

Chava doesn’t keep his phone on him at all times. It’s never really been necessary, because he knows where everyone on the plantation is at all times. If someone’s deviated from their usual schedule, someone else knows where they are. He’ll leave it somewhere like on the bedside table or the kitchen counter, and when you try to call him, you’ll hear it ringing throughout the house. You end up settling on the fact that it’s easier to just shout from your house and play telephone until he comes to the house, chest heaving because he ran from wherever he just was.

He’ll plop down on your bed, trying to catch his breath as you smile, placing a hand gently on his heated cheeks.

“So what do you want for dinner?”

“Cariño, did you really call me over for this?”

“It’s important!”

He sighs playfully, running callused fingers through his hair, “I’ll come back early and we can make empanadas together.”

He stands back up, wiping the wrinkles out of his clothes. Leaning down to meet your gaze, his warm hand lands on the side of your face. The pad of his thumb brushes against your skin as he whispers, “You’re lucky you’re very pretty, mi alma.”

And with a kiss, he’ll pop out the door and back to the field.

As someone who doesn’t use his phone very often, Chava’s a huge fan of handwritten notes. Not always the kind that are sent in the mail, but the kind that are left along the refrigerator and on your nightstand. He writes a lot of things down constantly, to remember everything that happens. A notepad and pen sit in his jacket pocket to use at all times.

He’s constantly got a lot of responsibilities, and he keeping track of it all is important.

But inside his notebook is a bunch of little notes you’ve left him that he’s shoved back between the rings and pages.

“Have a good day, Chava!”

“I love you.”

“I hope it’s not too hot!”

And he’ll leave you little notes back and leave them around the house.

“Mi cielito, I’m going to be home late, no need to wait up. Lo siento.”

“Thinking of you, mi sol. - Chava”

“I cannot wait to kiss you again. I will kiss you a thousand times over. xx”

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?)

When the days get rainy, Chava likes to spend his time outside.

During some of his more troubled days, frustrated with the loss of his parents and the treatment of him and Aurora, Abuela would take him into the open green grass and stand him underneath the pouring rain.

“Chava, feel your tears and let la lluvia wash it away.”

The rain pelted his skin, stinging his nerves until he could no longer feel anything else.

Thunder crashed into his ears, leaving him deaf and quieting his thoughts.

Lightning striking in the distance illuminated his tan skin, highlighting the tears streaming along his cheeks, now indeterminate from the rain.

The salt of his sobs covered his tongue as he fell to his knees in the dirt.

The metallic smell of iron and red blood washed away, leaving only the earthy scent of fresh rain in its wake.

Abuela held Chava as he howled and wept with the rushing wind, rocking him as she whispered,

“Mijo, replace your senses with la lluvia.”

So when it rains, he has the tendency to drop everything and stand in the rain. He doesn’t necessarily want to be alone, so if you go up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and feeling the weight of his body against yours, you can just barely hear him beneath the storm,

“Only la lluvia.”

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?)

Chava’s not too good at cheering himself up. He tries pretty hard not to be sad too often. And with everything that’s happened in his life, he’s built up pretty big walls to hold off the pain. It’s a lot easier to feel nothing than the hardship brewing inside of him.

Yet, to feel is to live.

If he’s feeling down, he won’t push it away by trying to cheer himself up. He’ll take the wave as it crashes over his head, and wait for the current to bring him back up. You’ll find him either walking around and letting his thoughts lead his steps, or nursing a beer and losing himself within the starry sky. Sometimes both.

But he usually does most of it alone.

Chava lets time sweep him off of his aching feet, falling into his memories. Once he finds the source of his pain, he chooses to explore it.

One of the guys he works with on the plantation just had his second child. He was struck with thoughts of his parents, before the fear of El Fantasma.

The gaping hole left in his heart hurts, but he pushes his focus to what he loves, rather than what he’s lost.

He remembers the times he and Aurora and his parents were all able to be laughing on one room. He remembers the sound of their voices bouncing against the walls. He remembers how they always smiled until long after the sun had set, singing songs and telling stories they had already heard.

The pain in his chest slowly subsides to a sweet nostalgia for the life he once lived.

Unable to stand by any longer, you approach him slowly, letting your shadow touch him before you do. The moment you’re within arm’s reach, he pulls you close to his chest, pressing soft kisses to the top of your head.

“Chava?”

“Yes?”

“Are you okay?”

When you look up into his hazel eyes, you see tears brimming over the rims. You push them away with the pad of your thumb, a gentle promise for better days.

“I will be, mi amor, I will be.”

But when you’re sad, Chava wouldn’t dare leave you alone. He pulls you into his arms, replacing every one of your thoughts with his heartbeat. The warmth of his fingers pour over your skin as he runs them up and down your arms.

He immediately jumps up to get cookies and milk so you can indulge in the sweetness and while truly feeling your sadness. You smile immediately at the gesture, chocolate chip cookies warmed until they’re gooey on the inside and soft from the milk.

After that, he lies there with you until you feel like talking about it, until your tears run dry and your smile returns to your face. And if you don’t feel like talking about it then, he’ll do anything he can to make you comfortable until you do. He’ll give you all the blankets and pillows from around the house to build a fort for you and turn on some gentle music to let you process your thoughts.

Chava will never let you get too far into your sadness. He’ll always pull you back.

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?)

Chava talks a lot about the past and the future loves to reminisce and daydream. He’s always the nostalgic about what has been, but even more so a romantic for what could be.

“Mi cielito, do you remember when we were very young? You had just gotten out of school and come straight here. They taught you how to ballroom dance, and you’d won first place in the school competition.”

“Yes! I thought it’d be fun to teach you. You always stepped on my foot, but abuela said we would’ve won any competition.”

“She said it was because we cared so much for each other, it showed in every movement.”

“Do you think she knew that we’d end up together?”

Chava laughs, wrapping an arm tight around you. “Think? She knew. She only spoke English to me for an entire year, just so I could be able to talk to you when you came back.”

“She did?”

“Oh yes. She said ‘Chava, you have to meet her where she’s at. You must learn English.’”

“That sounds like abuela.”

“She also said we’d have really beautiful children.”

“Do you think we would?”

“I know we would.” He hums, staring up at the ceiling. “A little girl then a little boy. Like me and Aurora. They’d have your smile.”

“What if they had your smile?”

“They won’t. I know they won’t.”

“And what makes you so sure?”

Chava turns to meet your eyes, resting his hand on the side of your face, “Your smile is much too beautiful to not be passed on to our kids.”

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?)

Chava is usually just a little bit tense. With El Fantasma constantly watching, he’s not usually very relaxed. He tries his best not to let it interfere with his life, but once he’s had a target on his back for as long as he could remember.

Being with you is a good way to get him to relax. He’ll smile bigger, let his laugh become a little louder, sit back in his chair for once. Sometimes, you’ll go run and pull out the old board games, and you’ll play for hours. You’ll hate him by the end of Monopoly, but you’ll see him genuinely relax with a beer in hand and all the properties on his side. It always makes you smile.

And although he’s pretty relaxed around you, he’s cautious. He’s aware of every noise and shadow. Especially with someone gunning for you as well, he wouldn’t dare let anything happen to you.

But sometimes, when the sun has long set, he’ll walk around the house. The wind guides his feet, and he just wanders from room to room, seemingly lost in thought. But if you’re quiet enough, observant enough, you’ll see his lips moving. He’s barely audible, but he speaks. It’s quick, and mostly in Spanish, but you don’t need to know what he’s saying to know what he’s doing.

He’s talking to your grandmother.

“Today was nice. The sun was bright. We haven’t heard from El Fantasma in while, which is both good and slightly worrying.”

He smiles softly to himself, running his fingers through his curls. “I think I might propose soon. It’s been a long time coming, I know it and you know it. I find it funny how you’ve known it all our lives.”

With a chuckle, he turns, and you duck back into the shadows around the corner. “I still have the ring you got me. I thought I’d never have a use for it. I think you were the only person who thought she’d come back.”

He flops down onto the couch, staring at the warm yellow ceiling light. “I’m glad you were right.”

He gets quiet enough that you can no longer hear him, and for a second you’re not sure he’s even talking anymore. He is.

“I want to ask for your blessing, abuela.”

When Chava sits up, you see him smiling.

You quickly run back to the room, trying to be as quiet as possible as the lights around the house flicker off. Jumping into the bed, you curl into the warmth of your blanket as Chava’s shadow begins to trail down the hallway.

The cool Colombian night washes over you as Chava lifts up the blanket, but as soon as he slips in next to you, you’re enveloped into the warmth that you’ve fallen so in love with. You can feel the tension released from his muscles as you wrap your arms around him.

You send a silent thank you to your abuela.

V = Vaunt (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?)

Chava definitely likes showing off his body just a little bit. He works all day around the plantation, just building up muscle. It’s hard not to be proud of the fact that he looks really good.

But he won’t ever explicitly tell you about it. His shirts are very well fitted across his broad shoulders. It’s hard to keep your eyes from travelling over the fabric as he flexes.

He knows.

The whole town knows.

There’s been a few murmurs here and there of strip poker sessions, many months before you showed up but so late in the night that the sun dares to rise. And alongside every single murmur is Chava’s name.

They speak of how the shady bar lights drag across his tan skin and over his muscles. How he throws his shirt over his shoulder before sitting back in his chair and bringing a beer to his lips.

There’s a favorite moment of yours, though.

God, the moment he puts his truck into reverse, setting his hand on the back of your headrest as he stretches to look behind you. His jawline somehow manages to get sharper as the muscles in his neck pull, exposing skin that you desperately want to run your lips over.

He can see the blush crawling up on your cheeks as you stare at him. It’s shameless, but you truly can’t help but take in the moment. He’ll bite his lip to stop a smirk, and raise an eyebrow at you, feigning innocence until you crash your lips against his.

W = Wedding (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?)

Chava’s thought of your wedding for most of his life. He couldn’t help it, especially with abuela being part of his planning committee. She had a binder at the ready, with everything that she wanted to be a part of your wedding.

“Pero, abuela, this isn’t your wedding!”

“Chava, I do not care.”

It had to be on the plantation. It had to be, or else abuela might come back and crash your wedding. She also wanted red roses, specifically.

So when the moment came that he thought about proposing, he went to get the binder. It lives on the highest shelf in the house, high enough that abuela always used a chair to grab it down, and high enough that you’d never look up that far.

The binder weighed heavy in his hands, and he looked at the first page.

Chava, when you’re ready to propose, I have a ring. Ask Beto.

X = Xylophone (What’s their song?)

Besame Mucho.

Besame mucho, como si fuera esta noche la última vez – Kiss me a lot, as if this night were the last time.

Que tengo miedo perderte después – for I’m afraid I will lose you afterwards.

Quiero sentirte muy cerca, mirarme en tus ojos, verte junto a mí – I want to feel you close, to look at myself in your eyes, to see you close to me

Piensa que tal vez mañana, yo ya estaré lejos, muy lejos de ti – I think that maybe by tomorrow, I will already be far, far away from you

Every day, Chava loses himself in the feeling of your lips against his, the warmth of your tongue moving over his, the way his heart melts as you tangle your fingers in his hair.

With El Fantasma constantly at his back and the sudden death of your abuela, he refuses to let a day pass by that you don’t feel incredibly, radically loved by him.

Before the passing of La Dama Roja, Chava was very, very sure that he’d never see you again. It’d been much too long since the last time, but his feelings seemed to only grow stronger each day. So when you came back, he vowed to give you as many kisses as you wished.

But there’s a sinking feeling he gets in his gut. It burns more and more each moment he settles on the thought.

Maybe one day, you’ll see something better. A man who’s not being chased by a Colombian gang. A man who can provide for you better than he can.

Chava always kisses you with everything he has, pouring every ounce of love into it, so if you were to ever leave, he’d know he’d given you his all.

Would he know the bittersweet pain of your last kiss? Or would he be ignorant to whatever demise would ultimately befall your relationship?

Maybe El Fantasma will finally catch up with him.

But even though he may have his fears, there’s something special about the way you look at him. It’s a glimmer somewhere deep in your eyes, sparkling back at him. It’s like looking deep into the night sky, but if he looks past the stars, he sees himself.

It’s shocking at first – he’s literally gotten lost in your eyes. But there’s really something quite shocking about the moment he sees himself. It crashes over him like a wave, and suddenly he’s flooded with emotion.

And he pulls you close to him, unwilling to let you go anytime soon.

Y = Yes (When, how, where do they propose?)

Chava’s known all along where it was going to happen.

It was just a normal day for you, the sun came up and came back down. You’d spent time with everyone on the plantation. It seemed like everyone needed or wanted to see you, passing you from one person to the next.

Las Tres Hermanas pulled you into about an hour of sorting, saying you should close your eyes and do your best to help them. It turned out to be a trainwreck. You couldn’t seem to tell what was good and what wasn’t, but they managed to sort everything out. What took you an hour took them not even five minutes.

And then Aurora asked that you make some desserts with her. You ended up spending a few hours chatting and baking and singing along with the wind. It wasn’t bad, but by the end of it, the sun was just about to fall over the horizon for the day.

But just as you were about to put on your coat, Lucia barges into the kitchen, demanding that you help her with her math homework. It’d really been a while since you saw trigonometry, but you decided to stick around and see if you could be of any assistance anyways. By the end, it was more like Lucia taught you than you helping her. And the sun had officially retired, letting the moon take its place in the sky.

“Don’t go yet!” Lucia shouted, grabbing onto your sleeve as you began to stand up from the table. Sleep started to drag at you, and it all felt a little strange, but when you looked into her face, you saw something that made you stay.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, concern flickering over you.

Lucia’s eyes flash with anxiety as her fingers tighten around your wrist. “I’m having… boy problems.”

It all makes sense now.

You return to your seat, letting Lucia talk as long as she needs. It’s a story that seems to wind without end, and kind of seems like something that would happen in Gilmore Girls, but you try to give the best advice you can.

“I think Dean seems like a really nice boy, and he seems to really care about you. Maybe you should tell him you love him too?”

And after another couple of hours of stories, you can see Aurora come out from her bedroom. It almost looks like she gives the smallest, most imperceptible nod. But the moment she does, all of Lucia’s problems seem to melt away.

“You know what, I think I will tell him!” She says, before promptly pushing herself from the table and running to her room.

As your mind swirls with everything she’s just unloaded onto you, the front door clicks open, and you see Chava shrugging off his jacket.

Immediately, you go up to throw yourself into his arms, and he laughs as you bury your face into his chest. It’s a hearty laugh, strong and deep as he tightens his arms around you.

After a few moments lost in the sound of his heartbeat, you look up into his eyes, softening at the sight of you in his arms, and he presses his lips to yours. The world melts away, replaced with the sweetest feeling of his kiss.

Pulling away, he presses his forehead against yours, smiling. “Mi alma, come with me. I have something to show you.”

You take his hand as he wraps his jacket around you, leading you out the door.

You follow him until he leads you to a very familiar pond. It’s lit gently with fireflies in jars, and flowers thrown along the ground. The yellow light falls from the little bugs, mixing with the white of the moon. The wind whistles around you as you remember the time you were last here.

The tadpole wedding.

Your first kiss.

Chava immediately takes your hand in his, and as you look up at him, you see him framed completely by twinkling stars. He smiles as you fall into him, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist.

“This is familiar, yes?”

“Very, very familiar, Chava.”

“Good.”

“Why did you do this?”

When you look up into his hazel eyes again, they’re shining. You’re completely stunned at the sight of him, a warm hand gently resting against his heart.

It beats rapidly underneath the tips of your fingers.

“I love you, cariño. I have known this all my life. This was the place I fell in love with you. You kissed me after I ruined our whole tadpole wedding. I tripped because I was lost in thought. I just kept thinking about what our wedding would be like, when we were all grown.

But then you left. And I tried to move on as best I could. It was hard. I knew I could never love anyone else as much as I loved you, even if we were just kids.”

“Chava, I-“

“Listen, estrellita,” He chuckles, “And then I thought I’d never see you again. Abuela was certain you would come back to Colombia. I’d never seen her so sure about anything. But the moment I laid eyes on you for the first time, after all these years, I was in love with you even more than ever before.

You give me so much life. Everything is so much better with you in it, I never want you to leave.

Mi cielito, mi media naranja, mi amor,”

Your heart skips a beat as your name falls from his lips.

“Be my past, my present, and my future.”

And he gets down on one knee.

“Chava-“

“You must stop interrupting me.” He laughs. “I’m almost done.”

His eyes brim with tears as he looks up at you, surrounded by white moonlight.

“Marry me.”

Z = Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?)

After you get married, he’d probably ask if you wanted to get a dog. When he was young, his family had a German Shepherd to watch over the house, but he loved that dog more than he thought possible.

He calls him Santo, and they walk together throughout the plantation every day. From the moment that he gets up for work, Santo walks alongside Chava until they’re done with morning rounds, then takes a couple laps on his own.

Everyone loves Santo. You got him as a puppy, and raised him around the plantation, so everyone who’s worked there has gotten to know the little guy until he became not-so-little anymore. Aurora and Lucia are really fond of Santo. He’s family to both of them, and Lucia is always sneaking him little pieces of her dinner.

And after everything that’s happened since your abuela died, you feel safer having Santo around, sleeping at the foot of your bed. You know he would do anything to protect you, just like Chava would.

#chava cerilla #fictif chava #who killed la dama roja #heir to love and lies #fictif wkldr #i cannot believe the name has changed i don't know what to tag this anymore

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the-dragons-knight · 3 years

Text

FFXIV Write 2021

Prompt #10 - Heart Beat

<Post-Heavensward MSQ, but no major spoilers>

Heady - ‘having a strong or exhilarating effect’

————————————————————

Katsum hardly even noticed the cold as she fiddled nervously with her chakrams as she peeked around the edge of the tall curtains that hid the dancers from the eyes of the gathered crowd. She recognized many of the faces she saw amongst them. She saw Hilda and people of the Brume and the Watch, and the orphaned children who were talking and laughing together. The counts of the four noble houses were gathered as well; in fact all of House Fortemps was in attendance. Even Vidolfnir and a few of the young dragonets from Anyx Trine had come, the great white dragon laying back behind the crowd a ways where she was talking with Lucia and Maelie, the young dragonets fluttering curiously above her while they chattered excitedly to be in a city of man. While seeing these familiar faces certainly did not help ease her worry, the true culprit of her anxiety was the raven-haired commander that was having a deep conversation with a few of the temple knights; Aymeric de Borel.

Her cat-like sapphire eyes traced the contours of his profile, watching his lips move and his eyes alight as he gestured towards the two knights and they smiled and nodded. The snow flakes in his raven black hair did not go unnoticed either, the bits of ice forming a halo. He looked ethereal, like a handsome prince, and it brought the warmth to her face still to know that he had chosen her. The way her heart melted when they were together was still so strange to her, but the way it had fluttered that night and through that first kiss, she’d never forget it. The only issue is that now she would feel so shy sometimes around him, and she worried about what impression that gave people having only seen her be the stoic and serious knightess of light.

“So…are you going to go and talk to him, or do I need to do it for you?” Katsum jumped at the voice that came from behind her, her tail fluffing up as she turned to see Ranaa standing there, a wide-eyed look on her face before she giggled, “My goodness, I’ve never seen you caught off guard, Katsum. Are you alright?”

Katsum sighed and tried to compose herself and wipe the warmth from her cheeks as she found it hard to meet her gaze, “Yes. I’m alright. Just…seeing how many people had gathered.”

“Aaaaaand looking for a certain someone, yeah? Who is he?” She winked at Katsum before slowly backing off, “Sorry, I don’t mean to pry.”

Katsum felt her ears lift from her skull as she realized she’d been glaring, her features softening as she reached out towards Ranaa, “No, no, I’m…I’m sorry Ranaa. I'm not used to my thoughts showing so freely. It's very strange to me.”

Ranaa blinked, but nodded with a soft smile, “It’s because of that man, yes? He’s quite handsome, and very kind and noble from the conversations he is having.”

A breath of a smile graced Katsum’s lips as she nodded, “He is Aymeric de Borel, the Lord Commander of the Temple Knights and the leader of Ishgard itself…and he is indeed a very noble and chivalrous knight.”

“Aw, and he’s caught your eye, I see! Well, my question still stands, do you need me to introduce you?”

“N-n-no, we are already well acquainted I…” She sighed before she spoke seriously, “He and I know each other very well, I assure you. I just…get nervous around him sometimes lately.” No one knew they were seeing each other as they had decided to keep it secret until the excitement in Ishgard had settled so that no odd rumors could truly gain any traction. Still, it was hard to wear her emotionless mask around him as much anymore, and she could only guess what that meant.

“Probably on account of your feelings for him I’d guess, but that means this is the perfect chance to get his attention!” Ranaa excitedly bounced on her heels as her tail swished with her excitement, “You dance so beautifully and so gracefully there is no way he won’t notice! And as we are lifting their spirits and fighting against the shadows weighing down their souls, he surely won't be able to take his eyes off you!” She grinned and gestured to the Thavnarian style dress Katsum wore, “And with that exotic dress, who could resist looking at you~”

Katsum’s jaw dropped as her embarrassment returned, “Ranaa, please!”

The dark-skinned miqo’te giggled as she started stepping backwards, “Alright, we are ready to start whenever you are, yeah? You look amazing as always, Katsum, and you’ll be sure to chase any shadows with your dance.” She then turned and headed back to the other trope members.

The blonde miqo’te sighed and stood up straight, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath to steady herself and calm her nerves. Her feelings for him. The fluttering in her chest and the want to be around him and spending time with him.When put like that, it was little wonder it was hard to wear her ‘mask’ as it surely fell off every time her heart started beating out of her chest. There was a part of her deep down that was excited to dance for him too she realized, and so she tried to tap into that feeling as she turned and followed Ranaa so that the show could begin.

— — — — — — — — — —

“Ladies and gentlemen! Thank you all for coming!”

Katsum gripped her chakrams tightly as she listened to the trope member’s words, taking deep breaths to calm herself. Ranaa placed her hand on her shoulder and nodded with a smile, a quiet affirmation of ‘You got this’ to which Katsum smiled weakly back and nodded. Her heart was still beating loudly in her ears, but she focused on her breathing and then ran through the steps of the dance in her head.

And she planned to lock eyes with him the very moment she could.

“Without further ado, I give you…the dancers of Trope Falsiam!”

In unison, she and Ranaa moved into their starting poses as the curtain began to draw back. Katsum peered through her chakram where it covered most of her face, waiting impatiently to catch the ice blue gaze of the Lord Commander. As the curtain revealed them, the crowd erupted into applause, but the only thing Katsum saw was Aymeric’s widened eyes as he saw her. It scared her for a moment before she noticed the red dusting on his cheeks and she realized he was flustered slightly. That made her heart flutter in kind and spurred her feet forward.

The music began and the two dancers moved and spun to the beat, slow at first as they awaited the rest of the instruments to join the lute, ever moving further onto the stage as they did. Katsum kept her eyes locked with Aymeric as she spun on her foot and sliced through the air slowly with her chakram, willing her body to move more gracefully than she ever had before. He seemed to be locked into place, his eyes following her every move. She blushed lightly at the thought but she smiled warmly at him, which he returned.

The music picked up then and a new confidence burned in her breast as she quickened her steps and sliced through the air. The colored petals and feathers of light began to appear to the amazement of the crowd as she and Ranaa danced on opposite sides of the circle moving clockwise around it. And as the lights grew, the shadows began to take shape, the darkness slithering out of the peoples hearts and into the ring, gathering together into the forms of many-faced monsters. The people gasped at the sight of them but Ranaa and Katsum continued to dance to calm them. As the knightess drew near to one, the shadow hissed and reared back its clawed hand.

“Now, Raihogg.” Katsum whispered and her necklace glowed gently, a new red light of dragon scales appearing around her as she spun and threw her chakrams into the attacking shadow. Again it hissed and tried to advance, but she was far too quick, catching her weapons and throwing them again in quick succession to push it further back. She glanced over to Aymeric again, seeing his eyes brightly shining with amazement as the crowd around him cheered and she grinned and wound up her next step. Crouching low, she called for Raihogg’s strength again to brighten the glowing scales as she held her weapons close and ready for the jump. With a breath, she launched herself forward, spanning a few yalms in the blink of an eye and slicing through the shadow as she passed through it. The beast screamed before exploding into sparks and fading away.

Another scream echoed behind her and Katsum spun gracefully to see Ranaa taking down the other one at that same moment. She grinned confidently at Katsum and they returned to their dance, spinning and slicing the air as they danced the circle and moved towards each other in the center. When they finally reached it, they danced around one another for a moment before they turned back to back and froze their starting position once more facing the crowd, the beat of the music ending as they stopped. The crowd erupted in applause and cheers at their performance, the air about them all feeling much lighter now that the darkness had been vanquished. Katsum and Ranaa smiled at each other as she relaxed and bowed to the crowd with the rest of the troupe.

— — — — — — — — — —

Katsum bowed in thanks as the few temple knights waved their goodbyes and made their way back to their posts. She sighed contently, happy to know their spirits were a bit lighter this day without so much darkness whispering of all they’d lost in the war. It made her happy to know that a ‘simple’ dance was able to help them breathe a little clearer.

“Ah there you are,” She turned to meet the ice blue gaze of the raven-haired commander as he stepped up to her with a warm smile on his face, “I am glad to have caught you before you left. That was an amazing performance. I had no idea you were dancing!”

Katsum smiled shyly, twirling a strand of hair as her tail swished behind her bashfully, a shiver slightly shaking her for a second before she replied, “Thank you, and yes, I’ve been working with the troupe for a few months now and learning their dances. It was they who found me after a storm destroyed my boat as I was sailing away from my home, and they who found Soldier and brought him back to me. I’ve kept in touch ever since, and finally decided to learn the Dancer’s trade.”

He nodded, “I remember when they brought your horse to Camp Dragonhead, and might I say that you have certainly learned the trade well,” His eyes flitted down for a moment and she blushed as she realized he was trying his best not to stare at her exposed skin, “It was certainly a beautiful…and deadly dance.”

She shivered again as her ears dropped and she nodded, “T-Thank you.”

His smile faded as he noticed her shiver and quickly shed himself of his fur coat, “May I?”

She blinked in surprise but nodded, letting him move close and drape the coat over her shoulders. Katsum smiled and wrapped the furred coat around herself, happily breathing in his scent that lingered on it, “Thank you, Aymeric. I didn’t realize how cold I was.”

“Of course. Can’t have the Warrior of Light freezing after her most beautiful display of dance…” Aymeric swallowed thickly then, a bright blush dusting his cheeks as she noticed he was fidgeting and pulling down his royal-blue shirt collar slightly as his eyes darted back and forth from her own to where his coat hid her dress.

“Aymeric, are you…?”

“Yes, yes! Of course, I am just fine, I assure you…I would just like to say…you were stunning and I could scarcely take my eyes off of you, but I also would ask perhaps…could you wear a different dress for your dancing? While this one is…ravishing, it is rather…revealing if you understand my meaning.”

It took a moment for it to truly hit her what he had said, yet the moment it did, Katsum’s ears stood up as her tail fluffed and a deep red blush covered her face. Becoming far more subconscious than she had been, she wrapped the coat around her more tightly, hiding her burning face against the furs of the collar.

She nodded as her entire body burned from embarrassment, “I-I’ll uh…see what I can do…but i’ll also hang on to this one…in case I ever…need it…”

Now it was his turn to blush darkly and they both thanked the heavens no one around to see, “Right! As you should. Never uh…never know.”

She nodded as she coughed and shook her head to clear her mind, and brought up another topic to speak on which he was most gracious for and soon the moment of embarrassment had passed. From afar, Ranaa watched out of the corner of her eye while she was speaking to some of the audience members and smiled seeing them, happy to see that someone was helping Katsum find the parts of herself that lay hidden under her stoic mask.

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just-some-fiction · 3 years

Text

Just You and Me Part 30

Many wanted to know what happened while they were separated... Vince will be explained in another chapter, that I’m currently editing

"What was it like to fuck Beth Boland?" she asked him one day. Rio who was drawing lines on a blueprint froze. Lucia walked into the office one afternoon and took a seat on the couch, watching him for a few minutes before she posed the question.

They were still working through a lot of things. She disappeared after the news of him sleeping with Beth came to light, which occurred a few days after she signed the divorce papers Gretchen drew up. Rio would never ask her what she got up to after she left Detroit. If she wanted him to know, he'd know.

"Scuse me?" he pulled his face.

"Just curious," she shrugged before wringing her hands together, "I read an article that suggested couples who were separated for a period should talk about what happened."

He stopped what he was doing, rolled his shoulders and came to sit next to her, "You really wanna know?"

She nodded.

"It was different," he shrugged, "it was like those times I fucked girls in high school, just physical," licking his lower lip, "and the universe got back at me," he chuckled, "treated me like some whore the second time I slept with her."

Lucia knew about that part. She sighed, so far she hasn't told him what happened when she left Detroit.

"I saw Vince when I left," the room suddenly got tense, the pencil that he was twirling suddenly snapped.

"Thought you said you saw Alfred," was all he said.

"I did," she sighed, "but that wasn't planned," looking at him, "I ran into Vince just before we split up and we exchanged numbers, it was innocent."

"Then when I left I needed time to think," swallowing, "I called him, stayed with him and one night we slept together."

She knew this was different. Vince and her had a history. They almost got together in high school. Then there were a few times in their twenties where he popped up and tried his luck. Rio has given her an out each time, knowing Vince was a safer bet and could give her a more stable life.

Now she came clean, "The next morning I woke up, threw up and left before he woke up and drove to the cabin to clear my head," by now she had a lump in her throat, "a few days later I was back at work and they wheeled you in with three bullet holes in you."

He rested his elbows on his knees and listened to her. Slowly the sinking feeling that started when she started her story, got deeper. The entire time she was speaking he didn't look at her. Continuing with her story.

Flashback to earlier that morning

Lucia stared at the message and her stomach dropped. Feeling Rio's arms around her, she locked her phone and leaned into her husband.

"Gotta go check something real quick at this porcupine place aight," he kissed her neck.

"Sure," turning around she wrapped her arms around him, "I'm gonna take Marcus with me to the market," she smiled at him.

He smirked and kissed her gently. Lucia smiled and felt the tension leave her.

As she and Marcus were walking around, her phone went off again. This time it was a phone call., which she let go to voicemail.

"Mama can we get this for daddy?" Marcus pointed at a hoodie in a store window. Lucia smiled at him and nodded. Before they could go in someone called her name.

Turning around she felt dread wash over her. Vince walked towards them, a smile on his face. She's been avoiding his calls since that night and this morning he messaged, announcing that he was in Detroit and would like to see her.

She knew eventually she'd have to talk to him, and explain that what happened was a mistake. Marcus' hand tightened around hers and she pulled him close. Her son was nervous around people he didn't know or people he found strange.

"Vince," she kept her voice neutral.

"What are the odds I run into you here," he smiled, his eyes landing on Marcus, "and you must be Marcus, what's up little man?"

Her son looked at the man skeptically. Before Vince could say anything Lucia jumped in.

"Papi this is Vince," she smiled down at him, "he went to high school with daddy and me," she saw Vince falter at the mention of Rio.

Marcus waved and Vince smiled, "So what you two doing?" he looked at Lucia, "wanna grab a bite to eat?"

"We buying my daddy a hoodie," Marcus smiled.

"Papi why don't you go ask if they have daddy's size so long."

Marcus ran into the store and Lucia kept an eye on him. Turning to Vince she took a deep breath.

"Have you thought about what I said that night Lucia?"

"No," she was being truthful, "I haven't because it was a mistake Vince."

"Come on Lucia," he stepped closer, "I could give you a better life than Rio."

She shook her head, causing Vince to scoff, "You can't tell me your life with Rio is perfect," he gestured to where Marcus was, "or that his lifestyle doesn't put your kid in danger."

Lucia squared her shoulders and looked Vince dead in the eye, "That's enough Vince," she snapped, "I love Rio and sure the life ain't perfect and we fight at times but we built something together over the years," she sighed, "so if you care about me at all and care about the friendship we had, you'd respect my decision and leave me and my family alone."

"Lucia just think about it OK," he said, "I'm here til the end of the week."

End of flashback

Rio rocked his jaw, he had no right to be angry or upset, but he was. More with himself than anyone else.

"Lucia," he looked at her and noticed her eyes were watering, "mama, I'm giving you an out," her eyes widened in surprise, "if you wanna go and wanna take Marcus with you, I won't stop you, put you through enough over the years, it's time I stop being selfish," with that he kissed her, before getting up, "I got business to attend to."

With that he walked out of the office and a few moments later she heard the door to the apartment slam shut. Her thoughts were racing. Not once in the last twenty years has she ever heard Rio sound defeated. Looking around the office, her eyes fell on a photo frame. Walking over to the desk she picked up the frame and smiled. It was of them on their wedding day. They were looking at one another, Rio's arms wrapped around her as they laughed.

Placing the picture down, she wondered out of the room and towards her son's room. Marcus was by his grandmother, Lucia having dropped him there before heading home to talk to her husband. There was a picture on the chest of drawers of the three of them taken on his first birthday. The little family was sitting on the porch steps of Yolanda's house, Lucia between Rio's legs with Marcus on her lap. There was another picture on the drawers, one of Marcus and Rio at the park.

She sat on the bed for a few minutes, lost in her thoughts when the door bell rang. Opening the door she smiled as her son smiled back at her.

"Mama," he grinned, holding a large gift bag, "abuela had a bag to put daddy's hoodie in."

That evening she and Yolanda sat and spoke after Marcus went to bed. Rio was still handling business with the artist at the Paper Porcupine. She could confide in her mother in law and she did.

"The two of you need to talk, Lucia," Yolanda said matter of factly, "you need to decide what you want."

Lucia just listened. After Yolanda left, Rio came home not long after. She could tell he was surprised to see her.

"Marcus waited up for you but couldn't keep his eyes open after dinner," she smiled.

Rio nodded, removing his gun from his jeans and placing it on the counter. He simply walked around her and grabbed a water from the fridge. She watched him walk towards the bedroom and something in her snapped. Marching into the room she shut the door behind her.

"Rio," she snapped, pulling him towards her, "if I were to leave you it would be for me, not cos I wanted someone else," her hands dug into his jacket, "I don't give a shit about who can give me a better life or whatever else you fucking said this afternoon, I want you," she felt her emotions bubble up, "I love you and you are my home and my family, we protect one another," she felt the tears roll down her cheeks, "you and me."

Rio's face was hard and his brows creased together as he listened to her rage in, "I don't care about fucking Vince," she spat, "you are mine and I'm yours, you're the father of my kid, you're the one who protected me from my fucked up uncle and deranged brother all those years ago, I don't need anyone else," she felt her breathing start to speed up.

"Aight Lucia," Rio pulled her close, "I got you baby," he rested his head against hers."

"It's you and me," she whispered.

"I just want you to be happy," he said, his voice low and she could hear the slight tremble, "Vince could give you a stable life."

"If I wanted that I would have taken that," she cut him off, "I told you the day you asked me out," she stroked his jaw, "he isn't you, he'll never be you and I want you."

Rio nodded, "Old fears are hard to kill at times."

Lucia wrapped her arms around his neck, "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too baby," he kissed her, "for everything."

"I love you," she whispered.

He nodded and instead, kissed her, slipping his tongue into her mouth. Her hands immediately started undoing the buttons of his jacket. His jacket fell to the ground along with his t-shirt and her hands roamed the expanse of flesh. She felt him tense up when her fingers grazed against the marks the bullets left. Pulling away, she looked at him, before behind down and placing kisses all over his chest and neck. After a few seconds Rio tangled his hands into her hair and pulled her lips back to his.

Soon his jeans were kicked off and her dress was pulled over her head. She pushed him onto the bed and climbed on top of him. Straddling his waist, she reached behind her and unclasped her bra. Rio pulled it down her arms and threw it somewhere, his hands sliding up her torso, cupping her breasts. Rolling them over, he pushed his briefs off, before kissing a line down her body, his tongue licking at the skin. His nose trailed down her stomach as he hooked his fingers into her panties, sliding them off of her. Kissing the junction between her pelvis and thigh, he traced her opening with his fingers. He settled between her legs and placed a kiss on her centre, letting out a groan as he tasted her. Staying in that position until her thighs shook, Rio ate her out, massaging the skin of her inner thighs as he did so, getting lost in her heat.

Needing more, Lucia tugged him up towards her, their mouths crashing together. Slowly he pushed into her. The both of them shuddered as he filled her, Lucia placing kisses over his shoulder and along his inked neck, her nails raking down his back as he started to move against her. She felt him hit deep inside of her. Her body took him naturally, like they were made for one another.

“Christopher,” she moaned, her heels digging into his thighs, their hands clasped together above her head, “yes,” it was more of a plea than anything else.

“Who does this belong to Lucia,” he growled against her neck.

“You,” she moaned, tears starting to gather at the corners of her eyes, her mind hazy with the feeling.

“Who makes you feel good?”

“Only you baby,” she sobbed.

“Say my name,” he looked at her, “say my name mami.”

“Rio,” she cried, her heels digging deeper into his thighs, “i’m yours Rio.”

His breathing was ragged and deep, teeth scraping against her neck as he moved in and out of her. This wasn’t the first time they had sex since getting back together, but this time it was more than that. It was as though they were cleansing one another, ridding the other of their past transgressions. They came together, moaning into the others mouth as their releases overtook them. He pulled out of her and rolled them over. Lucia was tucked into his side. The bed was ruined, the duvet laying on the floor, the fitted sheet having been pulled off at one corner and most of the pillows scattered various places over the room. Rio managed to pull the bed sheet over their middles, placing a kiss on her head as she traced patterns over his pecs.

“Only want you,” she whispered, reaching up and kissing him. Rio said nothing, simply deepened the kiss, his hands running over her body, pulling one leg over him.

“Baby, it’s gonna mess,” she protested, feeling his load start to seep out of her and onto him, but her husband didn’t seem to mind, his hand trailing between them, a finger slipping into her, causing her to tuck her head into the crook of his neck. He made a satisfied sound in the back of his throat as he made her come again. Lucia took his fingers and sucked them into her mouth, cleaning them off.

“Fuck baby,” his mouth hung open as he watched her, “we taste good?” she nodded, pulling his head towards hers and kissed him, slipping her tongue into his mouth.

They laid like that for a few minutes, sharing kisses and whispering into one another's skin. Rio pulled away and looked at her, rocking his jaw.

“So I gotta ask,” he swallowed, “how was Vince?”

“It was different,” she shrugged, “not the same.”

“Did he make you come?”

“Rio,” she scolded, stroking his chin, she was laying on her stomach on top of him, staying silent for a few moments before answering, “only once.”

Her husband scoffed, “Dumbass.”

“What bout you,” she looked at him, “you think of me while you were fucking Beth?” she raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he didn’t hesitate and she laughed.

After that the topic was dropped and they made love once more before Lucia fell asleep. In the dark, Rio watched her sleep, stroking her hair, taking in her calmness. Before he fell asleep one of their phones lit up. Reaching over he saw it was Lucia’s and he almost threw the phone across the room when he saw whose name flashed across the screen. He was very tempted to answer but decided against it. Before he put the phone down, a message popped up on the lock screen and he rocked his jaw.

‘Please meet me for lunch tomorrow, we can talk and I can help you leave him.’

In her sleep Lucia moved closer to him, “Rio,” she moaned in her sleep, smooshing her face against his skin. He smirked, placing a kiss on her head, before setting her phone down and picking up his. Calling a number he waited.

“Yo Cisco,” he greeted, “need you to do something for me.”

The next morning

Lucia woke up to the feeling of someone placing kisses against her shoulder. Smiling, she shifted closer into the feeling, reaching her hand to the back and stroking her husband’s head.

“Morning papi,” she greeted as he rolled her onto her back, bending down to kiss her.

“Morning mama,” he smirked. Lucia sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck, before she could do anything, there was a knock at the door.

“Mama, daddy?”

Rio groaned, “If we stay quiet he might go away,” Lucia hit his shoulder.

“Or he might walk in and wonder what the hell is daddy doing to his mama.”

Letting out a sigh Rio answered, “Be right there pop,” before getting up and pulling on his boxers, while Lucia found her panties and pulled on his shirt. She proceeded to pull the sheets off the bed too, deciding they definitely needed a wash after last night.

Rio opened the bedroom door and found his six year old grinning at him, holding a gift back. However, the little boy’s face dropped when his eyes fell on his father’s chest. Rio internally cursed, forgetting that Marcus didn’t know he was in hospital.

“Daddy are you hurt?” the little boy asked in alarm. Lucia froze as she pulled the sheets off the bed and turned to the door, watching Rio kneel down in front of their son.

“I just had a little bit of an accident pop but I’m all good now okay,” Rio pulled his son into his arms, who held onto his father, “so what’s this?”

“We got this for you yesterday,” Marcus explained, handing his father the gift bag, “it was my idea.”

Lucia walked up to them as Rio scooped Marcus up, “Thanks pop,” he kissed his son’s forehead, “and thank you mama,” he pulled her close to them as well, “cos it was probably mama’s card that paid for it right,” he mumbled into her hair, chuckling a bit.

She rolled her eyes laughing, looking at her family. That morning they showered together while Marcus was preoccupied with his cartoons. Rio had her bent forward in the shower as he rammed into her from behind. Lucia braced herself against the wall as she felt herself climax against him. When they got out of the shower and dried off, she wrapped her arms around him, placing a kiss in the middle of his chest.

“I wanna talk to you bout something else later,” she looked at him, biting her lower lip, “it’s something that’s been on my mind for a while.”

“Aight,” he squeezed her hips, “just gotta meet Cisco for something real quick then we can talk.”

“Does it have anything to do with the late night phonecall and message from Vince,” she raised an eyebrow, “I know my husband well enough Mr Ramirez,” she kissed his cheek, “and I know he has a thing for sending his boys to keep tags on people.”

“Lucia,” he sighed.

“It’s fine,” she stroked his lower lip, “I know you gotta do what you gotta do,” she kissed him, “besides, maybe this will help drive the message home.”

The rest of the morning the family spent watching cartoons and making pancakes. Rio’s phone rang just before noon and with that he slipped out. Before he did, Lucia pulled him towards her, kissing him slowly, deepening the kiss slightly.

“A reminder,” she told him once she pulled away, “I can’t do that if you’re behind bars, so don’t be reckless.”

Vince was waiting at a cafe for Lucia, hoping she’d come and bring her son along as well. What he wasn’t expecting was Rio Ramirez to be sitting across from him. The gangster had a smirk on his face, reminding him of the seventeen year old boy he competed with for Lucia’s attention. Only now, he was a fully fledged gangster, sporting a very large neck tattoo and his eyes seemed colder than it did in high school.

“Been a long time Vince,” Rio’s voice was low.

“Ramirez,” Vince nodded, “what are you doing here?” he had a feeling he knew exactly why Rio was here.

“I hear you can’t take no for an answer,” Rio smiled as a waiter brought them coffees.

“She told you?” Vince suddenly felt skittish, his eyes darting to the exit.

“Yeah she did,” Rio showed his teeth as he grinned, before turning serious again, watching the other man try to figure out how he was gonna get out of there, “don’t even try it man,” he picked up his cup, “now I promised her I wouldn’t do anything to land me in jail,” he grinned again, “cos according to her, it would be difficult to fuck me while I’m behind bars,” chuckling lightly he sat back, “so what ima do is give you a warning,” Rio sat up straight, “ever try and contact my wife again I’ll make sure you never existed.”

Before Rio got up Vince stopped him, “You don’t deserve her,” he sneered, “the fuck you ever do for her,” it seemed like something snapped inside of him, “you a fucking low life.”

Rio smirked, “We’re done here,” with that he got up and left the cafe, Cisco was waiting for him by the G-wagon, “keep tabs on him, have a feeling he’s gonna try something.”

That afternoon, Rio found Lucia in his office, going through some books. He leaned against the door frame and watched her for a few minutes. The afternoon light hit her just right, highlighting her skin and turning her brown eyes golden. Licking his lips he walked into the office and sat on the couch watching her.

“Mick was here earlier,” she said, not taking her eyes off the books, “said the disposal went well,” she placed her pencil down, “who’d you off this time.”

“Had to deal with a rotten egg baby,” he sniffed.

“You had him off that girl that works at the Paper Porcupine,” she stated, “she was really sweet.”

“You know the rule Lucia,” she simply nodded and got up, straddling his lap.

“I know,” she smiled, “and if it means keeping us all safe, you gotta do what you gotta do,” her hands cradled his head.

“So what you wanna talk to me about,” his hands rested on her waist, his eyes trailing down, resting on her cleavage.

“Focus papi,” she snapped, holding his chin in place, “it’s about Beth and her little operation.”

Before he could jump in she went on, “I don’t trust her and I don’t like her attitude,” she snapped, “fucking entitled bitch,” shaking her head she continued, “anyway, we need to keep an eye on her and her dealings, she needs to know we aren’t kidding around and that there are consequences to ones actions.”

This was a side of Lucia he hasn’t seen in years and it made him smirk as he listened to her, “Something tells me she isn’t gonna take you coming back and messing up her plan lightly and she definitely won’t like the fact that we’re back together,” Lucia scoffed, “that woman had some fucked up sexual obsession with you.”

“Can you blame her?” that earned him a whack against the head.

“Anyway,” she sighed, “from now on I wanna be involved in what’s going on,” she stated, “think I’ve been out of it for too long and clearly you and your little gang can’t keep it together,” before he could defend himself she continued, “arrested, your cash destroyed and three bullet holes Christopher.”

That seemed to shut him up. Lucia stroked his head.

“I can’t lose you,” she stated, “if I need to do things in order to keep you alive then I fucking will.”

Thinking back to what Vince said, Rio chuckled, “Sometimes I forget how ruthless you can be baby,” he pulled her face down towards his, “but you my queen, my fucking bad ass boss bitch,” he growled, before devouring her lips. They were so caught up in one another, they didn’t hear the pitter patter of little feet.

“Mama?”

The couple pulled apart and looked towards the door, where their six year old son was standing with his eyes shut tightly and the model plane in his hands. Rio laughed at his son’s reactions to them kissing.

“That’s gross,” Marcus pulled his face once he was over his initial reaction, walking into the office.

“One day when you’re older,” before Rio could finish his sentence Lucia elbowed him in the ribs, “what, come one baby you know the kid is gonna,” that earned him a pinched, “fine, jeez, he’s gonna be your little baby forever, happy?” she smiled, kissing her husband on his cheek, before scooping her son up.

Rio watched her and smiled, if Vince really knew her, he’d know she was just as ruthless as he was. Marcus pulled him out of the office to play, while Lucia finished up with their books. Before he left, he swatted her on her behind and kissed her neck.

“I’m hitting it tonight in this office aight.”

Lucia winked at her husband and got back to work. She was getting into it when her phone rang and she groaned. Deciding she needed to end this right now she answered the phone.

“Hello.”

“Lucia hey,” she could hear the tremor in his voice and suppressed another groan, “I was hoping you’d meet me for coffee earlier.”

“Vince,” she sighed, “I think I made myself very clear.”

“He’s dangerous Lucia,” Vince snapped and she heard a tone from him which reminded her why exactly she cut ties with him all those years ago.

“My husband is anything but dangerous towards me,” she got to the point, “the only time he’s ever dangerous when I’m involved is when people try to disturb our peace, goodbye Vince,” with that she deleted and blocked his number. Deciding she was over work, she got up and joined her husband and son in the lounge.

That night he took her just like her said he would, in the office, bent over his desk and papers, with her panties pulled to the side and her hair clutched in his hand as he fucked her. When they eventually made it to their bedroom, Lucia draped herself across his chest, her fingers tracing his lower lip, trailing down to his tattoo. Rio was playing with the fingers of her other hand, twirling her wedding ring around her finger.

“We should go to the cabin for a weekend,” she bit her lip.

“Yeah?” he asked, “could leave Marcus with my ma and have a redo of your eighteenth birthday.”

Lucia rolled her eyes, “We aren’t leaving our son behind,” she paused, “besides, no way can your stamina now, compete with your stamina back then.”

Rio froze, turning his head to look at her, “Scuse me?”

She smirked, knowing that her comment was far from the truth. Her husband rolled them over, so they were spooning and she could feel his want against her back.

"I'll show you stamina," he growled and with that he pushed into her from behind. Lucia couldn't help but tense up as he stretched her from this angle. Waiting for him to start moving, she turned her head and looked at him expectantly.

"So mama when do you wanna go to the cabin?" he asked casually. The mother fucker was cockwarming! Not able to stop herself she let out a whine and Rio smirked, kissing her cheek.

She tried to move but he held her in place, "Nah baby we ain't fucking now," he laughed, "we're talking."

He fell asleep buried deep inside of her, with his fingers on her. The next morning, before the sun came up, he simply rolled them over and took her from behind, with her biting into the pillow.

"What was that bout my stamina?"

Unable to speak she simply kissed his neck, "Mm yeah that's what I thought," Rio swatted her ass, causing her to gasp, her body still recovering from the aftershocks of her orgasm.

"I don't wanna go back to work today," she pouted, "wanna stay here with you."

"I got work too baby," Rio massaged her head, "and Marcus has school."

Lucia pouted, "Fine," snuggling deeper into his warmth. Rio seemed to always run hot, it was both a blessing and a curse. On cold winter nights she'd wrap herself around him, enjoying the heat. During summer however, it forced her to sleep with the bare minimum which always seemed to get her husband in the mood. Either way as she dozed off again, she knew she wouldn't trade what she had here for anything in the world.

#rio #rio good girls #lucia x rio #good girls nbc

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earthpodd · 4 years

Text

I Hope We Will Never Have to Take Back What We Said in the Night

Fandom: My Engineer.

Pairing: Ram/King.

Word Count: 3,3k.

Summary: Unceremoniously, King let himself fall onto the mattress with his arms extended and eyes gazing up at the light blue ceiling.

"Ah! So comfortable!" As if he was not already being too imposing, he went on to grab one of Ram's pillows and hug it against his chest.

"Come, Cool Boy, lay down with me," he said, while patting the spot on the mattress right by his side.

Or the one in which King is not sure about his feelings, but spending the day with Ram might be just what he needs to open his eyes.

Author’s Note: Okay, this has been a wild ride. I haven’t written anything in quite a long time, so I’m most definitely rusty. All of the mistakes are my own, though I do thank @gulfkanawut for helping me find typos and fix a few odd-soundings sentences (you’re amazing, twin!). Tittle is from “All Eyes on You” by St. Lucia. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this. I love my boys and wanted to contribute to the fandom somehow.

Read on AO3.

"Cool Booooooy," King called out in desperation, his gaze locked down and legs frozen, unmoving. He was surrounded, ambushed, with no place and no chance to run.

It was the first time he had been to Ram's house, and despite having heard about the dogs, he didn't expect them to get anywhere near him.

"Cool Boy!!!!!"

The urgency in his voice didn't seem to work in making Ram return any faster, and even though the dogs were doing nothing but sniffing at his trousers, King was still scared shitless. Every second near them was a reminder of that one time he got attacked in his childhood.

Relief crossed his face, albeit momentarily, when his saviour finally showed up, carrying with him a few sachets of dog food.

With just one look, Ram got the dogs to move away from him and sit obediently on the corner of the living room.

King didn't notice at first, but behind Ram there was a boy, looking at him amusedly, as if he was holding back his laugh.

King recognised him as Ram's brother.

"What are you laughing at?"

He sent Ruj a dirty look and expected him to cower, like that one time he threatened to send him back to school, before finding out he was Ram's brother, but that didn't happen. Instead, it seemed to do the trick and Ruj finally burst into laughter.

Much like with the dogs, all it took was a look from Ram for Ruj shut up, covering up his laugh with a cough.

When Ram then pointed at the corridor with his chin, King saw Ruj shake his head. It was like the siblings were having an entire conversation with just their eyes, without uttering a single word.

Curiosity sparkled within him. His relationship with his sister was nowhere near anything like that, but again, him and Ram had different personalities.

Patting his clothes to get rid of any lingering dog hairs proved itself to be a useless task. There were none in sight and King couldn't even use that to cover up the embarrassment he felt with Ruj's witness of the scene.

"Cool Boy, let's go study," he called, placing a hand on top of Ram's shoulder and putting an end to the silent discussion between the brothers.

The action seemed to settle the issue as Ruj soon left to go wherever it was he was going. Probably his room.

Turning to him, Ram only had to take one glance at his hand for King to remember it was even there. He had grown accustomed to touching Ram in order to communicate with him.

Sometimes it was hard always having a mostly one-sided conversation, but he couldn't seem to be bothered by that. It was worth the effort. Ram was worth the effort.

The thought made him remember the aftermath of that one time he took Ram to his flat and his sister ambushed them.

"When are you going to introduce your boyfriend to mom and dad?" Kumfah was never one to beat around the bush, and sometimes King didn't know whether he loved or hated that about her.

Despite telling her many times that Ram was not his lover, she still kept bugging him about bringing him home to meet the folks.

Honestly, it was not the first time she had gotten caught up in one of her fantasies and let it merge with reality, but it was the first time King had a feeling she could maybe be right.

"Aaaaawwwwwwhhhh!!!~"

The shrieks and squeals were sure to turn him dead one day, and King made sure to show his sister she was being too loud by popping a finger into his ear and massaging it as if it was hurting.

"Are you thinking about him? Of course you are! Look at your face! Aaaawwwh!! This is so cute. My brother finally got a boyfriend…"

King didn't even pay attention to the rest of Kumfah's onslaught of words, but she was right about one thing. He was, indeed, thinking about Ram.

He wondered what he had to endure on the ride back home with Kumfah. Poor Nong.

Shaking his head as if he was actually having a conversation with himself, King finally looked back at his sister. "You're being too loud."

Kumfah pouted at him and all he could do was sigh, turning his attention elsewhere. He was glad their mom hadn't heard the word vomit his sister just spewed. He was not ready to have this conversation with her yet.

First he needed to figure out his own feelings.

A hand pulling on his arm brought him back to the present, and from the look of slight exasperation on Ram's face, he had probably spaced out for a lot longer than he had intended to.

"I'm going, Cool Boy," he gave Ram a soft smile and finally started moving towards the table with books and notes splattered across the surface.

The whole point of his visit was so he could help Ram study for his exams. Not that King himself didn't have his own exams to study for, but this gave him an opportunity to spend some time with Ram away from others.

"Okay, let's start with this one here."

Grabbing one of the notes, King took but one glance at the equation and started marking with his pen where it had gone wrong. "You forgot to invert the signals here…"

Their study session went on much like that, with them leaning close to each other and King explaining to Ram how to fix his mistakes and prevent them from happening again in the future.

King was very patient and always paid attention to the expressions on Ram's face so he could tell whether he had understood what he was explaining or not, and which part.

The quietness made him think that Ram was probably every professor's dream. He didn't talk, he was attentive and willing to learn.

Those were all great traits in a student.

"Mom told me to bring these for you."

It wasn't until he heard Ruj's voice that King even noticed Ram had stood up and was visibly looking a bit pressed.

He tried to make him sit back down by reaching for his hand, but the moment their fingers touched, Ram moved away an inch.

King tried not to read too much into it. It was not like Ram had ever seemed bothered by their shared touches, or even uncomfortable.

In a second Ram was gone down the corridor, and in his place was Ruj, now sitting across from King with a teasing expression that could only mean trouble while placing a plate full of snacks on the table.

"Why is my brother always shy about you?"

The question came with a straightforwardness that could match that of Kumfah.

Thankfully for King, Ram chose that moment to come back into the room.

"Where did you go, Cool Boy? Bathroom?" He asked, so he wouldn't have to respond to Ruj's question. In all honesty, he was pretty much the one feeling shy now, and he didn't even know why.

Ram answered him with a mere shake of his head and then showed the juice bottle he had in his hand, offering it to King.

"Oh, you went to get it for me?"

He really couldn't help smiling fondly at the gesture. King didn't think Ram even still remembered that time they went out to have dinner together for the first time.

Ram, as per usual, doesn't respond, and just averts his gaze, shyly looking away from him and raising an eyebrow at his brother instead.

Ruj just sighs, as if he had been told he couldn't watch his favourite drama anymore and gets up from the table, moving back into the corridor. "If you keep trying to stay alone with him I'm gonna tell mom he's the one always making you shy."

As the threat hangs out in the open, King's sees the same semblance of desperation on Ram's face that he saw when they were ambushed by Kumfah.

On second thought, maybe their relationships with their siblings were alike, after all.

-x-

"...and then you just have to do that and you're done." King explains, looking intently into Ram's face to see if he understood the explanation.

They had been been studying for the past six hours and just now they had finished going over everything Ram needed to study for the exam.

Saying that they were tired would be an understatement. King had even started rubbing his eyes to draw away some of the tiredness.

Standing up, he started gathering his things, shoving them into the bag he brought with him. "I'm going home now, Cool Boy."

His words seemed to have fallen into deaf ears because no sooner than he had finished his sentence, a hand was already pulling him back down.

The questioning glance he threw at Ram was responded with a tilt of the other's chin, gesturing towards the clock hanging on the wall. It was already a little past eight in the evening.

"Don't worry. I can still catch the bus. It's not like I live very far from here."

Ram just gives him a hard look and shakes his head, as if saying that he was having none of that.

The gesture inspires some fondness in King's heart.

"If you want me to stay, then you're gonna have to treat me to dinner."

King is all grins and playful glances, wondering what would be the reaction he was gonna get from his Cool Boy.

As he should have expected, Ram quickly got up, dragging him along as he started moving to the front door. At this point King was already used to this habit of his of dragging him places.

"You know, you don't have to always drag me to get me to go somewhere with you. You can just ask," he didn't expect to get a verbal response for this, so he was visibly shocked when he heard Ram's voice.

"It's easier this way."

"Did you just talk to me?" It was always both a surprise and a joy when he got Ram to talk to him. He could still count on his fingers how many times he had heard his voice. They were not many.

In response to that, Ram only stared at him impassively, and resumed the fast pace of his walking. King didn't even know where he was taking him.

"Where are we going?" He asked at last, but Ram just kept dragging him out of the apartment building until they reached a small food cart with an old lady operating it.

The old lady smiled broadly as soon as her eyes landed on Ram, her arm raising to wave as she greeted. "Nong Ram. You finally come to visit auntie again."

Ram just smiled back shyly, greeting the old lady in a polite way with the wai before he walked closer to the cart to take a look at the menu.

As if only noticing him now, the old lady turned her gaze on him, her eyes now becoming full of mirth as she asked. "Who's the handsome boy you brought with you? Auntie's never seen you bring anyone here before. Is he your lover?"

This was starting to get ridiculous. Why did everyone always think they were lovers? They didn't even do anything couples usually did, at least not as far as King was concerned.

Ram only shook his head, but King caught a glimpse of something in his eyes, and, for the first time, he couldn't decipher it.

Brushing that thought aside, he finally took a look at the menu Ram was holding out for him. The old lady no longer seemed interested in asking questions, but she kept looking at them like she knew something was up.

"Just some Pad Thai is fine with me," he concluded, handing the menu back to Ram and looking around to avoid the old lady's knowing gaze.

Ram signaled that he wanted two of it and then just stood to the side, waiting, with his arms folded across his chest and a blank expression on his face.

He was the picture of a Cool Boy.

The tattoos and the unapproachable vibe he gave off just added to that, yet King much preferred the glimpses he got of the boy under the façade. The one that was protective and caring, shy yet still sweet, and who enjoyed messing with others for fun.

That was the Ram he wanted to see much more of. But the question was, why did he want that?

He was so distracted, thinking of an answer to that question he didn't see Ram approach.

"Go!"

Wow. Two times in a day. This must be some kind of record for them. King had never gotten Ram to talk to him more than once in a day, and even then it was a rare occurrence for Ram to grace him with his voice.

"Cool Boy, are you in a good mood today?" King wanted to make sense of why Ram had even talked to him again.

Were they finally starting to grow closer?

For some reason, instead of answering his question, Ram just started walking ahead.

Was he shy?

-x-

"Here! Eat this, Cool Boy," King offered as he tried to feed Ram with his chopsticks. He was surprised he even let him and obediently opened his mouth to accept the food.

They were back in the house, just sitting at the counter on the kitchen as they ate together. Ruj had joined them at some point, but was mostly keeping to himself.

"Why are you eating ginger? You never eat it when mom makes it."

Maybe King spoke too soon. Ruj was definitely no longer keeping to himself and was now staring at his brother in disbelief, as of it was such a big thing that Ram was eating ginger.

"Is it because it was P'King who gave it to you?"

Ram chose that moment to take a sip from his glass of water and ended up choking. His face heating up in all shades of pink. He was looking pretty bewildered, like a deer caught in headlights.

His brother seemed to enjoy teasing him.

"Wait until I tell Mom about this."

King decided it was about time he acted in his Cool Boy's defence. "Hey, kid! Shouldn't you be sleeping by now? It's time children go to bed."

He tried to put as much authority as he could in his voice without sounding too imposing. It was Ruj's house after all, and he was still just a virtual stranger. He couldn't go around giving orders.

"I'm still telling Mom!"

And with that he left the kitchen, almost in a hurry.

King followed him with his gaze, and when he was sure Ruj was gone, he turned to look at Ram. "Are you okay, Cool Boy?"

The whole choking scene seemed long forgotten and Ram was back to fiddling with his chopsticks.

"Eat your food. It's gonna get cold."

Okay, maybe he was still shy.

King just grinned and then went back to eating his food, throwing subtle glances at Ram every now and then.

-x-

"You're not making me sleep on the floor, are you, Cool Boy?" King asked with the hint of a teasing smile playing on his lips as he watched Ram rummaging through his wardrobe for blankets.

"This bed is big enough for the two of us."

Unceremoniously, King let himself fall onto the mattress with his arms extended and eyes gazing up at the light blue ceiling.

"Ah! So comfortable!" As if he was not already being too imposing, he went on to grab one of Ram's pillows and hug it against his chest.

"Come, Cool Boy, lay down with me," he said, while patting the spot on the mattress right by his side.

Ram looked at him as if he had grown a second head, but eventually joined him in bed.

As soon as he did so, King shifted around, like a hyperactive kid, until he was laying horizontally across the bed and with his face near Ram's torse.

He held his chin on his hands and just stared down at Ram, who was staring up at him.

They kept that staring game of theirs going until King just up and decided to lay his head down on Ram's chest, his face turned so he could still look at his Cool Boy as he did so. "Why is your heart beating so fast?"

Or was it his own that was pounding against the cavity of his chest. He couldn't really tell.

Slowly, and oh so reluctantly, he watched as Ram slowly reached for his head. He stopped midway several times, but then, finally, his fingers found King's hair, softly caressing his tresses.

They stayed silent, but it was like all of their words were conveyed by that touch alone.

King sighed, maybe wistfully, maybe in defeat.

He had come there looking for answers, and it was now time to accept his fate.

"Cool Booooooy…" He softly nuzzled into Ram's chest, drawing his face even closer to the other's own. He didn't know what he wanted to say, or even if he wanted to say anything.

Turning his body yet once again, he half laid on top of Ram's torso with his palms spread across his chest while his chin was propped atop them. "What are you doing to me?"

Did he even need an answer to that?

Ram, for his part, remained silent, only gently threading his fingers through King's hair, like he was caressing something precious.

"Did everyone know before us?" Before me?

He thought of the girls from the bus, of his friends, Ruj, his sister, and even the old lady from the food cart. They could all see it before King came to terms with it himself.

King thought he was perceptive, but in the end he was the biggest fool. He had fooled himself into thinking that his interest in Ram was nothing beyond the challenge of getting through his walls.

When did that change? Or has it never been just that?

"Stop thinking."

King had to chuckle. It had been so hard to even make Ram look his way in the beginning and now it was already the fourth time he had talked to him just today. How things had changed.

"What am I supposed to do then if I can't think?" The question was purely rhetorical, but still he looked deeply into Ram's eyes for an answer.

Their faces were so close…

"Eeeeeeek! Cool Boy…" His face was absolutely heating up, and he tried to escape, maybe hide his embarrassment, but Ram's grip made him stay exactly where he was.

Ram's face was decisive, eyes sharp yet calming, and King couldn't help giving in then.

It was brief, just a mere brush of their lips, but enough to make his heart start pounding crazily once again.

He didn't even notice his eyes falling closed, yet he had to open them to look at Ram, to really look at him, the way lovers do, the way he didn't let himself do before.

"Now I'm the one who's shy."

His voice was barely above a whisper, but he didn't care, he knew Ram had heard him and had understood what he was trying to say.

"Sleep!"

It was the only response that he got and the only one that he needed as he adjusted his body so he could lay with his head on Ram's chest and his arm drapped over him.

Ram's heartbeats were going to be his lullaby, and tomorrow, well tomorrow was going to be a new day for them.

King couldn't wait for it.

THE END.

#my engineer #my engineer the series #kingram #ramking #Perth Nakhun #lay talay #My Engineer มีช็อป มีเกียร์ มีเมียรึยังวะ #fanfiction #my work

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arecomicsevengood · 3 years

Text

Wild 2

Cristian Castelo is one of three rotating editors of the Freak anthologies, currently being produced in the Bay Area. I have a couple issues, there’s some promising work: A few people who clearly know how to draw but maybe haven’t found a story to tell yet, and some people with unconventional approaches where maybe I don’t know what they’re doing yet. All in all, they’re worth paying attention to, and there’s some issues that look like they feature some extremely good shit that are already out of print. (I haven’t heard of any of the artists in issue 8 before, but all the preview images look sick as hell? If you are one one of them and make your own zines please get in touch!)

Castelo has his own series called Wild, about teenage roller derby players in the 1970s southwest. I wasn’t able to score a copy of the first volume of this before they sold out, though it looked appealing. Volume 2 has a little summary of what’s come before up front. I bought a copy and liked it a lot. It’s super-appealing: Castelo’s lineart looks sorta like Paul Pope, and his color palette is all bright primary colors. Seeing this book in person, it’s printed very large, covers are I think silkscreened. It’s a pricey object, but this is basically what I want action comics to look like. Beyond Paul Pope, I know Castelo is a fan of the Last Man series with art by Bastien Vives, which got grief for its “Dragonball fight tournament plus a large-breasted hot mom” narrative, but is nonetheless home to a many perfect drawings. There’s a manga influence, but the emphasis is different in terms of how the layouts work. There’s still a western sense of narrative economy, but there’s an added emphasis on the velocity of the line drawing. The artist knows an overworked drawing can look dead, and makes decisions to avoid that fate.

Unlike with Pope and Vives, you can see where the speed trips Castelo up. The lettering is consistently more difficult to read than it should be, with certain letters in particular showing more of the line made in their making than any clear indication of what the letter is supposed to be. H’s look like 4′s, O’s aren’t always fully closed and look like U’s, etc. Similarly, the cartooning itself gets pretty visually unclear: There’s a tendency to drop faces from people in the backgrounds of a panel, which by itself would be fine, but because the sequences shift who is in focus from panel to panel, it can be hard to consistently keep a bead on where things are happening in relationship to each other, especially since the story also sets action sequences in parallel, either going down columns of a page, or on separate pages, and the limited color palette isn’t really used to help keep track of things visually so much. It sorta tripped me up! Rereading it, I had a better understanding of what was happening, but there really is a lot happening that would basically be hard edits in a movie. From a writing perspective, it’s great how much happens, how much character detail is happening with these groups of characters within a ninety-page span. From an art perspective, it all looks great. It’s just that combined, on a first read, I found it a bit overwhelming. Missing out on volume one probably didn’t help. But this also cuts back and forth between two roller derby matches happening at the same time, one of which detours into a psychic snowy landscape, and there’s also cameramen introduced who want to be filming one of the matches but are instead at the other. It’s funny how this is not what manga would do, but also: I paid $35 for 90 pages, and I don’t feel ripped off, partly because the book insists I reread it to get a better grip on it.

(I should disclose that these editions Floss are putting out are collections of minicomics. The book I’m calling “volume 1” collected issues 1 to 3 of a series I have never seen and am not sure what the proportions are. It seems like these minis are in 2 colors rather than 3.)

Cost and minor complaints aside, this is a cool comic I definitely think people will want. I wonder how it would look at a size closer to typical comic book dimensions.

Similarly to the Freak anthologies, there’s other artists doing little guest art pin-ups in the back that look great. Al Gofa is maybe the most high-profile of them, he has a book at Peow and is on Tumblr. Shaheen Beardsley I only know from in issue 7 of Freak, Bryce Davidson is in issue 4. Lucia Aguilar has a website I was able to find that says she works in printmaking among other forms. Jessie Garcia has too common of a name for me to track down more of her work, though I liked her drawing here a lot. Castelo also does these portraits of his characters on the inside covers in black and white I thought looked great.

Anyway, this book was printed by Floss Editions, who have copies available. There also are copies at Domino Books. I bought my copy in Philly at Partners And Son.

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ffxiv-ariavitali · 4 years

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Feel free to ignore this if its too silly or something (im so bad at asks ) but how would the ishgard boys and anyone else of your choosing feel about a short wol being able to pick them up and carry them if they had to? Like they were injured or the wol decided they were working too much and carried them home? (Also your writings continue to be the best parts of my day many hugs to you)

Thank you very much for the compliment, my dear! I’m so happy to be able to bring you joy on a daily basis :)

I wrote an injured wol premise before, as well, so I’ll leave this here for your reference on top of this ask <3 I’m sorry it took so long to reach your request

❅ ❅ ❅

[Estinien]

Estinien gave you a bemused stare after he heard you crying out suddenly in shock. When he peered over his shoulder to see what had happened, you had slipped and fallen into the nearby river on your way though the Forelands to visit Vidofnir—a stop before you began your trek to the Churning Mists to visit Hraesvalgr in Zenith.

“What in Fury’s name are you doing?” Estinien asked with a baffled expression, more amazed at the fact that you’re so clumsy outside of battle. It was as if a switch would flick in and out of combat and if he wasn’t as close to you as he is now, he would doubt the veracity of the rumors stating how battle-hardened you were at the sight of you tripping and falling over flat ground.

You pout and begin throwing a tantrum, splashing your hands into the water in a fit to demand that he helps you and while he gave a shake of a head and a sigh, he stepped closer and offered a hand for you to take.

You reached out to take it, but the sudden weight on your ankle was too much and you were sure you sprained it. Noticing the sudden stutter in your steps, Estinien immediately knew what had happened and he heaved a heavier breath. So, the man turned and knelt before you, offering his back.

“Get on,” he ordered with no room for argument.

With a flush, you obey immediately and do as he asks. When he lifts you, it is with ease and you were pressing your face gently against his shoulder.

“You are much lighter than you look,” Estinien commented. “Unsurprising, given how tiny you are.”

The man laughed as you began flailing on his back.

[Aymeric]

When the evening hour draws close and the sun had finally set into the horizon, Aymeric finally decides to peer up from his documents on his desk to look towards the rest of his office. Off to the side, Lucia was arranging a pile of papers on a drawer that he knew were documents needed for the next day’s appointments and, lying on top of the couch the lord had specifically laid out for your visits was none other than you.

“Oh dear,” Aymeric muses aloud, setting his pen aside as he watches your sleeping face. “How long have they been like this?”

Lucia tries her best not to roll her eyes at her lord, reminding herself of the fact that it was natural that her lord wouldn’t notice. That her lord, in all his dedication to his work and his persistent nature, would want to finish his tasks before he attempts something new. She pitied you, that’s for certain, and the amount of tea and cakes you had eaten while waiting for his attention.

“For several bells, my lord,” Lucia answers with a heavy sigh. “It would be in your best interest if you finish for the night. If not for your sake, then for theirs.”

Aymeric’s face fell and paled simultaneously as he nodded in agreement. Surely, it was a wake up call to him to be more aware of his surroundings and when he stood to his feet and approached where you slept, he called your name so sweetly and gently. It was only enough to bring you to a half-awake state and you were murmuring and muttering incoherently.

The man didn’t know what to do until Lucia had handed him your coat and he had helped you into it after sitting you up. Though, with how you were swaying back and forth, there was no getting you up and ready to head back to the manor. So, instead, the man maneuvered you to carry you on his back, small a thing that you were, and carried you home—that is, with the help of the first commander whom he promised to cook omelettes at the rise of the sun.

[Haurchefant]

With Haurchefant being so attuned to you and your physical, emotional and mental condition, it was easy for him to see that you were beyond exhaustion. Though, perhaps, it was an easy task for everyone in general with the way that you were swaying to and fro, constantly almost running into trees and whatnot.

When you had fallen into your third snowbank, Haurchefant decided that enough was enough as he stepped towards you with a stern expression.

“Wh-Wha...?” you manage to get out between your haze-filled mind.

Haurchefant huffed. “It is in your best interest to get some rest, my dear, and I will make sure that you get some.”

Before you could process anything that was going on, Haurchefant had picked your tiny figure up in his arms, bridal style, and began carrying you back towards Camp Dragonhead. Your cheeks were flushed from embarrassment, for the action certainly had sobered you from your dream-filled state quickly, but you were scared to flail because you might hit him.

“Haurchefant, put me down this instant!” you exclaim, though it came out more like a shy whine.

Haurchefant stopped walking and took the time to peer down to you. His eyes were still hard and his jaw was still clenched, but when he noticed that you were worried over whether he was upset, his face melted quickly like snow meeting a warm spring’s day.

“For how long will you continue to worry me, mine heart? Please, will you not get some rest?”

Understanding where the man is coming from, you sigh and allow yourself to relax in his arms. Taking this signal of obedience, he continued on in his endeavors, especially since he made no jest of it from the first.

A part of you wonders just how sweet the man can get.

#ffxiv headcanons #estinien wyrmblood #aymeric de borel #haurchefant greystone #aria vitali writes

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mahizli · 3 years

Text

Lucia, Squid and Dwight (Quin and Obi, 46 BBY)

Image by stormlanterns.tumblr.com - I hope you allow me to borrow it, it just fitted perfectly, if not please tell me and I’ll remove it.

Part 6 of ‘Sparks of Hope - A Star Wars Advent Calendar’

***

The speeders kept racing in the skies above them, and Quin watched them buzz around, painted orange and red in the setting sun, eyes squinting slightly, trying to imagine where they were headed.

Beneath him, Obi was sketching in his small flimsibook, sitting cross-legged against a chimney. Nara was watching the sunset, holding a perfect gym-bridge, gazing at the skies between her hands, and Kit was cracking a handful of Koja nuts, levitating the shells around him with the Force.

“What are you drawing, Obi?”, Quin asked, and his friend looked up.

“Just clouds and skyscrapers and speeders.”

It really looked alike, even without colours, and for a while Quin watched Obi draw. But then he got bored and picked up one of Obi’s stylets, removing his glove and closing his fingers around it.

The light falls this way. Don’t forget to draw some shadows here.

Huh. Quin didn’t know that was important, and he didn’t really care, because there was more to read on the stylet. This was just the first layer of thoughts and expressions – so Quin went deeper, eyes still lost in the skies.

I wonder who lives in those towers. Maybe they are offices? Maybe people just work here – maybe we can ask Master Ti. I think Madame Nu might know, as well, maybe there are maps in the Archives.

Ugh. How boring. There was no way they would go back there, they already spent waaay to much time researching and writing papers, and all along Madame Nu kept shushing them and telling them to be quiet. Quin got antsy just thinking about it and squirmed slightly, inadvertently bumping Obi’s elbow.

His friend looked up once more – and noticed the stylet in Quin’s bare hand.

“Are you reading it, Quin?”

Kit stopped cracking nuts, and Nara righted herself with a silent backflip, because Obi sounded upset, frowning up at Quin. He held out his hand, and Quin placed the stylet back into his palm.

He wasn’t saying anything, he just stared, and after a while Quin squirmed again.

“Sorry, Obi. I was just…

- Why?”

Obi sounded puzzled, and unsure, grey eyes wide as he peered up at Quin.

“I’m right next to you, Quin”, his friend said softly. “Why don’t you just ask me?”

Because you don’t tell. Not really. You just sit here, and I can’t make you out. Your shields are too tight, and you barely ever project. And I want…

Quin was not even sure what he wanted. He just knew that, whenever the Force was swirling in his mind, making him almost sick with too much reading because he had forgotten to put on his gloves, the only one helping beside Master Ti was Obi.

Because Obi knew how to draw his shields as tight as durasteel walls, to keep his feelings deep inside while projecting only calm and that strange, green landscape Quin had never seen but had to be Stewjon.

He would cling to his friend’s hands, and feel soothed – but at the same time, it always felt like Obi was slipping away, like water bubbling between his fingers. And Quin was afraid.

They were eleven now.

The Choosing would begin soon – and Quin knew, deep inside, that he was a handful. That he made Master Ti sigh more than often, that he annoyed the kriff out of Master Windu – which was quite amusing, to be honest – and that Madame Nu had abandoned the thought of keeping him silent in the Archives, simply putting him under a silent Force-bubble whenever he set foot there. Or asking Nara and Obi to do so.

And it felt… it felt like everything was slipping away. Cracking like one of Kit’s nuts. And Quin didn’t want it. Quin wanted to stay just like this. On the Jedi Temple’s roof, watching the sun set with Kit, Nara – and Obi.

He wanted to hold their hands and never let go, he wanted to cuddle against Obi like when they were little and were allowed to hug without anybody asking them not to.

He did not want to be alone in his own head, because his own head was a whirlwind Quin didn’t understand – because the Force was always swirling and pushing him on, and because it was so hard to just stay calm and wonder about light and shadows and people around… as a Jedi should.

But Quin was also brash, and unafraid, and not allowed to say such things aloud – and so he just laughed.

“I know who lives in that building”, he began to fib. “It’s a nest of bounty hunters. They do so on purpose, very close to the Jedi Temple, because no one suspects them to be so daring.

- Only you”, Kit huffed. “Of course, Quin. And Master Yoda’s stick is a secret second lightsaber he uses whenever it’s needed.

- Really?!”

Quin straightened, and Kit burst out laughing.

“No, you oaf!

- Language, Kit”, Nara threw in, gently. “What a vivid imagination you both have, really… Shall we have some nuts?”

They watched the sun set, and the stars rise, eating tangerines and Koja nuts, along with the sweet tea they had manage to cajole from Master Ti. And Quin leant against Obi’s shoulder and tried, really hard, to pretend it would stay like this forever.

They were already in their beds, most of their fellow Initiates already asleep, when Quin felt Obi turn towards him.

“Quin…? Are you asleep?

- No. You…?”

I’m talking to you, Quin – Obi projected, gently, and Quin smiled, in the dark.

“Only… I kept thinking… What if there really was a nest of bounty hunters out there and we didn’t know? Because - I think it’s a very good story…”

Quin’s heart beat a little faster at those words, because Obi was always reading something, sometimes even forgetting the world around him.

“It’s at least three of them”, Quin whispered. “A Twi’lek woman called Lucia, who is so beautiful that everybody falls in love with her before she blasts them to pieces. A fierce Quarren-guy called Squid.

- Squid?”, Obi breathed out, shuffling just a tiny bit closer on his roll, and Quin’s smile widened as he nodded.

“Yeah. And a droid called DW-8, short for Dwight.

- Lucia, Squid and Dwight?”, Obi whispered, projecting excitement, curiosity and something so very Obi in the Force – small and wonderful and precious, reminding Quin that Obi was still a bit younger.

Sometimes it was so easy to forget. But not that night.

“Mhm”, Quin whispered back, turning towards him and lifting his covers. “Hop in, Obi. We don’t want to wake the others.”

Obi crawled in without a noise, small body fitting perfectly under Quin’s covers. He had brought his pillow, though, and snuggled against him, soft hair tickling Quin’s neck.

“So”, Quin whispered. “It all began in a big, big dumpster, where Lucia was salvaging bits of metal to build a new chest plate. She was trying to lift a piece of rebar that was really heavy because she wasn’t a Jedi and couldn’t use the Force, and that’s when she heard a very strange beep.”

Obi shivered in anticipation, hand curling around his pillow, and Quin did not need to read anything of Obi’s to know what he was thinking.

“Yeah, Obi. That’s how she met Dwight.”

Squid did not even appear in Quin’s stories until seven days afterwards – there was so much to tell about Lucia’s past and the way Dwight was built and kept needing replacements for broken pieces. Only a month afterwards, when Squid was finally introduced and was coming to an agreement with Lucia, did Quin realize that Obi’s notebooks were not full of skyscrapers or plants anymore.

They were full of words, carefully written down - and of drawings.

Drawings of a Twi’lek, a Quarren and a fierce-looking droid.

Lucia, Squid and Dwight.

#young quinlan vos #young obi-wan #fluff #hurt/comfort #friendship #star wars #fanfiction #so much fluff

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luciatraskwrites · 3 years

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“lucia trask, as i live and breathe, writing something that’s not terribly angsty and sad? what witchcraft is this i witness before me?!” you heard it, folks! at least this part is, there’s no guarantee that the rest o’ this one is gonna be light and fluffy :]

warning(s): ...creepy scenarios but nothing overly graphic, just “that feeling of unease walking around at night when it’s dark out in the woods.” taglist ( ask or dm me to be + / - ): @austrohungarianwriteblr / @blueinkblot / @chris-the-dragonslayer / @ollieoxen-freewriting / @pe-ersona

The sun has set, Talia and Adrian walk alone in the dark woods. Pale, silvery moonlight squeezes between the dark gaps of the oppressive, twisting trees that circle around the both of them. The only trace of color that Adrian can see are the flashes of delicate red and bold pink of flowers underfoot. Each crunch of bark and pebble that sounds with every step he takes sounds too loud in his ears — even though he knows for sure the footsteps are his own, there’s that fearful little voice whispering softly in the back of Adrian’s mind that something or someone is following them.

“I’m sure we’ll find the first rosebush soon.” He watches Talia squat close to the ground. It’s hard to make out her features save for a silhouette illuminated by moonlight, but Adrian knows what she looks like: Apple-cheeked face framed by puffy red curls, large brown eyes, small round nose, her favorite lavender dress trimmed with lace most likely smeared with dirt by now that they’ve been trekking through the woods for who knows how long. It’s all because of a rosebush — Adrian likes roses, Talia wanted to try and find flowers to show him now that it’s summer and the first roses are coming out (“Wild roses,” she’d said to him, “Are different-looking than what we’ve seen in the palace gardens, but they’re still very pretty.”)

Something coos in the distance — the crooning of an owl, perhaps. Adrian draws close to Talia, putting a hand on her arm. She jerks her head up from where she’s kneeling. Though he cannot see the brown of her eyes in the dark, light still gleams in the form of faint pinpricks against her pupils.

“Are you scared?”

Yes, I am. “No, I’m not.”

His voice shakes. He and Talia are only ten years old, and while her curse may not harm her, he doesn’t know what else could. He doesn’t know what else could hurt him, either. He just wanted to see the first flowers of summer.

“You sound scared.” Her words aren’t snippy or indignant. “Are you?”

“I just said I’m not.”

“But are you really?”

“…Yes.”

“How scared?”

“Very. I keep wondering if something’s following us around here. A panther. A bear, maybe. Or… something worse. Like the fairy who’d cursed you at birth.”

“She won’t be here. She hasn’t been seen for years. Besides, Mama always said she’d only intended for the curse to fall on my sixteenth birthday — and that’s okay, because they’re making sure to keep me safe from anything like spinning wheels.”

She stands up and pulls Adrian close, arms squeezing around him. And in the darkness of the woods, he feels safe.

“But if you’re scared, that’s okay. We can leave now and come back tomorrow. And if anything happens to us, I’ll keep you safe. I have my dagger! Do you want to go back now?”

“Yes. I don’t feel safe.”

Quiet, save for the tittering of crickets from farther down. Then:

“I’m sorry, Adrian. I shouldn’t have made us stay this late. If we get in trouble, I’ll tell Mama and Father that it was my fault.”

#my writing #writeblr #amwriting #wip #my wip #fairytale #sleeping beauty #how'd queue like to spoon with me

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inviouswriting · 4 years

Text

Aymeric x Kiya

During the travel to Anyx Trine, they had taken a longer path with Alphinaud. He wanted to take some white lily type flowers to the house that once belonged to Ysayle.

Kiya felt colder than usual as they had braved through a blizzard to get there even on dragon back. She felt a haze in her head and hoped it was nothing.

Thry had landed and soon wandered the outside of the house for dangers. A few monsters easily dealt with by a few flashes of fire from Kiya and Aymeric's sword. Aymeric noticed that Kiya's spells faltered a bit.

When they were inside, the place felt cold as long abandoned from the heretics. Aymeric marveled at the unique sculpture of Shiva and Hraesvelgr faintly touching it in how it now adorns the gate on Falcon's Nest.

"To think that a few girls would change Ishgard for beliefs that were once thought preposterous. I just hope the great wyrm can lend his strength to us." Aymeric murmurs more to himself, he still had alot to come to terms with. Alot to go through.

Alphinaud arranged the flowers he had brought on the altar to pay respects in his way. Kiya leaned against the wall close to the door rubbing her arms and shoulders. Still dancing with her thoughts. Her own memories she felt a little delirious on her feet. She shoved her own feelings aside keeping her ears up for sounds of foes.

Aymeric turns towards Kiya flashing a brief smile and earning one back. They were dancing around their feelings for each other. Aymeric held back because he didnt know how this dragonsong war would end with another dead either him, Estinien or her, someone he has grown to love dearly unadmitted. He rather go with unrequited love than face heartbreak that way.

Kiya kept her feelings to herself due to uncertainty. Once she admitted feelings it meant she had so much to lose in this. They would grave the others hand or stare a bit longer between them.

It is in one of these moments that Aymeric notices her face more pale than usual, with her painted lips it was hard to tell of she was hypothermic but she shivered on her feet.

"Alphinaud, would you fetch some wood for fire? I think we should hold here for a bit till the weather improves. Wont do for us to catch our death in the cold." Aymeric keeps his voice full of amusement and Alphinaud nods going to get the wood.

Aymeric turns to Kiya eyes a bit stern he knew something was off bow that he sees her gaze half there.

"Kiya? You should sit down and rest. It's been a long journey from Ishgard to here." Kiya nods understanding giving him a grin and a pat on her chest to play off how she felt. Perhaps it was a bit too late and the moment she moved the world was fuzzy to her then black.

"Kiya?!" She didnt hit the ground but was caught. Aymeric kneels with her and glances around for something to lay her down on top of. Alphinaud had returned and saw Aymeric holding Kiya looking panicked.

"By the twelve, what happened?" He is quick to set the wood down and get his tome out to use a cure and esuna on her to see if she had been poisoned or hurt somehow.

Aymeric places a hand to her forehead and feels heat but lingers his hand there feeling her press to it for the cool sensation.

"I believe she has a hypothermia. Along with exhaustion." Aymeric lifts her up again finding a makeshift bed to place her in furs.

"What can we do for her then?" Alphinaud asks.

"Let's get that fire lit. More importantly warm her up and let her rest like we've told her to do." Aymeric says as he removes some of his armor for the thick robe he wears to wrap Kiya in it.

Alphinaud sets about his task of lighting the fire half wishing Kiya was awake long enough to throw a flame. He spies Aymeric sitting with Kiya arms winding around her to draw her closer a worried expression gracing his features.

"I shall go see if I can find makings for a soup or stew." Alphinaud informs Aymeric and he nods agreeing.

"I'll stay here then go keep watch over her." Aymeric rubs a hand on Kiya's head feeling heat from her forehead but knew better than to uncover her from a exposure fever.

It was hours with a fire going and food being made. Aymeric leaving the bundled fur to help Alphinaud make something edible.

Kiya felt like she was dreaming but pleasant warmth throughout her. Her sleep was plagued with a nightmare as events came back to her from Azys Lla, Haurchefant, Estinien, Nidhogg, and Ysayle. She felt soothing hands on her head brief fingers on her forehead checking if her fever broke.

Aymeric sighs in relief when it does break. There is a flutter of Kiya's eyes and she is greeted to Aymeric's smile and most of his torso.

"By the fury, thank her that you are awake." His voice is low enough to hear him but quiet as if there were people asleep. Alphinaud had passed out at the foot of the bed strewn over her legs. Aymeric nestled next to Kiya to use his body heat to keep her from the cold settling in her bones.

"What happened.." Kiya half glares feeling stupid that she was caught in such a moment of weakness.

"You got cold again. Worse than the last time you got hypothermia in my arms." Kiya's cheeks pink at the memory. She had woken up to Aymeric after that night too.

Aymeric gets up and presents her a mug of tea and bowl of soup. She accepts both and eats slowly and drinks slower.

Aymeric sits next to her again and still in a hushed voice talks to her.

"Your fever broke a few hours ago, but we will remain here for the night. Conditions outside got bad best to travel during day anyway. Too many monsters and dravanians that are not friendly. Rather not chance itbwith toy out of it." Aymeric puts his concerns into the reality of their situations.

Kiya looks at the bowl in her hands and is reminded of that time she spent with ysayle and Estinien before they spoke to Hraesvelgr.

"I am sorry to stall our progress." This catches Aymeric by surprise.

"Nonsense, it should be mine fault at not realizing it sooner. Should have told us you were not feeling well." Aymeric reaches hisbhands to cup hers around the bowl. How much larger they are to hers. She noticed he isn't wearing his normal attire but an adventuring outfit. She then noticed her draped in his black robe.

"Thank you... I didnt want to burden you or Alphinaud with it." Kiya feels overwhelmed but the squeeze on her wrists reassures her.

"Again nonsense. You cannot help us if you are not feeling well." Aymeric urges her to best more while it was hot still. When she had finished her things. Aymeric takes the bowl and mug away, setting them down and returns to her. He fits into the fur with her and tugs her closer. He felt right with her next to him.

"Try not to worry over it. However rest, we have a long travel tomorrow to get to tailfeather then anyx trine." Kiya nods understanding feeling sheepish as she lays down. Arms wound around her and she feels safe and protected in his arms.

By morning Kiya woke up last. Feeling refreshed. The Lord Commanders clothes not on her anymore and she spies Aymeric fixing the blue cloak on him from a mirror and a few cups of tea steeping.

Kiya smiles knowing how he doesnt go a day without tea, Lucia telling her moons ago. Aymeric feels eyes on him and ice blue sees vivid green watching him.

Alphinaud already had woken up and went about his morning. When he catches up to the two downstairs he beams bright seeing Kiya up and about. He doesnt miss the way Kiya and Aymeric stare at each other. Tataru had said it is plain as day fir the look of love between them.

"Here we were so worried over you. Yet you look ready to tackle five garuda and two leviathans." He teases and Kiya grins wild at the idea.

"Only if Krile accompanies me." Alphinaud makes a face at that. Aymeric had finished his own morning tea.

"You two should drink up before we brave the cold again. Looks like the blizzard stopped. We should get going before ere long." Aymeric says as he heads up and outside to wait for them. Kiya nods and Alphinaud agrees.

When they were alone, Alphinaud looks over to Kiya as they share the moment.

"He worried about you more than I did. He didn't leave your side once." Alphinaud muses aloud, he sees Kiya glance over to him with a dust of pink.

"Really?" Kiya taps her nails on the mug as a fidget.

"Aye, I noticed you stare at him with love. When will you tell him your feelings?" Alphinaud pries.

"Maybe when this war is over.. or at Churning Mists." Kiya looks into the now empty mug she sets it down then goes to greet Aymeric outside. Turning back towards Alphinaud.

"The right time will present itself. But I dont think I am wrong to chase him." Kiya smiles as she speaks.

"No I do not think it wrong either. As long as he makes you happy." Kiya nods, once outside Aymeric ushers her to stand with him in the morning light. He motions for her to look over the cliffside and is greeted to the soft orange and reds that adorn the snow covered land. Kiya's eyes widen at such a sight, how pink, purples and blues dance off ice and yellows gleam on fresh fallen snow.

"Beautiful isn't it?" Aymeric watches her face over the landscape. How bright her expressions are and how she huddles closer to his side for warmth. She is wearing a thicker attire but cold is still cold.

Alphinaud soon joins them and they set off once more towards their objectives. Kiya holding onto Aymeric's hand a little tighter.

#aymeric #aymeric de borel #ser aymeric #kiya shinikami #aymeric x kiya #ffxiv aymeric #invi's ffxiv writing

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the-writerly-night-owl · 4 years

Text

One Planned Surprise and One Unexpected Surprise

Mother of the Year / Thomas Mendez x MC

Summary: Thomas has a surprise for his family and Gloriana has one too that nobody sees coming.

Authors note: for the 41 days of cheer, day 3 pets. This one does have a time skip in so it’s about fast forward about two years after the events of the book. Enjoy!

Thomas Mendez shook his head as he looked at his daughter in the backseat. She was sleeping with her head rested against the door. Next to her was Lucia trying to fix Luz’s homework as best as she could. His new step-daughter didn’t have to do that for her.

“Lucia,” he said with a warning in his voice.

She sheepishly tucked Luz’s homework back in her bag and put her hands in her lap. In the front seat next to him Gloriana stirred slightly in her own sleep. It had been a long day at work as he concentrated on the road. Everyone was going to be here today for a good reason.

The younger girl still alert looked out the window and frowned.

“Thomas where are we going?” asked Lucia seeing the rows of trees. This was not the way to get back to the house she now lived in. In fact, it looked like they were going in the opposite direction. She frowned as they passed the city and headed toward the country side.

“It’s a secret and a surprise,” he said winking at her.

She perked up excited and peered around getting a better look out the window. She didn’t want to wake Luz but this must be a good surprise and there wasn’t anyone awake to talk to her with about it.

“Can I guess?” she asked pressing on for details.

“Hmm, okay only one question because if there was anymore you might figure it out.”

Lucia nodded gravely and thought of her first question. Was it something she talked about or something different? “Alright, I trust you because you’re really good at taking care of us and you make my mom happy,” she said simply. “Is it a fun surprise?”

Thomas paused hearing that. He was good at being her new dad, as he broke into a small grin. Well, that was a nice surprise. He kept his eyes trained on the road flying past the edge of a farm.

“Yes and I think all of us will love it.”

She nodded happily and breathed hard onto the window drawing a smiley face in the fog she produced.

“Lucia do you really think that I’m doing a good job at being your dad?” he asked cautiously. It had been awhile since she had heard from Guy. She probably wasn’t even used to having him around all the time just yet. Much less having her picture him kissing her mom.

Lucia had her thinking face on before nodding. “Yea I think you’re doing a great job. Like I said before you take care of us and I can tell my mom really loves you. I like having a dad in my life since I really think that I need one.”

He smiled and turned out a gravel driveway to a farm. They had been driving for the last two hours and had stopped for sandwiches an hour back. Lucia had already woken up Luz and started to climb out of the car. Gently Thomas reached over and woke up Gloriana.

“Let me sleep,” she mumbled.

“What if I kiss you awake?” he teased.

“Do it.”

Laughing she waited for him as Thomas leaned over the console and gently kissed her cheek. She pouted and never opened her eyes.

“This is the only angle that I have. You have to get up otherwise there’s no surprise for you.”

“Okay fine you won,” she said tossing the blanket she used on the floor in front of her and opened the door.

Together the small family got out of the car and saw the barn in front of them. A young couple waved them to come over. Luz and Lucia chasing after each other and already in the lead. Thomas took his wife’s hand and smiled at her sincerely wiping a stray dark hair from her face. In response she just kissed his cheek back and walked over to the couple.

The pair waiting for them stopped and the woman put a finger on her lips.

“Alright I’m Alma and this is my husband Jack,” said the young woman with a large sunhat on.

“I have a friend named Alma too,” said Lucia excited trying to investigate the barn doors.

“It’s a nice name,” she said crinkling her nose as she smiled herself. “Anyway, we have to be quiet because your surprise doesn’t really like surprises.”

With that Jack opened the door and lead them to the first stall. Inside on the floor surrounded by straw and various toys was a dog. A female black and white border collie dog eyed them but yipped at the sight of Thomas. Surrounding her was puppies about five of them sleeping soundly.

Aww, cooed the girls looking at the puppies.

“You have yourself a really nice dad,” said Jack, “one of those puppies are yours.”

“REALLY!?” shouted Luz and Lucia making the puppies wake up and bark.

Thomas just nodded and covering an ear. Jack and Alma just gestured for them to calm down and to play the puppies to figure out which one they wanted.

The puppies were eager to play with them as Gloriana picked one up to his face.

“I can’t wait to go home with you,” said Gloriana before cradling it close to her. “Seriously what brought on you buying a puppy?”

“Well you got this pet insurance from your new job I figured that we’d use it. After all who wouldn’t’ want a dog? Who knows if we’ll have any kids together so I figured a new member of the family would be fun.”

At that Gloriana bit her bottom lip and didn’t look at him as he said that. His eyes grew soft in concern and wrapped an arm around her. Her jean jacket already had fur covering it her own brown eyes downcast. A pink flush to her face.

“Oh Thomas, um, I was going to wait until this weekend when we had everyone there, but I am expecting.”

Stunned himself he watched as she let the dog she was holding down and put a hand on her stomach. “Surprise?”

With that he wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug lifting her slightly and swinging her around. The girls didn’t even seem to notice playing with the puppies. That didn’t seem to matter as he kissed her lips softly. This was just the day of surprises.

Tag list: @perriewinklenerdie @flyawayboo @queen-among-writers @am-i-invisible777 @adrianadmirer @fluffy-cat-whisper @melodyofgraves @symonde @paisleylovergirl @elainew13 @itsbrindleybinch @brightpinkpeppercorn @darley1101 @mfackenthal @jlpplays1 @writerapprentice @indescribablechoices

#thomas mendez #thomas mendez x mc #choices thomas mendez #mc: gloriana day #choices mother of the year #mother of the year #choices: mother of the year #moty #choices: moty #choices most wanted #playchoices #choices stories you play #choices: stories you play #playchoices fanfiction #41daysofcheer #41daysofcheerchallenge

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queenangst · 4 years

Text

blister

blister achieving elysium | read on AO3

It’s been about three months since Galo has seen Lio’s face. Okay, well, not just his face, but the point is that three months is like, way too long.

But Galo gets it. The Burnish need care, and help, and a leader. Where Galo’s shiny, Burnish-Flare fighting tech is a little too much for fighting regular fire, and the Burning Rescue’s original purpose is gone—there’s still work to do. Still fires to put out with his burning soul. For the Burnish, though… everything is gone. It’s a chilling thought.

Every now and then he checks in with Lio; the guy seems to be in a different place whenever Galo calls. One day he’s half around the world, the other Galo catches him glowering at some poor Promepolis official. He’s trying to help the Burnish find family, rebuild, sorting out logistics, fighting the deep-rooted prejudices that Galo suddenly realizes has been everywhere for the past thirty years.

Yeah. Galo gets it.

So he doesn’t expect to see Lio Fotia on the other side of the door when he’s rudely woken up at some ungodly hour.

“Lio!”

“That’s my name,” Lio says dryly, picking at his sleeve.

“You’re here!”

And then Galo’s brain catches up, because the poor thing works really hard and takes some time, you know?

“Holy shit—Lio! You’re here. At my apartment!” He squints. “And it’s like, two in the morning.”

Lio cringes. It’s such a non-Lio movement that Galo pauses, realizing he’s crossed the boundaries of what Remi keeps calling ‘personal space.’ He backs off.

Lio takes a breath. “I…”

And he falters.

Okay, so Lio is being super not-Lio. Okay. The Lio Galo remembers made a fucking dragon out of fire, would have thrown himself into anything to save the Burnish, was quick and confident and sure. He’s not— pale and shivering, eyes low. Suddenly Galo shifts, and the dim light catches on a dark smudge on Lio’s face. Blood.

“You got a little, uh….” Galo blurts, “uh, you’re bleeding!”

Lio cracks a smile. Lio’s bleeding, and he’s smiling.

“I’m well aware,” he says, and his lashes flutter against his cheeks. “I can leave. If I’m… inconveniencing you.”

“Dude,” Galo says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re bleeding. Come in.”

He steps back into his apartment, and Lio follows, right hand clasped around his left wrist. He slips his shoes off and walks quietly behind—ghostlike. The last time Lio was here he’d walked into the place like he owned it, familiarizing himself in the space. He’d made box mac n’ cheese in the kitchen, eating it curled up in front of the news on TV.

They head right into the bathroom, where Galo has a dedicated cabinet full of first-aid kits. Lio sits on the floor with his back to the bathtub, watching warily as Galo pulls out a clear box.

“I’ll take it from here,” he says when Galo cracks his kit open.

Galo frowns.

It’s not like Lio isn’t capable. Lio’s capable of plenty, even without the Promare. He commands a room with his presence; he can draw every eye to him with the same magnitude as he can make them look away. Galo’s seen him stare down every Promepolis official there is, every person who worked on the Parnasuss Project. Galo’s seen him run a soothing hand down a child’s back. He’s seen Lio smile, and it’s kind of one of the coolest things in the world.

But he also remembers back when the mess had only begun—Meis pulling him aside and saying, you gotta help us look out for Boss ‘cause he’s not too good at doing it for himself. And the other one, Guiera; he doesn’t know how to ask for help.

Galo had promised.

“I can help you,” he says. In the fluorescent light he sees Lio. Drawn, tired. There’s bruising forming along his jaw. The blood’s from a cut along his cheek. Galo tries for a smile. “We’re not Galo de Lion for nothing, right?”

Lio sighs. His eyes close for a second—Galo jerks, thinking Lio’s passed out.

But then Lio opens them again, and says, “Alright.”

Before Galo can react, Lio’s twisting. He carefully unzips the jacket, a size too big, and peels it away. Galo throws himself backward when he sees the mottled skin on Lio’s arm. Burns.

“...Lio?”

Lio doesn’t meet his eyes. His breathing is uneven. Slowly Galo scuttles forward on the bathroom floor and takes Lio’s hand, gently straightening his arm to get a closer look.

“Why didn’t,” Galo’s voice doesn’t sound right, “you go to… the hospital, or, or, why didn’t— you’re welcome here, don’t— who?”

Lio shrugs with his uninjured shoulder. “I can’t go anywhere else,” he murmurs, “I trust you.”

Lio’s fingers curl around his. Galo’s shaking, but he doesn’t let go. He’s trained for this. He’s a member of the Burning Rescue—he forces himself to stop shaking and reaches for a towel, throwing it into the tub and running cool water.

“Lio,” Galo says, to the sound of running water, “what… happened?”

Lio bites his lip, glaring angrily at the ground. There. Anger. Galo can work with that.

“Fire doesn’t protect me anymore,” Lio says after a moment. He doesn’t make a sound when Galo pressed the cool compress to his arm. He doesn’t even flinch, but his fingers twitch. “I knew that. But people started figuring that out, too.”

There’s a sort of ugly picture forming in Galo’s mind.

“You’re not a bad guy,” Galo whispers.

“Not everyone sees it that way.” Lio closes his eyes, dropping his head forward against Galo’s shoulder. He’s shivering, so Galo reaches for the jacket on the ground and half-drapes it over Lio’s shoulders.

“So someone…”

His stomach churns like the time he’d challenged Varys to a pizza-eating contest. He can see it. A dark figure grabbing Lio— the dizzying light of a fire catching— Lio, alone, Lio, hurt—

“Did you fight back?”

Lio shakes his head, hair shifting across Galo’s skin. Galo reaches for the antibiotic cream.

“Why… you’re not the type to take a hit lying down.”

Lio huffs a laugh. “So the ex-Mad Burnish terrorist leader attacks an innocent citizen. Then what? My months of work turn to ash. People are scared. What will my people do if I’m arrested? What will they do when the government decides we’re not innocent?”

“You are!”

“It’s hard to believe sometimes,” Lio says.

“I’m gonna punch them.”

Apparently it’s the right thing to say, because Lio laughs. “Idiot,” he says, but the word is fond. “You can’t just punch problems. And they’re not your problems, either.”

“Ah. Nuh-uh. Your problems, my problems,” Galo says. “We’re a team. We share stuff. Sometimes too much stuff, like when Lucia takes shit from the Burning Rescue communal pile of snacks, because wow, she really puts that stuff away— anyway, your problems, my problems.”

He finishes wrapping Lio’s arm. It’ll do for now; maybe later Galo can drag him to a clinic or call in a favor to get it looked at.

“Are you hungry? Aina sent us all home with leftovers yesterday, and did you know that Varys is really good at making cookies? What I’m saying is we’ve got robot cookies. And—”

“No,” Lio says firmly. He lifts his head again, and Galo reaches without thinking with the towel to wipe at the blood on Lio’s face. Lio goes still.

“Sorry,” Galo says.

“I trust you,” Lio repeats. His eyes flicker.

“Sleep,” Galo decides. “Sleep fixes everything.”

“Almost everything,” Lio says. He stands and takes a very convincing step—but Galo grabs him when Lio’s legs give out and he crumples.

“I got you,” Galo tells him, lifting Lio up. Lio weighs, like, nothing. Sure, he can knock a guy in the face as hard as anyone else, but Lio’s also small. He doesn’t eat a couple pizzas on the regular, and it totally shows.

Whatever’s been keeping Lio going just— disappears now. He goes quiet and limp in Galo’s arms. Pain tightens his face. He’s just hurt, and Galo hates it, hates that people can’t see how cool Lio is.

“I’ll be out of here tomorrow morning,” Lio says, curling towards the edge of the bed. He’s surprised Lio doesn’t protest more; he’d slept uncomfortably on the couch the last time he crashed at Galo’s place. But maybe he’s too tired to care now. Galo climbs in after setting him down, their backs pressing together to share a spot of warmth.

“You can stay,” Galo mumbles. “However long you need to. Lio.”

Lio’s silent for so long Galo almost believes he’s fallen asleep.

But finally— “Thank you, Galo Thymos.”

Galo grins. “We’re friends.”

“I tolerate you.”

“That’s a whole lot of tolerating,” Galo says. Lio sighs.

Galo breathes in. It’s reassuring, to feel Lio pressed to his back. He feels like he’s been missing something for a while now, missing that surge of right when he and Lio had piloted together for the first and the last time in perfect synchronicity. When the fire had flowed from them.

“I missed you,” Galo admits. It’s easy to say that with their backs against each other, staring at the distant shapes in the darkness. He doesn’t have to look at Lio’s face, or expect anything. “And I’m glad you… I want to help you.”

“We’re a team, aren’t we?” Lio says, so quietly Galo almost misses it. “I hate being weak.”

Galo wants to roll over, wants to look at Lio’s face, but he thinks no. Lio won’t face him, not like this.

“You’re not.”

“And I’m tired.” He’s talking about a lot more than just tired, Galo knows. Tired of fighting, he thinks, and tired of suffering, and tired of holding things together.

“You’re not alone,” Galo tells him, “you know that?”

Lio hums. It’s enough for Galo to close his eyes, to let his own tiredness wash over him. The warmth between them.

“I’m with you,” Lio says. “Tell me that again—tomorrow.”

Tomorrow, Galo thinks. He reaches back, searching, and Lio takes his hand. Yeah. There will be a tomorrow, for healing, and for waking, and Lio will have him if nothing else.

#promare #promare fanfic #my fanfic #lio fotia #galo thymos #whump

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