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starsstruck · 4 years ago

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strange phenomena; part one.

what happens when we meet again? you and harry have barely seen each other in almost a year. two ex-lovers find themselves in the same snowy town by strange chance, both looking for something they can’t seem to figure out. cafe run-ins, old love letters, and bittersweet nostalgia.

pairing: harry x reader warnings: language, slight mention of sexual content words: 13.3k

series masterlist

an: thank you for being patient with me. this is just a little story from my little heart shaped brain. thank you to @sunflowers-styles for beta-ing and being supportive and the overall best 💌 i hope everyone enjoys and please do let me know what you think ! happy reading xoxo 💌

There was something unsettling about not having a schedule.

Your entire life, you had been told that you weren't supposed to quit a job without having another one already lined up, and you had been able to keep up with that. Until now.

The impulse to leave the office that left you frustrated, tired, and overworked had been bubbling up inside of you for years, and it was only a mere couple months ago that you finally snapped.

Snapped, grabbed your things, and quite literally ran away. Call it a life crisis, maybe considered somewhere between a quarter and a mid, but there was something about simply leaving everything behind that took a temporary weight off your shoulders.

Which is how you ended up in a little town in eastern France, staring out the window of the café where you sat and watched the snowfall that had just picked up again.

There was an emptied mug on your side, crumbs of a delicious pastry sitting on a plate, and a blank page in your worn notebook. You had everything you needed to work: your favourite playlist softly playing in your ears so you wouldn’t get too distracted by conversations around you, not one but two notebooks filled with a year's worth of thoughts, and warm clothes that wouldn’t leave you with indents in your skin after sitting for too long.

But apparently that didn’t necessarily mean that you would be making much progress.

Five days since you had gotten to Annecy. A friend of yours had moved out to the old tourist town a number of years ago after meeting her partner, and they were nice enough to let you stay with them. Five days of trying to work and still no progress.

You had daydreams of sitting down, words easily flowing as you would fill pages until the sun set. But it was only five days, a little leeway was okay, wasn’t it?

That idea of a bit of little leeway, however, was constantly being bullied by the big label of unemployed. You knew very well, soon the need for a job would be coming back and all those daydreams would have to go back on a hiatus.

But here on the fifth day, after picking at the crumbs of your long gone croissant, you decided to pack up your things and call it a day. That was the one thing you were able to do – tell yourself that today nothing would be done and that was okay, instead of spending the rest of the hours until midnight forcing yourself to do something.

So you buttoned up your wool coat, wrapped on your scarf and stepped out into the light snow to trudge back to your temporary housing.

Harry had seen you the second time you were there.

You were a creature of habit - just as he was apparently so - and you seemed to always return to the same café, the small but warm La buvette du marché, tucked away in the old town.

He nearly fell over his feet when he saw you sitting in the corner, earbuds in and eyebrows furrowed so deeply he could see the creases in your skin, even from the distance he stood away from you.

He left in a hurry, in a panic. He told himself that he had likely imagined it, maybe he was still jet-lagged, maybe his mind was tricking him, maybe it was some odd lucid dream during an afternoon nap.

But then he saw you again, on the fifth day as you packed up your things in a huff and hugged your coat tighter around your chest. You looked too wrapped up in your own thoughts to even notice anyone else around you, except for the quick smile that you shot to the older woman behind the counter before you were walking out into the darkening street.

Harry couldn’t help but slightly spiral a bit more. He tried to recall any mention from remaining mutual friends, or even acquaintances, about you coming here, but couldn’t remember. He even considered calling some, but decided against it in a quick grounding moment when he realized that it would seem far too odd.

Even more so, he couldn’t believe that you found yourself in the small town at the same time as him. In the same place. At the same time.

It was all too familiar.

He took that as a good sign.

The seventh day – now a week in – you were back at the café.

This time you had managed to scribble down some ideas. Last night you had barely slept, tossing and turning as you tried to force your brain to come up with something, anything.

Just as it always went, as you were falling asleep it seemed like you had an idea going but unconsciousness soon took over and you were left with bits and pieces to pick up.

Today, you hadn’t gotten something to eat right away and instead told yourself that once you got a good chunk of work done, you would treat yourself to something sweet and a little break.

Harry, by not so much of a coincidence, was also back.

He liked the small town of Annecy, winter was a bit of an off season no matter its proximity to the Alps, and it was lowkey enough to where he could easily keep a low profile and go as he pleased.

He walked over to the same café in the late afternoon, hoping that maybe maybe you would already be there. It was making him nervous. But maybe you wouldn’t be there, and that would stress him out even more because maybe this was all a dream?

But there you were, twirling a black pen between your fingertips as you subconsciously chewed at the inside of your lip. He could tell by the way your chin was slightly protruding, and the way your lips moved lightly. He almost hated himself for being able to notice such a thing.

This time, you were the one to look up at him.

And lucky for him, or maybe unlucky he wasn’t sure yet, he was already staring back at you.

He could see a flurry of thoughts filter through your eyes. Your eyebrows unknotted for a moment, before furrowing even tighter this time with your mouth slightly parting and then closing.

He tried to smile, finding himself shuffling closer to you as he tried to recall how to use his feet and his voice. Calming down just the slightest bit when you offered him a tiny wave, he took that as all he needed to keep walking the path that led to your table.

And then he was standing a mere few feet in front of you.

When you spoke, it made it all that more real for Harry.

Obviously, you were physically there in front of him, something he couldn’t have imagined happening to him now, but the quiet “hi” that escaped past your lips made blood rush to his ears.

He cleared his throat – he didn’t really need to, he just felt he could use the extra second – before repeating the greeting back to you. “Hey…”

You couldn’t break his gaze. Seeing – and hearing – the hesitation in him, you almost wanted to tell him to leave you alone and try and forget this had ever happened. Maybe leave for some place else.

But you really didn’t want to do that.

“What,” the word was a puff of air. He felt out of breath. “What are you doing here?”

What were you doing here?

“Working,” was all you said, wincing slightly at the way the statement sounded. You felt like your heart was about to explode, like all words seemed to escape you and that the floor was about to crack open and swallow you up.

He only stared at you.

You sat up straighter, lifting a hand from where it was resting on the table to motion to the empty chair across from you. “You can have a seat – if you’d like.”

It was like he was on a three second lag, staring at you for a moment too long before reacting to your words. With a quick nod, he sat himself down across from you, bag falling to the floor near where yours was. He kept his coat on.

“Nellie’s really letting you work from here?”

You didn’t miss the slight pettiness of his words.

Shaking your head, you decided to ignore it and instead rolled your lips into your mouth before glancing back up at him. “No, I uh – I quit.”

His eyebrows shot up so quickly, the sudden change in his expression nearly made you flinch. He quietly kept his eyes on you for a moment longer, as if you were about to tell him that you were joking.

“You did?” He finally said, and if you paid close attention, which of course you were, you could see a little quirk in his lips. “You really quit?”

Unable to help the small chuckle that left your mouth at his reaction, you felt the beginnings of a smile pulling at your lips. “Yeah,” you said softly. “I did.”

A smile was pulling at Harry’s mouth as well – you could tell that he was trying hard not to with the way his lips slightly pursed and he bit them together. But he couldn’t help it.

“Well,” he cleared his throat once more and leaned back in his chair, making himself more comfortable. “Good for you.”

Another silence came over the two of you. Your right hand was pinching the skin of your thigh through your trousers to ground yourself, to remind yourself that Harry was really sitting here in front of you. Out of anywhere he could be.

Everything about him was so familiar. You recognized his coat, the dark green that you knew was so warm to be wrapped up in. His hair looked longer since the last time he was in front of you, but it also sat slightly messy and unstyled over his head. He was nervously twisting the few rings on his fingers – most of his fingers were bare which was something you hadn’t seen in a while.

Even the way he watched you, his steady stare that seemed to speak to you without needing to say any words, left you to be speechless.

Of course, you had thought about this moment over in your head countless times.

You fantasized about him showing up at your door, late at night and begging you to talk to him. You thought about running into him when you were out for errands, and would ignore him altogether. You thought about him calling you or what would happen if you called him, what you would talk about and everything he’d tell you. You had dreamt of everything that could possibly happen, but now you sat frozen.

“So uh,” Harry’s voice broke you out of your reverie. “If you quit, where aboust are you working now?”

You bit your lips together. “I’m not…working anywhere. Working for myself, I guess.”

He gave you a surprised look once more. “Writing?”

You only nodded, unable to help the smile that was building on your mouth. And Harry couldn’t help but mirror it.

He took a moment to take you in, closer this time. You were dressed warmly, a thick purple sweater hanging off your shoulders that hit fairly low on your hips, over loose black trousers. The lavender made you glow – he decided it was his new favourite colour on you.

You had a different pendant hanging off your neck, and he could see a second chain hidden beneath the collar of your sweater. A series of pens were in front of you, and he knew that you had been toying with them based on how they were haphazardly thrown over the tabletop. You kept slipping in your bottom lip between your teeth, something he couldn’t help but watch as every time it brought his attention back to your mouth.

He shouldn’t be thinking about your mouth.

“That’s great to hear,” he nodded after another moment too long in silence. “I mean, you know I’ve said this before so I’m not going to say it again but –” he cut himself off, already finding himself rambling. “It’s good. I’m glad that you’re doing it.”

You chuckled again, and he felt himself melt a bit deeper into the chair across from you. “I’ve really barely started but. Thank you, Harry.”

It was the first time he’d heard you say his name in so long. He liked hearing it, he missed hearing it.

“’Course,” was all he said. “I’m happy to hear that you’re writing.”

Another silence when you simply nodded.

“Why did you come here?” He spoke softly, the somewhat elephant in the room getting aired as you briefly averted his gaze.

“Wanted to get away,” you said honestly. “And Eloise offered for me to live with her for a bit, so it was an easy decision.”

“Easy,” he mused, repeating the word as he momentarily pulled at the sleeves of his sweater. “Taking some time to relax?”

“Something like that,” you paused, thinking of how to ask him the same thing. “How about you – are you passing through or…?”

He lightly shook his head, drumming his fingertips over his thigh. “I’m here for some time.”

“Oh,” you closed the notebook in front of you, leaning your forearm over it. You opened your mouth to say something else, but you seemed to not remember how to form words. He jumped back in.

“I’m here writing as well actually – or trying to.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Album?”

“Yeah,” he rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, leaning forward in the chair again to rest his forearms over the tabletop, similar position that you were sitting in as you both lent forward. “Been trying to get it done for far too long now.”

You remembered – you remembered in your last weeks together his frustration over his inability to be happy with what he was creating for his third album. You held your lips closed with your teeth for a moment, unsure of which thread to follow. He continued once again after you didn’t say anything.

“I’m here alone,” he paused. “Staying in a small place just outside of town.”

You couldn’t help the quiet scoff. “You’re never alone.”

He laughed to himself. “I am this time.”

You both felt like you were circling around the same thing. You were the first one to voice it. “So you decided to come… here. To Annecy.”

He looked at you dead in the eyes, as if challenging you. “Yeah, I did.”

Another silence fell, this one seeming to be heavier than all the other one’s combined.

“It was –” Harry finally broke the silence after what seemed like ten minutes. You wished your brain was working at the moment. “It’s really nice seeing you.”

You gave him a gentle smile. “You too.”

He tucked his feet under his chair, ready to push back from the table and stand. He was ready to leave the café, think about this moment every hour of the days to come until he managed to let it go. If that’s what you wanted.

But you didn’t.

“I’ll leave you to it. I don’t want to keep you from your work for too long,” he sounded nearly remorseful as he blindly reached for his bag at the floor, not wanting to look away from you.

“Wait –” you said way too quickly, but you didn’t care. “Stay – if you want.”

He paused every movement he was making, glancing up at you with a growing grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, familiar warm feeling spreading through your chest when his expression eased. “We barely caught up.”

Harry slowly leant back into the chair, nodding with a hint of a smile playing at his lips. “Okay – I’d like that.”

He unzipped his jacket then, resting it on the back of his chair and pushed the sleeves of his sweater up over his elbows. Leaning forward again, this time not to stand but to take a peek at the mug sitting in front of you.

“Did you want another?”

“Still working on this one,” you smiled in thanks, grabbing the cup with the lukewarm coffee to take a little sip.

Harry quickly had his own coffee in front of him, clutching the little mug in his hands as if it would act as some kind of buffer between the two of you.

“I hope you stormed out of that office,” he told you, after once more asking if you had seriously quit your job.

“Wasn’t that dramatic, unfortunately,” you laughed, also wishing that you had the guts to cause a scene and walk out of work. “I gave my notice, had a very civil last chat with Nellie and that was really it. Can’t really afford to burn any bridges.”

Harry didn’t want to comment too much on your recent unemployment, the emotionally exhausting nature of your previous job being a hot topic of conversation when the two of you had been together. He decided it was best to bring up at a later time, if he had the opportunity that is.

“What are you working on now, then?”

You mindlessly picked up a forgotten pen, twirling it between your index and middle finger a few times before letting it fall back down. “What I’ve always said I would.”

“Book?”

You shrugged, not wanting to think about the implications too much. “Something like that.”

He wanted to ask you about it further, but you easily changed the subject. “How long have you been here then?”

“Just over a week now,” he took another sip of his coffee. “And you?”

“A week,” you tried your hardest to stop the way your lips started to curve upwards, at the fact that you had both come around the same time. He seemed to be thinking the same thing, as a little nervous chuckle escaped his mouth. “How is the album coming?”

His laughter died down. “Not well,” he said honestly. “Nothing really since…” Nothing really since we were last together.

You nodded, knowing what he was about to say. “Keeping myself busy - I was actually filming for a movie the last few months.”

“I read that,” you nodded, not realizing you were admitting to slightly keeping up with what your ex was up to.

Another silence came across the two of you when you both took big sips of your drinks, you finished off the rest of the now cold coffee that had completely lost its charm.

“You look good,” your voice came out a little quieter. “Rested.”

You swear you saw a little pink hit his cheeks. “Thank you,” he hummed in response, having a thousand compliments ready for you but none of them found their way past his lips. “Are you allowed to tell me I look good?”

It was a cheap shot, but he took it.

You paused, a small smile pulling at your mouth. “Friends can compliment each other, no?”

Friends.

“Of course,” he hid his expression behind the mug that he raised to his mouth. “In that case - you look good - incredible even.”

He added the second part on a whim, still staring you down as you refused to break his gaze, never one to back down from a subtle staring contest.

A small sliver of silence passed, before Harry cleared his throat.

“I hope I’m not keeping you,” he murmured, watching your hands fiddle with the pens that rested more or less untouched on the surface of the table.

“You’re not,” you shook your head. “I’ve barely gotten anything done either way. If anything, I’m distracting you.”

Harry bit his lips together. He was never one to complain about how much you distracted him. “You’re always a welcomed distraction,” he leant his forearms further over the table. “Not so much progress here either.”

“I have a hard time believing that,” you laughed lightly when Harry raised his eyebrows, giving you an incredulous look. “You were constantly writing. Never met anyone with so many filled notebooks.”

“I guess but I – I couldn’t make anything out of it, you know? I don’t know if you remember,” he glanced up as you gave him a little nod. How could you forget about any moment spent together.

“Still feel just as stuck.” His brows knotted, staring at the table for a few seconds before glancing back up at you. “Sorry, for unloading this on you.”

“No, no it’s okay,” you offered him a sympathetic smile. “It’s okay if it takes you a little longer – if it takes a few tries.”

He forgot how much comfort he could get from your smile. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Feels like I’ve exhausted everything – like there are no words left for me to write.”

You couldn’t help what you said next. You didn’t mean to make it about yourself, you didn’t mean to even say what you did. You simply could not help it.

“Ever write about me?”

Harry stared at you for a few seconds. “You seriously…” he trailed off, eyes slightly wide on you. You had an apology ready on the tip of your tongue when he spoke again. “Filled countless books about you.”

You knew he wrote to you, leaving you little love notes or poems in your home or hidden amongst your things for you to find. Sometimes romantic, sometimes a little more explicit. But for whatever reason, you never imagined him writing a song about you.

He kept speaking in your silence. “You can’t be that humble – you can’t believe that I would never even think about writing about you.”

You didn’t know what to say. “I guess …I don’t know.”

Maybe you had been more successful that you’d thought in pushing memories of him away.

“To be honest, I uh,” now he was the one finding himself at a loss of what to say. “I didn’t want to put out something that was so personally about you. Wanted to keep you to myself.”

He lifted his eyes from the table, meeting yours before quietly murmuring. “Still do.”

A thick silence settled this time. You watched every small twitch in his demeanor – the quick bite of his lip, the bob of his Adam’s apple, the way his eyes flicked around your face just as you were sure yours were doing right now.

And they were, he was analyzing you, making new notes of your every feature that he could see for the thousandth time. He finally broke the silence, his voice sounding so loud all of the sudden.

“Come see what I have written.”

It was less of a question. Whether showing you old writing was really the only intention of the invitation was lost on you - and on Harry as well - but neither pondered on it too much.

You hadn’t said anything right away, but he was already reaching back to grab his jacket that was resting over the back of the chair. Slowly, you mirrored his actions and quickly began to pack up the pens and journal that had sat untouched for a good part of an hour.

Once you both stood wrapped in your coats and scarfs, with bags pulled over your shoulders, he met your gaze once more. “You coming?”

“Yeah,” you offered him a tentative smile. You realized you were nervous. Sitting with him in a public café was one thing, but spending time with him alone? That was something completely different that you weren’t sure you were prepared for. “Are we walking?”

“If that’s alright,” Harry nodded. “Staying just up the hill.”

And then you were off, following him in the thickening coat of snow that covered the yet to be plowed streets. Walking side by side at a safe distance, the falling snow hit you from every angle as the wind seemed to be starting to pick up.

Hugging your arms around your chest, you walked in silence for most of the trip.

At one point you were trying to move out of the way for a group of young school kids that were walking by, speaking far too fast for you to catch any words of their french as they excitedly bounced through the snow. Your foot caught on a lift of the sidewalk that was buried under the snow, giving you a momentary loss of balance.

Harry, however, was quick to notice. He had his arm looping through yours before you even realized you were tripping, as he held you upright and close against his side.

He knew that you were watching him, he could feel your eyes burn into the side of his face but he kept his gaze forward. The small kink in his lips gave him away though, when instead of pulling away you cozied yourself a bit more into his side and kept your arm tightly looped with his.

The rest of the walk was spent like that as you both trudged up the hill, out of the hub of the old town and out to the residential area. He quietly led you to his temporary housing, pulling out his set of keys from the inner pocket of his jacket and undid the front door of the building.

Walking up only one flight of stairs, you were soon being ushered inside a nice little apartment that could only be described as a character home. It was neat and cozy, just eclectic enough with tiled kitchen walls and different patterned rugs.

It was exactly the kind of place you had stayed in last time you were here.

“Let me turn the heat up,” Harry muttered, as you both shook off the snow from your hats and hair, hanging up the dampened clothing before warming back up in the apartment.

“Something to drink?” He called from the wall where he was presumably adjusting the heat, as you curiously glanced around the space he was staying in.

“What’ve you got?”

You easily found the kitchen as it was right after the hall from the door. A couple cups sat in the sink but it was otherwise clean. Harry joined you, standing across from you as he went to grab something from the fridge.

“”Have some mulled wine ready to be heated,” he pulled out a thermos.

“That sounds good,” you spoke quietly as you watched him work around the kitchen, grabbing a saucepan to heat it up.

He seemed to be stalling – you supposed you were as well. You didn’t know what you were doing here with him. You saw two possible outcomes, maybe three, but you didn’t know which one you were the most okay with.

Harry felt as though he had either been far too quiet, or was rambling too much. He wanted to ask you everything and find out absolutely everything and anything that had been going on in your life in the past ten months. He needed to calm down.

He heated up the homemade spaced mix, adding in a generous amount of the red wine. After a little moment while you distracted yourself with texting Eloise, you saw him pour a generous amount into each mug before turning off the element on the stove.

He handed you one of the mugs – a painted yellow ceramic one – settling to lean back against the counter across from you while you gripped the handle of your cup.

You lightly blew on the smoke billowing out from the top, holding the mug out to him in a quiet cheers before each taking a sip.

It was still too hot, but you both seemed to be stalling from whatever was about to unfold and you took any chance to distract yourself that you could. The drink had been a good idea, and was already warming you up – probably both by the liquor and the temperature of the beverage

“Good?” Harry broke the silence, after swallowing another sip of the drink. He had one hand resting over the ledge of the counter, elbow bent with a relaxed shoulder while the other hand held the mug. You wondered if he really was relaxed or just appeared to be – you seemed to be having a hard time reading him at the moment.

“Really good,” you nodded, occupying your mouth with the beverage as you found yourself at a loss of what to say at the moment. “Thank you.”

Conversation seemed to be flowing so nicely in the café, but now it was like you had no idea how to be around each other.

Harry was nervous. When he made the offer to show you the countless unseen songs about you, he hadn’t really thought it through. It had seemed like the right thing to say, and he really did want to share that with you, but things were just so … uncertain.

He could tell, by the way you kept one arm crossed around your front with the other’s arm elbow perched to keep the mug by your lips, you were uneasy. He didn’t want you to be that way, he wanted you to be nothing but comfortable with him.

“So where is that writing you were bragging about?” Your smooth voice broke him out of his daze, as he lifted his eyes back up to see you peering at him from behind the mug.

Rolling his lips in against his teeth, the corners of his lips perked up both at the way you were looking at him and to mask the slight pit of nerves that suddenly appeared. “Give me a sec’”

Leaving his mug with you in the kitchen, he made his way to one of his bags where he knew was packed a series of old notebooks – all taken with him for any kind of inspiration.

Flipping through them, unable to help the way he suddenly grew anxious over the idea of showing these to you. Especially out of the blue. Especially after this sudden reunion.

Deciding what to show you and what not to, he triple checked that he had grabbed the right book before making his way back over to you. He found you exactly where you were previously, mug in one hand with the other holding your phone, quickly typing something with just one thumb.

At the sound of his footsteps, you placed your phone down on the counter and glanced up at your ex. Finding his place across from you in the kitchen, he extended the notebook out towards you. It was clearly worn in, little scribbles of words across the leatherbound cover.

You recognized it. From being perched over his lap, tucked in his bag, next to him on the nightstand. You knew it.

“This was from that winter – actually think I filled it the last time we were here.” His voice was low, nearly distant as he tried not to look at you.

He didn’t know why he was sharing this with you now – maybe he felt like he needed to prove something, maybe he just missed you.

Wordlessly, you grabbed the worn book from him and tentatively opened it in your palm. Glancing up at him, he was clearly nervous and doing his best not to watch you read his every thought about you.

His eyes were cast to the side, looking out the window as if watching the heavy snowfall. With his arms now crossed over his chest, the thick knit of the sweater he was wearing bunching under his arms, you realized he looked more than nervous, almost worried.

You wondered if this was all a terrible idea.

Having not realized that you were still watching the profile of his face, looking at the way his eyes flicked from the window and down to the untouched mug that sat still on the counter. He grabbed it in a hand, the soft clink of the rings he had on against the ceramic being the only sound in the room.

You were sure he could feel you watching him, so much confirmed when the next place his eyes moved to were your own. Neither of you spoke, instead watched each other closely from either side of the small kitchen.

His expression was practically unreadable to you, something that you didn’t encounter often. You briefly thought he was upset with you, before he muttered. “Going to make dinner, if you’d like to stick around for some.”

Slightly surprised by the offer, even though you realized that when he had invited you to trudge up the hill with him to read a few half finished songs that probably wasn’t the complete intention.

Nodding, you answered with a low “thank you,” as he turned his body around and left the kitchen, no doubt searching for something elsewhere and leaving you to read alone.

Finally flipping open the book to a random page, turning a few pages until it looked less like a mess of scribbles and you could pull out several coherent sentences.

You found a small date written at the top of the page, and realized that this had been right in the middle of your last vacation in Annecy together.

You had to read over every word three, four times, before your hands moved without thinking and you were flipping the page to find more. Laying the spine of the notebook down against the kitchen counter, you leant over above it, completely captivated.

It was all so overwhelmingly beautiful. You didn’t realize that a small puddle of tears was gathering on your waterline until you blinked, and a few of them escaped and slid over the tops of your cheeks. Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea.

It was everything you remembered about being with Harry. Everything you remembered about the last time you were together in the little French town. Every ‘I love you’, every stolen kiss, every touch and feeling shared. It had been the happiest you ever remembered being.

It took you months to forget, or maybe not forget but not think about. And in a flood of it all coming back, you couldn’t help the tears that seemed to come flooding out as well.

Shutting the notebook a bit too quickly, you remained in your hunched position as you sponged at your tears with the back of your hand, wiping them away the best you could. You hadn’t thought about the reality, that there was no possible way you’d be able to handle reading everything that Harry had to say about you.

“Done already?” Harry’s voice startled you, not having heard him rejoin you in the kitchen. You quickly blinked your eyes, knowing there was no possible way to hide the fact that you had been crying but you hoped it wasn’t too obvious.

“No, I –” you cleared your throat lightly, turning around to look at him. You didn’t know what to say to him.

You watched his eyes scan your face, expression softening slightly before offering you a small smile. You assumed the whites of your eyes were reddened, and the skin surrounding was damp and still shiny from the little spill of tears.

He didn’t ask you anything else, and instead grabbed a pot from where it sat cleaned next to the sink and brought it over to the stove. “Do you want to chop the vegetables?”

Nodding with a murmured agreement, he handed you what needed to be cut along with a cutting board and a knife. You were grateful that he glossed over the topic, and now you found yourself biting back a smile. Spending time with him in such a mundane way was comforting. He put on some music, a soft background song playing while you both started to cook in a smooth harmony.

Conversation was light. He asked how living with Eloise was, you asked how long he had been in town for.

It wasn’t until you were both sitting across from each other with steaming bowls of soup and warmed bread, each having poured a generous amount of wine into your glasses that conversation got a bit heavier.

It started when you asked if he had been out to the lake yet, even though the cold weather obviously meant swimming wasn’t much of an offer.

It ended, however, with a heavy silence when you both started to recall the last trip to the lake. Nearly a full year ago now, it was the second day of March and your last weekend away in this undisturbed paradise. The air was still very much crisp and carried a winter bite, and on a barely warm night, the two of you had the terrible idea of taking a little night dip.

After about thirty seconds in the cold water, you couldn’t bear it and had to step out into the even colder air. After shivering back to your rental, you had drawn a burning hot bath to enjoy together and both decided that you would come back during the summer months to fully benefit from the lake and hikes.

But then you weren’t together over the summer.

Harry had immediately noticed your change in demeanor at the bittersweet reminder of the memory, silently cursing himself for bringing the conversation that way. He had hoped that it would maybe spark something in you, some kind or romantic nostalgia, but instead it seemed to just upset you.

A crushing silence had fallen again, and at least you had dinner to distract yourself with. Harry instead decided to change the conversation again, asking if Eloise still had those two little grumpy cats, and if you were enjoying staying with them.

You were lightheartedly laughing again by the time you were clearing the dishes, both the wine and Harry helping in the warm feeling under your skin. Your cheeks had been rounded with a smile and your mind a bit fuzzy, intoxicated not as much by the liquor but more so by the loving feeling around you.

It was quiet when you came back to the rental outside of town, the tiles of the floor cold under your feet after you had peeled your socks off. The rain had only increased in your short trip out to the nearby Monoprix, picking up what you needed to make a nice hearty soup for dinner as well as a bottle of wine.

After getting far too wet on the walk you had gone on during the afternoon, initially wanting to go hiking but the weather got in the way. Harry had stuck back while you grabbed your groceries and a fresh baguette as you had finished off the one you had during breakfast.

Hanging up your damp coat and taking off your too itchy sweater, you called out Harry’s name after placing the groceries down on the counter of the little kitchenette.

A faint reply was heard, as you followed the sound of his voice to the closed bathroom door. He told you to come in, and you were met with a warm steamy bathroom and your partner relaxing into the back of the tub.

“Didn’t feel like a shower,” he murmured as you smiled down at him, eyeing over the bubbles that covered the surface of the water.

“Hi,” you whispered, leaning down to press your lips to his in a quick greeting as he extended his neck out towards you. “It’s still dreadful out - you have the right idea taking a bath.”

You sat down on the edge of the tub, feet flat on the tile of the washroom floor as your upper body twisted to gaze down at Harry. The weeks so far spent in the small French town were like taking a break from reality - time was still and you could spend all the time you wanted wrapped up in each other.

“Missed you,” he murmured, wet hand raising from under the water to grab at your wrist. Pulling it towards him, he pressed a light kiss over your pulse point. You let your hand fall over his shoulder when he let go, when he instead decided he wanted to feel your lips on his again.

You easily complied, bending lower once more to slot your mouth over his with a lingering touch as he sighed over you. “Lips are cold.”

You chuckled an apology, shifting yourself closer to him as you still balanced on the ledge of the tub. Your hand wrapped around his neck, feeling the damp strands between your fingers as one of his hands grabbed a light hold of your arm. He traced a pattern over your bare arm, before shifting his arm around to the small of your back.

You remained like that for a moment, sharing sweet kisses laced with soft affirmations of affection, hands not wandering further from light grasps over each other’s bodies.

Though at a sudden move, a not so light move, an unattractive squeal left your mouth when your boyfriend hooked a hand under your bent knees and gripped you firmly, pulling you over the edge of the tub and into the water with him. You giggled his name after recovering from the initial shock, the heat of the water a sharp contrast to the chill in your bones and the sudden movement had your head spinning just the slightest bit.

You surprisingly didn’t mind all that much – in fact you didn’t mind at all. Wet clothes could be dried, and the way he held you so tightly and gazed down at you so lovingly you didn’t even realize that you were fully dressed in the bathtub.

Harry held you tightly, your legs now resting over him with his arm still under your knees as you found your place in his lap.

“My clothes are all wet,” you bit your bottom lip down, eyes catching Harry’s with a gleam as you rested your cheek against his chest. You looped your arm tighter around him, easily supported against his frame. “Could’ve given me a little warning.”

“Thought you liked spontaneity,” his mouth sought out yours again, this time landing a peck just over your cupid's bow. “And you just seemed so cold.”

You laughed over him and he pulled you even closer, as the water seeped through your clothes. You lifted your upper body a bit, not minding the way your shirt clung to your body as you brought your other hand to graze along the top of his cheek. “Really missed you.”

“Wasn’t gone that long,” you whispered. “Picked up some more bread - the woman at the bakery recognized me.”

You could feel the hum from his chest before you heard it, as he stole another quick peck from your lips. “Becoming a true local, aren’t you?”

“Guess I am,” you mindlessly trailed your fingertips over his features, tracing the curve of his lips as he spoke.

There was a small pause, a quiet comfortable silence. “What d’you say we stay a little longer?”

You didn’t really need to think about the offer that much. “How much longer?”

Harry shrugged, although knowing you both had responsibilities that were eventually needed to go back to. “Maybe a few more weeks?”

“I’d love that,” you pressed your lips to his, knowing that you’d eventually work out the details later.

He muttered something against your mouth, something you couldn’t quite catch as he returned your kiss. His hands wandered under your shirt, quickly pulling the soaking material from your body and throwing it with a wet slap to the tiled floor. Another problem to be dealt with later.

Your lips parted as his tongue grazed over yours, a soft hitting of teeth when you tried to reposition yourself over him. His lips slid down your chin and your jaw as you brought your legs to straddle him, the growing uncomfortable heavy corduroy of your pants needing to be the next thing to be taken off.

A soft curse escaped your lips both at the feeling of your lover’s hands on you and at the cool air, when he tugged your bralette over your head and again threw it somewhere to be immediately forgotten. His hands cupped your breasts, warm and wet and pulling deliciously at your nipples while his mouth sucked over the sensitive skin of your neck.

“Help me get outta these,” you whispered into the air, one of your hands fumbling with the button and zipper of your trousers while you held onto him for support.

After much moving around – splashing water, and slipping over the smooth bottom of the tub – the heavy material was tugged off your legs and thrown over the edge of the tub. Finally feeling his skin completely against yours, you repositioned yourself over his lap with a leg on either side of his as your mouths met.

You sank into his arms as he whimpered your name, holding you tightly around your hips. One of his hands wandered lower, brushing lightly over your underwear covered heat.

You were both incredibly hot - from the water and from the increasing tension - as you blindly grabbed at each other in quick desperation.

Your hips pressed over his, while his lips were wandering over the damp exposed skin of your chest, and he moaned lowly against you, “love you close - love you everywhere.”

He raised his swollen mouth from your skin, pressing his words over your mouth. “Gonna spend the rest of my life with you like this.”

“You should stay the night.”

You turned your head towards Harry from where you were carrying over the stack of dishes. “What?”

“Snow hasn’t stopped,” he motioned to the closed window. “And it's getting late. Better idea for you to stay tonight.”

You only stared at him with your mouth slightly parted as if to speak, but didn’t know what to say. You figured that you hadn’t really thought this through, and it wasn’t completely crazy that it was a better idea to wait out the night out here with Harry.

“Not stay the night stay the night,” he continued, easily noticing the little lift in your lips.

“So it was only ever about the writing then?” The teasing tone in your voice was evident, though Harry couldn’t help the way his heart skipped at the possibility of you wanting to be here with him just as much as he wanted you.

“I think it’s always good to hold out some hope.” He answered, watching your eyes linger on him for a moment longer before glancing away with a small chuckle.

“I know you’re right,” you hummed, turning on the tap to begin washing the small load that needed to be done.

“About holding out hope or staying over?”

Biting your bottom lip between your teeth, you watched him approach you from the corner of your eye before answering. “Both.”

He tried his best to hide his smile when he joined your side by the sink, each settling in without much discussion of you as the washer of the dishes and him as the dryer. “So you’ll stay?”

You didn’t think about it too much. “I might need a shower,” you started, keeping your eyes on the soapy water that you pulled a ladle out of. “And to borrow some things.”

“Still have the same face cream,” his hip bumped yours – almost so lightly it could’ve just been him readjusting his feet. ”Welcome to anything you’d like, always are.”

This time it was obvious that it was on purpose. Not so much of a bump but a nudge, a slow one as he leaned his body closer to yours and rested against you for a brief second.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you said lightly as your agreement, trying not to think too much about sharing a bed with your ex.

The quiet that came when you worked through the dishes together didn’t last all that long before Harry asked.

“Been seeing anyone?”

You glanced at him briefly. A cheek was half lifted, the hints of a smirk forming on his lips as he eyed you.

“Why’re you asking?” You countered, the answer to the question obvious.

“Why do you think,” he let out a chuckle, although was unable to help but feel a little anxious at the answer to the question, especially in your silence.

“There was one,” you spoke slowly. “A friend set it up – a double date. Saw him one more time after and that was it.”

“That was it?” Harry repeated your words, clearly looking for more of an explanation.

“Haven’t seen him again,” you turned off the tap, wiping your hands on the dish cloth hanging off a hook before facing Harry. “And you?”

“Twice,” he said – if you were going to be honest so was he. “Different person each time.”

“Busy boy,” you mused, trying not to wonder how long after you split it had been, or how recently.

His smirk had died down, meeting your eyes earnestly. “Never saw either again. You're a hard one to get over.”

His words hit you hard in the chest, like a little stab of a knife deep and sharp. He had spoken lightly, but you didn’t miss the slight clipped tone of his voice.

“Did anything… happen with the guy?” He asked immediately after, not giving you much of a chance to react to his confession.

You only bit your bottom lip down, holding your mouth shut. The soft lights from above seemed like they had dimmed, the space around you feeling smaller and more intimate.

He took your silence as the answer, a pit of jealousy building at the mere thought of someone else's hands on you.

“Just a kiss,” you told him, barely able to recall the short end of date kiss shared between you and the man you hadn’t even thought about. “On the second date.”

Harry only hummed, arms crossing over his chest as he leant his hip against the counter. The dishes were nearly done and long forgotten by now.

“D’you wanna see him again?”

“Harry –”

“If you haven’t seen him since then it doesn’t sound that way,” he mused, cutting you off with his petty rambling. “Especially now that you’ve come here.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Wasn’t like what?” His tone was quiet, but as you looked up to see him again his eyes held something more, begging for your attention.

“I just wanted –” Stopping yourself, you couldn’t continue. I just wanted to stop thinking about you. Instead, you spoke a quiet “I don’t know.”

A heavy silence surrounded you for the millionth time that day. It had only been a few hours since you’d run into each other, since he’d invited you up and you’d easily agreed. You only looked away from him when his touch was felt over you, glancing down at the hand landing over yours on the counter, resting his palm over your knuckles.

His thumb softly brushed the skin. “Why did you come here?”

Harry couldn’t help but ask you again. He knew why he had come here, and he had a growing suspicion that you had come for the same reason – you were both just too stubborn to say anything.

“I told you, Eloise offered –”

“You could’ve gone anywhere though, I didn’t even know you were close with her.” Harry again, couldn’t help it.

You knew very well what he wanted to hear.

After a moment in silence, he spoke quietly and earnestly. “Did you miss us?”

You had to look away. You could feel his eyes burning into the side of your face, able to hear the heavy swallow in his throat before he spoke once more. “Did you miss me?”

You watched his hand lightly rest over yours, the way neither of you moved but once and a while there would be a small flinch or twitch of muscle as if the need to grab onto the other rested right below the surface.

“Of course I did,” his hand held yours a little tighter when you spoke. “We were good.”

“We were,” Harry repeated, quietly pondering on the past tense of the sentiment.

The decision to invite you up had been innocent at first, or so he wanted to tell himself that, but having you here with him was something he’d never thought to experience again. He asked you the same question once more. “Is that why you came here?”

Daring a few more steps towards you, the hand that was not over yours raised to brush its knuckles under your cheek, before grabbing a hold of your jaw. You were watching him closely, needing to swallow a thick gulp of air when he neared you.

Deciding not to answer him, as you both seemed to be aware of the true answer, you avoided the question entirely. “Is that why you came?”

You dropped your eyes down to his mouth when the corners of it quirked up, quickly looking back up to his eyes, almost hoping that he would avoid truly answering just as you had.

“It is, yeah.”

His earnestness shouldn’t have surprised you. You felt his words before you even processed them, momentarily reveling in your closeness. You were sure you were going to start crying again if he didn’t say anything else.

“Remember last time we were here,” Harry said, again quickly changing the subject. His hand that rested over yours moved up, sliding over the bare skin of your wrist before looping around to hold the counter behind you. Keeping himself impossibly close, he kept speaking at your nod. “Remember one of the first nights, in the park by the lake, the dancing, what was that called?”

“Bal musette,” you said without having to think about it all that much .

“Yeah,” his lips curved to a wider smile at the memory. “All the men wanted to dance with you.”

“They were all in their eighties,” you hummed, letting yourself lean into his touch over your cheek.

“Still,” he grinned. “We were good.”

You remembered the cool air, not quite spring yet but the ends of winter were apparent. Harry had held you close, he always did. It had been an evening of uncontrollable laughs, interlocked hands, and stumbling home in a rush. The late dinners, the indulgence in delicious chocolates, the walks by the lake; it was all too good. The entire time really, was a blissful month.

You knew it, you both knew it. Right now, neither of you could even remember what had led to a break up in the first place.

He was all around you, his arms keeping you in while the tip of his nose nudged your cheek and his face grew closer to yours. There was only a soft orange glow in the room, hitting off the top of his features in a way that drew you in. So close he became a blur to you, something you hadn’t experienced in nearly a year.

But it was when he tilted his chin down that you processed what he was about to do, that you let your head fall to the side in a quick move to avoid his kiss, only a brush of his cheek over your jaw being felt.

Harry let himself fall forward, his forehead landing on your shoulder as he let out a quiet chuckle into the crook of your neck. Neither of you moved from where you were, still standing pressed to one another with his chest pushing against yours and his arms on either side of you.

Moving your head back, you couldn’t help the breathless laugh that blew through your nose, not doubt tickling the skin of his neck.

“What was that,” you hummed quietly.

He tilted his head slightly, lips brushing over the skin of your neck. “Sorry,” he spoke, although he didn’t mean the apology all that much. He had wanted to kiss you; he still does. “Felt right.”

It was overwhelming, being close and personal with you once more. Harry moved his nose to the column of your neck, smelling the familiar comfort of the perfume that lingered on you.

“Felt right,” he repeated, voice muffled from his mouth resting over your neck. He didn’t miss the way you tilted your head again, this time not to avoid his touch but to allow more space along your neck as he pressed the lightest of touches onto the sensitive skin. “Didn’t it?”

He also didn’t miss the soft hitch in your throat, breath getting caught when he let his lips linger. Getting lost in you for a moment, when you lifted a hand to his shoulder, and wrapped your arm around him in a desire to keep him close. His lips pressed harder, parting to allow a quick lick of his tongue over the familiar skin. You sighed softly above him, feeling everything at once in a breathtaking moment.

But then you found your breath again, and spoke his name quietly before shifting away from him. “Harry –”

“I know-”

He sighed, a deep pull of air through his lungs when he pulled away from you. Just enough to meet your bewildered eyes, just enough that he could see every detail on your face without having them blur. “Let’s get to sleep, yeah?”

You only nodded, peering into his eyes as if it would help you read his mind. His gaze flickered away from yours, falling to the spot of floor between your feet before willing himself to move away from you. “We’ll feel better in the morning.”

You had no idea what he meant at all, but only watched him walk away from where he had just been. The quiet music that had still been playing was abruptly turned off, the lack of sound making the rapid beating of your heart that much louder. Taking a minute for yourself, you slowly followed him out of the kitchen.

“D’you mind if I shower?” Your voice sounded foreign to yourself, after an uncomfortable silence settled in the apartment.

“Go ahead,” his voice was distant, and you simply made your way to the washroom for a quick shower before likely not getting any sleep through the night.

Seeing the array of his toiletries laid out over the countertop was once more far too familiar, most of them being the same ones you had seen nearly everyday. Helping yourself to them since you were here for the night, you did your best to scrub off what makeup you had one before getting into the shower.

“Hey,” Harry’s voice suddenly invaded your senses, as he nudged the door open just as you were about to pull your sweater up over your head, hand stuck halfway up your chest.

Immediately dropping your hand back down as the knit fell back over your body, you saw Harry's eyes raise up to yours through the mirror. “Sorry,” he spoke quietly. “Just bringing you some clothes that you can sleep in.”

“Thank you,” you only looked at him through the mirror, watching as his eyes fell back down to where your hands were still holding your sweater by your hips.

Another moment too long passed with neither moving or saying anything, and just as you parted your lips to say anything, Harry cleared his throat. “I know, I know.”

He sighed, as if you had been about to scold him for lingering again and shut the bathroom door behind him, leaving you alone once more.

You showered as quickly as you could, washing your body and keeping your hair out of the water. You tried your best not to think about the way Harry’s eyes had slowly dragged over your body, even your sweater covered one. You tried not to think about the way he smelt the same, or the way his hands felt so good around you and the way he had wanted to kiss you. Or the way his lips felt so familiar over your neck, that if you hadn’t stopped him there might not be a wall separating the both of your right now.

And it didn’t get better when you came around the corner dressed in his clothes, sweats bunching at your ankles and the crewneck looking warm around you. You shot him a nervous smile from where he was already in bed, placing your belongings next to the bag you had on the floor, before turning back to glance at Harry.

“Well come on in,” he smiled, trying not to let his gaze linger on you for too long and lifted the corner of the duvet up on the other side of the mattress. With the sleeves of the crewneck pulled over your palms, you tentatively slid in on the bed, trying your best to maintain as much distance as you possibly could.

Harry turned off his phone, placing it on the table next to him before leaning over to shut off the only source of light.

You rested on your side, daring to face Harry as you hugged the pillow under your cheek. “It was a nice surprise seeing you today,” you started, not wanting to go to sleep on an awkward note.

He faced you when you spoke, mirroring your position from the other side of the mattress. “What are the odds that we both came back here,” he posed it less of a question, more as a quiet wondering. “Would never have thought -”

Humming in response, you didn’t know what the odds were really. Must have been pretty low, and the fact that you were both here and now found yourselves sharing a bed was not at all where you thought you’d end up when you got up this morning.

He turned from his side to his back, looking away from you and instead chose to stare up at the ceiling. The urge to be close to you was strong, and it felt incredibly odd to not be near you as you both went to sleep together.

“Goodnight,” you spoke quietly. You shuffled down the mattress and rested your head over the pillow. There was no way you were going to sleep tonight.

“’Night,” Harry hummed from the other side of the bed, lying just as stiff as you were.

You rolled onto your side with your back to the man you couldn’t believe you were sharing a bed with once more. You begged your mind to turn off, to let sleep take over your body so that it could be morning, and maybe everything would make sense in the morning.

But instead your mind wandered to every possible thought regarding Harry, and you rolled onto your back to stare at the ceiling. Trying your damn hardest not to pay attention to Harry’s breathing, or his own shuffles on the bed.

You didn’t know how long it had been, but you were starting to grow hot. Sticking a leg out from under the covers didn’t help much, and then you couldn’t stop thinking about it. You couldn’t stop thinking about Harry – about how you felt with him, about how he made you feel when you had been together. In and out of the bedroom.

Rolling onto your stomach for the thousandth time, hoping Harry was asleep so he hadn’t been hearing your constant shuffling, you squeezed your thighs together and cursed yourself for thinking what you were while lying in a bed with your ex. Wasn’t so much arousal, but just… neediness.

Not only could you not stop thinking about every touch you shared, the linger of his hands and his lips, but you couldn’t take your mind off of every single word you read in his old notebooks. It was haunting you nearly, an old ghost that was sitting on your chest and leaving you heavy hearted.

It was when you rolled from your stomach to your back again with a quiet sigh, that Harry muttered against his pillow with a low voice, “stop movin’ around.”

Slightly embarrassed that he had obviously been awake the entire time as well, you rolled your head to the side to see him over the space of the middle of the mattress. “Sorry – can’t sleep.”

He did the same, turning his head so that your eyes could meet in the nearly completely dark room. “Me neither.”

You simply looked at each other for a moment, trying to let yourself relax enough so that you could eventually drift to sleep before Harry spoke again. “It feels odd, doesn’t it? Sleeping but not being close.”

You nodded, realizing he couldn’t really see your movement before speaking. “Yeah – I can’t relax.”

This time there was no pause between words. “Come here,” Harry said quickly.

“What?”

He shuffled closer to the middle, closer towards you. “Friends can cuddle, can’t they? Just – come here.”

You didn’t think too much of the offer..

You moved away from the very edge of the bed, closer to where Harry layed. He extended an arm out, wrapping it around your shoulders as you came closer and pulled you in to lay next to his chest. Tentatively raising your hand, you laid it flat over his chest before sliding it around him as you hugged him from the side.

It felt nice – normal even, being in his arms. He let out another sigh, murmuring a quiet “goodnight” before settling back down into the mattress.

You felt his hand fall lightly over your shoulder, fingertips brushing on the fabric of the borrowed jumper. You were hyper focused on your breathing, trying your best to steady it in a lame attempt of getting your heartbeat to calm down. But when you realized Harry’s heart was beating just as fast, you relaxed even more against him.

Sleep came slowly, but it eventually did come. At one point Harry moved positions, just the slightest bit, but just enough that he was able to push a leg against yours. Slowly moving your own legs, you let him rest his calf over yours with the small tangle of your legs. That was the last thing either of you remembered before falling asleep.

The morning held a bit more tension.

Harry woke up before you, and spent far too long contemplating on whether he should get up or not. So long, in fact, that you had woken up and made the decision for him. While he feigned being asleep, you quietly shuffled out from under the covers.

Following the sound of your footsteps to the washroom, he heard the door close behind you and the quiet hum of the tap after a moment. He wondered if you would leave immediately.

Getting out of bed himself, he first went to go adjust the thermostat as the air was far too cold after being out of the cozy warmth of the bed, and went to go turn on the kettle.

You were by his side moments later, each sharing quiet “good mornings” while he tried not to stare at the way your eyelids still drooped down and the way you pulled the sleeves of his jumper over your hands.

He knew the offer of coffee would get you to stay for a cup, but by the way you had rushed back to the bathroom with your clothes from the day before told him that you weren’t planning on sticking around for too long.

By the time you reappeared by his side, you were dressed just as you had yesterday. He knew he’d find the clothes you’d borrowed folded over his bed. You seemed fresher faced than last time, even catching a whiff of his lavender scented moisturizer that you always used to borrow.

Biting his lips together to hide his smile at the fact you had in fact taken your liberties with his toiletries just as he’d offered, he quietly prepared you a cup of coffee while your attention was drawn down to your phone.

You mindlessly answered texts, none of them that urgent that they required your full attention as you still couldn’t help but pay close attention to Harry’s every move.

“Sleep okay?” He finally broke the silence.

You paused, needing to clear your throat before answering. “I did, yeah.” Only after he had invited you to lay peacefully in his arms. “You?”

“Did as well,” he hummed, filling the two mugs with the wonderful smelling coffee. “A lot better after you stopped moving around.”

“Sorry again,” you suddenly felt hot at his mention of your irritation – at the reminder of how incredibly needy you had gotten for him to even lay a hand over your own. Taking the mug of coffee as a welcomed distraction, you cupped it in two hands to bring it up to your mouth, blowing over the hot liquid.

He dropped the subject, though, as he mirrored your action and you both took a moment to let the coffee stall the inevitable goodbye that was about to be shared.

“What’re you up to today?”

He thought it over for a second, not actually having planned all that much. “Need to grab a few things from the store, otherwise not a whole lot.” He thought aloud. “And you?”

“Driving to Aix-les-Bains with Eloise, some store over there she wants to see.” You had just seen the text from your friend, deciding to not answer all the ones questioning what had happened with Harry.

You both took big sips of the still too hot coffee. “No writing today?”

“Not that I’ve been that successful,” you mumbled into the mug.

“You’ll find it,” he affirmed. “I know you will.”

Your chest warmed, not from the heat of the beverage but from the sincerity of his statement. You hid your face behind your mug, taking a nearly too big sip that you nearly choked on.

“Thanks again, for letting me stay and for… everything.” You placed the mug by your side, the caffeine suddenly making you nauseous. The words you had read in his old notebook still haunted you.

Harry realized that you were about to tell him that you were leaving, and a small bout of panic rose through his stomach. “Of course -”

He watched, dumbfounded of what to say, as you walked from the kitchen to where you had left your belongings and started arranging them in your bag and put your phone into the pocket of your trousers. Harry couldn’t stop watching every small move you made.

His eyes followed you around the kitchen, mind racing to find anything to say to you anything that would at the very least have you coming back to see him.

“Can I see you again?” He suddenly blurted, voice louder than it had been before, making you stop in your movements and turn to face him.

Your mouth parted and for a moment he thought it was forming into a ‘yes’, but it never came. And he didn’t realize that it never came because his attention caught on something else. Something that had been hiding beneath the tight knit of your sweater yesterday, something that he had forced himself to forget about.

He moved without realizing, taking the two small steps needed to stand right next to you. Noticing his sudden action, you turned yourself so that your body faced his with a small crease of confusion forming between your brows.

He couldn’t help it. Reaching out to where the small locket rested below your collarbones, he caught your attention with the small tug of the chain.

Oh.

Remaining quiet, you watched his focus fall to the necklace that had never been taken off. His bottom lip fell with a quiet exclamation, one you couldn’t hear no matter how close you stood. He turned it over in his hand, briefly wondering whether it was too far to open the little locket.

“Couldn’t take it off.” You said, as he remained quiet due to his current fascination.

You both watched as he toyed with the light metal in his fingers. Grazing over the small flat pearl that graced the front of the pendant, seeing it just as he’d last remembered it.

He had once again found himself standing desperately close to you. If he had moved closer while looking at the jewelry, he wasn’t sure. But when he let it fall back against the light purple knit of your sweater to meet your gaze, he realized that he could see every twitch of your eyes when they moved to gaze up at him.

His hand didn’t fall far, landing with a light touch over your wrist just as he had the night before.

“Give me a shot.”

You tilted your chin up, his words settling in with a flip of your stomach. “You said it yourself – we were good.”

“I know,” was all you could muster, the clear confidence in his words making your heart beat a little harder.

“And I’m having a hard time remembering what went wrong,” a humourless laugh shook from his chest, as he kept his eyes focused on the little locket that had been gifted to you nearly a year ago. “And seeing you here, out of all places. I can’t be the only one.”

“I know,” you repeated, very aware of the intense emotion that had been clouding your mind in the past twelve hours. “You’re not the only one.”

He lifted your wrist that he held, gently placing your arm over his shoulder to move in closer to you. You didn’t object, sliding your palm over the crook of his neck. You were unable to help but take a quick look at his mouth, at his lips that hovered so close to yours.

“Give us a shot,” he whispered, breath hitting the inside of your wrist when he titled his chin towards your arm. His lips skimmed the skin, pressing feather light kisses over the inside of your wrist. With the same light pattern of kisses on the inside of your forearm, he moved his lips away to instead focus on your face.

Placing his hand under your jaw, a similar position that you held him in as he seemed to be moving ever so slowly. Tilting his jaw up towards you, he let his lips skim so slightly across your cheek, so light you nearly thought you had imagined it. Just as he had last night, his nose brushed over your own first while he took a moment to savour you.

Waiting for any sign of hesitation on your part, which never came, he let his lips slowly fall over the corner of your mouth. Wet trail of touches that moved away from your lips and instead over to your cheek, he took a moment to hold you against him.

He whispered something over your jaw, you couldn’t hear him. With your eyelids fluttered shut and your head spinning, all your focus was set on what his lips were doing rather than what they were saying.

This time it was you, who slid your hand to the back of his neck with a much firmer grip. It was you that led his mouth to capture yours.

It was just lips on lips at first, a quick kiss that lasted barely a second. You pulled away before he could even have a chance to react, a small smile curving at your lips when you glanced up at him.

His hand slid up your arm to hold a tight grip around your back, while the other circled to the back of your neck, thumb brushing over your skin in soft circles. He pulled you in again, both relaxing into the kiss as his lips eased over yours.

Kissing him was everything good you remembered. The way he gripped you tightly against him, the soft touch of his lips, the way your name was rolling off his tongue in a quiet incredulous breath.

His mouth was warm, inviting, fitting so perfectly over yours as you tentatively parted your own lips to invite him in for more. Your free hand joined the other around his neck, letting his tongue graze against yours as you tasted each other for the first time in nearly a year. It was all the same – like no time had really passed at all.

Feeling his hand circle around your hip, holding you close as a quiet moan rumbled from deep in his chest. You couldn’t help the content sigh at the sound, completely melting into him. He was pressing tight against you, mouth completely capturing yours while your breathing mixed and lips dampened.

Your chins hit awkwardly when you tilted your head to the side and he went to lightly suck over your bottom lip. Though you didn’t mind the slight sting of his chin knocking yours, in fact you found yourself welcoming everything about him.

It wasn’t until you realized you were sharing heavy breaths, and when your lips had been growing more and more desperate for the other that you needed to separate for a quick deep breath of air.

He breathed your name with a quiet smile tugging at the corners of his mouth that was easily heard in his voice. “We’re still good.”

Your head was spinning. His head was spinning. Nothing seemed to be real, at the moment but at the same time everything seemed far too real.

Just as he leant in again, searching for your lips once more, you slid your palm down from his shoulder to the center of his chest and pushed yourself back an inch. “Harry…”

You wanted to feel his mouth on yours again, you really did. You just couldn’t bear to think what would come of it – you couldn’t revisit all the pain that you had managed to push away.

He shook his head, not believing you were about to turn him down again. Especially after that. He knew he shouldn’t be upset with you about it, he knew it was completely valid on your end but in this moment he felt like everything was coming crashing once more.

When he heard the quiet and pained tone in your voice, he bit his lip down – his lip that could still feel the whisper of yours – and shook his head in disbelief.

“We shouldn’t.”

A sharp pain came from your chest as Harry seemed to deflate against you. “If you don’t –” he had to look away from your heavy eyes as he spoke. “You can’t kiss me like that and then push me away.”

He was right - of course he was right - but you were so incredibly confused and couldn’t seem to process a single thing that you were feeling. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, neither of you moving. “I didn’t mean to…” you didn’t know what to say, because you really did want to kiss him. You still do. “I’m really sorry.”

Harry shook his head. “Don’t be sorry –” he sighed, hands falling from your body.

When he didn’t say anything else, you slowly dragged your palm over your forehead, feeling the sudden tension of the situation manifest in a growing pain in your head. “We can’t keep living in the past.”

He hated himself for the sliver of hope he felt when you said ‘we’.

“We were so fucking good,” he knew he needed to stop entertaining the topic but he really couldn’t help it He knew you saw it too. “We were a team, we were solid. I just don’t know,” he cut himself off, running the back of his hand over his mouth. “I don’t know.”

A thick moment of silence passed – you couldn’t bear it. “It’s too…” you had to take a deep breath as you felt a sob build in your chest. “It’s too painful to go through this again, Harry – this has been the hardest year of my life I can’t –”

You need to cut yourself off, shoulders shaking as you kept your eyes glued to the floor. “I should go.”

#<3 #pls let me know what u think and all as usual ! <33 #harry styles writing #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry x reader

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leggomylino · 4 years ago

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Welcome, Welcome, 2021

Big sigh.

The goal was originally for me to make a new year’s post on Jan. 3rd, the date of my official return, however...after being tagged in so many kind and awe-inspiring posts, I just had to do one before midnight.

2020 was a crazy year. We all know. Personally, there were so many ups and downs-- either my highest highs or my lowest of lows-- that looking back, I get nothing but headaches. 😂 Still, it was, ahem,

a year,

and I think (I hope) we all got some kind of fulfillment from it and learned a lot. But I think it’s safe to say, on behalf of everyone, that we’re ready to send 2020 on her merry way and tell her kindly, “don’t let the door hit you where the good Lord split you.” <3

Alright then! The following is a list of people I wish to personally thank-- if I forget anyone, I am sorry, please know I love and am thankful to all of my followers, mutuals, and friends, and I am...well, spaghetti-brained to a fault sometimes. If flighty was a person, she’d be me.

~~~

In an attempt at organizing this in alphabetical order...

@calicoyang - EMMM~ We def need to talk more, but sis, I so appreciate you supporting my MBTI chats and just chatting with me in general. You’re a lovely gal, and I’m looking forward to getting to speak to you more this next year. I’m truly wishing you the best! 🌟

@changbinniee - Sweet Noe 🥺💖 One of the very best, like no one ever was. Thank you for being you, for being a sunlight that brightens the days of others, and for being another squadmate in Celi’s Never-ending Stories of MBTI. 😂✨ You’re a true one sis, and I love your enthusiasm and support for helping others: it’s truly admirable. I hope that you have a blessed and safe 2021; let’s you, I, and everyone get this bread!!! 🍞✨❤

@cotccotc - Veve 🥺❤ You were someone that I knew, instantly, I wanted to be friends with. Your warm and bubbly energy is contagious, and you’re so, SO blessed with talent and a wonderful hard-working ethic, I really think you’re gonna go far one day. I wish all the best for you. Thanks for reaching back out to me and being my friend, ily <3

@crscendoforsung - Young Soro ✨ I think you have a beautiful mind, just as many INTJs do. But you know what? This is more personal because, it’s you! I know we don’t know each other personally, but I always have this strong sense that deep down, you’re a brave person. You go through a lot. But keep fighting that good fight! Never lose hope, and know that if you ever need it, even from miles away, you can come to me for help, prayers, and petition. I will always be rooting for you, your growth, your happiness, your health, and your family. <3 I hope 2021 treats you well!!!

@dulc3-p3riculum - This girl...sis you know I love you I’m not gonna go off or else we’d be here all day LOL; a true friend who I’ve known for a long time. She is my rock on this earth.

@freckledberries - Her name was grace, but in this case, it’s Jules! <3 Still, grace is such a fitting word for how I often see you. Despite struggles, you keep on persevering, you’ve got a wicked sense of sarcasm that makes me laugh, and I’m so so excited for the many new adventures and learning experiences that await you in 2021. Thank you for being my friend, and one of the people to indulge in my long never-ending Ted Talks of MBTI 😂💕 Much love and peace to you, sis @hanniiesuckle17 - H u n t e r 💫 You’ve always been very supportive of me, and from the beginning when I needed someone to help develop and examine my ideas, I knew I could count on you. It’s crazy to think how our friendship kinda just popped off and went on a spiral of twists and turns 😂 I’m very thankful to have met you <3

@iiasha - Even if we go a while without speaking, I’m always supporting and cheering for you, I fangirl when I see your amazing art, and I know you do the same for me 😂💖 Thank you for always picking back up with me and helping me out when I need it, I love hearing from you, watching you grow from afar, and I wish you a happy and safe 2021, Zero 🥑💞

@peachyhan - It’s been a while, Nalida 🥺💞 You’re still on my mind, tho! Your perseverance and pursuit of writing has and always will be one of the many things driving me forward. You’re in my thoughts and prayers-- and I wish you the best this coming 2021. <3

@pixielix - You, my dear, are an angel 😭💞 We don’t converse too often, but you’ve always been so sweet, open, and kind to me. To Miss Angie, thank you, from the bottom of my heart. May 2021 be as kind to you as you have to me, and by that I mean, THE VERY BEST <3 <3 <3 Also, let’s talk more! :D

@skzctnightnight - OOF Miss Bel!!! You’re like, a wise and down-to-earth mother-ing figure I really appreciate being around. You’re so bubbly and kind, and yet, you have an aura that keeps everyone grounded and on task. I love your honesty, your forthright, and I madly respect the fact that you’re always there to fairly sort out the good and the bad and everything in between of any given situation. You’ve helped me grow and given me an ear when I really just needed someone to hear me out, and show me a glimmer of hope...for that, I’ll never forget your kindness and since I’m getting choked up right now, I’m gonna cut this right here before I can no longer see my screen and wish you a happiest new year!!! (Please tell the Mister I said Happy New Year too!)

@stayndays - Miss Nana. When is it you’ll stop teasing me about being a Ch*n stan?! 😫 Survey says likely never, but, I think I’d be okay with that if it means I can keep being your friend. You have the wildest air of maturity and selfawareness about you, sometimes it’s almost 😳😳 ...offputting? I think awe-inspiring is a better word. You inspire me to do well and keep writing, keep thriving, and to always consider those endless possibilities. To you, I wish a blessed, safe, and happiest 2021 💕

@yangomangos - You’ve been a sweetheart ever since we met, and I remember being so nervous to talk to you for the longest time 😂😅 I’m so glad we finally started talking, tho; you’ve been true, and for that, I thank you. Happy 2021, dear! <3

To all my writing networks: @skzwriternet , @inkidz , @districtninewriters , @stayracha-net , thank you for accepting me into your guilds and supporting/sharing my work. I would also like to thank you all for providing me with environments where I can meet fellow writers/kpop stans, make friends, and grow; in addition, thank you for all your hard work (as running a whole network is no easy feat), and I hope you’ll continue to support and take care of us writers and content creators this next coming year. <3

Finally-- in case I forgot anyone, or if you are a follower, supporter, mutual, reader-- thank you, from the bottom of my heart. You are equally just as important to me and this blog as the people above; whether you got a message or not, please know that you mean something to me, and I sincerely thank you. And, of course, Happy New Year!!! 🎉✨ God bless. 🕊❤

#Happy New Year #celi talks #PHEW.#If I forgot anyone I'm gonna be uber sad #I love you all #have a happy new year!!!#may 2021 be kind

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nelllraiser · 5 years ago

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toxic [by britney spears] | nate & nell

LOCATION: a private karaoke room. TRIGGERS: drugs. DRUG IN QUESTION: (accidental) ballybog poison. PARTIES INVOLVED: @deadicated-nate, @nelllraiser, britney spears

Apparently, Nell’s relentlessness paid off when it came to Nate as they were now comfortably set up in one of the karaoke rooms at a nearby establishment. She couldn’t help her tenacity when it came to him. All she could think about was how he’d just looked so...alone in the bar where they’d met, all holed up with his little bar stool jail. It made her wonder how often he was alone, and whether that aloneness translated into, well— loneliness. So she’d managed to drag him out to make good on his promise, hoping she might be able to alleviate some of that potential loneliness if it was indeed how he felt. As soon as the door closed to their private room, she turned to the man with a bright and eager smile. “So have you been practicing?” The tease was a small one, born of her excitement. “Any particular songs you’ve been thinking of?”

Nate had tried every excuse in the book to get out of going to this karaoke place, but admittedly, he wasn’t trying too hard. All he could do was picture the look of disappointment on Penelope’s face every time he declined one of her adventurous ideas. Sure, a private karaoke room where everything should be up to safety code and there wasn’t even the possibility for massive public embarrassment didn’t seem like something most people would call adventurous, but for Nate it was tantamount to skydiving. The entire trip over here through checking in and finding the room, Nate was battling a full blown panic attack. Now that they were seating and the door closed behind them like a jail, Nate felt somehow more exposed and vulnerable. Something about how intense his singing partner was. But he smiled nonetheless, unable to stand disappointing the girl who’d gone out of her way to drag him out of his comfort zone. “Hah! I uh...not really. I don’t think any amount of practicing could help me out.” He wrung his hands in his lap, looking over the room anxiously. “Is there uh...a book of songs? I don’t really know off the top of my head. I’m sure you have a go-to though, right?”

It was impossible for Nell not to notice Nate’s nerves throughout the entire thing, but she was hoping once they were in the room, he might feel a little more secure when they were closed in and out of public eye. Apparently...that wasn’t the case as she watched his continuing incredibly nervous body language, though at least he was smiling now. That was a plus, right? Nell was sometimes not the best at paying attention to other people, often barreling forward without consideration, but it seemed that Nate had found one of her loopholes in this regard. So she paused for a moment and took a seat on one of the couch-benches that surrounded the room, trying her best to bring her levels to something that might be considered normal. “It’s alright. Like I said- karaoke isn’t about being good. Just the fun part.” A moment later she was grabbing a remote from the table, and handing it over to him. “It’s all electronic so all the songs are on the TV, and you can just flip through them.” A bit of a smirk pulled at her lips, all too excited to get to karaoke-ing as he asked about song choice. “It depends on my mood.” But then she was back to watching his body language, and her voice softened a touch, remembering how he’d darted underneath that table at the bar. “You know I meant it when I said we could leave whenever. It’s only fun if you’re having fun.”

Nate tried to unclench his jaw, to force his shoulder to relax, but it was almost impossible. But he had to remember, this place wouldn’t be open if it hadn’t been safety proofed, even if it wasn’t up to Nate’s insane standards. Plus, he really hadn’t heard of anyone dying in a karaoke room. Then again, that wasn’t a normal internet search so tons of people very well may have. No! This was a night for fun. The man took a deep breath, shuddering as he tried to untie the knot in his stomach. “Right! Right. Just fun. Even if it’s terrible.” He smiled, feeling a tiny bit looser. He watched as Penelope brought up the song list, sure that she was the kind of person who had a whole book of songs she liked to belt out at these kinda places. “Well...why don’t you go first? Show me how it’s done?” Nate settled into the couch a little more, not quite relaxing but not quite as stiff as when he first entered the room. “I know. And I will uh...definitely hold you to that. But I think I’m ok.” He shot her a quick look. “For now, at least.”

“The terrible part is what can make it fun!” Nell’s words were punctuated with a laugh, all too excited that this was actually happening and by some miracle she’d managed to get Nate into this karaoke room. It was...perhaps a bit true that Penelope often had an array of songs lined up to sing at any moment, always having too much fun up on the stage. After all- performing ran in her family’s blood whether or not she’d become a stage magician like her parents wanted her to be. Still...it was a bit different in a room, singing in front of one person. But perhaps being vulnerable would help Nate feel a bit more comfortable as well. “If I go first...you can’t laugh at me...or my song choice.” Maybe revealing this lesser known part of her taste in music would also assist in loosening up. Embarrassing yourself was often a great way to make people feel less threatened. “And also don’t forget I’m a bounty hunter. I can and will kick anything’s ass that messes with us.”

Nate leaned back, feeling the smallest bit more relaxed as she prepared her song. Terrible singing in front of people you barely knew was never something Nate would have classified as “fun”, but it had honestly been so long since he’d had any fun, who was he to really judge? He raised his hands in defeat and crossed his heart. “I promise, no laughing unless you’re laughing!” Already, Nate was feeling better. Just a little, and not enough to make him ever want to do this again, but something about being out of his house and doing something...normal, well it just felt...normal. “And I assume you’ll kick my butt if I laugh too hard?” He placed his hands on the edge of the couch, feeling something sticky. Sliding to the side, he wiped his hands on his jeans, trying not to over think it. It was just spilled beer. It wasn’t blood or semen or anything else gross or infectious. Just beer. “Alright now let’s hear how it’s done!”

Nell gave an approving song as he seemed to relax another inch, glad that he could hopefully at least enjoy himself a little. She swallowed once, the tables turning for a moment as she got a bit of nerves in preparation for this. Penelope liked Nate’s company thus far, and though she didn’t usually mind making a fool of herself, she wanted him to like her company as well. Perhaps in her quest to give people friends, she was actually looking for friends as well— though she was nowhere near self-aware enough to realize something such as that. “Alright, deal. Mutual laughing. We’ll post a sign.” As she began to scroll down to what she was looking for in the music she remembered, “Wait, wait! You gotta close your eyes so it’s still a surprise. Also...I need this.” With that she picked up her jacket from where she’d discarded it on the couch. But she smiled a little before saying. “Maybe. We’ll see how I feel if you do.” And with that— the opening notes of the iconic number from Grease, You’re the One That I Want, began. There was little else Nell genuinely loved more than a good...musical.

Nate settled in as far away from the sticky part of the couch as he could get and trained his eyes on Penelope. He leaned forward, placing his hands on his chin and leaning on his knees with rapt attention. “Alright, alright...but only so you can choose the song!” He relented and closed his eyes, only opening them when he heard the familiar opening notes to one of his favorite songs from one of his favorite movies. Mari had always made fun of his love for Grease, especially since he wasn’t overly fond of regular musicals, but something about the simplicity of life and love in a school in the 50s in a movie made in the 80s tugged at his heart strings. Even though he was sure Penelope had to have some nerves, he couldn’t tell and only wished he could be so carefree. His hands went to his cheeks as he took in the magical performance.

Nell’s smile brightened as Nate set his gaze on her, uncharacteristically nervous as he leaned forward. But she immediately brightened with a relieved laugh as he seemed, dare she say, excited for the song? But then again, she was fairly certain Grease was the safest of musicals, most everyone enjoying it...right? Who didn’t love an inexplicable car flying off at the end of an otherwise decidedly not supernatural film. And also the simple nostalgia of the movie. But she sang the song to the best of her abilities, trying her best to hit those notes that sounded so much better in the shower. She wasn’t particularly musically gifted, but Nell could at least do well enough to carry a tune, in a tone that wouldn’t bring dogs and cats running. Something of an around the house ability. As she switched the parts of Danny Zuko and Sandy, the jacket came off and on, helping to denote the differences in character as she switched parts, doing her best to do it all. But spurred on a bit by Nate’s apparent interest in the song, she called out over the music. “Are you gonna leave me hanging up here or what?” Apparently offering him the role of Sandy halfway through.

Nate was grinning ear to ear. Not only was Nell doing the best song in the show, but she was doing both parts! Switching her jacket on and off as she switched between Sandy and Zuko. It was amazing. Not to mention the amount of confidence you had to have. Nate was in awe. His eyes widened even further, as if that was possible, when she invited him to sing along. “What! N-no!” But her hand was outstretched, holding the second mic out for him. In a second of hesitation, Nate pushed himself off the couch and grabbed the mic, his hand brushing against hers for a split second before he launched into the next verse. “If you're filled with affection, you're too shy to convey….” He sang Sandy’s part in the highest falsetto he could, attempting to be as bad as possible. There was no way he’d be able to match Olivia Newton-John, so why bother trying? Plus, he actually sounded pretty darn good!

Nell was delighted that Nate seemed to be actually having fun. This was exactly what she’d been hoping for! And she was nearly literally tickled pink as he accepted her offer as Sandy, glad that apparently he wasn’t as nervous as he’d been in the bar to make fleeting contact. But this time...as she pulled back her hand to put her jacket on as she was now fully and officially Zuko, she felt something sticky transfer from it to her hand...something it must have picked up from the couch? Whatever. They had a song to sing! She couldn’t get distracted by little details right now. But she couldn’t help it. As Nate’s falsetto rang out, she may have done the smallest bit of a laugh, chuckling through her singing. After all, would it be possible not to find joy in something as utterly carefree as this moment? Her eyes squinted in her amusement and happiness as they neared the end of the song, and she simply yelled out “Quick! Big finish!”

Though Nate’s movements started off pretty stiff, he quickly devolved into a perfectly uninhibited rendition of Sandy. The bright lights of the room began to blur and he wondered if this is what fun felt like. If it had really been so long that he forgot what letting go really felt like. And it felt good. Weird, a little disorienting, but good. It was as if every cell in his skin was alive, and it was almost like he could actually see the power emanating off of him and Nell as they belted out the finale. Wait- he could see her actual voice echoing around the room. The sudden realization sent Nate into a panic. His voice caught in his throat like someone actually reached down and grabbed the words right out of his neck. Nate gaped like a fish and grabbed Nell by the shoulders. “I- where did my words go??”

Nell’s chuckles descended into outright laughter as they finished the song, and she was glad to see Nate hadn’t called her out on their promised ‘no laughing’ rule. For a moment everything was fine and good and fun and easy. And then it was...less those things. Her grin fell as he gripped her, and she blinked in confusion for a couple of moments before turning back to the karaoke screen that had shifted back to the selection menu now that the song was over. “I- you words?” What was Nate so concerned about? “The song ended, Nate. So- the words stopped. Now we can choose another song?” The mood had shifted a bit, but she still felt a little floaty, as if everything was getting a little further away.

Nate felt his world tilting ever so slightly to the left. Was he falling? Or was the room tilting? Was this part of karaoke? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone to karaoke, so this was probably just what it felt like. But the music stopped and suddenly there was no sound, like they were in a black and white film. Nell definitely held up a sign that read “The song ended. So the words stopped.” Nate cocked his head to the side, feeling the room tilt the other direction, his hands still firmly gripped on Nell’s shoulders. He began to pantomime that “I need the music back! I need the songs to keep playing!” But wait...did he say that? He said that. They weren’t in a silent film. They were here. Colors swirled around Nell’s head, making her look like a motion version of a Van Gogh painting. “Are we singing now?”

Nell squinted, doing her best to focus on the words Nate was saying, watching his lips intently but...she could have sworn there was some kind of delay to his voice. His mouth and his voice weren’t matching up. Still- she moved to turn towards the screen at his insistent need for another song, not wanting to cause him any further apparent distress by denying him his music. “I- what song did you want?” Turning back toward him, she caught him just in time to see him move slowly upwards, as if he was a laffy taffy being stretched towards the ceiling. He was normally taller than her but this was...something entirely different. “Nate?” she asked, doing her best to remain calm for his benefit. “Why- why are you growing?”

Nate felt himself collapse onto the couch, somehow knowing he needed the stability. And yet...was he growing? Nell was looking at him like he had a second head. Wait- did he have a second head?? He scrunched his eyes closed and threw his hands to his head. None of this felt right. But at the same time it felt exactly right, just like every day did. Right? “No!” His eyes popped open and he started at Nell. “What did you say?” He reached out, pulling her down onto the couch with him. “This is always what karaoke feels like right?” He leaned over, squishing his cheek against hers so that they both were staring at the song choices rolling across the screen. “They’re judging us for not choosing them,” he said sadly.

Penelope’s eyes grew as big as saucers as he fell to the couch, but fell in slow motion. How did he do that?? Was Nate supernatural too? Was he a spellcaster too?? “Did you do that on purpose?” she asked quickly in a somewhat hushed tone, as if the walls were listening. Wait- were they listening? Oh no- did they know she liked musicals too, now? But then she let out a little, surprised yelp as she felt herself being pulled downwards, fumbling her landing a bit as she bumped into him, still feeling very off balance. Then there was something squishy against her face. Another face? “Oh, hi Nate,” she said serenely. Oh it was his face. Her own face warmed, and she lifted a curious hand to poke the other side of his face. “Why are humans like so...jelly?” She poked him again with a delicate giggle coming from her, something entirely uncharacteristic. “Squish.” But then she turned back to the screen, a frown on her lips. “Aww, oh no.” She didn’t want the songs to be sad. “Choose one! Any one.”

Nate stared for what felt like centuries. He felt himself explode into a fit of nervous giggles as something poked the side of his face. His cheek squished and squirmed at the touch and he wondered how long he’d been made of jellied cranberries. In an instant his giggle stopped as he heard the music screen yell at him to choose a song. “All humans are jelly.” He replied matter of factly as he reached out and took the remote from the large lobster. “Here- what ab-b- oWwwwtttttt….” His face scrunched up, still attached to Nell’s because they were literally attached as he finally settled on a song. “Aha! Britney Spears!” He ripped his face painfully away, his hand rubbing the spot where they were once connected and frowned. “No one hates Britney. Right?”

Nell heard the other giggle fill the room, and for a moment thought there might be an echo somewhere. “Did you hear that?” she asked quickly, looking around as if a doppelganger of her might appear. She squinted suspiciously at her shadow, and swore that it raised its hand to wave back at her. “Nate!” she exclaimed, shaking his arm a little. “Did you see that?” But then she was giggling again, patting the part of his face he was petting. “Good puppy. Bow wow wow wow,” she uttered nonsensically as the cute nose of a dog quickly took the place of his old nose. She gasped. “Are you- woof wear? Werewoofy! I should have known.” Her head whipped around as he yelled out Britney Spears. “Where?! She’s here? Oh my god, I see her.” Before her very eyes the pop idol was appearing, a particularly yellow splotch of paint on the wall turning into her trademark blonde hair. “No one hates Britney! And if they do- I fight them.”

Nate felt the whole world shaking and knew this must be the end. This was how the world ended, shaking like a giant was holding up the earth. “See what?” But then it stopped, the shaking replaced by a soft hand running over his cheek. He giggled softly, his eyes drifting closed, his head lolling to the side before he shot back up at attention. “You’re gonna fight Britney Spears?? Why! She loves you!” Nate cocked his head to the side, staring at Nell. “Did you say you’re a woof?”

Nell had already gotten past the whole shadow waving thing, her attention span having absolutely no linear sense at the moment. But she hummed contentedly as Nate seemed to settle, her lips pulling into a lazy grin. “Mmmm, sleepy puppy. Good puppy. I’d give you a treat if I had one.” Then she was rustling into the pocket of her jacket with the hand that wasn’t stroking Nate’s face as if looking for something she could give him. “What?? No! She’s the best! She loves me?” Nell asked with wonder in her tone. “I-I don’t love her like that. I don’t wanna hurt her feelings!” A woof? Nell did her best impression of a little dog bark before booping Nate’s little dog nose. “No- no- no- you- you’re woof woof. Werewoofy. Cute boy.”

Nate felt his entire body buzzing as if every inch of his skin wanted to escape the confines of his being. Nell kept talking about the puppy and all Nate wanted to do was pet it. He felt that if he could wrap his hands in the puppy’s soft fur, all the problems he’d ever had would go away. That his skin could go off and do its own thing like it so desperately wanted to, and Britney could come and sing them to sleep. A boop on his nose sent a wave of warmth down his spine and he realized he was petting Nell’s hair. “Woah, were you just a puppy?” His voice softened and he smiled lazily. “You have really soft fur- hair? Furhair? Hairfurs.”

Nell felt like she could go any which direction at any moment, as if she was stretching apart like taffy from the center outwards, a centrifugal force exerting its dominance over her. Thankfully, she was rather passionate about dogs and the like, so talking about them seemed to be the thing keeping her relatively focused through the rest of the insanity of everything else happening. Dogs made everything okay. Better than okay. Cats too. Most animals. Her eyes fluttered closed in a moment of utter contentment as warmth flowed over her, a nice brushing movement through her hair once again resulting in a happy hum. If this is what being a dog was she’d take it any day. “Yessss, I’m puppy. I wag my tail.” She began to wiggle a little in her spot on the couch, feeling the breeze of her tail moving through the air. “Soft?” In a mirroring motion she raised her own hand to Nate’s new puppy ears, scratching behind them on top of his head. “Curly puppy. Mmm, what kind of breed?”

Nate felt like he should stop petting his fluffy puppy, but he couldn’t make his fingers cease. It was like they had a mind of their own, winding and twisting like he was tying giant hair knots. Nell began to purr and he wondered when the dog switched to being a cat, but he was ok with it. Britney seemed to be too, as he felt a warm spot jiggle close to his side. Oh- no, that wasn’t Britney...that was the puppy! “Oh!” He melted. Nate melted into the scritches and he felt himself turn into literal goo as he slid further down the couch, his head listing into Nell’s hands. “Oooohhhh like a poodle, duhhhhhhh!”

Nell kept closing her eyes in her utter contentment in being a dog seriously wondering if this is the wonderful life werewolves probably had all the time. But they opened wider as Nate-puppy made his little exclamation, just in time to see him turn into a puddle of fur and puppy noses. A little squeal of delight worked its way past Nell’s lips as she cradled the puppy’s head, doing her best to give him the head scritches he deserved as her fingers kept massaging him, lifting a couple curls to watch them fall back into place with a giggle. “Pooooooooodle!” The word sounded ridiculous to her ears, the o’s neverending as they echoed on into the room even after she stopped talking. “You’re my favorite poodle,” she cooed. “Very good poodle.”

Nate wasn’t entirely sure what was real and what was the story book he’d been reading in seventh grade, but all he knew was that he was no longer corporeal and he was in heaven. Curly cues bounced on his head and a soft cooing echoed around him and for the first time in a decade, he felt safe. But as soon as he thought the words, terror dripped into his bloodstream, making its way throughout his body with alarming speed. His eyes snapped open and tried to focus, but the swirling kaleidoscope of colors dancing around Britney and Nell’s head made it hard to focus. “Ne-Pen- Penelope-” He stammered, suddenly gripping his own arms as if they were gonna fall off. Reality was beginning to slam into him like a freight train and he suddenly wondered if he’d been drugged. “Nellie...did you- am I on drugs??” He felt frozen, his stomach in a knot that would literally never untangle, preventing him from moving from his horizontal position on the couch. This was it. This was how he died.

Nell was still humming happily to the background music that the karaoke menu was playing on loop, still waiting for them to pick another song. But she was far too busy with puppy-Nate, deciding that anything else in the world could wait its turn. It took her a moment to note the change in him, still delightfully playing with his puppy-hair-fur and ears as his eyes shot open. Ah! Her name- she knew that. She was Penelope. “Yesss- Pe-nell-nelope that’s me,” she said with a wide grin, but it quickly turned to confusion, wondering why her puppy was upset. “Ssshh, it’s okay. It’s alright.” Her stroking turned slow and soft. “Drugs? I grow some of those. They’re my little babies with my other babies. Did you need some?” What was wrong? Wait was something wrong? Suddenly her adrenaline was mounting as she looked around the room for potential threats.

Nate’s muscles were drawn so tight it felt like they were going to burst. His eyes flitted around the room wildly, the only part of him that could move. “Are the drugs here?? You make drugs?! Did you make me drugs? I don’t want them, you gave me them! Oh god, ohhhh godohgodohgod” He rolled to the side, burying his face in Nell’s lap, his fingers curling into his palms so hard there would be little crescent moons popping out of them any second now. He needed stability. He needed safety. He needed- “Pancakes??”

What was wrong? Nell’s own worry was starting to spike, looking around for some danger she couldn’t find. “What? No! No no no no no!” She couldn’t quite wrap her head around it still, but she was clearing up enough to know she definitely didn’t want Nate to think she’d had any part in a potential drugging. Again she tried her best to gently shush, one hand still going to run over his hair while the other reached down to a hand to try and gently unravel it, her thumb moving over the fingers. “Undo, undo. It’s okay, I’ll do it.” But her attention was utterly grabbed by the mention of food. Even without tripping on a mysterious drug, she was always hungry. “Pancakes,” she agreed sagely.

Nate was curled up in darkness for what felt like eons. The soft, gentle combing of fingers through his hair was the only thing tying him to this plane of existence, that and the smell of maple syru- no...there was no syrup. There should be syrup. Instead there was only the smell of cheap, old, fake leather and a very nice floral perfume. “You smell like pancakes...No, you smell better than pancakes.” His head began pounding the moment he opened his eyes, but he needed to look at the iguana– no...the person who was petting him. “Can we get pancakes?” He asked in the saddest, most pathetic voice he’d ever heard.

It seemed like Nate was maybe...a little better, but Nell couldn’t be too certain. What should she do? Her brain was far too fuzzy and fluffy to figure something out. Oooh, her mom used to sing when she was little and couldn’t sleep. Should she do that? Her fingers continued to work their way through the nice, soft curls as she began to sing the only song she seemed to know for whatever reason, her best rendition of one of Britney Spears’ number one hits in as soothing a style as she could muster. “Oops, I did it again...I played with your heart—” She continued to try and work on unclenching his hands as best she could before perking up once more. “Better than pancakes?” she echoed, absolute wonder in her tone. Was that the best compliment she’d ever received in her life? Perhaps that was why her cheeks pinkened in the slightest. After all, that was no lowly praise. “Yes, yes, definitely. We’re gonna get pancakes. So many pancakes.”

Nate settled in, feeling the cold reality of the karaoke room seeping back into his consciousness, but he wanted to fight it. For a moment, he was blissfully unaware of all the pain he’d been through and all the pain he would go through. Sure, there was a literal singing, technicolor giraffe above him and his legs were still liquid, but he was happy. He was safe. He curled further into himself, nuzzling against Nell’s lap, his brain swirling with thoughts of maple syrup and pancakes. He hummed contentedly and nodded. “Pancakes. We’ll get pancakes.” And then there was blissful darkness.

Nell nodded in approval as Nate seemed to settle down once again, not liking the way everything got very loud with the sirens and the lights spinning around the room while he’d been upset. Sometimes sirens and lights were fun, but not those ones. But now her Britney Spears song had worked too well, and the actual Britney that was still standing and dancing in the corner had taken up the lullaby. “Nigh-night, Nate-Nate.” Nell’s own eyes began to droop, her hand in Nate’s hair moving with less frequency as her body got more and more lax. Soon enough, she was leaning over the mound of man in her lap to rest her own cheek against him. Mmmm, pancakes. Her eyes stayed shut as she began to sail a syrup ocean on the back of a pancake, letting the gentle rocking of the sticky waves guide her into sleep.

#ch:Nate #toxic #chatzy #wickedswriting

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yessadirichards · 4 years ago

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Gary Oldman on finding the frequency of 'Mank' NEW YORK

The first time Gary Oldman and David Fincher met was in London 1990, when Fincher was looking to cast him in “Alien 3.”

“And he had the sense to say no,” Fincher recalls.

In the 30 years since then, they have never been far out of orbit from one another. They consider one another friends. They share an ex-wife, the mother of their children. But Fincher cast Oldman’s manager, Douglas Urbanski (as Larry Summers in ’The Social Network”), before he called up Oldman about another role.

“There are some directors who get stars in their eyes and say, ‘We must do something.’ Mainly you never hear from them again,” Oldman says, chuckling. “David’s the sort of director that if you’re right for something, he’ll cast you. And if you’re not, he won’t.”

While some have quibbled that Oldman, 62, is a little old to play Herman Mankiewicz — he wrote “Citizen Kane” more than a decade before drinking himself to death at the age of 55 -- Oldman is so tailored to the role that he wears it like the cocktail-soaked, day-old, rumpled suit Mank flops around in. Fincher’s “Mank” is such a dense and dazzling Hollywood time machine that all the conversation it’s spawned — on the authorship of “Citizen Kane,” on “auteur” directors, on its ‘30s political backdrop — has sometimes overlooked the incredible balancing act at its center. It’s a performance always teetering on the edge, poised between inebriation and lucidity, ’40s-style zip and modern-day naturalism.

“Mank, it’s in the eyes. It’s like a different head,” says Oldman speaking by phone from London. “It’s a different motor that’s moving. It’s what I call a character’s running condition. It's finding the frequency of the man.”

“Mank,” which debuted Friday on Netflix, is about a little-celebrated figure of Hollywood history: a sharped-tongued newspaperman turned studio hack who worked often without credit (the black-and-white to Technicolor switch of “The Wizard of Oz” was his idea). But despite a penchant for self-sabotage and liquor, Mankiewicz — relying on his own history with William Randolph Heart (Charles Dance in the film) as a kind of court jester to Hollywood's most powerful — turned in a draft for what's generally considered the greatest film of all time.

“It was never our intention to rectify some wrong. It’s just a character study of a man who was self-emulating and who did it in a rather witty way," says Fincher, whose father, Jack Fincher, wrote the script. “I’ve got nothing against Orson Welles. Orson Welles was a genius and if everybody doesn’t know that, I don’t know what to say.”

In crafting the portrait of Mankiewicz, Fincher wanted Oldman as himself. No wigs, no special costume. For Oldman — who had recently buried under prosthetics and make-up as Winston Churchill in “Darkest Hour,” winning him the best actor Oscar — that made him nervous.

“I am partial to a disguise. I like to hide. And David wanted no veil between me and the audience,” says Oldman. “He said: ‘I want you as naked as you’ve ever been.’ It wasn’t that I resisted that. I was just a little uneasy with it at first."

It’s a role that Oldman isn’t so terribly far from, in some respects. He's well acquainted with alcoholism. Oldman's brutally honest autobiographical film about his working-class London upbringing, “Nil By Mouth,” shot scenes in the very bar his hard-drinking father used to frequent. Oldman was himself once an alcoholic and, like Mank, prone to audacious gambles. Back when he was drinking, Oldman chose between two simultaneous offers — “Waterworld” and “The Scarlet Letter” — with a coin flip. (Rev. Dimmesdale won.)

For Oldman, it meant drawing on “muscle memory.”

“It’s a long time ago now. I’ve been sober almost 24 years. But you remember it, and I certainly brought that to the party,” says Oldman. “Mank said something that struck me to my heart. He said, ‘My critical faculty has prospered at the expense of my talent.’ There’s the longing to write the great play, to write the great novel, and there’s a fear involved there — the fear of trying and failing. I’ve known quite a few drunks who are like that. It’s like they have a critic on their shoulder.”

It was in Alcoholics Anonymous in 1996 that Oldman met his third wife, Donya Fiorentino, a year after she and Fincher had divorced. After five years of marriage, Oldman and Fiorentino also divorced. Oldman received full custody of their two sons, now in their early 20s. (Fincher also eventually gained full custody of his daughter with Fiorentino.) In a court filing in 2001, Fiorentino alleged that Oldman hit her with a telephone, a charge that Oldman strongly denies. Their shared painful past, both actor and director say, went unspoken of during their collaboration.

Instead, their work together was of mutual meticulousness. Fincher, long renowned for his obsessive exactitude, found in Oldman a highly detailed actor of deep research capable of subtly manipulating his performance. No director is able to have a whole movie in his head, Fincher says, but Oldman can mentally maintain the whole arc of his character.

“He’s the kind of person, you have the conversation once, and you literally watch his blue eyes click in. It gets stored away, and whatever that thing was magically becomes part of the fabric of everything he does afterward. It’s osmosis," says Fincher. “He’s a sort of behavioral vacuum. You give him data and then that data is processed and comes out as behavior.”

To match the black-and-white period atmosphere, Fincher wanted a style of acting with some of the spirit of the ’30s and ’40s. “Believable but ever so slightly heightened — imperceptible arch,” says Oldman. There’s barely any footage of Mankiewicz talking so Oldman, figuring the apple wouldn’t fall too far from the tree, relied on recordings of Mankiewicz's brother, the “All About Eve” director Joseph Mankiewicz.

Dance has previously suggested Oldman grew a little impatient with Fincher’s proclivity for a lot of takes. (Two scenes, each parties with sprawling conversation, took a week to shoot.) But Oldman says he relished the process — even if it did sometimes drag on.

“You can imagine being on the set and doing a scene for 30 takes and then saying to someone, ‘God, we’ve done this scene a hundred f---ing times.’ Then David with his cherubic smile says, ’Yeah, and we’re going to do it 101,” says Oldman. “Sometimes you feel like the director hasn’t walked away from a scene he hasn’t got. Sometimes you feel like you’re making the day, rather than making the movie. You would never feel that on a Fincher set.”

#sadirichards

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a-gay-bloodmage · 7 years ago

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---Redren, I may have made a mistake.---

For @zevranology‘s #Zevwarden week

Pairing: Zevran x Male Amell Warden ((Side of Morrigan x Leliana))

Pairing Type: M/M

Words: 14,548

Warnings: Sex jokes, mention of sex work in a neutral light, pretty slow burn, some great lesbians, use of OC’s name, they’re all just nerds

Redren, I may have made a mistake. Texts like this were never good. Coming from Leliana, they either meant that she burnt a cake or that she broke a leg. One could never tell.

What have you done? Redren write back, setting aside his current project.

“Who is it?” He heard Morrigan ask from the back of the room. They were currently in his basement along with Alistair, one of their mutual friends.

“Leliana,” he sighed. “She’s been typing for a while so I’m going to assume it’s nothing good!”

His phone vibrated in his hands, five messages coming though at once.

OKAY SO I MAY HAVE MET THIS REALLY NICE GUY THE OTHER DAY, OKAY? ANYWAY HE WAS CHATTING ME UP, SAID MY BUTT LOOKED GOOD, ALL THAT STUFF. ANYWAY, HE WAS REALLY NICE SO I INVITED HIM TO STARBUCKS. WE WERE OUT GETTING COFFEE TODAY AND HE ASKED ME WHAT MY HOBBIES WERE AND

OH SWEET BABY JESUS I SAID THAT I WAS GOING TO LARP THIS WEEKEND WITH MY FRIENDS (AND MY GIRLFRIEND, SOMETHING HE SEEMED COOL WITH, EVEN IF HE SEEMED A BIT CONFUSED AS TO WHY I ACCEPTED A WEIRD SORT OF DATE THING) WITH SOME OF MY FRIENDS AND OF COURSE HE HAD NO IDEA WHAT THAT WAS BECAUSE HE’S HOT,

NO OFFENSE, DUDE. ANYWAY THIS MADE ME END OF HAVING TO EXPLAIN WHAT IN THE LORD’S NAME LIVE-ACTION ROLE PLAYING IS TO A REALLY HOT SPANISH GUY OVER STARBUCKS COFFEE AND IT WAS REALLY AWKWARD BUT

HE SEEMED TO BE INTO IT???? I DON’T KNOW BUT ANYWAY HE LOOKED GENUINELY INTERESTED AND I COULDN’T SHUT UP SO AAAAHHHH

LONG STORY SHORT I INVITED HIM OVER I’M SO SORRY

are you kidding me

No.

Redren sighed and put down his phone, falling back onto the sawdust covered carpet.

“God,” Alistair muttered, looking over at Redren sighing on the floor. “What did she say?”

“She sort of accidentally invited someone to go to Moondust with us,” he said, rushed.

“What a fool!” Morrigan cried, raising her staff above her head in mock agony. “Oh, ‘tis truly a horror! We are exposed!” She snorted and set down her staff.

“It may be funny to you, but she mentioned he was attractive and now I’m nervous!”

“Hey!” He heard Alistair whine. “Am I not attractive to you?”

“You’re my friend, Alistair, our token heterosexual! I don’t know this guy! And she mentioned he was Spanish!” He lamented his head tilted back to look at his friends. Morrigan had gone back to applying another layer of paint to her homemade staff, shaking her head in amusement.

“What if you ask her to ask him if he’s available to come over tomorrow?” Redren sat up and stared at Alistair. Alistair blushed a bit in awkwardness before he explained. “I mean, he needs a character, and maybe we could whip one up tomorrow before the weekend?”

“Lord,” Redren exhaled, “I’ll text her. I thank God every day for your ideas, my friend.”

“Should I be offended, or…?”

Leliana.

Do you have his number?

Yeah, why?

I need you to text him.

Tell me what you want to say and I’ll send him a screenshot so I don’t have to worry about messing up and any typos are on you~

Fine, fine

Okay, attractive mystery man, as you may know, you have been invited to one of the most embarrassing social gatherings on the planet. I am wondering if you are available to come over tomorrow, any time between noon and one am to

work on preparing you for one of the strangest things you’ve ever been invited to.

Sending it!

It took only about two minutes for him to respond.

Greetings Leliana’s friend! My name is Zevran Arainai, and I can say with certainty that anything you invite me too will not be too strange for my tastes~!

If Miss Leliana here is available at noon, I can be as well, although I cannot stay after nine pm. I work, shall we say, night shifts? Haha, well I am excited! What your friend described sounds VERY interesting!

~Z ♡

Lord, he sounds… interesting.

Oh he is.

“He’s coming over at noon.”

“Nice! I’ll be over after work, so, like, four? Duncan said he’s closing up early. Doctor’s appointment,” Alistair replied, setting his pain-stakingly well made latex sword. He worked at a local hardware shop under Duncan, who was incredibly nice when it came to a bunch of twenty-somethings asking to use his machines when the shop was closed. He was sort of like Alistair’s pseudo-dad, and was happy to let them use the machines as long as he was supervising. He had no idea what they were doing, but he was happy to watch from the sidelines. A confused smile and a thumbs up were his go-to resources.

“Morrigan dear,” be heard his grandmother, Wynne, call out from the top of the basement stairs. “Your mother just called the house phone, and she said you need to come home!”

“I am twenty-five,” he heard her mutter as she put all of her art supplies back on the table she used as storage.

“And she said that if you mute her calls again, she’s coming over herself to collect you herself!” Morrigan’s mother was incredibly odd, for lack of a better word. She ran a tiny shop that specialized in herbal medicine she brewed herself and other miscellaneous items of witchcraft. Redren found the whole thing fascinating, but despite being a pagan witch herself, Morrigan couldn’t stand her mother. She still lived at home and helped with the shop which was housed on the first floor of their home.

“Remind me I need to splatter-paint that in case I forget!” She said, grabbing her backpack by the stairs. “I’ll sneak out at two, so I’ll be over at quarter after!”

“See ya!” Both Redren and Alistair called out after her. About half an hour passed until Alistair glanced up at the clock, noticing the time. 9:30 pm.

“I’ve got to be home by ten,” he sighed, “so we should probably start cleaning now, huh?”

It took about fifteen minutes to get everything put away, with Alistair departing after one of his bone-crushing hugs.

“Again, four o'clock!” He reminded, a dorky smile on his face. “Don’t want to leave you alone with Morrigan, Leliana and the new guy!”

“God bless you, Alistair!” Redren laughed, waving him goodbye as he grabbed his satchel from the basement railing.

As soon as he left, Redren put his music on the Bluetooth speaker and set to work, breaking out the vacuum for probably the first time in three months. Bits of sanded off wood were all but ingrained in the carpet, so it took quite some time to get even the smallest portion of the dust out. He wanted this place as clean as humanly possible, as having a guest over, a supposedly attractive guest at that, was a good motivation to actually clean. The added distraction of his boxer bolting down the stairs to howl at the vacuum just made the job that much harder. Redren could only pray that Zevran didn’t ask him what the overgrown puppy’s name was, or else he’d have to admit that at age twenty, he’d named a boxer Dog. Hopefully Zevran had a sense of humor. Eventually he moved to attempt to scrub at the cement floor where Morrigan had been quite relaxed with her painting. A red, smeared handprint is not a very good sight for making a first impression.

The only place he didn’t clean was their paused game of Dungeons and Dragons, a sacred place that nobody disturbed unless they wanted to lose their hand. Dog was circling his legs, excited at the prospect of going to Moondust for the weekend. There, he was a proud warhound who got to roll around in puppy-friendly red paint to his hearts content and chase any rabbit he wanted. Everyone loved him there, and over the two years he’d been going with Redren he’d become a bit of an icon. Redren had been personally LARP-ing for six years, ever since he was sixteen and Alistair, eighteen at the time, had noticed him sketching a self-insert sorcerer in his chemistry notebook. The dork had struck up a conversation with him, and ended up talking about how he and his older half-brother Cailin went up once a month to Live Action Role Play in a medieval village called Moondust. Redren and him had become friends quite quickly, which was pretty handy, as Alistair was on the Rugby team, so a lot less people were tempted to bully Redren like they usually did. He was an androgynous gay teenager with red hair to his mid-back. As soon as he went to Moondust he knew that was where he belonged. He ended up running a blog for it, posting all about his little adventures, truly excited to be a part of it. He ended up meeting Morrigan there. She was three years older than him, making him the baby of the group. Leliana, her girlfriend, was two years older than him, and an older sister if anything.

“Redren!” His grandma Wynne called from the top of the stairs. “Don’t forget you have work tomorrow!” Her tone meant that she didn’t mean it as a mere suggestion to hurry up. He put away his cleaning supplies and headed up the stairs, Dog on his heels. He collapsed into bed after giving Wynne a quick goodnight kiss on the cheek. Despite being a bit of an overbearing busybody sometimes, she was a good grandma, taking him in when his mother died when he was five. She owned a little restaurant called “The Circle,” that specialized in breakfast food. He was mainly just a waiter there, and the staff was fairly small. Irving, a man that technically retired five years ago did much of the finances for Wynne. Probably because he was bored and good with management. His childhood friend Jowan and his wife Lily also worked there with him. Really nice, average people of you didn’t count Jowan’s fascination with the medical world. He didn’t have the funds for med school, but that didn’t stop him from knowing every artery, vein, and capillary in the human body.

Redren nearly fell asleep in his jeans. Cleaning was much more exercise than he usually did. He began to think about Zevran, and how he still knew nothing about the stranger that Leliana had invited over. He worked nights, it seemed. Redren couldn’t help but wonder what he looked like. If he was Spainish, he must be tan, right? Redren looked at his own corpse-pale hands and laughed. Lord, was he British! Was Zevran’s accent strong? Oh, how tall was he? What would he roleplay as? An elf? A human warrior, or a mage? Or was he really tall, a Qunari, perhaps? The mixture of anxiety and excitement twisted his stomach in knots. He buried his face in his pillow, taking deep breaths. It was no use worrying, it’d happen either way. Eventually, he settled to sleep. Nervous. Very, very nervous.

His morning was like any other. He said hello to Jowan and Lily when he walked in at six am, and set to work taking orders from the steady stream of customers. The Circle was actually popular, but unfortunately, every morning, a loud group of the Rugby players from the local High School, the Templars, would waltz in like they owned the place. More than once he’d been called “sweetheart” or “tits” from the back, so it made the experience worth it. The looks on their faces! It’d almost become a hazing for the new kids on the team. As well as alcohol and running laps, there was the shaming of the androgynous homosexual test. Ah, the fragility of their masculinity! Alistair had once belonged to their order, but due to his sweet personality, such a sin was forgivable.

Rolling up an American pancake and eating it like a burrito, he watched the customers and thought about Zevran. What was he like? Leliana mentioned how he tried to pick her up by talking about her arse… Lord, what was this man?

Eventually, his shift ended, and as soon as the clock struck 11, he was out of there. He took a quick shower, actually scrubbing his hair for the first time in what, a week? His hair was always a mess, but this time, he took the time to blow dry it, carefully brushing it out. He even made sure to put it up in a neat ponytail, his bangs covering his honest to God unattractive eyebrows, and brushed out the two long locks of hair framing either side of his face. He threw on his working shirt, an old orange tank top, and his working pants, a tight pair of blue jeans. Both of them were stained with paint, making the combination the official “Working Outfit.”

He was just setting up in the basement when he heard the doorbell ring. He straightened out one of the chairs at the D&D table, and ran upstairs. He was too late. His grandma Wynne had already opened the door, and he felt his stomach drop as she introduced herself as “Grandma Wynne,” adding on “Oh! Are you one of his friends? I haven’t seen you before!”

“Grandma!” Redren whined, his face heating up. “Please leave them alone!”

“Am I embarassing you, sweetie?” Oh, she was so doing this on purpose! “Fine, fine, I’ll leave you alone!” She strolled off, a smug little smile on her face.

“Uh, why don’t you come in? I’m Red…ren…” He finally got a look at the man standing next to Leliana. Lord was he short! He must’ve been what, 5'2"? But, God, was he cute! Redren noticed the tattoo on his face, and couldn’t help but stare at the smooth lines on tanned skin.

“Already rendering you speechless?” Zevran’s voice was smooth and heavily accented. Beautiful!

“Come in,” he smiled shyly, moving out of the doorway. Zevran and Leliana slid their shoes off, following him down to the basement. “Sorry about my grandmother, she’s a bit much!”

“No, no,” Zevran laughed. “She seemed lovely! And she had a wonderful bosom!” Redren turned around, his eyes wide as he saw Leliana and Zevran muffling giggles.

“God, want did I get myself into?” He sighed as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Lord Almighty!” Leliana’s voice was a mix of a laugh and a gasp. “I’ve never seen this place so clean!”

“Why can’t I just try to make a good impression?” He sighed. If anything, he was hoping Zevran’d think he wasn’t as much of a mess as he really was.

“So this is your base of operations?” He asked, his eyes wandering around to look at the back wall covered in paint, replica latex swords, staffs, and armor. All hand made, too. “Impressive!” Redren smiled at that.

“Thanks,” he said, heading to the back. “So, Lels, given any thought to his character?”

“Damn, I haven’t!”

“That’s okay! I have!” He turned to look at Zevran. “You know, just based on appearance, you strike me as an elf!”

“Is that a compliment?” Zevran asked Leliana.

“Yeah!” She nodded. “Elves are noble and beautiful creatures!”

“Oh, I enjoy that beautiful part!” Zevran laughed, sending butterflies straight through Redren’s stomach.

“Oh, I can totally see it!” Redren’s mind was racing with possibilities. “I could braid your hair! Oh, that’d look good!” He heard Leliana and Zevran sit down on the carpet as he opened up a desk drawer full of assorted accessories. He pulled out a pair of elven ear extensions he thought would match Zevran’s skin tone. He turned back around and set the objects against Zevran’s skin. A perfect match!

“Oh! Should we explain this stuff more before we delve into character creation?” Leliana laughed. Redren blushed, embarrassed at his excitement.

“Probably, yeah.”

“I’ll start. So, I’ve already told you about the very basics of LARP-ing, like, how you go to a camp-type place and act as a character for a weekend.” Redren sat down next to them, so that they were sitting in a triangle of sorts. “I, personally, play as a former bardic assassin, turned Church sister, turned adventurer! I’ve been going to Moondust for eight years!” Her smile was quite proud, full of love for her character. “I’ve been developing her for a very long time!” She turned to Redren. “Why don’t you explain your character?”

“He’s a mage, and a really powerful one at that!” Redren grinned. “I’m a blood mage, which means I can manipulate a person’s blood to my will! I can also summon demons, but that’s not a very good idea, because there’s too high of a chance it could backfire!” He laughed. “Unfortunately, blood magic is banned, so I was nearly executed for it!” At Zevran’s concerned look, Redren explained further. “I went to a mage’s guild trial, and I nearly went to the stake, but fortunately, Morrigan stood up for me, protesting that blood magic could be a valuable asset in battle, so they decided to let me live!”

“This seems like quite some world!” Zevran marveled. The fact that he actually seemed interested was amazing, most of the time, people disregarded him as a complete freakshow when he mentioned Live Action Role Playing.

“Well, what we need to do today is design a character for you, which means background, armor and weapons,” Leliana explained. “So, why don’t we base him off of you? It’s always easier to play a character that’s a part of yourself!”

“What would you like to know?”

“Job, what your majoring in, those things!”

“Oh, you’re in college?” Redren asked, hoping this meant Zevran was his age. Then again, Leliana was in college, and she was twenty-four. She was in a music program, as she was wonderfully talented with the flute. She’d put off college for two years, so she was in her final year now.

“Yes, but I must admit it took me a while!” Zevran laughed. “I finally joined the University of the Arts last year! I’m getting my acting degree. Although it means I won’t be out of college until I’m twenty-eight!”

“You’re twenty-five?” Redren asked.

“Yes sir! And you’re, what, eighteen?” Redren’s cheeks heated up in embarrassment.

“He’s actually twenty-two,” Leliana whispered.

“Oh! You truly have a youthful face!” Zevran laughed. “But as for what I do as a job, I must admit the club I work in is, eighteen and over,” he smirked, seeming to enjoy as Redren’s face heated up further. “So innocent!”

“Oh, hush,” he mumbled.

“Anyway, as for a background, I came to this dreary country of yours last year from Madrid, Spain. Dios mío, do I miss it!” He laughed. “It’s too cold here!” Leliana laughed in agreement, as she would also often lament how Avignon in her native France was so much better than London. Zevran ended up talking about how he’d grown up in a brothel, eventually getting a job at a strip club when he turned eighteen, and had saved up enough to move to London last year. Redren hung onto every word, and felt like he could listen to his voice forever.

“So, any fancy ideas for my character?” He laughed, startling Redren out of his trance. “Or would you prefer to gaze at my lips a few moments more?” Said lips were curling into a smirk as Redren hastily looked away, his ears red.

“A few ideas, yeah,” he mumbled, standing up to grab a notebook and a pencil. “So, we need a name for Spain. Any ideas, Leliana?”

She hummed in thought as Redren sketched a blank human outline on the paper. He could feel Zevran looking over his shoulder as he added on fingerless gloves, a black leather skirt paired with a matching top. Shoulder pads and wrappings around the elbows were added as well.

“So, Zevran,” he asked as he sketched in some shoulder-length hair, “you don’t need to answer if it’s too personal, but what was the name of that club you mentioned?” Tiny braids and ears were added.

“An interesting question, dear Redren!” He laughed. “It was El Cuervo, which translates to The Raven. Why would you like to know?”

“The Raven’s too pretty,” he mused, “but… The Crow!” He smiled, jotting down The Crows next to the drawing. “How would you feel about being an assassin?”

“An assassin? Sounds fun!”

“What about Antiva?” Leliana piped up.

“Any meaning to it?”

“Nope, but it sounds pretty, doesn’t it?”

“Alright,” Redren nodded, writing down Antivan next to the character. “Since this world’s countries’ names are so boring, we come up with new ones; France is Orlais, Britain is just one called Ferelden, and now, Spain is Antiva!"

"When Leliana mentioned this, I have to admit I was interested, but as you explain further, I find myself more and more eager! And for someone like myself, this would certainly be good acting practice, no? Staying in character for a whole weekend is a challenge, isn’t it?” Redren was actually surprised at how excited the man looked. Personally, it had taken Redren a good couple of months, about four weekends in total, to feel comfortable with the LARP-ing community. Zevran, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have any sort of anxiety regarding the idea. He was happily brushing his hair back with his fingers, allowing Leliana to place the medium-length ear extensions on him. He opened up his phone to look in the camera, marveling at how well they matched his skin tone. He snapped a quick selfie and set his phone back in his pocket.

“I have arrived!” They heard a voice call out from up the stairs. Morrigan had finally managed to come over, meaning it’d been just over two hours already. She shuffled down the stairs, backpack slung over one shoulder and a Styrofoam container of leftover pancakes in her hand. “Your grandmother insisted you were fed,” she tsked. She hung her backpack up on the peg by the stairs, and set the food down by the edge of the D&D table for later.

She took a long look at Zevran, raising a perfectly maintained eyebrow. “I presume you’re the one who said my girlfriend’s arse looked nice?”

Zevran laughed. “If I had known she already had a beautiful partner, I wouldn’t have said anything,” he said, sincere. “But truly, I’m glad I did! This world of your’s is fascinating!” Morrigan seemed to have taken notice of the elf ears, laughing lightly.

“Truly nice to see we’ll be gaining an elf in our party! So far, we’ve everything but,” she sighed. “Qunari, dwarf, mage, warrior, you name it, but elves? Nope.”

“Our party consists of mainly Morrigan, Leliana, a guy named Alistair, and I, but there’s quite a few more players that we hang out with,” Redren added. “I will warn you, that most people there are social rejects or incredibly bored nerds, so be prepared!”

“I go to a school of the arts, Redren,” he chuckled. “I’m sure I’ll be fine!”

“All right, don’t we have work to do?” Morrigan clapped her hands. She went to the back, grabbing her latex staff off the table, along with a can of white paint and a large tub of glitter. Redren set to work looking for already-made armor with Leliana that they could adjust for Zevran’s size. As he worked on getting Zevran armor, he watched Morrigan in amusement as she dumped the light blue glitter into the white paint, and began to splatter-paint her staff. She loved cold magic, and she’d decided to make a new, cooler, staff. She was nice enough outside of Moondust, but Lord, was her character bitchy! It was endearing in a strange way, her cold personality working incredibly well with her winter magic.

As they were starting the chestpiece, they noticed the clock had hit four o'clock. Alistair arrived shortly, and after intoductions, had started talking about what types of weapons Zevran’d be good with. They eventually settled on dual-wielding with a dagger and a short sword. Leliana mentioned that she had some spares, digging out two of her previous weapons. Redren was busy embroidering little patterns on a pair of leather gloves. He’d learned the skill from Grandma Wynne, and enjoyed putting little curves of black string around the edge of the brown gloves. He was modeling them after Zevran’s tattoos. He couldn’t resist adding a tiny pink heart to the top of the right glove. Cute!

“So, when in battle, you have a certain amount of health and armor points, but since your character is a rogue, you’ll have less armor points than me, since I’m a warrior and I can wear heavier armor,” Alistair explained, a bright smile on his face. He was such a dork, and always happy to explain things. He rambled on about armor, repairs, and healing spells, with Zevran paying a surprising amount of attention. Maybe his love for acting was what compelled him to actually stick around. Regardless, his enthusiasm was appreciated.

“I believe your dog wished to be a part of this gathering,” Morrigan nodded her head toward the closed basement door. Faint little whines came from behind it.

“You’re not allergic, are you?” He asked Zevran before he let Dog in.

“I don’t mind dogs,” he shrugged. “I’m more of cat person, but feel free to let the little thing in if it so wishes.”

Dog bounded down the stairs as soon as Redren so much as cracked the door open, nearly knocking him down. Thank God for the door knob. He heard a slightly amused yelp as the eighty-pound boxer ran to Zevran, slobbering and drooling all over him.

“Oi!” Redren yelled, running down to grab Dog by his collar. “You do not act like that!” Dog still looked very happy, despite being scolded. “You will behave if you wish to stay down here, young man!” Dog whined a bit, lying down in defeat. “You know I don’t like yelling at you,” Redren shook his head. “But you must learn, you can’t be so forceful, you’re too big.” He took a deep breath. “Do you want to help me age up this cloth?” Redren grabbed a large wad of fabric, tossing it to Dog, who happily began to chew it up. That was his job.

“Never have I seen a man speak to a dog like that!” Zevran laughed. “Are you sure you’re not really a wizard that’s trapped the spirit of your child in there?”

Redren laughed, shaking his head. “Nah, he’s a good boy most of the time, but he never knows when to calm down!” He patted Dog’s head affectionately.

“So, what’s his name?” Redren heard Morrigan, Leliana, and Alistair snort at the same time.

“You’re all bullies, you know that, all of you,” he muttered under his breath. “His name is Dog.” Zevran snorted, too.

“Dog?” Dog perked up, staring at Zevran with the fabric hanging out of his mouth. “It’s unique, I’ll give you that!”

Eventually, eight o'clock came, and everyone said their goodbyes. Zevran’s outfit was held in his hands, a bright smile on his face. He was the last one out the door, as he’d stayed back for a moment after everyone had left. He folded it, and set the leather in his satchel.

“I’d like to thank you,” he said, looking up at Redren. “I, I’m very excited for this weekend. It doesn’t feel like I just met you. And if I can have my way, I’d like to do this again. I’ve, I’ve never had many friends, and,” he took a deep breath before finishing. “I’ve very thankful that you let me experience what it’s like, even if only for a couple of hours.”

“It doesn’t have to be just a couple hours,” Redren said, his face pink. “I mean, yoire spending the weekend with us, and, uh, if you like it, I’m, well, I wouldn’t mind hanging out with you again.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“That sounds wonderful.” Zevran was beaming. His teeth were exposed when he smiled, and his tan cheeks were ever so slightly darker, a blush on them. “See you tomorrow. Seven am?”

“Don’t be late.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Zevran turned, walking down the driveway, looking back to wave one last time. Redren waved back. When he finally came back inside, he noticed his grandmother by the fireplace, shaking her head with a soft smile. Heading to his room, he couldn’t help but fall back onto his bed, his face on fire and a stupid grin on his face.

I talked to a boy! I talked to a really pretty boy! I basically just asked him on a date! I talked to a boy and he liked me!

“I talked to a boy!” He breathed out, his chest rising and falling quickly. His heart was racing. Hugging his pillow, he imagined what the weekend would be like. Redren the mage was straightforward, he had no anxiety when it came to talking to people if need be. Could he talk to Zevran? His mind was clouded over with the question of how soft Zevran’s lips were. He let out a shaky breath. Those questions would have to wait for now. Perhaps he’d find the answers in Moondust. He hoped he’d find the answers in Moondust.

…

Seven am came around the next day, with Redren waiting on the couch in his robes, leg bouncing with anxiety.

“Redren dear,” Wynne chuckled. “You haven’t been so nervous for these in a very long time. How come?” She paused, but didn’t give him enough time to answer. “Is it because of the young Spanish man?” The smile on her face was a tell that she knew she was right.

“Yeah, but I’m mainly just nervous because he’s never been to one of these and he’s really nice and, and, ugh!” His stomach was starting to hurt.

“Now, I know you’re old enough where I don’t need to tell you to be careful, but he’s a handsome young man, so if things go further, please remember to use-” the doorbell rang and Redren shot up like a bullet.

“Loveyougrandmahaveagoodweekendbye!” He grabbed his small bag of luggage, his staff and his hat, Dog running out behind him, barking happily.

When he took his usual place in the second row of Morrigan’s van after putting his things in the trunk, he noticed how Zevran had taken Alistair’s seat. Alistair was now sitting in the back with Dog, not looking at all dissapointed with the new arrangement. Leliana was in the passenger’s seat, and gave him a smug little smile.

“What did Wynne say that’s for you all red-faced?” Oh, how Redren loathed his pale complexion!

“Nothing, so can we please get going?”

“'Tis a three hour drive, poor fool,” Morrigan laughed, already getting into character. “And the Lady Leliana has her ways of persuasion!”

“And I have no tits to grab so I’m already immune to one form of torture you’re so fond of, Morrigan,” he laughed. She just tsked in response.

“Is this going to be another one of those drives?” Alistair groaned. “Zevran, are you straight?”

“Of course not, my dear,” he smirked, turning around to look at Alistair.

“You’re the only one I have, Dog,” he sighed, making the rest of them laugh.

“Zevran,” Redren said, “I haven’t mentioned yet how nice you look in that.” He could feel the tip of his ears heat up, and shifted his hair to cover them.

“Why thank you,” he smiled. “But if you wouldn’t mind, I couldn’t work out how exactly to put the ears on, so if you could…”

“Ah, of course!” He leaned over, and Zevran brushed his hair out of the way so that the extensions could slip on. “There you go.”

“Why thank you, and may I say your robe is quite nice as well.”

“This atmosphere of romance is going to suffocate me,” Morrigan sighed.

“Hey!” Leliana protested, giving her girlfriend a playful hit on the shoulder.

“Your mine so it’s different,” she drawled.

Redren didn’t protest Morrigan’s comment, not wanting to dig his own grave twenty minutes into the car ride.

Moondust LARP-ing community was about a three hour drive North of London, around Leicester. It was built on the farmgrounds of Alistair’s father’s old farm, which he had named Ferelden Farms. The land had been left to Cailan and his wife, Anora, who turned it into a tiny village of their own. Cailan was a couple of years older than Alistair, and has ended up inviting him brother to help him set up the little community. Over the nine years it’d been open, it had grown, so that there were about a hundred and fifty people every month, all camping on the grounds.

Cailan and Anora were the Crowned King and Queen of Ferelden, with Cailan being the one who kept up activities and campaigns while Anora did more of the behind-the-scenes work. As lovely as she was outside of LARP-ing, Anora played the stuck-up and cold Queen, balancing out Cailan’s outspoken personality. She was the one that suggested his execution, in fact. That’d been a fun weekend, in all honesty.

As the people in the car lulled into a comfortable silence, Leliana’s music filled the quiet and covered Alistair’s soft snores. It was pretty obvious he was the kind of baby that only stopped crying via car ride. Redren glanced at Zevran out of the corner of his eye, watching the other man gaze out the window, watching the countryside go by. The English countryside was always beautiful, much different from his native Spain. He had a soft smile on his face, the tattoos curving just as softly. The elf ears were just as cute, and look surprisingly natural on him.

When they arrived, unpacking their things from the trunk and shaking Alistair awake, they were greeted by Cailan. Well, King Cailan now. The King greeted his half-brother with a nod of the head and a handshake, formal.

“Greetings,” he smiled. “I am not often one for formalities as you know, but I see you have brought a new member. Is he of your order?” The King was referring to the 'Grey Wardens,’ an order Alistair had created, in which he and Redren were the only formal members, the rest of their little party were 'allies.’ He’d created lore himself, speaking of it as a once proud order wiped out by an invasion of fearsome monsters. He’d been happy to allow Redren to join, since he didn’t have any friends in Moondust.

“This is Zevran Arainai of the assassination organization, the Antivan Crows,” Alistair said, gesturing to Zevran, who took a deep bow.

“Ah yes, the Crows,” Cailan nodded, a hand to his chin in thought.

“He was hired by a rival faction to wipe out the Wardens, but we defeated him in combat. He is now forever in our debt for sparing his life.”

“I am honored to be in your presence, King of Ferelden,” Zevran smiled, putting a hand to his chest. “I swear to serve the Wardens, my Lord, and by extension, you, if they so wish it.”

“An honorable man,” Cailan nodded. “I am pleased to welcome you to Ferelden, Arainai.” He turned to the rest of the group. “Now, shall we get going?”

They followed him down the winding trail from the parking area to the town of Moondust. It was truly something to see the difference between the modern world and the faux old. Zevran’s look of surprise was quite amusing to watch, and Redren couldn’t help but comment.

“Ah, the world of Ferelden is much different than that of your native Antiva, no?”

“Very much so,” he nodded. “As lovely as it seems, it’s much too cold and stinks of wet dog!” Dog whined at his laugh. “Now, assassinations and political corruption, that’s home!” They walked to the old barn that had been changed into a community guild hall, complete with a convincingly realistic electric candle and iron chandelier. Over the years, people had added to the hall, the druids, elves, and forest witches hanging potted plants from the rafters and arranging pots of magical incense on the tables that lined the walls. Healing crystals painted in glow-in-the-dark paint were arranged around the entire compound as well. At night, the forest had a soft glow to it as the rocks emitted their light and the fireflies danced around them.

After the introduction of Zevran was finished, King Cailan formally inviting him to Moondust, they headed out into the former cow field that’d been turned into an outdoor festival space, and housed the battlefield further back. They still had two cows, however, lovingly named Ondai, Giver of Life, and Seotayss, Lord of the Green. Zevran had found that fact quite amusing. Since it was still fairly early in the morning and the community plans weren’t laid out until one in the afternoon, they had time to find some of their fellow LARP-ers.

“It had brought a painted elf?” Redren heard Shale say from behind him.

“I have, and may I say it’s nice to see you again, Shale. I missed you last month!”

“There were pigeons on the way here, so I spent the weekend doing a service to the world.” She said, deadpan. Shale, or, out of character, Shayle, was a stone butch, gender-indifferent, towering, muscled woman. Her character was a tank of a golem, her face painted grey, matching her stone-like armor. She had some of the witches add in crystals, which gave her special magical resistance. Shale only referred to people as their defining feature. Or, instead of 'you,’ she said 'it.’ Shale used to be a dwarven warrior, but had undergone a surgery of sorts to become a golem. She did not regret it, as it made her much better than her inferior, squishy comrades.

“I am honored to be in the presence of such a beautiful warrior,” Zevran flirted. His character was turning out to be even more of flirt than his usual self. Redren wasn’t complaining.

“If by beautiful, it means strong, then I agree.”

“Why not both?”

“A truly unique creature, the painted elf is.”

“Thank you!” Zevran said, patting the golem on the arm. Lord, did he look tiny next to her! Shale wandered off in the heavy-set fashion of hers to speak with her fellow warrior, Sten. Nobody knew his name outside of the LARP, but the Qunari warrior was an amazing roleplayer. He never broke character, never smiling and always talking formally. The only time he broke character was when someone had asked him why he didn’t have horns, he simply replied with 'angered housecat,’ and never elaborated. He was an incredibly muscled and tall African man, with silvery white cornrows, and always wore red contact lenses. He said that he came as a sort of messenger for the Qunari, and stayed in order to observe how the foreigners lived.

“So, Zevran,” Redren asked, turning to his elven companion. “How do you like Ferelden?”

“It’s certainly unique, and I say that in the best of ways. And as much as I love Antiva, these people, many of them are quite pleasurable to look at!” He winked at Redren, making the mage pull his wizard’s hat over his eyes to hide him blush. Zevran laughed, and bumped his shoulder into Redren’s. “Are all mages so bashful?”

“Being raised by the Circle Tower of Magi, I have very little experience with flirts such as yourself,” he muttered. “And the elder witch Wynne wasn’t very willing to let her apprentices fool around with each other!” He was laughing, still embarrassed.

“I am not a mage, nor one of your lovely Wynne’s apprentices,” he said, teasing.

“You’re about three seconds away from being turned into a frog, Crow.”

“No I’m not,” he chuckled. “Assassins are quite good at detecting lies, you know. And you, my lovely mage, are enjoying this attention, aren’t you?”

“I cast a spell of silence,” Redren laughed, pressing a finger to Zevran’s lips. “It may only be removed when I say so.” Zevran dropped his jaw in mock betrayal, pressing a hand to his throat, falling to his knees.

Curse you! He mouthed. Both of them laughed at his act, with Zevran putting a hand over his mouth to silence himself.

God, am I enjoying this! Attention and flirting from a very handsome man!

The Horn of Gathering sounded, summoning everyone to the barn. It was one of those plastic bugle horns, but Anora had painstakingly painted it gold, and had even sewn a banner bearing the royal crest to attach to it, so the thing looked really good.

Zevran took a seat between Redren and Alistair, Morrigan and Leliana settling in next to Redren.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and knights,” King Cailan started, standing up from his throne. A couple years back, a non-bianary roleplayer joined, Ser Gilamore. Cailan had made sure to update his saying. “I bring unfortunate news this day. A horde of the undead had been spotted several miles to the north, and are likely to arrive at nine pm tonight. At sundown, all forces are to gather in the middle of the battlefield.” He paced down the middle of the hall, the gold chains decorating his armor chinking together as he moved. “We know not what has caused this invasion, but we will stop it. I have faith in you all, for we will triumph!”

Redren whispered an 'undo curse’ into Zevran’s ear, allowing for him to whoop along with the rest of the hall. The King raised his hand for silence.

“Your Queen Anora has decided to organize an event in the hopes victory will be achieved. I grant her the floor.” He sat as the Queen stood. Her long, beautiful dress trailed along the floor as she walked the same path as her husband. She was a manager of a fabric store, granting her discounts to all the materials she needed to make the beautiful creations.

“In the hopes we are victorious in our coming battle, I have planned a ceremony for Sunday night. I understand that tomorrow is sacred to the witches, druids, and elves as the forest is said to breathe new life at the full moon. Therefore, I invite you all to partake in festivities of your cultures.” Her nose was upturned as she spoke. It was obvious Cailan’s character had twisted his wife’s elbow a bit to get her to say that last part. She was a very, traditional woman. King Cailan was a very open-minded man whereas his wife, not so much. The two rubbed off on another as the years went by, with Cailan becoming a better King, and Anora becoming a better person. The two had a great relationship both in and out of character.

“Now,” King Cailan said, standing next to his wife, “we prepare for battle! You have seven and a half hours to prepare, so I expect a sweeping victory!” A cheer rose up at the King’s words. “Dismissed!”

The hall emptied, with most of the folk wandering outside. Many of the wild elves headed back to the Dalish camp, where tents were set up and a campfire was being started.

“With me,” Morrigan called back, curling her hand in a gesture meant for Zevran and Redren to follow her. Alistair stayed behind to talk strategy with his half-brother. Leliana held the witch’s hand as they walked into the forest North of the Elves’ camp. They came to a tiny hut at the end of a winding dirt path. “I hope you fools appreciate the fact that the bard and I brought your things to the hut earlier.”

“Ah, yeah, thanks Morrigan!” Redren smiled shyly, remembering how he and Zevran had gotten so caught up in everything they hadn’t grabbed their bags from the van.

Dog barked in greeting, as he’d been staying by the hut for a while, likelt taking a nap and re-marking his territory in the woods. Redren greeted the boxer with a pat on the head.

“So,” Zevran started, “I’ve had your Ferelden battle rules explained to me, but I wonder about this plan your King has. In the Crows, it is simply a target and an occasional deadline. Is that how you do things here or…?”

“In Ferelden,” Leliana explained, “the King briefs everyone on the battle strategy, but truly they lack the ability to follow!” The bard giggled. “War in Orlais was much more orderly, no?”

“And war in Antiva was just nobles hiring Crows to kill other nobles! A fine middle ground, this is!” Zevran said, nodding in approval.

“Redren, I have some potions to brew, and I require another mage. Leliana, I believe 'tis wise for you to train with the elf. You improve your skills while Redren and I improve his.”

“Don’t you mean 'ours’?” Redren asked.

“No, I am already better than anyone here. I have no need to improve. You, on the other hand…”

“Oh hush, witch!” Redren sighed. He saw Zevran’s lips quirk up at their banter.

Morrigan’s hut was another world in itself. Fake animal pelts hung from the walls, and wind chimes were hanging from the ceiling like stalactites in a cave. The whole place was a circle, only about eight feet in diameter. Alistair had helped her build it one weekend while the LARP wasn’t going on, and she’d been decorating it for five years ever since. Food dyes acting as magical ingredients were lined up along the shelves, and actual items of witchcraft were scattered among them. Crystals and pebbles were everywhere, and the drying herbs gave the place a strong, but pleasant, smell. Redren could spend hours in the place. Morrigan pulled a heavy book off of one of the shelves, thumping it down on the table. It was a book of Harry Potter potions with the cover changed to make it look like more witch-y. She flipped open to a potion of strength, and began to prepare the ingredients. Sure, it was technically tea, but here, in this little world, it was so much better.

“Light the fire while I prepare,” she said. Redren rolled back his sleeves and cast a fire spell, tossing a match into the tiny wood-burning stove. Morrigan cerimoniously cut off the tops of about five water bottles, pouring them in while chanting. Redren kneeled, presenting her with the box of teabags. She took them, a solemn look on her face as she dumped about six of them into the pot. “Now we wait,” she said, grabbing a wooden spoon and giving the pot a quick stir, repeating the process every couple of minutes.

Redren always enjoyed hanging out with the witch, even if her LARP character was a bit of a pain in the ass. Dog was barking outside, and the sounds of laughter from Leliana and grunt of mild pain from Zevran probably meant nothing good. Redren stayed inside to spare himself from likely seeing Zevran on the ground, an eighty pound boxer on his stomach.

Morrigan and him finished up about an hour later, all the potions put into labeled flasks. Redren wandered outside, and couldn’t help but observe the elf and the bard silently. The way Zevran’s body moved to dodge the bolts from Leliana’s crossbow was mesmerizing. It’s obvious his time acting and his time at work had combined to make an amazingly flexible and agile man. Leliana was firing at him, a smile on her face as she kept him at bay, holding a dagger in her other hand. Her crossbow was a revamped nerf gun, painted and modified so it hardly looked like the original. Eventually, Zevran got in close, scoring four points before Leliana fell back, landing on the ground with an oomph.

“I’ve been bested once again!” She cried out, in a T-pose on the dirt. “Oh, hello.” She said, looking over at Redren.

“The lovely Leliana has been sparring with me, and I do believe she has underestimated my skills several times over,” Zevran laughed. “Let this be known: the Crows’ training is not one to underestimate!”

“Yes, I’ve gathered that by now,” she sighed. “It’s what, two thirty now? Zevran and I are a bit winded, not to mention I’m at about 1 hp right now, so we might want to take it easy for a bit.”

“Here,” Redren sighed, walking over to the woman 'bleeding’ on the biggest floor. “I cast a spell of full healing to Leliana,” he said, raising his staff. She sat up, breathing out heavily.

“Thank you, my good mage,” she smiled.

“Zevran?” Redren asked. “You’ve got any cuts?”

“Ah, yes I believe one of her bolts hit me about here,” he pointed to the side of his stomach. Redren pressed his fingers to Zevran’s side, muttering a small healing spell. “Is all magic so intimate?” He questioned, raising an amused eyebrow.

“Gross,” Morrigan spat as she walked out of the hut, two trays of flasks chinking together. “Leliana, be a dear and take one of these off my hands.” Leliana happily did as she was asked. These little tasks never failed to earn her favor in battle. Redren stayed back, watching the two walk off, Leliana bouncing as she stepped and Morrigan scolding her.

“Well,” Redren started, turning to Zevran. “Would you like to help me put war paint on him?” He pointed to Dog with his thumb, who stuck his tongue out and barked.

“Sure,” Zevran said. “What’s it do? Or is it simply to make him look cool?”

“The paint,” Redren called back as he grabbed it from inside the house, “improves his attack, as it’s enchanted to give him buffs in battle.” He brought out the red paint. “Just dip your fingers in and go ahead.” They spent the next couple of minutes swirling the war paint on the boxer’s brown fur, Dog’s tongue happily hanging out of his mouth.

“A fearsome war hound indeed,” Zevran nodded, admiring their work. He’d given Dog a similar set of curves on his chest, so that their tattoos matched.

“Indeed,” Redren echoed with a soft chuckle. “We’ve got quite some time before sunset, so-” He was cut off by the growl of Zevran’s stomach. “Food?” He laughed.

“That sounds like a good idea!” They started walking back to the main area, Dog on their heels. Several of the Druids, nymphs, and forest witches paused their flowercrown making to wave at the odd little trio, one of them tossing a stick to Dog, who happily took the gift. They always spent much of the day before battle partaking in nature rituals. Flowercrowns could be enchanted to prevent all sorts of magical damage or to improve nature magic. All sorts of things.

They walked into the tavern, Silver Lake, and sat down at the bar. The bartender, Rehael the Angel, handed them both goblets of water, which were always on the house. Silver Lake stood by a small pond, The Silver Lake, about two hundred feet from the barn.

“Nice 'ta see ya again, kiddo,” a man next to Redren said. Redren looked to his left, and then quite sharply down to see the man that spoke. Oghren looked up at him. The man was a fellow roleplayer who had hit the nail pretty hard on the head when he decided to roleplay as a dwarf. He was an actual dwarf, standing at 4'6". He’d joined the LARP about two years ago, looking for something to do when he wasn’t doing yardwork. His wife leaving him was what made him actually go look for something to do with his time, and help wean him off of alcohol. He’d been getting better with time. “Ah, an elf!” He growled, looking at Zevran.

“Is this where we re-ignite the age old dwarf/elf rivalry?” Zevran said, taking a sip of his water.

“At least you look pretty itsy, so I think I could take ya,” Oghren shrugged. “Just watch your back, you pointy-eared little weasel,” he wiggled an accusing armored finger.

“Will do, my fine dwarven friend!

"By the stones,” Oghren sighed, the two massive red braids of his beard swinging as he shook his head. He took a sip of his one-quarter-beer-seventy-five-percent-water. Many other patrons came and went from the place as Zevran and Redren ate a late lunch. Rehael struck up a conversation with Zevran, asking the elf all about his former home. Zevran was incredibly good at staying in character, and talked about Antiva and the Crows as if he was actually there. He was constantly animated, and didn’t hesitate to flirt with the bartender. Oghren scoffed at his display, staying true to his standoffish and constantly annoyed character. His giant latex waraxe strapped to his back wobbled as he swung his feet, since they didn’t reach the floor.

Redren was enjoying listening to the two talk while watching the patrons all around him. His character was certainly one who didn’t let anybody escape his sight, making sure to know everyone’s strengths and weaknesses. Just in case. A Cousland came in, his noble aura protruding from every pore in his body. He was pleasant enough once you got to know him, or so Redren was told. The nobleman didn’t exactly like the mages. Or the nymphs, druids, dwarves, or elves. Most nobles seemed to be like that. There weren’t many of them Moondust, as only Cailan and Anora’s good friends could rise to such a rank. They stayed in the Castle, which was a renovated farmhouse. The place certainly looked like a little castle, and was very nice to look at.

“Redren?” Zevran elbowed him gently in the side, making the mage nearly drop his staff. “You ready to head out?”

“Ah, yeah, sorry, was thinking about… stuff.”

“Oh, what kind of stuff?” Zevran smirked at Redren as they stepped out of Silver Lake. “Dirty stuff, I hope.”

“Please stop being so Antivan,” Redren sighed. “And for the record, I was thinking about everyone around here. About how to defeat them if I need to.”

“Ooh, such useful information for an assassin!” He pushed his shoulder against Redren’s arm, looking up at the mage. “Why don’t we find a good place to discuss such things?” His sly smile was not missed by Redren.

“For you, things mean more than any normal person would assume. Thankfully, I am no normal person, Zevran Arainai.”

“Ah, no fun, you are!” He cried out, laughing. “But I still do wish for you to inform me of these notes you take. As someone in your service, I should know all I need to to protect you, no? My Warden, surely you understand what an advantage that would be!”

“Fine, fine,” Redren sighed, giving in to the elf. “I shall teach you most of what I know.”

“Most?”

“Keeping secrets makes me feel more powerful,” He shrugged. “And do you ever plan on, well, leaving my side, or were you secretly hexed in the Tavern?” Redren was glaring down at Zevran, who was all but glued to his arm.

“An assassin thrives in shadow, my dear,” he said lowly. “And that wide-brimmed hat of yours provides much of such a thing.”

“Lord,” Redren muttered. “One would think an Antivan such as yourself would be accustomed to the sun.”

“Oh, I am,” he chuckled. “I just like being so close to you, Redren.”

“Oh.” Redren blanked, letting his character take over his short circuiting brain. “Remind me why I saved your life, again? Lord, elf, you’re far too much for me to handle!” Zevran gave him a smile full of false innocence. “Hush,” Redren laughed, putting a hand on Zevran’s head and ruffling his hair. Zevran let out a gasp and hastily fixed his hair, putting the little braids back into place. He must’ve done them before they picked Redren up. Did Leliana do it? She’s good with hair. They looked very cute.

It probably took a good couple of hours to talk about all the people Redren could remember off the top of his head. Of course, he’d gotten off track about a dozen times, and had even started recalling a time about a year ago when Cailan had given the elves full reign for a weekend due to them staging an uprising the month before. They’d been tired of not being able to practice their magic in public, and the final straw had been the arrests of an entire little camp of elves for growing oregano, which they called Elfroot, without permission from the King and Queen. They’d argued about how it was all contained in pots and such, but the Queen had not been lenient. He had a feeling the King was still trying to get on the non-humans’ good sides. He hardly noticed how long they’d been talking.

“Ferelden certainly has a fun history,” Zevran commented, giving Dog absent-minded pats on the head.

“Do you have any sorties of Antiva?” Redren was curious about what he’d come up with.

“Oh, my turn is it?” He leaned back on his arms. “What is it you wish to know of Antiva? The Crows? The women? The men?”

“What about the Crows? Surely you must have stories about such an infamous group.”

“Why of course!” He took a deep breath, a lazy smile on his face. “The Crows are known all throughout Antiva as the most reliable group of assassins, as well as the most expensive. They keep their, shall we say, workforce, well fed and entertained, even if it’s the guild masters making the real coin.” He sighed. “A gilded cage it is, lovely but confining. Sure, killings are fun, but freedom, that’s much better. But now that you have removed me from that life, I’m not sure what to do, what should I take advantage of it for?” It was obvious he was simply switching up some details from his life in Spain as a sex worker. He didn’t look upset by it, more indifferent if anything. Of course, he could be lying, keeping a blank face and staying in his fairly aloof character, but Redren couldn’t pick up on it.

“Well, you’re certainly welcome to stay by my side.” Redren said, a faint blush on his cheeks. “I have reason to believe you’d be quite useful.”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” he smiled, leaning forward. “And soon, you’ll be begging to be rid of me!”

“If it comes to that, I have quite a few spells for, shall we say, an effective disposal?”

“Sounds fun!” Zevran went on for a while more, casually building up his world and character, talking about how he’d always wanted to get to know the wild elves. He’d grown up in Antiva City, and had never gotten the opportunity to see the Dalish.

They fell into a comfortable silence, the chirping of birds and insects providing background noise.

“Zevran?” Redren asked after a couple minutes of quiet.

“Yes?”

“I have no idea what time it is.”

“Neither do I,” he laughed, looking up at the sky. He held a hand up to shield his eyes from the sun. “But it seems we’ve been here for quite a while.” The sun was nearly starting to set.

“Let’s see,” Redren thought, “we left the tavern at what, quarter to four? It must be nearly seven now!” Zevran and him laughed in shock. “God, why did you let me ramble on so long? Truly you can’t find Ferelden stories that interesting to let me go on like that.”

“Maybe.” Zevran shrugged, and leaned forward to press a finger to Redren’s chest. “But I find you very interesting.”

“Bloody flirt,” Redren scoffed, looking away to hide his embarrassment. “Truly, you tempt me to use a silencing spell again.”

“You like my voice too much,” Zevran said. “Or else you wouldn’t have have let me go on for so long.” Point taken.

“Shouldn’t we start heading back? If the King wants us at the battlefield starting at sundown, that means we’ve got about an hour and a half.”

“You’re quite dedicated to the rules, my dear mage.” Zevran remarked.

“Do you think I’m so dedicated because I wish to be? No, it’s more of a debt I owe to this place than anything.”

“A debt?”

“Why don’t we talk while we make our way back? We can take a longer route if you wish.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Zevran said, standing up. “And I think I really need to stretch my legs before battle, as it’s never good for an assassin to have his leg asleep in combat!”

“Seems wise to avoid that, yes,” Redren said with a soft laugh. “Come on, Dog,” he added, the boxer getting up happily. His stumpy little tail wagged as the three walked down the rock-lined paths.

“You mentioned something earlier,” Zevran said a couple minutes into their walk. “I’d like to hold you to your promise to explain.”

“I was hoping you’d forget,” he laughed shyly.

“A Crow remembers, my dear, best keep that in mind.”

Redren took a deep breath. “Back in The Circle, I was always treated differently. I wasn’t allowed to be what I was, blood magic isn’t exactly something people find endearing.” What a thinly veiled metaphor, dumbass, he chastised himself. “So I had to hush everything, keep my head down. Alistair was a Templar, a prominent guard type order that made my life a living hell,” he laughed without humor. “I thought he was going to be like the rest, but he offered me a chance to escape. He got me out of that place one weekend a month. Right under the Head Witch Wynne’s nose, too!” Zevran was staring at him, with unusual silence. “This place really saved me, you know,” he rested his staff on his shoulder. “It’s special like that. Gives all sorts of people chances to be what they are, whether it be a Blood Mage or an assassin. I really think I owe Alistair my life, so I’m honored to fight alongside him, no matter what.”

“I see,” Zevran said quietly. “I have no story like your’s but I do believe this has been, good for me. After all, I met you, no?”

“That you did,” Redren smiled. “I can certainly say that we have met.”

“And you’re back to being a pain in the ass,” he laughed. “It’s endearing!”

“It’s likely nearly eight and we’re yet to get back is what it is.”

“Oh, the rumors that will be spread! A several hour long rendezvous in the woods is worth talking about, isn’t it?”

“Hush it!” He gave Zevran a swift little hit with his staff.

“You wound me! May I have a healing spell, please?” He put a finger to his cheek, batting his eyelashes jokingly.

“You’ll regenerate that health in a minute, you baby,” he waved his hand dismissively.

“Aawwee! Am I your baby now?”

“In need of constant supervision, incredibly tiny, wounded so grievously by a minuscule hit? Yes, you are an infant.”

“You’re an angry little mage!” He was shaking his head, flipping a dagger absent-mindedly. “Honestly, releasing a bit of that pent-up tension could benefit us all.”

“Bloody Antivans,” Redren muttered.

They managed to get to the battlefield about thirty seconds before King Cailan did, standing in the back eating two ham sandwiches they picked up from Silver Lake. Cailan went into a a speech about the dangers of Necromancy and unsupervised magic, and that Maria, the only practicing necromancer, was to be executed tomorrow morning. This would be her eleventh execution in two years, since she had enchanted herself using necromancy. She let out a whoop as a gaurd carried her in the fireman position to the shame cage.

“We will try to deal with her,” he sighed. “As I was saying, those with ranged weapons are to stay behind the fence and funnel the undead through the gates. I require two mages to stay and guard the Guild Hall. Rogues are to attempt get behind the horde to backstab, and warriors are to attack head-on.” He raised his sword. “For Ferelden!” The crowd echoed his chants. There were about seventy people in the field, and sixty waiting in the forest. Twenty people were non-combatants, staying behind to guard their shops. Alrael of Silver Lake was a healer, and one of the most valuable in battle. His darker completion gave him higher stealth at night, making him able to sneak past enemy lines to revive the fallen. His glitter-covered black deadlocks were always a sign of God’s favor in combat. The troops were given a couple minutes to do any last minute preparations.

“Hey!” Alistair called out, waving to Redren and Zevran.

“Nice to see you, my friend,” Zevran smiled.

“Don’t do that with me, assassin,” he frowned. “I went to the witch earlier since I couldn’t find you two anywhere, and she said you two had been in the woods for hours! What on Earth were you doing?” Zevran grinned, and Alistair quickly retracted his statement. “You know what, nevermind. What mages and elves get up to in the forest by themselves is not something I need to know.”

“Alistair!” Redren whisper-yelled. “It wasn’t anything like that!”

“I can’t believe a fellow Grey Warden would doubt my skills of perceptiveness so much!” He faked hurt.

“Alistair, Zevran’s being Zevran.” He deadpanned. “Please don’t take anything he says like that with complete faith.”

“Wounded again!” Zevran sighed, leaning with his back against Redren.

“You two are way too much for me to handle,” Alistair said. “I’m glad you’re heading up and I’m staying back with the warriors!” He walked off with a laugh.

“You don’t know when to quit, do you?” Redren laughed, looking down at the elf slumped against his side.

“And if I did, I wouldn’t have picked the assassination job, and I wouldn’t be here with you right now.” Zevran looked up at Redren, who’s mouth was opening and closing, unable to form words to respond. Thankfully, he was spared the need to respond by the sounding of the war horn.

“Let’s go,” Redren said in a relieved exhale. Zevran seemed to forget the exchange in a heartbeat, excitedly running side by side with Redren to engage in combat. Every one of the “undead” had red glow necklaces around their necks, a sign of the magic reanimating them. They had ten health points each, making them a bit tougher than regular players. Redren took his place behind the fence, crouching down and waiting for the horde to get within range. He saw Zevran darting among the trees, ducking behind one and facing Redren. He flashed the mage a wide smile, Redren happily returning it. He heard footsteps behind him, and saw Leliana approach, crouching next to him.

“Bonjour,” she greeted, chugging one of Morrigan’s offensively strong potion-teas. It made her shudder and gain a small bonus to defense. She was already more resilient than Redren, as she wore actual armor, and he only had a robe to defend himself. Mages weren’t the best with armor, though Morrigan was making an active choice to basically flash her tits to the enemy. The stun effect did work, so he gave her credit for that.

Soon enough, the undead were within range, and since the sun had set, they were easy to spot. Oghren and a couple others were heard activating their Beserker abilities, war cries ringing out across the field and carrying into the forest. Redren felt himself falling into the familiar rhythm. An initial hit with the staff: 1 point. A spell of gore: 2 points and 1 point bonus every hit afterward. Dodging, nearly tripping. Another jab with the staff: 2 points. Halfway down. A spell of paralysis and another hit: 2 points. A spell of manipulation, causing the paralysis to wear off, and the target to harm themselves: 3 points. The fellow combatant fell to the ground in defeat. He gave a quick wave to his foe and ran off to heal anybody calling for assistance. The process was repeated many times. He saw Alistair and Oghren fighting near each other, with Shale and Sten not too far behind. Leliana was firing off bolts next to Morrigan, and Zevran was darting between the enemies, weakening them two points with a backstab so that the warriors could finish them off.

After the battle, everyone but Maria was called to the Guild Hall for an after-battle speech. Redren zoned out for most of it, his eyes slowly looking around for Zevran. The elf was nowhere in sight, so he assumed he was stuck behind someone of an average height. Eventually, Cailan stopped talking, and Anora dismissed the players.

“Finally,” he heard Zevran say from behind him. “I was stuck behind some human, and I do not appreciate being hid behind a wall of flesh,” he paused, adding, “clothed flesh, that is.”

“So,” Redren asked, pulling out a chair next to him for the elf, “how was your first battle in Ferelden? Different then Antivan assassinations, I take it.”

“Oh, it was great!” Zevran was beaming, leaning forward on his chair, his hands pressed into the seat between his legs. “The opportunities to backstab were everywhere, and the chaos! Oh, it reminds me of the time The Crows were hired to take out half of a royal family! Now that was a bloodbath,” he sighed in fond memory. “Nothing like a good bloodbath, eh?”

“I completely agree,” Redren smiled. “I always enjoy battle, it really gets the blood pumping, doesn’t it?”

“It does!” Zevran said, exhaling. “So, I presume we’re sleeping at Morrigan’s hut in the woods, yes?”

“It may be cramped, but yes,” Redren said, a bit of a grimace on his face. “We,” he sighed. “We may need to share a bedroll.”

“How every great story starts, no?”

“I am begging you not to get any ideas.”

“Too late, my Warden, too late.”

“I assumed as much,” Redren laughed. “Shall we get going? Magic really drains me, especially the blood magic I was using.”

“What kind of magic is that?” Zevran asked, looking up at Redren. “The Crows, we rarely have magic-users, so I know very little of such arts.”

Redren launched into an explanation of how blood magic worked, lasting a good couple minutes. They had gotten about twenty feet into the forest when Zevran stopped, staring ahead. The path was lit softly by dimly glowing stones, giving the forest floor a winding green river. Redren couldn’t really appreciate the view, however, as he was transfixed with the way the fireflies’ yellow lights reflected in Zevran’s honey-coloured eyes. He didn’t even notice when the other man’s eyes shifted to look into his own until he blinked.

“Sorry,” he sighed.

“What are you apologizing for, Redren?” Zevran’s soft smile sent a wave of nausea through Redren’s stomach.

“Nothing, old habit,” he shrugged. “Most people don’t appreciate strange looks from strange mages.”

“I am not most people,” he laughed, turning back to the path and walking ahead. Redren had to jog a bit to catch up. They eventually made it to Morrigan’s dwelling, where a small campfire had been lit. Morrigan and Leliana were in their nightgowns, sitting on a log. Dog seemed to have followed Leliana back, as he was asleep a couple feet from the fire.

“And they finally return,” Morrigan said, not looking up from the fire. “I’ve been waiting for you two. Leliana insists waiting up for you fools.”

“That I do, yes,” she laughed, looking up at Zevran and Redren. “I wanted to make sure you were coming back, and not spending more time in the woods.” She smirked. “Reminds me of Orlais,” she sighed fondly. Redren as thankful for the dark as it helped hide his blush a bit.

“Unfortunately our lovely mage has not only a sick for magic, but one up his ass, as well,” Zevran lamented, making Leliana giggle.

“Don’t worry, eventually they come around. Right, dear?”

“Please remove your hand from my thigh, bard, before I turn you into an actual brainless songbird.”

“Why don’t you two go get changed into your nightclothes? Just tell us when you’re done.” Leliana shooed them inside.

Zevran started stripping the second the door shut, not giving Redren enough time to breathe. The man’s chest was clean shaven, matching his arms and legs. His tattoos also seemed to not be limited to his face, as they stretched around his body like serpents. He shook his head, undoing the think brown ribbon that held his robe together. He undid the two buttons that held the sides of the fabric together as well, holding the robe together loosely with his hand as he reached into his backpack to grab his nightclothes. He turned away from Zevran and slid on the long pair of brown pajama pants, allowing the robe to slide off before he put his white tank top on.

“And here I was hoping for a show,” Zevran lamented as Redren turned back around. The man wore nothing but a pair of short, very short, shorts. He was sadly removing his elf ears, as they were unfortunately uncomfortable to sleep in. He set them on the side table that he’d placed his armor on. “Back in The Crows,” he stated, “nobody ever changed in front of each other, as the most vulnerable a person is is when they’re in the nude. A shame you have no such trust,” he tsked.

“I’m not falling for that, assassin,” Redren laughed. “And here,” he took off his shirt, tossing it to Zevran. “Please be decent. If not for me, then for the women.”

“A fine compromise, my friend,” he nodded as he slipped the top over his shoulders. It was slightly large on him length-wise, covering up to the very ends of his shorts. Redren opened the door and nodded his head to the girls, indicating that they were changed. Dog was asked to stay outside, as Morrigan did not want him in the hut. Morrigan took her place on her bedroll, Leliana following suit, squishing herself up against the unamused witch. Redren laid down on the floor, and scooted over to make room for Zevran. Not that there was much room to make, though.

He could feel Zevran pressing into him, heating his left side up like it was on fire. He’d never shared a bed with anyone else, a bit of sad thought for someone in their early twenties, but still, the feeling wasn’t all too welcome. It was hot, the fake fur blanket heating the bedroll like a sauna. He stared at the ceiling, and knew Zevran was doing the same. The only light was from an electric tea candle that rested on a high shelf on the other side of the hut, ten feet away, since the campfire had been doused before the girls came in. He could hear Zevran’s breathing slow down, an indication that he was falling asleep. Leliana was already out cold, and Morrigan hadn’t been long after her. Despite the discomfort he’d previously felt, Redren started to enjoy lying next to Zevran, and he felt himself being soothed by the man’s steady breathing. His eyes started to feel heavy, and before he knew it, the world faded softly to black.

…

The first thing he noticed when he woke up was that he was in a completely different position. He’d started off on his back, and now he was on his left side. His right leg and arm were wrapped around Zevran, in what was likely an incredibly right grip. He had also managed to shift up, so that Zevran’s head was nestled underneath his own. All in all, a very cuddle-y position. Shit.

“Now now, no need for such language,” he jumped when Zevran spoke, right out of his previous position.

“I am so sorry!” He apologized, his face red.

“No no,” Zevran laughed, sitting up. “It has been a while since I��ve shared my bed with another, and never so innocently!” His tone was both mocking and sincere.

“Well I, for one, am very happy I didn’t end up like your previous bedmates,” he sighed.

“Ravised by a very beautiful Antivan elf?”

“Likely dead, judging by your career.”

“I suppose one never came without the other,” he shrugged. “But since I am now serving you, I can assure that you’d only get the one.” He stood up, stretching, and Redren couldn’t help but notice how Zevran was wearing his shirt, and about how it rode up slightly when he stretched, exposing a tiny bit of his toned stomach. “Staring, are we?” Zevran laughed.

“That killing you offered sounds very nice.”

Zevran just chuckled, getting into his armor. Redren followed suit, almost not noticing how he mindlessly started changing without being so nervous. He pulled on his robe, and was nearly ready to drag Zevran out of the hut since he was taking a very long time, when he felt him arm being grabbed.

“And where do you think you’re going? Perhaps this is a Ferelden mage thing, and I’m being culturally insensitive, but as I’m supposed to be serving and protecting you, I cannot allow you to go out of this place without your hair brushed!” He shook his head in mock dismay, grabbing the brush from the table and gently shoving the mage to the floor. He started at the ends, holding Redren’s long ginger hair as he worked through the knots that had managed to appear while he was sleeping. As he worked, Redren felt himself slowly leaning back, relaxing into the other man’s touch. He didn’t say anything, but Redren could tell Zevran was enjoying his reaction. “Done.”

“Ah,” Redren ran a hand through his hair. “Thanks.” He glanced over at the wall clock, which claimed it was already eleven.

“It was my pleasure,” He smiled. “And based on your facial expression, it was your pleasure, too.”

“Let’s just get going.”

“Lead the way,” Zevran bowed, putting on his ear extensions.

The day was in all honesty, a blur. King Cailan staged another execution for Maria, who laid down on a slab for about ten minutes before she sat up and went to the tavern for a drink. Anora gathered everyone in the hall for another speech, starting the celebrations, and begrudgingly allowing the magic-users to use magic. Redren and Zevran met up with Morrigan, Leliana, and Alistair, and decided to simply have a good time, eating and watching Leliana break out her recorder and show off her bardic skills. They all sat and watched her, Zevran being the most interested. He had known she was a music student, but Leliana had a gift for recorder covers for basically anything. She was a strange talent all in herself.

The day flew by, like all other Sundays seemed to. The moon had come out, hanging big and bright in the night sky. It was full, and the sky was perfectly clear. Out here in the countryside, the stars were in full view. Many of the witches, wizards, and other magic users were performing ceremonies. He wasn’t a big part of such things, and as a blood mage, he wasn’t big on nature magic. Morrigan was messing around with Leliana, prodding her with her staff, making the bard giggle.

He got so swept up in everything, he hardly noticed Zevran’s hand on his shoulder.

“Would you mind talking to me for a moment?” He didn’t wear his usual carefree smile, so Redren wasn’t sure what he was feeling. “I promise it’s not anything bad,” he said, reassuring Redren with a hand on his shoulder.

“Alright,” he agreed. “Would you like to go somewhere more private, or…?”

“That would be appreciated, yes.” Zevran grabbed Redren’s hand, and hoped the other man couldn’t feel how nervous he was. Zevran took him back to the forest, where it was dark enough for only the glowing rocks to be visible underneath the cover of the the trees. The moon lit the area, soft rays of light dancing as the trees swayed in the slight breeze.

“What,” Redren started. “Uh, what did you want to talk to me about?”

“I wanted to offer you my gratitude,” he said, looking down for a moment. “I’ve had,” he paused, and looked up at the taller man, “I have had so much fun.” His smile was wide. “I wanted to thank you, for making all this possible for me.”

“No, no, it was really Leliana. You, you shouldn’t be, you shouldn’t be thanking me,” Redren said, stumbling over his words.

“But you could’ve easily told her no, that you didn’t want anyone else in your group,” he countered.

“But-”

“Oh hush,” Zevran laughed. “Can’t I just say thank you? If anything, simply for being so sweet to me.” Redren wasn’t sure what to say, and he didn’t have to. Zevran stood up on his tip-toes, gently grabbing the back of Redren’s neck to pull him down. He placed his lips on Redren’s, and kissed him. Redren’d never been kissed before, and he could hardly think. It wasn’t a fevered exchange, or heavy, or passionate. It was just, soft and incredibly romantic. What else to expect from an Antivan? He thought, closing his eyes and pressing a hand to the small of Zevran’s back.

Eventually, Zevran pulled away, breathing fairly heavily. Redren was sure he was, too.

“If that wasn’t wanted,” he started, looking apologetic, “I’m incredibly sorry, but I-”

“Oh don’t worry,” Redren cut him off, laughing a bit to hide his excitement. “That was not unwanted!”

“Ah, good!” Zevran said, letting out a relieved breath. “You just looked so shocked, I wasn’t sure!”

“Well, I mean, I’ve never really been kissed before, so…” Zevran looked at him like he was insane. “Are you kidding m-” the sound of a dog barking cut him off.

“There you two are!” Alistair called out, jogging to where they were, Dog on his heels. “It’s getting late, and… wait, what are you two doing?” He squinted, looking at them in the low light.

“Is it such a crime to want to get to know your fellow Grey Warden better?”

“You know what? I don’t want to know. Morrigan and Leliana have already packed stuff up, and I was sent to retrieve you for the closing, which is in like, ten minutes.”

They followed him back to the field, where King Cailan was standing on a wooden box, Anora on the grass next to him.

“I thank you all for coming,” he began, a smile on his face. “It has been an amazing weekend, and I hope to see you all next month! We are incredibly thankful for the turnout, and I hope we only continue to grow!” Anora took the makeshift stage, breaking character to smile.

“And I would like to say, that regardless of magic ability or race, you all contribute something to make this place special,” She put a hand to her chest. “And I thank you.”

Everyone eventually dispersed, heading back to their cars. Morrigan and Leliana came over to where Zevran, Redren, Aliastair, and Dog were, holding backpacks, including Alistair’s, which he’d left with them when he went to find Zevran and Redren.

“Time to head out,” Leliana sighed. She led them back to the van, tossing their things into the back. Morrigan once again took the wheel, as not only was it her mother’s van, but she was the only one who could stay awake reliably the whole way back.

“So,” she started, looking in the rear-view mirror at the rest of the people in the back, “how was your first LARP, my elven companion?” Zevran launched into an excited explanation of how much he loved it, that he had an amazing time, and that he’d be honored if they invited him back.

“Of course we’ll invite you again!” Leliana laughed from the passenger seat. “You were very fun to have along!” She looked back to where Alistair was, raising an eyebrow at the mildly concerned expression on his face. “What’s up, Alistair? Got something on your mind?”

He took a deep breath. “Redren and Zevran were shagging in the woods!”

“Alistair!” Redren yelled, more shocked than upset.

“I’m so proud!” Morrigan laughed. “Finally!”

“Morrigan!”

“Losing your virginity at a LARP? Wonderful!”

“I did not!”

“Awww, a shame,” Leliana sighed. “I thought we were one in the same, there!”

“What?” Redren and Alistair said at the same time, making Zevran suppress a laugh.

“What? I had a beautiful witch offer me a dark ritual in the woods, and I accepted! Had a great time, got a girlfriend and a permanent plus three health!”

“So that’s where that bonus came from…” Redren muttered.

“You know, my lovely Morrigan, you’ve given me an idea,” Zevran said before he was quickly shushed by Redren’s hand over his mouth.

“Don’t.” He narrowed his eyes. “Lick this hand all you want, I don’t fear it. I’ve had that mouth on my mouth.” Zevran’s response of good point was muffled.

Eventually, they all fell into quiet, the hum of the van as it drove through the night calming.

…

The next LARP was amazing. As was the next, and the next, and the next. He and Zevran had officially become a thing, and he couldn’t be happier about it. Dog truly was the only one Alistair had now. Redren had worked up the neve to give Zevran the pair of Dalish leather gloves he’d embroidered. Zevran wore them all winter long. Their whole little group had been invited to one of Zevran’s theatre productions, and Redren couldn’t have been a prouder boyfriend. He could tell that the Live Action Role Playing had helped, as his character tame through in every line. And God, did he look good! How Redren had managed to snag someone like that, he’d never know.

Grandma Wynne had been supportive, and if anything, too supportive, saying things like It’s a changing world! or I’m so happy you could find someone! General happy grandma things. Zevran made sure to visit him almost every morning, sitting at the barstools and watching Redren wait tables. Redren had even visited Zevran at his job, although such an experience wasn’t exactly good for his more innocent heart.

All in all, they were very content to be the nerds they were.

#zevwarden week #jesus this is LONG #zevran arainai #zevran x warden #da warden #da morrigan #da leliana #alistair theirin #dragon age #dragon age origins #fanfiction #im so sorry this is late!!!!#original content

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