A few drabbles.
Nov. 4th, 2007 12:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
midnightdiddleVarying fandoms, coming as I find them in my chat history.
"Lloyd, my--" Kratos stutters, and Lloyd can't breathe, and he can hear himself panting, and he feels hot, tingling, like he's about to fall apart. "My Lloyd--"
Kratos/Lloyd, dub-con of the Kratos kind. LOL I HAVE NO SHAME. Set sometime between the seals. It means a whole lot more if you know everything about Kratos and Lloyd.
Grown-Up Kisses
Every night, when they're gathered around the fire, backs to the dark, Lloyd nurses his pride. It prickles and stings, because every day, Kratos says something, or does something, that makes Lloyd feel pathetically young and stupid and naive. And Lloyd might not be as smart as Genis, or the Professor, and he knows he might just be a kid who grew up in the middle of nowhere, but he still has his pride, and Kratos' voice always makes Lloyd's pride smart.
"You should eat," Kratos says, like he's well-meaning, like he's looking out for a younger brother, or a little kid, and Lloyd chokes back his frustrations. "You want to keep up your strength."
"I know," Lloyd can't help but snap, and he grabs the plate Kratos is holding out, spinning to face the dark. Genis snickers, and the Professor gives a long-suffering pride, and Lloyd's pride hurts all the more.
"Shut up, Genis," Lloyd barks, and he storms off, hating absolutely everything about this quest, the way Colette's losing more and more of herself, and Lloyd's carrying more and more of her, and the lies are so heavy, and it's so hard to keep them locked behind his tongue, a secret from everyone. And he's not a kid, not even when everyone acts like he is, because Lloyd's holding all of this together, holding Colette together, too, and damn them all.
"You shouldn't venture too far beyond the firelight," Kratos says, right next to Lloyd, and Lloyd jumps, spills his food onto the ground. He scowls and kicks at the ruined bread and watery stew.
"I'm not a kid," he says, because he wants to say it, always wants to say it. Wants everyone to know that he's not that stupid, he does know what he's getting into. He knows more than they ever credit him for, and he doesn't need credit, but he wants a little trust, because he trusts them, and why can't they trust him?
"I-- We know that."
"Then why don't you act like it? I don't need you to take care of me. I don't need a mom."
Kratos makes a strange noise, says, "Lloyd," in a strained voice, and Lloyd turns, furious.
"I don't need," he says, and then he kisses Kratos, because he doesn't know what he doesn't need, doesn't know how to say it. He doesn't have words like Genis and the Professor do, and he can't make everyone feel better like Colette can, and he can't even protect Colette like Kratos. He doesn't have anything, not really, and so he grabs Kratos' collar, rises up on his toes, and kisses him.
"Lloyd!" Kratos' hands are tight around Lloyd's arms, his fingers digging in. Lloyd hisses, feels his toes barely brush the ground. "We can't do this."
Lloyd squirms, forces himself close enough to press an open-mouthed kiss to Kratos' neck, where his collarbone is sharp.
"Why not?" he asks when Kratos makes a broken sound. "Why not? I'm not a kid, I trust you-- Why can't I trust you, why can't I--"
"Lloyd, please," Kratos says, but his hands are loosening, and Lloyd's feet are touching the ground. When Lloyd looks up, Kratos' eyes are clenched shut, and his mouth just barely open, enough for his breath to hiss.
"I don't want," Lloyd says again, stumbling, because he can't think of what to say to get this, and he wants this, needs this, like water or air or something, and if he could just scream it, it'd work, but he can't say it, can't make it right, so he shoves his head against Kratos' neck, kissing in the sloppy way he saw the kids in Iselia kiss behind the schoolhouse.
"Lloyd, I'm--" Kratos' hands spasm, and Kratos' voice breaks again, and his mouth is soft on Lloyd's, soft and slow and tender, the way the adults would kiss their hellos and goodbyes. "Lloyd."
"I need," Lloyd says, "I need, I need," and Kratos' mouth is slow, too slow, and soft, too soft, and it's the kind of kiss Lloyd always thought he'd share with Colette, but Colette can't feel him now.
"I'm sorry," Kratos says as he slips his hand down the front of Lloyd's pants, and Lloyd shakes against Kratos, breathing ragged against Kratos' shoulder, cloth rubbing against his cheek, skin against his mouth.
"Lloyd, my--" Kratos stutters, and Lloyd can't breathe, and he can hear himself panting, and he feels hot, tingling, like he's about to fall apart. "My Lloyd--"
He comes hot and sticky in his pants, rutting against Kratos' hand, his hands fisting the back of Kratos' shirt. Kratos is pressing his face against Lloyd's hair, and his arms are tight around Lloyd, holding him close until Lloyd can barely breathe.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Kratos says, and Lloyd's hair is growing wet, and Lloyd doesn't want to think about it, doesn't want to see Kratos like this, doesn't want to be on this stupid quest with Colette losing everything that's her, and everyone else falling apart, too, and Lloyd carrying everyone's secrets except Kratos', because Kratos is the only one who's never all there, not really.
"I'm sorry--"
Lloyd's never felt so young before.
Gai's hands are big on the spatula, look almost ridiculous, but Ebisu can't laugh.
Gai/Ebisu, birthday cakes, and pink was always her favorite color. <3
Birthday Cakes
Ebisu watches Gai frost the cake with care, spatula slowly covering the marbley pink and white with more pink, pale and delicate looking. Gai's hands are big on the spatula, look almost ridiculous, but Ebisu can't laugh. He watches, sitting on the other side of the counter, and when Gai pauses, cake covered with smooth icing, Ebisu pushes the decorations closer.
Gai's fingers fumble at the little silver balls and white flowers, but he gets them into place with sheer force of will, tapping the little decorations of spun sugar into the frosting. Ebisu frowns when one of the silver balls slips, clatters across the counter, and he reaches out, picking it up to tap it back into place.
In the end, the cake looks near-perfect. There are little errors here and there, and the frosting is little mushed, but all in all, it looks good. Gai picks up the tube of white frosting, and writes "Ten-Ten" in looping characters, doodles a kunai and shuriken in the far right corner.
"It looks good," Ebisu says when Gai steps back, pink-stained fingers clutching the tube of frosting. Gai turns a tight smile at him.
"Pink was always her favorite color."
x
It rains that night, drops scattering across the roof. Ebisu lies awake, staring at the ceiling, and Gai lies next to him, just as still. The streetlights waver through the rain-
smeared windows, and Ebisu watches the lights skitter across the ceiling.
By the time morning comes, the rain is gone, but the world is drenched, puddles scattered here and there. Ebisu follows Gai to the monument, and they stand there, looking at the melted cake. There's not much left, just some clumps of pink and white, and a few stubborn silver balls, misshapen.
"She always looked pretty in pink," Gai says, and Ebisu kisses him. Gai's mouth tastes sour, and his lips are cold, and Ebisu shoves his hands into his pockets, waiting for Gai to come home.
Ten-Ten is nineteen, and three years without her birthday cake.
"Then I shall look to you, Judge Magister, to do well by this child."
Larsa and Gabranth, and bastards are never loved. Larsa/Penelo, but more Larsa/Drink. And stuff. And babies! Bastard babies~
Father's Child
He found Larsa leaning over a balcony's balustrade, arms hanging down, fingers spread wide. Basch paused, gave a muffled cough from beneath his helm, and frowned when Larsa turned tired, bleary eyes at him.
"My Lord," he said, and frowned more when Larsa turned, sprawling loose-limbed back against the balustrade. The air smelled of liquor and sweat, and too-strong cologne.
"My Judge," Larsa mimicked back, like a well-trained parrot. His fingers shook a bit as he pushed back his hair, nose curling distastefully. "It is a hot summer, Gabranth."
"The heat is not kind to those who take to drink." Basch stepped closer, until he could rest his heavy hands upon the twining marble edging the balcony. "You are drunk, my Lord."
"And Penelo is pregnant. One of these shall last longer than the other, I believe." Larsa's voice sharpened, and his hands clenched the marble beside Basch's hands. "I do not care for children, Gabranth. They are uncontrollable, and have no reason to their motions."
"You, too, were a child," Basch said, and Larsa's laugher sounded as a bark.
"I have not felt as a child for quite a time, Judge Magister." Larsa moved closer, and his voice fell, and the summer heat was heavy. "I know not how it was in Landis, Gabranth, but in Archadia, fathers do not take kindly to their sons, and less so to their daughters. Particularly to bastards," and Larsa's voice was slick with distaste.
"This Archadia," Basch said, and he wondered if Larsa could ever hear words beyond the echoes of his father and brothers, "is far different from the Archadia of your father."
"Is it?" Larsa frowned, looked particulary distrusting, and rolled back, long limbs splaying out across the balustrade once more, fingers stretching past Basch. "Then I shall look to you, Judge Magister, to do well by this child. I would that it has one kindness in its life, my little bastard."
"My Lord," Basch said, and when Larsa smiled, sharp mouth and sharper eyes, he looked his father's son. In Archadia, blood ran strong, and echoes screamed loud.
"Lloyd, my--" Kratos stutters, and Lloyd can't breathe, and he can hear himself panting, and he feels hot, tingling, like he's about to fall apart. "My Lloyd--"
Kratos/Lloyd, dub-con of the Kratos kind. LOL I HAVE NO SHAME. Set sometime between the seals. It means a whole lot more if you know everything about Kratos and Lloyd.
Grown-Up Kisses
Every night, when they're gathered around the fire, backs to the dark, Lloyd nurses his pride. It prickles and stings, because every day, Kratos says something, or does something, that makes Lloyd feel pathetically young and stupid and naive. And Lloyd might not be as smart as Genis, or the Professor, and he knows he might just be a kid who grew up in the middle of nowhere, but he still has his pride, and Kratos' voice always makes Lloyd's pride smart.
"You should eat," Kratos says, like he's well-meaning, like he's looking out for a younger brother, or a little kid, and Lloyd chokes back his frustrations. "You want to keep up your strength."
"I know," Lloyd can't help but snap, and he grabs the plate Kratos is holding out, spinning to face the dark. Genis snickers, and the Professor gives a long-suffering pride, and Lloyd's pride hurts all the more.
"Shut up, Genis," Lloyd barks, and he storms off, hating absolutely everything about this quest, the way Colette's losing more and more of herself, and Lloyd's carrying more and more of her, and the lies are so heavy, and it's so hard to keep them locked behind his tongue, a secret from everyone. And he's not a kid, not even when everyone acts like he is, because Lloyd's holding all of this together, holding Colette together, too, and damn them all.
"You shouldn't venture too far beyond the firelight," Kratos says, right next to Lloyd, and Lloyd jumps, spills his food onto the ground. He scowls and kicks at the ruined bread and watery stew.
"I'm not a kid," he says, because he wants to say it, always wants to say it. Wants everyone to know that he's not that stupid, he does know what he's getting into. He knows more than they ever credit him for, and he doesn't need credit, but he wants a little trust, because he trusts them, and why can't they trust him?
"I-- We know that."
"Then why don't you act like it? I don't need you to take care of me. I don't need a mom."
Kratos makes a strange noise, says, "Lloyd," in a strained voice, and Lloyd turns, furious.
"I don't need," he says, and then he kisses Kratos, because he doesn't know what he doesn't need, doesn't know how to say it. He doesn't have words like Genis and the Professor do, and he can't make everyone feel better like Colette can, and he can't even protect Colette like Kratos. He doesn't have anything, not really, and so he grabs Kratos' collar, rises up on his toes, and kisses him.
"Lloyd!" Kratos' hands are tight around Lloyd's arms, his fingers digging in. Lloyd hisses, feels his toes barely brush the ground. "We can't do this."
Lloyd squirms, forces himself close enough to press an open-mouthed kiss to Kratos' neck, where his collarbone is sharp.
"Why not?" he asks when Kratos makes a broken sound. "Why not? I'm not a kid, I trust you-- Why can't I trust you, why can't I--"
"Lloyd, please," Kratos says, but his hands are loosening, and Lloyd's feet are touching the ground. When Lloyd looks up, Kratos' eyes are clenched shut, and his mouth just barely open, enough for his breath to hiss.
"I don't want," Lloyd says again, stumbling, because he can't think of what to say to get this, and he wants this, needs this, like water or air or something, and if he could just scream it, it'd work, but he can't say it, can't make it right, so he shoves his head against Kratos' neck, kissing in the sloppy way he saw the kids in Iselia kiss behind the schoolhouse.
"Lloyd, I'm--" Kratos' hands spasm, and Kratos' voice breaks again, and his mouth is soft on Lloyd's, soft and slow and tender, the way the adults would kiss their hellos and goodbyes. "Lloyd."
"I need," Lloyd says, "I need, I need," and Kratos' mouth is slow, too slow, and soft, too soft, and it's the kind of kiss Lloyd always thought he'd share with Colette, but Colette can't feel him now.
"I'm sorry," Kratos says as he slips his hand down the front of Lloyd's pants, and Lloyd shakes against Kratos, breathing ragged against Kratos' shoulder, cloth rubbing against his cheek, skin against his mouth.
"Lloyd, my--" Kratos stutters, and Lloyd can't breathe, and he can hear himself panting, and he feels hot, tingling, like he's about to fall apart. "My Lloyd--"
He comes hot and sticky in his pants, rutting against Kratos' hand, his hands fisting the back of Kratos' shirt. Kratos is pressing his face against Lloyd's hair, and his arms are tight around Lloyd, holding him close until Lloyd can barely breathe.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Kratos says, and Lloyd's hair is growing wet, and Lloyd doesn't want to think about it, doesn't want to see Kratos like this, doesn't want to be on this stupid quest with Colette losing everything that's her, and everyone else falling apart, too, and Lloyd carrying everyone's secrets except Kratos', because Kratos is the only one who's never all there, not really.
"I'm sorry--"
Lloyd's never felt so young before.
Gai's hands are big on the spatula, look almost ridiculous, but Ebisu can't laugh.
Gai/Ebisu, birthday cakes, and pink was always her favorite color. <3
Birthday Cakes
Ebisu watches Gai frost the cake with care, spatula slowly covering the marbley pink and white with more pink, pale and delicate looking. Gai's hands are big on the spatula, look almost ridiculous, but Ebisu can't laugh. He watches, sitting on the other side of the counter, and when Gai pauses, cake covered with smooth icing, Ebisu pushes the decorations closer.
Gai's fingers fumble at the little silver balls and white flowers, but he gets them into place with sheer force of will, tapping the little decorations of spun sugar into the frosting. Ebisu frowns when one of the silver balls slips, clatters across the counter, and he reaches out, picking it up to tap it back into place.
In the end, the cake looks near-perfect. There are little errors here and there, and the frosting is little mushed, but all in all, it looks good. Gai picks up the tube of white frosting, and writes "Ten-Ten" in looping characters, doodles a kunai and shuriken in the far right corner.
"It looks good," Ebisu says when Gai steps back, pink-stained fingers clutching the tube of frosting. Gai turns a tight smile at him.
"Pink was always her favorite color."
x
It rains that night, drops scattering across the roof. Ebisu lies awake, staring at the ceiling, and Gai lies next to him, just as still. The streetlights waver through the rain-
smeared windows, and Ebisu watches the lights skitter across the ceiling.
By the time morning comes, the rain is gone, but the world is drenched, puddles scattered here and there. Ebisu follows Gai to the monument, and they stand there, looking at the melted cake. There's not much left, just some clumps of pink and white, and a few stubborn silver balls, misshapen.
"She always looked pretty in pink," Gai says, and Ebisu kisses him. Gai's mouth tastes sour, and his lips are cold, and Ebisu shoves his hands into his pockets, waiting for Gai to come home.
Ten-Ten is nineteen, and three years without her birthday cake.
"Then I shall look to you, Judge Magister, to do well by this child."
Larsa and Gabranth, and bastards are never loved. Larsa/Penelo, but more Larsa/Drink. And stuff. And babies! Bastard babies~
Father's Child
He found Larsa leaning over a balcony's balustrade, arms hanging down, fingers spread wide. Basch paused, gave a muffled cough from beneath his helm, and frowned when Larsa turned tired, bleary eyes at him.
"My Lord," he said, and frowned more when Larsa turned, sprawling loose-limbed back against the balustrade. The air smelled of liquor and sweat, and too-strong cologne.
"My Judge," Larsa mimicked back, like a well-trained parrot. His fingers shook a bit as he pushed back his hair, nose curling distastefully. "It is a hot summer, Gabranth."
"The heat is not kind to those who take to drink." Basch stepped closer, until he could rest his heavy hands upon the twining marble edging the balcony. "You are drunk, my Lord."
"And Penelo is pregnant. One of these shall last longer than the other, I believe." Larsa's voice sharpened, and his hands clenched the marble beside Basch's hands. "I do not care for children, Gabranth. They are uncontrollable, and have no reason to their motions."
"You, too, were a child," Basch said, and Larsa's laugher sounded as a bark.
"I have not felt as a child for quite a time, Judge Magister." Larsa moved closer, and his voice fell, and the summer heat was heavy. "I know not how it was in Landis, Gabranth, but in Archadia, fathers do not take kindly to their sons, and less so to their daughters. Particularly to bastards," and Larsa's voice was slick with distaste.
"This Archadia," Basch said, and he wondered if Larsa could ever hear words beyond the echoes of his father and brothers, "is far different from the Archadia of your father."
"Is it?" Larsa frowned, looked particulary distrusting, and rolled back, long limbs splaying out across the balustrade once more, fingers stretching past Basch. "Then I shall look to you, Judge Magister, to do well by this child. I would that it has one kindness in its life, my little bastard."
"My Lord," Basch said, and when Larsa smiled, sharp mouth and sharper eyes, he looked his father's son. In Archadia, blood ran strong, and echoes screamed loud.
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no subject
Date: 2007-11-04 08:20 pm (UTC)...Gai/Ebisu is pretty damn hot too. :
no subject
Date: 2007-11-07 07:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-05 12:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-07 07:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-10 07:40 am (UTC)I'm rather ambivalent on incest fics, but. I spent the majority of Tales of Symphonia rooting for Luke/Kratos, and then when I found out Kratos was his dad-- I had to do at least one, especially one that happened before Luke found out Kratos was his father. a;dkflj The hurt feelings in Symphonia~ I loved it.