#a pathetic loser. who only spends time on his phone. like a loser. cause its the only thing i can even fucking rely on huh?

[the-wee-woo-royal]

Table For One

WOOO!! ITS MY BDAY!!! I decided to finally finish an old wip of mine as a gift to myself.

This is actually the first fic id ever written over a year and a half ago But i was too scared to post it. It took a lot of editing and re-writing but i can now say im pretty confident with it.

Tagging (dm or comment to be added/removed): @obsidianfr3sk @greenalmond  @galaxy-creationz  @healing-winston-pratt @justsomerandomficsforrenegades

Almost an hour later (Yes, this was taking longer than expected.) he got a quick chime on his Renegade communicator from Prism. It was a brief message but the only word he caught was ‘Simon’, before the man himself stormed into his office.

There was a slight discomfort in Hugh telling him he was forgetting something important. He tried to wrap his head around it, but it was most likely another paper he needed to sign or something to approve. Sitting at his desk, he continued his work. The uneasy feeling was still present, but this time he brushed it off. Tonight he would get everything done and be able to go home in peace. 

And he was not happy. 

For as long as Hugh knew him, Simon radiated confidence, even when he didn’t completely feel it, but now he looked crushed. His eyes were rimmed red and his face was flushed, like he’d been crying… a lot. His usual tall stance was replaced by Simon holding himself, like he was on the edge of breaking.

 “Oh, My Love, what’s wro-.” Hugh cut himself off, as Simon seemed to fume at his words. Hugh took in his slightly formal attire.

It wasn’t a stray paper he’d forgotten. 

Hugh could already tell he’d be in loads of trouble, “Dinner,” he mumbled, lowering his head in shame. He looked back at Simon, who was breathing hard. He has his jaw set and his eyebrows knit together, and Hugh could tell more tears were threatening to fall. 

Simon was beyond furious, but it hurt even more that his husband completely forgot about him.

“Yeah,” Simon said sourly, “Dinner.”

They both stayed silent for a moment, and Hugh knew his actions would cause a bigger punishment than just having to sleep on the couch tonight.

Simon continued to look at Hugh for some sort of explanation. Maybe an apology? Hugh looked at his desk for a moment, he really didn’t know what to say because the outright truth was pathetic. Forgetting?! About the love of his life? 

He met Simon's eyes again, Simon crossed his arms and looked at him in a way that silently said what the hell?

Hugh took a breath, “Love,” he started softly, which caused Simon to scoff, “I’m sorry. I- um, I just- uh, just-” 

Simon cut him off, “You just what, Hugh? What was SO important that you completely bailed on me.” His voice getting a little louder with every word. 

There was another beat of silence, “Listen, I needed-” Hugh started, accidentally having it come out more fierce and sharp than he meant it to. He was instantly cut off again, regretting the start to that. 

Simon was not in the mood for his crap excuses right now and not with that tone.

“NO!” Simon yelled, “DON’T GET TO TELL ME TO LISTEN” Simon took a breath, trying to calm himself, but failed miserably. He glared directly into Hugh’s eyes. “I- I waited for you. An HOUR, HUGH, AN HOUR!” Simon’s natural calm composure was gone, he was shaking now, and a few escaped tears rolling down his cheek. “30 MINUTES IN THE RESTAURANT, LOOKING LIKE A COMPLETE LOSER WHO GOT STOOD UP! AND THEN  ANOTHER 30 FOR YOU IN THE CAR! WHY DIDN'T YOU PICK UP YOUR PHONE? WHY DID YOU IGNORE ME?! WHY DID YOU FORGET ME?!” Simon started sobbing into his clenched fists, Hugh rushed to him but Simon put a hand out to stop him from getting closer. “I had to call Prism and have her tell me that you were still here! WORKING! YOU PROMISED ME WE WOULD SPEND TIME TOGETHER! THAT WE’D FINALLY GET A BREAK! BECAUSE I NEEDED YOU!... an-and I thought you needed me too.” So much anger dissolved into sadness after his outburst, Hugh gently grabbed Simon’s outstretched hand and pulled him into a tight embrace. There was a moment of hesitation before Simon buried his face in Hugh's chest. They stood there for a few minutes, only Simon’s crying echoing in the room.

Hugh knew that an apology was worthless at the moment. He messed up, again. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Not that they had too much spare time to start with, but most of their canceled dates were because of him. It was worse at the moment, because this was the first time he actually forgot.  

There was no way to tell how long they stood there, but it was long enough for Simon’s tears to slow and pull away from Hugh. 

Hugh straightened himself a little and looked down at his husband. He was never good with people crying and sadness, but he tried anyway. Hopefully, something was better than nothing right now, although it was unlikely, “I’m so sorry, I had so much work to do. I should have remembered to notify you,” Hugh said slowly, trying to comfort him.

Simon let loose a humorless laugh, “No, Hugh, you should have come,” Simon whispered drly, but the sadness was all the same.

He looked up at Hugh “You shouldn’t have called earlier to cancel. You should have come and been with me.”

“Hon-”

“No, don't sweet talk me. I want you to tell me why you find it impossible put a pause on Captain Chromium and take time to be my husband.” A few more tears rolled down his already damp cheeks. Hugh could feel tears welling up in his eyes. He felt so ashamed for causing his husband this hurt. He was heartbroken because of him. Simon continued with a wobbly voice, “I want my husband, Hugh, I miss him.”

Hugh thought of some reassuring things to say, but nothing could come out of his mouth. He could promise and swear that it'll never happen again, hold Simon tight and plead for forgiveness. 

But it wouldn't be real. They both would know it deep down. It would happen again because Simon was right, as usual. He just couldn't put a pause to his hero persona. 

Simon would ask a thousand more times and Hugh still wouldn’t be able to answer why. 

Simon took Hugh’s silence as the end of this argument for now. If there was nothing for Hugh to say, there was nothing Simon could do. 

“You finish what you need to do,” Simon said with more sniffles, looking at the floor. “I'm going home.” 

“Wait-” Hugh’s voice cracked. He didn’t want him to leave. Not like this.

Simon snapped back, “Why should I? Wait?! For how much longer?” Simon gave Hugh another questioning look but he went quiet again. 

Hugh watched as Simon fiddled with his hands and walked back to Hugh, and grabbed his hand that was limp at his side. Hugh looked at Simon confused as he placed something in Hugh’s hand and closed it for him. Simon used both of his hands to hold Hugh’s and brought it to his mouth, placing a delicate kiss to it. 

“Return it to me when you can be my husband again,” Simon whispered into his hand with closed eyes. 

Then he left. 

Hugh allowed his tears to fall when he opened his hand, the feeling of failure spreading through his body. 

Hugh couldn’t tell when, but he’d ended up kneeling on the floor, unable to take his eyes off Simon’s wedding ring shining back at him.

.

.

.

Right back to agnst.

Its short but i enjoyed re-writing it to better reflect my writing now (i love my old fics but i had some things to work on lmao)

I hope you liked it!!

[gaymershigh]

Hello! I saw your askbox and open and read your rules and you are right, it's not often I see Male×Male reader inserts in the TWST fandom. So, I'd thought I'd request some to help the cause! If I may, can I request some headcannons of dorm leaders of TWST×Male!Reader who is in their dorm and has been noticeably stressed in their schoolwork and one night is seen super stressed out and the dorm leader's fellow students pull the reader aside and hand the reader over to the dorm leader because the reader refuse to listen to anyone else?

Of course you may! Tbh, this is such a nice request, I enjoy doing multiple characters, but it's so difficult for me to write for Azul and Vil in this hc for some reason??

REMINDER: Don't overwork yourself just because you don't think it's enough! The fact that you're trying is already amazing! Please remember to take care of your health because you matter! 💜

Triggers: None!

Dorm Leaders dealing with a stressed Male!Reader

Ever since Riddle got a text from Trey and its about his boyfriend doing his schoolwork on ungodly hours he was worried, very worried.

He wants to come to you and make a 2 hour speech about how you shouldn't overwork yourself but he barely has anytime as well, he's a very busy man as well.

So he decided to order your friends, Ace and Deuce to tell you to not overwork yourself. Hell, he even prepared a script for them.

Of course, it didn't work. It was so obvious it was from a script because Deuce sounds so robotic and Ace kept correcting Deuce. Your stubbornness makes it even more awkward and worse.

He ordered Trey and Cater this time, with a whole new script too.

They did a good job and all, but it also failed because your ass is so stubborn and Cater is pretty impatient and kept using his phone.

This only made you stressed out even more because these mofos probably dont understand how you feel.

Deuce's dense ass noticed this and told Ace about it. And that's how Ace got a big brain idea.

You were screaming, usually, the ADeuce duo usually stays at your dorm to chill while you do your work and NOT drag you to their dorm.

They shoved you to Riddle's room and what you're not expecting was your boyfriend showing a very worried face.

He immediately hugged you tightly before you could say a word. He cupped your face and caressed your cheek.

“My sweetheart, please don't overwork yourself, it's unhealthy for you. From now on, only work yourself for 2 hours max. Come now, let's drink some tea together.”

He knows that something's up when you haven't been hanging out with him for a while.

He misses his herbivore so much, he misses cuddling his boyfriend but he's too prideful to admit.

When he found out you've been doing your schoolwork 24/7 by Ruggie, his response is indecisive but on the inside he's bothered.

Since he's too lazy to move on his very comfortable position, he threatened ordered his dorm members to convince you to stop overstressing yourself.

Knowing Savanaclaw, of course they failed, there was no hope to begin with. It was a disaster. They tried but they're way too intimidating for you to even listen to their words. Thank god Ruggie was there to bail them out so it wasn't too awkward.

This made Leona very moody. Not only he cannot snuggle with you, his plan failed and he now forces himself to sleep alone in pain. Boohoo.

Ruggie can't stand this man's temper tantrums so he just snatched you away from your dorm and toss you to a sleeping Leona.

The lazy lion woke up immediately when he recognized your scent. Since he's still sleepy however, he just pulled you to his bed and hugged you close with his tail wrapped on your leg

“Hmph, you chose your schoolwork over me and had the audacity to not meet up for the entire week? You're not going anywhere this time, especially with you in my arms.”

He won't blame you to be honest. He overworks himself too and ignore your warnings multiple times. However, that doesn't mean he's not going to do anything about it.

He at least has time to spend with you but you didn't. Of course that made the octopus upset and he's not gonna five up when it comes to you.

He stalks you everytime he gets the chance. Your stressed expression really displeases him. He wants to do something about this so bad but he doesn't want to disturb his already stressed boyfriend.

Jade caught on to Azul's bizarre behavior and he cam up with an idea to surprise both of you.

“Kidnapping shrimpy? Ok!” of course Floyd would say yes, it's Floyd.

You're screaming in distress and confusion. Just a second ago you were messaging your temples because you couldn't mesmerize what Mr. Trein taught you and now you're getting kidnapped by the Leech twins, what a surprise. An unwelcome one at that.

Azul was shocked when he hears your cries as the twins dropped you off his room, still tied in ropes and leaving like nothing happened.

Azul untied you, explaining theories as to why they would do such things, but when he does got the right answer, he blushed in embarrassment. He caused this.

He placed a soft kiss and holds your hand gently.

“I apologize for causing a huge ruckus. It's just I missed you when you barely replied to my calls and texts and you kept working and that made me worried sick! I'm sorry that I sound selfish but.. Could you stay here a bit longer, please?”

Oh dear. How could you say no to that?

Ok first of all how could you even ignore him? He always keep coming to you and basically screaming at you.

Your stress may could have took the you over and may accidentally snapped at him for being too noisy.

This made him sad and left the room. BUT HEY AT LEAST YOU GOT SOME PEACE AND QUIET AM I RIGHT?

But if you think that's gonna make him upset??? You're his wonderful boyfriend! His treasure! No matter what, just seeing thinking of you makes him happy again.

This didn't last as you kept ignoring his daily chat with you and his messages and calls. This wasn't okay.

This genuinely made him stressed as well, he probably doesn't even exist to you anymore. Despite it just being 2 days if felt like forever since you talk to him or even looking at him with a smile.

Kalim wanted to spend fun times with his boyfriend like always. Not just sit there and look at him groaning at the worksheet every now and then.

He missed you so much. Even though he sees you, it just doesn't feel the same.

He got less happier as the days go by, everyone got worried sick. Even Jamil felt disturbed about it, usually he would be living the life when Kalim's quiet.

Everything's the usual today. Kalim visiting you and he's quiet again. You of course felt bad but you really need to pass this test.

But out of nowhere, you kept getting text messages from Jamil screaming to you about talking to Kalim and how pathetic he looks when sad.

When you turned around, your heart shattered to pieces. There it is, a sad Kalim in tears, curling himself on your bed to at least have your scent on him.

You stopped what you're doing and hop on tour bed and press his face against the crook of your neck, muttering sorry.

“Ahhh! I miss you so much,habibi!(my love) please don't overwork yourself and ignore me! I love you so much and seeing you date your homework then dating me hurts me! Please dont leave me! I'll be the best boyfriend ever!”

Who do you think you are, to ignore your lover's calling just for a paper of misery? How foolish.

Vil understood that your future is important to you, but do you really need to worry when you're dating the Vil Schoenheit? The beautiful, rich man who spoils you every single day?

Not only that, stress causes wrinkles and you're also ruining your sleep schedule?! Unacceptable.

He kept ranting to you about how greasy your hair and how big the bags under your eyes are.

To the point you have to lock your door to refrain him for entering and rant. You're already stressing out and there's literally no way you're going to hear about your dramatic boyfriend moan about your appearance.

He kept calling and texting you and you also ignore that. If anything you gave good morning texts or either leave him on read.

And he's not tolerating that.

His job was easier to handle than the others. He can just ask Rook to kidnap you and he would oblige and do so in an instant.

And he just did that.

Unlike the others, you know exactly what's going to happen when Rook is violently dragging you to Pomefiore. He's going to put you in Vil's room, listen to him rant for a few hours and do beauty things or whatever.

Well, have of that did happen when Rook closed Vil's door. He did rant but what your not expecting was him being very gentle and sweet.

“I knew it, you got increasingly worse. Oh well, I will refix this mess later. But for now, you should rest right beside me. No leaving no matter the circumstances, you understand, potato?”

I mean, of course you're gonna ignore him, he's just a gross, weeby loser. There's no way he can impact your life positively in any single way. If anything, he probably causes trouble to his you anyway.

He doesn't really wanna stop you, he really cherishes you and your choices even if they're not good and losing someone like you is probably gonna take years to move on to.

Poor Ortho, he needs to hear his brother rant about his boyfriend not being able to see nor play games with because he's busy working himself.

But this made Ortho worry. Not only id his brother is sad but you're risking your health to do schoowork! That's no good.

This made you confused. Ortho kept muttering about your health status to himself everytime you pass by the hallways.

And everyday, your stress levels increase and your health is deteriorating.

He needs to make you rest at all cost but he knows your stubborn. So he has to do one thing that makes your knees weak.

His very own special puppy eyes.

Ortho innocently dragged you to Idia without either of you guy's knowledge.

When Idia finds out, he immediately apologized for the inconvenience he caused and you might have to be the one to comfort him.

“I'M SERIOUSLY SO SORRY! I just really wanted to play games with you and hangout with you like usual.. Eh? You will?? REALLY!?”

At first, the fae didn't even realise you are stressing despite showing a few signals.

Until you start ignoring him. Then you got a pouty Malleus. (aw)

He doesn't understand why you're struggling with Mr. Divus' homework, it seems so easy to him, why is it so hard for you?

That made you upset and he still doesn't know why.

He never had a boyfriend like you before so of course he's not gonna understand gen z struggles. Spare him please.

Lilia gave him some tips, only for it to be tricks and make you more upset. snide mf

Seeing a sad Malleus made Sebek upset, then mad.

He asked Lilia what's wrong with his young master.

And when he found out you're replacing him with your schoolwork and then for some reason 'stressing' about it??

How rude!

Sebek kept nagging at you to stop working and pay attention to your damn boyfriend but you couldn't care less about Sebek and his shenanigans.

You only start sweating when he suddenly yanked your arm and dragged you to Diasomnia.

And what you see is a pouty Malleus playing with his little game.

When you sat next to him, he immediately wrapped you in his arms.

“My darling, I plead for you not to pressure yourself in something that only destroys you even more. What progress you have done is enough for today but as of now, you need rest. Release all your negativity away, love.”

This is literally my second work but I already feel like a failure.

-𝕸𝖎𝖗𝖎

[cinnaminsvga]

Hug-o-gram Preview | Yoongi

→ summary:

“This is probably the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” Yoongi hisses, but it’s kind of hard for Seokjin to take him seriously when he’s wearing a cardboard sign around his neck that says ‘Huggie Wuggie Machine!’ in bubble font. 

“Like, even worse than when we DIY’d your car into a convertible by sawing the top off?” Seokjin asks, genuinely curious. 

“Worse,” Yoongi admits, trying his best to stay out of your line of sight. His cheeks redden, matching the gaudy pink kitten ears he was forced into wearing.

{or alternatively: Seokjin is a terrible wingman. He also runs a profitable business by sending “hugs” to people’s crushes for a fee. Mix them together and you have a recipe for Min Yoongi’s worst nightmare.}

→ genre: college!au, hugging booth!au, fluff, humor → warnings: yoongi is so smitten that he’s a walking disaster, so much shy!yoongi to the point where you’ll want to *o*e him, seokjin just tryna get his homie some y/n love coochie bro ;o; → words: anticipated 10-12K  → a/n: who the fuck am i... why am i writing so much??? let’s all thank miss kwaranteen for that, my friends. but what’s with the fluff, you ask? thank miss @jincherie​ for that because her weak heart can’t handle angst so i have to use my limited fluff muscles to write this for her... anyway idk when this is coming out but its probs soon,, enjoy this lil snippet i guess LMAO 

“Yoongi, it’s time for me to head to work. You want to come with me today?” Seokjin asks, though he knows what answer he’s going to get. You see, Seokjin’s new booming business is another one of his fantastic ideas, but it is a little... inventive. Sure, Yoongi had scoffed when he had originally suggested the idea, but Seokjin knew that it was going to be a money-maker. Sure, it had taken a few years for the business to really take off, but once it finally did…

Enter Kim Seokjin’s Hug-o-gram Service! Students from his university are able to send anonymous payments directly to him, with little notes attached for their crushes. Each love letter delivery comes with a hug from Seokjin himself, delivered straight to the person without them ever knowing who the hug came from. It was ingenious! It was lucrative! But most of all…

It allowed Seokjin to cause drama and have an excuse for it! Nothing could have been more perfect for a man like him.

“No thanks,” Yoongi snorts, rolling over to face him. He watches from the floor as Seokjin changes into a butter-less shirt, which also happens to have his own face printed on the front and back. His trusty cardboard sign that reads “I’m Gonna Glomp Ya!” also joins his attire for the afternoon, a long piece of string tied to its edges so that he can wear it around his neck. Throwing on a pair of white sneakers with the tags still attached, Seokjin is ready to tackle today’s list of would-be hug-ees.

“How do I look?” Seokjin asks, combing his hair with his fingers. It leaves an oily sheen, which he somehow makes it work.

“Ugly,” Yoongi says, like a liar.

“It’s okay, I understand. I can speak tsundere, so you don’t need to explain,” Seokjin snickers, nearly getting hit with a TV remote by Yoongi. He opens his phone again, swiping to his e-mail to see his list of hug deliveries for the day.

Seokjin gets around 10 requests a day, with around half of them coming from regular clients. He’s especially fond of this boy who has been sending hugs to his TA named Namjoon for almost a month now. He has no idea why this kid has so much disposable income, though seeing the blush on Namjoon’s face everyday makes Seokjin think that he would spend every last penny for him too. Namjoon had begged Seokjin for his secret admirer’s identity, but snitchin’ isn’t a part of his service, unfortunately.

As much as Seokjin wants to know who is crushing on who, his little business wouldn’t work as well as it did if anonymity wasn’t included in his package deal. It allows people to thirst in public without facing the repercussions, like getting a knee to the groin or a slap to the face. Not that Seokjin has ever been at the receiving end of that; everyone loves him! Like, have you seen him? He must have saved a civilization in the past with how devastatingly beautiful his forehead is.

“Why am I suddenly filled with the relentless urge to deck you right now?” Yoongi says, getting up to change into clean clothes as well. His black t-shirt unfortunately does not have Seokjin’s face on it, but that can quickly be amended if the elder of the two decides to follow his every intrusive whim.

Seokjin laughs, completely unaware of the murderous capabilities of his friend. Due to his smaller body size, his percentage of evil is unusually concentrated. “Maybe it’s because you know that I’m into pain pla–” but Seokjin’s retort suddenly grinds to a halt. He chokes mid-sentence, coughing wildly as he pounds his chest with a balled-up fist. When Yoongi looks up at him, he finds his hyung staring slack-jawed at his phone, seemingly flabbergasted by what he finds on his screen.

“What’s the matter? Accidentally sent a dick pic to your prof again?” Yoongi snorts.

“That was one time! And no, it’s…” Seokjin trails off, uncharacteristically hesitant. He shifts his gaze from his phone to Yoongi, a drop of sweat quickly forming on the back of his neck. Yoongi raises a brow, silently urging him to continue.

Instead of replying, Seokjin hands him his phone. Yoongi finds a copy of one of Seokjin’s newest hug requests, only having just received it five minutes ago. As he scrolls down, he finds that this secret admirer is a new client, but that isn’t what made Seokjin stop in his tracks. Instead, it’s the recipient of the hug that catches his attention–

“Y/N has a secret admirer?” Yoongi says, voice cracking at the end. He clears his throat, trying his best to school his face into something less… jealous. He swivels away from Seokjin, forcing himself to breathe slowly through his nose. He convinces himself that he is the very epitome of calmness.

“You okay there, Yoongi? You look like you’re about to vomit,” Seokjin says, immediately breaking his inner peace. Yoongi groans loudly, shucking the phone over his shoulder, uncaring of where it lands. Seokjin, with his superhuman and God-given reflexes… doesn’t catch it. But he did dive to the floor like a seasoned Olympian, and his ass cushioned his phone so he supposes that’s a win.

Back to the matter at hand––

“I am fine,” Yoongi says, as he continues to not be fine.

From the floor, Seokjin shoots him a disbelieving look. He lies down more comfortably, propping his head on his elbow. Screw his hug-o-gram appointments for now; nothing brings him more joy than seeing Yoongi absolutely losing it. “Really? So you wouldn’t mind if I marched up to Y/N right now and give her the warmest, coziest, most tender hug of her fucking life?”

“Y… Yes,” Yoongi squeaks, neck glowing a furious red. He has his fists clenched (adorably) by his sides, head bowed as he faces the wall of their apartment. Seokjin’s brain makes the unhelpful comparison of Yoongi with that cat meme who says “no talk me angy” in Impact font.

Seokjin grins, his wickedness from within coiling and yearning to burst from his seams. This is it! Maybe if he pushes a little more, then maybe Yoongi will stop pining like a pathetic loser! Also, it didn’t hurt that he got to push Yoongi’s buttons while he’s at it, but hey! Not all heroes go to heaven or whatever.

He grabs his phone from his ass, scrolling back to the e-mail. “So… You wouldn’t mind if I walk up to Y/N right now and tell her ‘Hey! I’ve had an embarrassingly long crush on you and when I heard about this hugging service… I couldn’t miss the chance to shoot my shot! If you’re single and ready to #mingle, then please meet me at the Corner Cafe at 2 PM tomorrow.’” Seokjin sing-songs, snickering loudly when he sees the absolute pain etched onto Yoongi’s face.

There is a pause, and Seokjin waits as Yoongi uses his tiny kitty brain to think of what to do. He can only imagine what’s going inside his head, but he has a guess. Yoongi could either: 1) finally admit his feelings for you and come clean before Seokjin has to deliver your hug, or 2) do something stupid and counterproductive.

It comes as no surprise when Yoongi goes with option number––

[only-the-lou]

party night

Sooo turns out that i didnt fully finish my last story! Sooo here’s my attempt into putting the whole thing here :)

-

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It was the end of finals week, and Peter couldn't be more happy. He had spent the last 2 weeks pulling all nighters cramming as much information as he could into his brain so that he could pass his tests. Sure he was really smart and he didn't really need to study, but that didn't stop Peter from worrying about failing one of his classes. But now that all that was over, he couldn't wait to just relax. He can finally get some decent hours of sleep, actually eat something healthy, and take care of himself. He had decided to call work off for the next two days, and was determined to sleep as much as he could because right now he looked like death, with his pale skin and eye bags so heavy you could put groceries in them. He knew he looked horrible, but he also knew that if he didn't get good grades he could get his scholarships taken away. He only had one more year of high school though, and then he wouldn't have to worry about this stuff for a while, So right now he would work his ass off so that he can have a good life in the future.

It was around 8 at night when Peter heard knocking on his apartment door. He was slightly confused, since he didn't remember inviting anyone over, and his food was already delivered. He put his phone down and walked over to the entrance, not having a chance to fully open his door before MJ and Ned busted right in.

"What 's up loser?" MJ said. She walked last Peter and into the kitchen, and helped herself into Peter's fridge. Ned walked in behind her and sat down onto his couch.

"Hey guys! What are you doing here?" Peter questioned. He wasn't expecting the two, but he also wasn't surprised that they showed up unannounced since they did that often. He closed his door and locked it before he made his way to the living room. He walked to his couch and plopped down next to ned and pulled out his phone.

"Well, it's a Saturday night, you have nothing to do, and there's a party over at Liz's house. So me and Ned decided to come pick you up so that we can have some fun!" MJ explained. She was currently opening up bag of Doritos and had decided to look for a soda.

"A party? Since when do you like going to parties?" Peter asked. MJ was usually the type to stay home and watch Netflix or read. Parties weren't her thing, so Peter was confused when she decided to go to one.

"Well, it is our last year before graduation and our last chance to relax before the second rounds of finals!" Ned chimed. He wasn't wrong, it was their senior year in highschiol and this was going to be their last week before they had to bury themselves in books and cry about life. MJ nodded, and Peter decided that this was going to be his way of taking care of himself.

"Alright. Lemme get ready and I'll meet you guys downstairs" Ned squealed and MJ high fived Peter. They walked out of Peter's apartment while Peter walked towards his room already planning out the night.

-

30 minutes later Peter rushed out of his apartment and ran down the stairs to meet his friends. He had decided on some torn black skinny jeans (that made his booty look bigger) and a plain white button up. He usually didn't wear makeup, but he had decided to leave his insecurities behind and did some light eyeliner with mascara and some lipgloss. He couldn't lie, he felt good about himself, something that was very rare. Just as he was going to leave the apartment he decided to bring his lighter and some blunts he was planning on smoking earlier and made sure that he had everything he needed before heading out.

Just as he was in his last set of stairs he heard MJ whistle and Ned compliment his eyeliner. He smiled and blew a kiss towards Ned and winked. MJ was on her phone texting Liz and letting her know that they were on their way while walking towards her car.

"Actually, do you guys mind if we walk? Her house isn't even far away. Plus, we can smoke on the way there." Peter asked. MJ and Ned nodded, and Peter pulled out a blunt and his lighter from his back pocket. He didn't usually smoke, and neither did the other two, but fuck it, tonight was all about having fun.

The trio decided to smoke as they walked to Liz's house, so they arrived there quicker. The music was so loud you could probably hear it blocks away, and by the time Peter had reached the house he could feel the music's vibrations in his chest. He liked it though, the familiar feeling of excitement coursing through his veins. The front lawn was filled with teenagers holding red cups, couples making out, and those people who partied a little too hard and passed out. Peter chuckled as he looked at them. Lightweights. The house itself was actually quite beautiful. It was big, with three pillars on the front and with 8 rectangular windows on the front part. It was a creamy white, looking homey if it wasn't for the blasting music and the lights inside.

The three were almost done with the 5th blunt and Peter tossed it to the floor and stepped on it to put it out. He could feel the drug start to take its effects, and so when he turned to see his friends he felt like laughing. The other two where getting high as well, so they also started giggling.

They walked in and were hit with the smell of beer, weed, and sweat. They didn't care though, too busy trying to go through the crowds of people to notice. Peter looked around to see if he knew anyone, and quickly noticed two guys whom he was sure didn't go to his school because no one was that hot in queens bay high. Peter sucked in a breath as he checked them out, too stunned but their beauty to notice Ned pulling his arm to walk. He practically got dragged to the kitchen by his friend, and when he looked back the pair were already lost.

"Damm it Ned, I was checking out two- oh hey Liz!" Peter smiled, forgetting about the two boys back there and He leaned in for a hug and kissed her on the cheek. Liz giggled and hugged him back, and fixed her dress.

"Hi guys! Glad you could make it. Theres snacks right over there and some beers! Make yourself at home babes!" She smiled. Peter looked at her outfit, wearing a red dress that went down to her knees and some black heels. She looked beautiful, and even though Peter was really gay, he would still date her. Ned hugged her and went directly into the snack table, and MJ quickly followed. She was too shy to hug her, although she was been crushing on Liz for the longest time. It was quite adorable Peter though, MJ being so bold around anyone but as soon as she sees Liz she completely melts. They would be a really cute couple, if it weren't for MJ's awkwardness around her.

He talked to Liz for a couple of minutes before hugging her again and walking towards the drinking section. He has decided on some vodka, and grabbed a soda to mix it with. He walked over to his two friends and leaned against the fridge.

"So, what's the plan?" Peter asked. Ned shrugged and MJ kept eating some chips, and Peter realized that their idea of a party was to stay near the snack area. He shook his head and smiled, telling them that he was gonna go out and dance.

"If you're gonna get fucked someone don't forget to use protection!" Ned hollered. Peter laughed and told him 'no promises!' knowing that he was going to use it. He wasn't planning on catching an STD, and even though it didn't feels as good, he didn't wanna get infected.

He walked around the crowds of people and bumped into a much taller male. Luckily he didn't drop his drink, or else it would've caused Peter to go of on the other person. He looked up to see who it was, and to his luck it was one of the guys who he was checking out earlier. He was tall and had shoulder length hair which holy shit made him look more hotter and was wearing all black.

"S-sorry I wasn't looking where I was going" Peter stuttered. The other male chuckled and Peter felt like he died right there. He was usually confident and bold, but that clearly went away when he saw the taller male. Must've been the alcohol, or the weed, or both.

"It's okay princess, no need to apologize. I'm Bucky by the way." Bucky extended his hand towards Peter, and it took a second for him to register what was going on, but quickly shook Buckys hand. The size difference in their hands was huge, making Peter feel smaller, and blushed. "I'm Peter. You don't go to queen bay right ?" He asked. Bucky shook his head and explained to him that his friend Tony was invited to this party and practically dragged him here. So that's the other guys name.

"And uh, what about you?" Bucky asked. Peter told him how he was going to spend the night with his two other friends, but they decided that food was more important. Bucky chuckled and Peter died yet again, suddenly aware that he was in heaven and Bucky was an angel leading him to the paradise because there is no way someone so perfect could exist. That's what he had thought until Buckys friend, Tony walked up to them and smiled at Peter. Peter smiled back and tried so say something, but was too scared that he was going to sound pathetic. He looked at Tony's outfit, similar to Bucky but instead of a leather jacket he was wearing a blue jean jacket with a white shirt and black jeans. Both of them looked so handsomely good, and Peter decided right then and there that he wanted both of them.

Peter was now very sure that he was high and drunk as shit, because his normal self would never dance on a guy (let alone 2) like he was doing right now, His dignity flying out the window as soon as he turned around and started moving his ass in front of Tony. He still didn't care when Tony grabbed his hips to close the gap between his crotch and Peter ass, and he didn't care when Bucky was in front of Peter and started kissing his neck. He didn't give two flying shits, too focused on trying not to moan when Bucky started biting his neck. He moved his hand to Buckys neck and tangled his fingers in his neck, softly gripping it whenever Bucky started sucking at his neck.

Peter didn't really remember how or when he ended up in a bedroom, or if he even was in the same house as before. All he remembered was dancing with Tony and partially making out with Bucky, and then he ended up in here. Not that he was complaining, because he really fucking wasn't, but he was just caught off guard. He suddenly stopped thinking about that when he felt Tony's lips against his own, somehow rough and gentle at the same time. He bit Peter's bottom lip, and Peter couldn't help but groan. He was suddenly aware that he was on top of Tony, his legs on either side of him p, with Tony's hands grasping on his hips, pushing him down to rock on Tony's crotch. The both of them groaned at the same time, getting pleasure from the friction. He decided to do it again, rolling his hips against Tony's, closing his eyes and throwing his head back.

He didn't see how Bucky was looking at both of them from the doorframe, and didn't hear when he closed the door and locked it. He slowly made his way to the bed, and decided to get in on the action.

He saw Bucky laying on the bed, and he kissed tony one last time while getting off his lap, crawling towards Bucky, and got on top of him. He leaned down to kiss Bucky, running his hands down Buckys chest. Bucky then broke the kiss, and flipped them over so that he was on top, and started taking his shirt off. Suddenly Peter noticed that the three of them were fully dressed, and starting taking off his shirt too. He couldn't really see Tony, but he hoped that he was getting undressed as well. Once Bucky and Peter were just in boxers, Bucky leaned back down and started kissing peters neck. He found peters sweet spot and Peter big his lip to not let out a moan.

"You sure you wanna do this ?" Bucky asked. "You don't have to if you don't want, babe." Tony said. And although Peter wasn't sure if it was him or the alcohol speaking, Peter looked at both of the innocently and bit his lip. He saw how Buckys eyes flickered over to his lips and smirked, and he knew he was in for a long, fun night.

—

So there you go! Sorry it's really bad :( I'm not the most experienced writer haha 😃

[artificialqueens]

When I have you, wanna leave you (when you go, that's when I need you) (branjie) - writworm42

A/N: For sohytes, who asked for jealous Brooke. MERRY CHRISTMAS BINCH <3 I know it’s early, but I started this today and COULD NOT STOP. Thank you Holtz for beta-ing and barbie for making sure my Spanish was correct fhdjskh

Title from Waves by Normani ft 6LACK

Jose is having a fine time without Brock, and it’s killing him.

Brock knows that he shouldn’t have looked at Instagram. Not today. He should have given his phone to Steve, should have holed himself up with his family, focused more on that than on his social media feed. But the fans wanted a Christmas Eve message, and so he went live to wish them all happy holidays and torture them with an ugly sweater look sure to make them groan for weeks, and then, well. If he has his phone, checking others’ stories is just automatic.

Only then Vanessa goes live. Not as Vanjie, but as Jose, on his private, personal account. Jose spins the camera around in his usual erratic, enthusiastic manner, shouting and screaming at the hectic family scene unfolding in front of the lens.

“ Live and in colour, the Cancel family Christmas dinner, hoes–Hey! HEY! MAMI! BAJA EL CUCHILLO–”

Brock is the only person viewing; he can see it, the ‘1’ in the corner of the screen speaking for itself in terms of displaying what a pathetic, desperate loser he is. What a pathetic, desperate loser he looks like. Jose probably knows that ‘1’ is Brock, too; it’s a thought that adds insult to injury, yet he can’t bring himself to look away.

Just then, the ‘1’ changes to a ‘2,’ and Brock relaxes–he’s not the only one watching. He’s not the only one who cares what Jose’s doing right now. Sure, he still has no business caring in the first place, but at the very least, he’s not the only one.

His relief is short-lived, though, when Jose’s attention is pulled back on-screen.

“AIDAN!!!” he screams, his voice high-pitched and excited, just like it used to be whenever he saw Brock’s name pop on his screen. “HOW YOU DOIN’, BOO?”

Brock doesn’t wait for Aidan to write anything back, or to request to join, or for Jose to say anything else; he just closes the window and throws his phone onto the next available surface, disgust washing through him like a wave.

Jose has said time and time again that he and Aidan aren’t a thing; that they’re just friends, just like he and Brock are just friends. It’s an expression that’s far from comforting for Brock, considering that every time he and Jose are in the same room, electricity still crackles like it did a year ago, their eyes lingering on each other like the first time they de-dragged in front of each other and smiles plastered on their faces like every other time they’ve been together, laughs rolling and love palpable between them.

None of that has changed, so why does it hurt?

Maybe it’s because it’s their first Christmas without each other, like really without each other, not calling or skyping or texting, bouncing between I love yous and I wanna see yous and other things that Brock likes to think about when he’s alone at night and can’t sleep. Maybe it’s because Brock misses Jose, wants him back by his side as more than just a friend.

Or maybe it’s just because he can’t stand Aidan, and just because he and Jose aren’t together doesn’t mean he’s not still Brock’s.

So he’s a little possessive; sue him. Sometimes, things are worth the agitation.

He plans to leave the phone there, to just go and spend the rest of the night with his family like he should have in the first place, when it vibrates from its place on Brock’s bedside table, so suddenly he almost jumps in surprise.

J: Hey, merry Christmas!

A second text pops up a moment later, a string of orange hearts and Christmas trees that should make Brock smile– would make Brock smile, if it weren’t for the sound of Jose screaming Aidan’s name that kept replaying over and over again in his mind.

He has two options. Be forgiving, or be petty. Be the bigger person, or get down to Jose’s level whenever Jose himself is mad and decides it’s time to give Brock the silent treatment. Kill him with kindness, or kill him with indifference instead.

Hell, he should just kill Aidan instead, maybe that’d solve all his problems.

He shakes off the thought, inhaling sharply before clicking on the text window to type his reply.

Just a Santa Claus emoji; that’s all Jose deserves, so that’s all Brock is gonna leave. One little image, on theme, saying everything he’s feeling without letting it pour out directly.

He picks up the phone again within five seconds and types out a follow-up before he can stop himself.

B: How’s Aidan?

The three dots pop up almost instantly, typing furiously before the texts start to pour in, as mile-a-minute as anything that would have come out of Jose’s mouth.

J: Bitch, really?

J: I told you. We ain’t nothing.  

J: Shit.  

J: You was on that live too, and we ain’t foolin around rn. So how u know me & Aidan are???

Brock’s breath hitches in his throat, his cheeks suddenly burning with shame. Jose is right; he doesn’t know that Jose and Aidan are fooling around. But he’s also sure that Jose knows why he was on that live in the first place; isn’t it possible that Aidan was after the same thing?

B: I also didn’t get a shoutout like he did

It’s petulant and childish, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not now, not when Aidan gets to hear his name on Jose’s lips and all Brock gets is a lousy text.

J: I woulda but I barely had the chance! You left the minute I said his name, bitch

He should go. He should abandon this fight before he loses it, because he knows he doesn’t have an argument or an excuse. He has no right to be jealous, especially since he can tell that Jose isn’t lying; that isn’t Jose.

But then another text comes through, and Brock can’t help but look despite the fear of what might it contain.

J: what do u want from me, Brock?

J: we said we wouldn’t do this no more.

You said we wouldn’t do this! Brock wants to scream, but he can’t—that’s not him. No, as far as he and Jose are concerned, he’s the adult; he lets things go when Jose won’t. And Jose begged Brock to let go, because he couldn’t.

Maybe Brock isn’t as grown up as either of them thought he was.

Fuck it. Brock licks his lips and coughs, suddenly realizing how dry his throat has become. Exhaling shakily, he squeezes his eyes shut and presses a button on the screen, and then the phone begins to ring.

“What, bitch?” Brock’s eyes snap open to see Jose’s face, and even though he looks pissed as Hell, Brock feels relieved.

Now if only he knew what to say. He starts with the only thing that can come to mind.

“Jo, I’m–I’m sorry.” he sighs, closing his eyes again, hoping to block out the world again. But his world is on the other side of the FaceTime call, and he’s waiting for an answer, so Brock looks again, looks back at the unamused face and the hint of concern, of caring, that still lingers Jose’s eyes. “I shouldn’t have gotten jealous. I–I just… I just…”

I need you so badly. I want you here. I’m a stupid, selfish child and I can’t stand the thought of not having you to myself. I need you more than anything else right now. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to let you go.

“I miss you.”

Brock stares at Jose in shock, his heart suddenly torn between speeding up and stopping altogether. Jose rolls his eyes and sighs, covering his face in his hands.

“Brock, look… I just can’t do this no more. All this up and down and back and forth. Me gettin’ jealous and you… You barely seemed to care a lot of the time.”

I do care! Brock wants to yell, wants to make Jose understand just how wrong he is, but Jose isn’t done, and Brock knows that. So instead, he bites his lips, forces down the argument bubbling in his throat, and listens.

“To tell you the truth, only reason I shouted Aidan out was ‘cause I knew you was watching.” Jose confessed. “I wanted to see you get jealous, ‘cause… ‘Cause I knew you’d call.”

What? Brock feels a pit open up in his stomach, one that’s quickly swallowed up by a rush of fire. All of this was just a game, a stupid ruse to mess with Brock’s head, get him up in his feelings, as if Jose didn’t know that he could have just said he wanted to talk to Brock, just fucking called him if he wanted to hear his voice or see his face. It’s inexcusable, and Brock can barely contain the dizzying anger coursing through his veins as he finally chokes out the one question on his mind.

“Why didn’t you just–”

But he doesn’t get the question out–he doesn’t get the chance.

“Because I told you to stay away, and I was too proud to be the one who cracked!” Jose yells, cutting Brock off completely and continuing to speak so fast and breathlessly that Brock couldn’t regain control of the conversation if he tried. “I’m always the one who cracks, Brock. Always. I’m always the one who wants you back. Just once, I wanted you to be the one who was begging for me.”

Brock isn’t sure what to say to that, so he hangs up without a word.

Jose keeps texting him for the rest of the night, but he doesn’t bother responding. Not because he’s angry–he is angry, angry that Jose is always the one to cut things off, then always the one to bring things back together. But at the same time, he’s strangely… Well, maybe happy isn’t the right word, but in an odd way, he’s almost… Hopeful. Hopeful that Jose wants him back as bad as he wants Jose. Hopeful that if he plays his cards right, this time, things will stick.

So he doesn’t ignore Jose because he’s angry; he ignores Jose because he’s thinking, looking at his cards, deciding what hand to play.

He wakes up the next morning with a hangover and a buzzing phone.

“Merry Christmas.” he croaks, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“We got unfinished business.” Jose hisses, his voice gravelly and tired, and Brock realizes with a pang of guilt that the man hasn’t slept. “I been trying to get you to talk to me all last night.”

“I’m sorry.” Brock forces himself up, sighing deeply. “I wasn’t ignoring you, I was just–”

“I know. You was trying to think. I get it.”

“Yeah.”

There’s silence, heavy and suffocating, when suddenly, Brock finds his words.

Not the words he practiced; only the ones he feels.

“I miss you a ton.” he confesses, cursing himself for going off-script, but knowing that whatever happens, he absolutely can’t stop. “Like, more than anything else. You already know that. I just–I wanted to do what you wanted, Jo. You’re always so strong and–and sure of what you want. At least, you look that way. And when I see that, when I see you getting so passionate and advocating for yourself like that… I just love you too much, Jo. I can’t stand not giving you what you want. Even what you want isn’t me.”

More silence, and Brock’s chest tightens with fear that he might have said too much, or said the wrong thing, and that Jose is even more upset than when he first opened his mouth. But then Jose laughs, hollow and short, and somehow, Brock knows he’s finally done something right.

“I really have made a mess, huh?” Jose keeps laughing, though his voice is remorseful, maybe even apologetic. “I’m sorry, toes.”

“I know.” Brock feels himself relax for the first time since the night before, tension leaving his shoulders and back like hundred-pound weights being lifted from his body. “I’m sorry, too.”

“So… we gonna try again now? Is that where this is going?” there’s an edge of hope to the question, and, just for a moment, Brock can’t help but get caught up in it too, can’t help but imagine finally being able to hold Jose in his arms again, say what’s always on his mind again.

Only then he hears stirring in the house, his family finally waking up and filing into the kitchen, and he’s brought back to reality again.

“I’m not sure we’re ready yet.” he sighs, because he hates this, hates being the one to let Jose down again , but he knows without a doubt that he’s right. They’re not ready yet–not if this time is going to be the last. There’s too much pain, too much debris from their last attempts that they’ve still got to clean up first.

Jose says nothing, and that’s all the confirmation Brock needs to understand that Jose knows it, too.

“So what, then?” Jose asks, noise beginning to sound in the background on his end of the line, too. Fuck. They’re almost out of time, and they’ve only just started to actually get somewhere. Typical.

Someone calls Brock’s name, and he’s about to rush out of his room to answer them, when suddenly, something snaps, and he finds his feet rooted to the ground. Maybe it’s the adrenaline; maybe it’s some kind of bravado; heck, maybe it’s Christmas magic. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s just the knowledge and hope that finally, he and Jose might do things right. For whatever reason, Brock decides that he’s finally going to break the chain, finally going to stand his ground, even if it means everyone else is waiting for him to start breakfast.

Because sometimes, things are worth getting in trouble with your family for.

“Maybe we start with a few more phone calls, then a date?” he suggests.

“A few more phone calls then a date sounds good.” Jose agrees, and Brock swears he can practically hear the smile that he’s sure is spreading on the other man’s face. “We’ll take it slow, get to know each other again.”

“Sounds good.” Brock nods. “So…”

“So merry Christmas, Brock.” Jose laughs, “Don’t screw up this time, alright?”

“Alright.” Brock grins, his heartbeat picking up. “Merry Christmas, Jo.”

“Talk to you later, toes.”

“Bye.”

He doesn’t say I love you; not yet, it’s not the time. But that will come later.

For now, he’ll savour the gift of a second chance.

[rebellingstagnationblog]

“I Won’t Be Home For Christmas” by Blink-182 (Day 22 of 31)

This was an unintended combination. @teh-bluejay suggested the song. @rubbersoles19 wanted a fic where we saw Darkwing’s childhood. 

So, naturally, my brain melded them together. I hope you guys like it!

Negaduck. Supreme ruler of the Negaverse. Public Enemy #1. Darkwing Duck’s arch-iest of arch nemeses.

Was coming to Drake’s house for Christmas.

And he hadn’t had a bad Christmas ever since Gosalyn had come into his life. Well, there was that one year he’d been in the hospital, but other than that. Amazing. Magical. All of them.

But this one. This year?

Drake was already worried that it would rival his Worst Christmas Ever.™

-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-

The officer came into the cell block and approached the door. “Drakey Mallard?”

Drake rolled his eyes. Great. Now everyone in here had heard his childhood nickname. Awesome.

For a moment, he considered not answering. Just staying right there on the bench through Christmas.

But the more rational side of him wanted to leave, so he stood reluctantly with a murmured, “Yeah?”

“Bail’s been paid.” The officer unlocked the cell door and swung it open. “Yer goin’ home, kid.”

Great.

Just great.

Heaving a sigh and stuffing his hands into this sweatshirt pocket, Drake trudged out of the cell, careful not to make eye contact with any of the other inmates.

“Drakey” had sort of ruined his chances at being cool.

Following the officer to the front of the station, Drake tried to keep his breathing even, his temper under control.

He could do this.

He could.

Rounding a corner that led to the main lobby of the station, Drake came face to face with his father.

Stellar Mallard leveled him with a sharp glare but didn’t say anything. Just pointed to the main entrance doors.

Drake heaved a sigh but obeyed, trudging out into the chilled winter air.

Their Volkswagen was parked sloppily in one of the visitor spots, the front tire crossing the white dividing line. But hey. A for effort, right?

Turning to his father in disgust, Drake said, “Did you drive yourself here?”

“No one else was able to take me,” Stellar said, glaring down at Drake. “’S three in the mornin’, Drakey.”

“Don’t call me—” Drake sighed and glanced back at the crooked parking job. “How’d you figure out I was here?”

“Ol’ buddy o’ mine who still works on the force.” Stellar gave Drake a sidelong look. “Were ya gonna call?”

Drake shrugged. He would’ve rather been caught dead than call his old man for help.

“Better give me the keys,” he said, holding out his hand. “You’re probably not sober.”

“I’m sober enough! ‘Sides, I didn’ think I’d have to bail my damn kid outta jail now did I?” Stellar said, fumbling through his pockets for his car keys.

Drake scowled but didn’t say anything.

Stellar was usually drunk more often than he was sober, especially since Ana had died earlier that year. Not like Stellar had been sober much before she’d passed. Drake had stopped counting how many times Stellar had tried — and failed — to go through AA. It was always the same empty promises (“I want to get better”, “I want you to be proud of me”, “I want to live a normal life” blah blah blah) but Stellar had stopped making all of those promises, empty or no, hitting the bottle even harder since the funeral.

For Ana, Stellar had tried — however pathetically — to change.

For Drake, Stellar rolled into a police station at 3am, barely sober, because a concerned friend had called. If the phone call hadn’t come, the older mallard wouldn’t much care one way or another what his son had done or where he’d gone. But the call had forced responsibility on Stellar, the friend probably working the night shift — maybe he was the officer who’d used the name “Drakey” — and had been keeping an eye on the Mallard boy until the father appeared.

After the fifth time of Stellar searching his pockets and coming up empty, Drake intervened. “Did you drop them?”

“Nah. They’re here somewhere.”

“Did you leave them inside?”

“I told ya I have ‘em and I have ‘em.”

“I don’t think you do.”

“Y’know what, you ungrateful little delinquent?” Stellar growled, turning his hooded eyes on his son. “The next time ya get arrested for defacing public property, Imma let you sit in that cell and rot.”

“Good,” Drake spat. “I wouldn’t want you to come bail me out anyway.”

Stellar stuffed his hands into his pockets then pulled out the ring of keys from his coat triumphantly and rattled them in Drake’s face. “Told ya I had ‘em.” He spun towards the car, saying, “You can walk your ungrateful ass home.”

“You can’t drive,” Drake said because even though he was 18, he was the adult. He’d always been the adult.

“Drove myself here, didn’t I?” Stellar pointed a finger at Drake. “Don’t you bother comin’ home unless you got an apology ready.”

“Then you’re not gonna see me again.”

Stellar sneered and climbed into the car, muttering to himself the whole time. He peeled out of the parking lot not bothering to glance over his shoulder as he left his son behind.

But this was better. Drake hadn’t wanted to spend Christmas with his father as it was, hence the wandering around the streets late at night. And drawing on the department store’s Santa set up. Honestly, those smiling elves and eight tiny reindeer had been asking for it.

Hunching over, Drake left the precinct and headed towards the Bay, hoping to find some peace and quiet away from all this holiday cheer.

Christmas had never been what it looked like in the movies. His mother had tried to make it special, had brought in decorations and what presents she could afford. Made a traditional dinner. But then Stellar would barrel in, sloppy drunk and angry that he hadn’t taken part in any of the festivities.

So Drake avoided the holiday. Wanted nothing to do with it. But it was everywhere with its lights and its Santa displays and its gingerbread and its carols that he wanted to pull his feathers out.

Audubon Bay was, in retrospect, a bad place to go when you wanted to avoid Christmas. The suspension bridge was adorned in lights and wreaths, a cheery welcome to anyone coming into town. Drake sighed, crossing the street and walking onto the bridge. Cause where else was he gonna go? Back home? No way. The only path for him was forward.  

Maybe he would just keep walking. All the way to Duckburg. Not look back. Get a fresh start.

But that was the thing.

He didn’t want to be in a different city.

He wanted to be anyone other than Drake Mallard. Drake Mallard was a wimpy dorky loser with no career prospects and, now, a criminal record. Drake Mallard was weak and boring.

He wanted to be someone exciting. Like the heroes in those comics he still kept shoved under his bed. They had exciting lives and everyone loved them. If he was like that, if he was the hero, he’d be respected by the citizens of St. Canard and feared by the criminals.

There seemed to be no end to the Christmas decorations around him and Drake felt like he was drowning. He needed to get away. Get up somewhere to breathe. Somewhere high where no one would bother him.

Glancing up, he caught sight of one of the bridge’s topmost towers. Sizing up the one closest to him, Drake wondered if he could climb all the way to the top. It was probably quiet up there. And far away from anything Christmas related.

As he contemplated whether to climb or stay put, snow started to fall and effectively made up Drake’s mind for him. It was Christmas enough with the decorations, but with the snow on top of that?

No, thanks.

He glanced around for any cops before jumping up onto the suspender and shimming his way up the cable. He climbed up to the top of the tower, relieved when the building sitting at the peak was an empty space. And that there was no glass in the windows.

Heaving himself up and over, Drake plopped into the tower.

Where it was dark and not Christmasy at all. It was cold all the way up here above the city, but he could deal with that. Because he felt like he could breathe up here. And there was so much room, a first and second floor connected by a spiral staircase.

And all unused if the mounds of dust were anything to go by.

Drake inhaled.

And exhaled.

This was nice. The solitude. The distance.

Peering out of one of the windows, Drake didn’t think Christmas looked so bad from up here.

-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-..-

This Christmas couldn’t be as bad as that one, right?

No, he was actually asking.

Because no one else seemed phased that Negaduck would be in their home on Christmas day. Launchpad drove them home from S.H.U.S.H. like everything was normal. Gosalyn dispensed the meds S.H.U.S.H. had given Drake then sent him to his room to rest.

She ended up staying with him all night, making sure his concussion wasn’t more serious. And each time he woke, he remembered and seriously?

Was no one else going to freak out over this?

[kingsofchaos]

What If one of the fakes had a high school reunion or something like that and just took the crew and it somehow ended in a shoot out with the cops.

Let’s just be clear, it’s not a pride thing. Geoff has never cared what people said about him, not outside a professional sense anyway; he knew exactly who he was, what he was capable of, even before he’d taken an entire city to its knees. So it’s not that he felt the need to prove himself, it’s just that there’s something particular about high school trauma, isn’t there? Something that lingers, even when it shouldn’t, something that emerges from even the most upstanding adults when thrown back together for a reunion, the bullies and the bullied, all desperate to show what they’ve become.Geoff’s last high school was nothing like he’d ever been to before, a snobby upper-crust hellhole he was only in because his Ma’s third husband pulled some strings, and the other students were quick to point out just how much he didn’t belong. Between the tattoos and the smoking, the lazy looks and slow sneering drawl, it was always all too easy to label Geoff a loser, a drop out, trailer park trash everyone knew would be washing their cars one day. Never mind that he scored higher than most of his cohort even when skipping more or less every class, never mind that he is possibly the most well-read crime-lord in the country, back then he had an image and teenagers are relentless. Not that Geoff was all that phased even at the time, only a year or so away from the day he picked up his first gun and never looked back, but it’s the principal of the thing.So when an invite forwards through from an email so old he’d forgotten he’d even made it Geoff has to laugh. Then pause, consider, hatch an utterly ridiculous idea, and laugh some more. Because he might not care, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t enjoy ruining the night for all the pathetic stuck-up nobodies he went to school with; rubbing your success in everyone’s faces is what reunions are for, after all. The fact that it has a theme, that it is masquerade of all things, really just cements Geoff’s resolve to drag his crew halfway across the country into one of the strangest nights of their lives.Everyone knows the option to bring a guest to these events is, in reality, the offer to bring a romantic partner, singular, but it isn’t technically stated. There are no rules barring Geoff from RSVP-ing for 7, so that’s exactly what he does. Sure he receives a few increasingly less polite emails suggesting he’d been mistaken but he doesn’t even bother opening them, doesn’t try to clarify that he is bringing his friends, his family, not his entire harem. Let them talk; they’d do it anyway. Plus, it’s not like the Fake’s aren’t all entirely too pleased with the suggestion, cackling hyenas who spend the next few weeks laying it on thick, batting their eyes and blowing Geoff kisses, picking out increasingly absurd meet-cute stories to tell his scandalised classmates. Between creating new identities and playing dress up in masks and suits they couldn’t be happier.Masks or not they catch every eye in the room when they make their entrance and why wouldn’t they; Geoff and his unusual request must have been the talk of the rumour mill and identity hidden or not clearly this must be Geoff, it’s not like anyone else brought along 6 dates. As stage whispers hit a dull roar it’s obvious no one was prepared for what they were seeing, perhaps imagined instead stained tank tops and a string of strung-out baby mama’s, not expensively tailored suits and an attractively refined entourage. Paying the noise no heed Geoff swans into the room with Jack looking elegant on one arm, Gavin at his most Ken-doll glamorous tucked under the other, flanked on either side by Ryan, Michael, Jeremy and Ray, all dressed to impress.Shock and jealousy aren’t good looks on anyone, let alone rich brats turned elitist yuppies, so Geoff’s classmates behave just as poorly as he’d anticipated, years and newfound maturity doing nothing to stop the tittering laughter, the sneers and judgmental looks, fake pleasantry and condescending questions. But then, his crew didn’t exactly play nice with them either.Ray and Jeremy immediately beeline to the food table and bar, respectively, and each set themselves up and settle in for the night; loud, obnoxious and tactlessly talking about everyone around them. When asked about themselves or their relationship to Geoff they’re both frustratingly vague, Jeremy chattering away without saying much at all and Ray simply staring people down until they can’t bear the tension.Michael and Ryan set off together to explore the room but quickly separate to accommodate their vastly different methods of surveillance. Ryan skulks into the background, ducking numerous attempts to catch his interest in favour of fading into unlit corners and empty nooks, frightening the life out of anyone trying to slip away for some private time. Michael, on the other hand, seems determined to be the life of the party, cheerfully making conversation only to laugh in the face of every so-called achievement, ruffling feathers and causing major offence wherever he goes.Gavin slinks off like a man on a mission and doesn’t come back for over an hour, offering no explanation for the absence beyond a dangerously self-satisfied smirk. His work becomes obvious soon enough anyway, once the yelling starts; Geoff’s two main high-school tormentors, mentioned only in passing stories over the years, simultaneously having huge, public, relationship-ending blow ups with each of their significant others. What are the odds? Across the hall Gavin laughs, all tinkling glass and sparkling charm, smoothly working the room like Michael’s mirror opposite.Jack stays at Geoff’s side all night, hackles raised into something abnormally cold and unimpressed any time someone comes up to speak to them, protective instincts in full force no matter how often Geoff claims to be unaffected. He fills her in on all the worst gossip about those who approach, and as the night progresses and general unease begins to spread Jack mellows, sinking back into something sweet and mocking, somehow even more unsettling playing docile arm-candy than she was rabid guard dog.Throughout the night the Fake AH Crew remain a key topic of every casual conversation; they might have been regardless, even this far from Los Santos no one can get enough of their scandals, but with the huge heist pulled just last week there was no way to avoid it, everyone has their two cents, their praise and condemnation. It’s too funny, the whole crew killing themselves trying not to break character, to laugh or correct or manipulate the conversation but all their self-control is well rewarded in the end.Half the room removed their masks less than an hour into the night; too difficult to eat and talk and drink in, too vain to keep their hard earned looks covered, so it’s not at all strange when the Fake’s start to follow suit. Jeremy and Ray start it, the newest member and the one caught on camera the least often, casually dropping their masks mid-conversation. They each get a confused squint or two, a double glance, a few individuals trying to place them, remember how they’d met before, why they were so familiar.Next came Gavin and Michael, having goaded each other out onto the dance-floor they were playing as much as they were moving to the music, laughing and grappling and generally making a bit of a scene. They snatch off each other’s masks as they play and the looks double, because alone they’re each distinctive but together, together, people have seen those faces together, somewhere they’ve seen them and so often together..Last is Jack and Geoff, more graceful than their counterparts and moving with far more purpose they reveal their faces in the centre of the room and, like a party trick, they instantly catch the whole room’s attention. Out of context, in ones and twos where they don’t belong, the members of the FAHC could be mistaken but no one in the country would fail to recognise Ramsey and Patillo, the kingpin and his right hand, rulers of the most well-known gang in the US. And here they stand, casually mingling at a high school reunion.In the calm before the storm the crew gravitates back towards one another, can almost see the cogs turning around them, the lightbulbs flickering on in a slow ripple spreading out across the room, disbelief and the first hint of horror swirling together as people start unconsciously reaching for their phones. As Ryan slips back out and wanders over, the last still masked, always masked, the chatter seems to crescendo then crash into something still and almost silent as a room full of entitled trust-fund babies recognise their own terror.Finally uncovered and flanked by his family Geoff’s grin creeps across his face, slow and violent and more confirmation than anyone needed as he lets the oppressive tension sit for a long moment, arms spreading out to his sides like a magician revealing a clever trick before he breaks the silence; Surprise motherfuckers. Guns are pulled from jackets and from there it’s all running and screaming, no honour or courage, just a stampede for the exits to the sound of cackling laughter and the occasional aimless pot-shot. The Fake’s aren’t looking for lives, not worth the hassle really, and this job certainly has no monetary reward beyond the wallets Geoff’s filthy little thieves have no doubt absconded with, but the fear in the air is delightful and even the sound of incoming sirens can’t ruin the mood. If anything it only hypes them up further, all savage grins and ramping excitement as they make for doors, reloading their weapons and pumping themselves up for a whole new police force to terrorise, Geoff’s magnificent little miscreants.On the way out they pass a wall of yearbook photos, blown up large and captioned with names and all the old superlative awards. Ryan stumbles to a halt and snorts, snatching one off the wall and tucking it into his jacket to take back to the penthouse, though not before flashing the Lads a glance at that all too recognisable face, sending them into peals of screeching laughter as they pour out into the night. Geoffrey Fink; Least likely to succeed. 

[jonghyundroppedthesoap]

My Number One Fan

Chapter 8

Pairing: JongKey Word Count: 3,636 Summary: Kibum goes to the same, run-down bar every week to watch the man of his affections sing his heart out with a mere guitar for company. He wasn’t expecting the coffee, nor the beautiful personality within the singer. And he definitely wasn’t expecting to fall in love.

A/N: originally posted on @ourshineeshrine

Kibum sat on the floor by Taemin, holding the younger’s hand protectively as he gnawed on his lip in worry. Glancing at the time on his phone for the umpteenth time in the last ten minutes, Kibum sighed in concern as his eyes ran over the bruises adorning Taemin’s pale skin.

“Those fucking assholes.” he whispered to himself, smoothing his hand through Taemin’s hair fondly as the boy’s eyes twitched in his sleep.

He sat there in silence for a little while longer, before all of a sudden he felt his phone vibrating in his hand as Jonghyun’s name flashed on the screen.

“Jjong, are you here?” he spoke urgently through the receiver.

“I’m at your school…where are you?”

Kibum glanced around at his surroundings hurriedly, taking note of the locker colours and classrooms nearby. “I’m in the first year block. If you go to the courtyard, there are a few tables outside a brown brick building. I’m in there.”

Jonghyun said nothing, but Kibum assumed he was nodding in understanding. “I’m running over now. Be right there, ‘Bummie.”

The phone call ended with a click, and Kibum let out a long exhale of relief. True to his word, around a minute later Jonghyun’s footsteps could be heard making their way down the corridor, the short male appearing hurriedly with a red tint shading his cheeks.

His pace slowed as his eyes landed upon Kibum, shooting him a small smile before they drifted to land on Taemin, eyes widening in horror.

“Shit. What happened to him?!” exclaimed Jonghyun in panic, jogging over to the two dancers and kneeling down by Taemin.

“A bunch of fucking losers thought it would be nice to pick on Taemin just because he’s ‘pretty’. How pathetic.” spoke Kibum angrily, running his hand through his blonde locks aggressively.

Jonghyun scoffed in disbelief before scooping the fragile boy into his arms, pouting at Kibum sadly. “Poor kid. We have to go get him some medical help…will my house do?”

Kibum’s stomach jolted at the thought of visiting Jonghyun’s house, but he supressed his feelings in consideration of Taemin’s wellbeing. “Definitely. I-I’m sorry I bothered you today, by the way. I didn’t know who else to call.”

The two walked side by side back down the corridor, Jonghyun flashing Kibum as reassuring smile. “You’re not bothering me, ‘Bum. This is serious. Don’t forget I’m always happy to help. Besides, I’m not complaining; I get to spend more time with you.”

Kibum had trouble concealing his grin at the older boy’s cheesy yet meaningful words, heart fluttering wildly at Jonghyun’s kind heart and beautiful smile. “Thank you, Jjong. Seriously.”

Jonghyun’s mouth widened in a toothy smile, watching the way in which Kibum’s dimples began to protrude slightly against the contours of his smooth skin. His hand was practically twitching in the urge to hold Kibum’s, however both of his arms were currently preoccupied with carrying the fragile first year and so regrettably he would just have to wait to feel the younger boy’s warm hand entwined with his once again.

They reached Jonghyun’s car within minutes, the older male gently sliding Taemin into the back seat before joining Kibum in the front. A mumbled hum began to ooze its way through his lips, and the chill that prickled down Kibum’s spine was inevitable.

“Is he your friend?” questioned Jonghyun quietly after they had backed out and pulled onto the main road.

Kibum laughed humorously to himself, thoughts drifting back to his previous attitude towards the younger boy. “Kinda, yeah. We never used to like each other too much, but the little shit is growing on me.”

Jonghyun quirked an eyebrow. “Little shit? He looks so innocent though.”

Kibum scoffed, shaking his head violently with an amused grin playing at his lips. Taemin, innocent? “Looks being the key word in that sentence.”

Jonghyun chuckled heartily, Kibum discretely admiring the way his eyes crinkled in laughter and the pearly white teeth that reminded him all too entirely of a dinosaur.

‘Seriously adorable.’

“Second day in a row Kibum…that desperate to see me?” teased Jonghyun, casually changing the subject with a sly smirk etching onto his face.

Kibum rolled his eyes playfully. “Get over yourself; you’re the only person I know with a car.”

Jonghyun gasped in mock hurt, flicking away fake tears dramatically. “I thought I meant something to you, Kibum! I thought we had a connection!”

Kibum looked out the window into the distance, placing his soft hands delicately against the cool glass. “So goodbye, don’t cry and smile,” he began to sing melancholically, causing Jonghyun’s head to whip towards him before bursting out into laughter.

“What the heck are we doing, Kibum?” he questioned amusedly, focusing his gaze back on the road with a grin twitching at his lips.

Kibum shook his head. “I don’t know; you started it.”

“Touché, my friend. Touché.”

The comfortable silence returned, Kibum yearningly breathing in the scent of the car which smelled exactly like Jonghyun. Cinnamon, old books and mint.

“My sister and mum are a little crazy. Just a warning.” spoke Jonghyun with a snicker as they turned onto his street, the singer mentally praying that the two women wouldn’t say anything stupid in front of Kibum.

Kibum grinned mischievously. “So that’s where you get it from!”

The car finally pulled into the driveway of an average sized house, Kibum immediately noting the welcoming and warm aura the home seemed to behold.

“You are so rude, Kibum.” scoffed Jonghyun, smiling nonetheless at the younger boy’s cheek.

Kibum poked his tongue out before unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the car door. “It’s my specialty.”

The two males stepped out of the car before carefully lifting Taemin off the back seat, Kibum allowing Jonghyun to take the boy in his stronger arms whilst he closed the door and locked it shut.

“Maybe we should’ve taken him to the hospital…” spoke the feline boy hesitantly, biting his bottom lip as his eyes once again landed on Taemin’s frail, feeble form.

Jonghyun glanced at Kibum reassuringly over his shoulder, grinning crookedly as he hit the doorbell with his elbow. “It’ll be alright, ‘Bummie; my sister’s in medical school.”

Kibum sighed a breath of relief he didn’t even realise he’d been holding, coming to stand by Jonghyun with his arms crossed casually over his chest. “Why are you ringing the doorbell to your own house?”

Jonghyun chuckled quietly. “I wouldn’t normally, but I left my house key inside and my sister usually locks the door behind me.”

Kibum nodded in understanding and went to reply, however was interrupted as the door pulled open and a young woman’s face peered at them through the entryway.

“Hyun-ah, back alrea—“she began to question, only for her words to be caught in her throat as her gaze dropped to the fragile body in Jonghyun’s arms.

Sodam let out a squeal of horror, opening the door wide and ushering Jonghyun and Kibum inside frantically. “What on earth happened to him?!” she exclaimed, gesturing for Jonghyun to place him on the couch before rushing into the kitchen to grab supplies.

“He got beaten up by some kids at Kibum’s school.” frowned Jonghyun, leaving Kibum to watch over Taemin as he went to assist Sodam gather medical supplies.

Kibum gently brushed Taemin’s hair off of his soft face, sighing in sympathy for the young dancer. “Where is Minho when you need him?” he questioned to himself silently, thoughts drifting back to when Taemin had told him of Minho’s protectiveness.

Jonghyun looked through the archway to the lounge from where he stood, heart clenching in jealousy at the affection Kibum showed the younger male. He knew that the two students were merely close friends, however he couldn’t prevent the surge of annoyance that drifted through his veins at their display of affection – He couldn’t help but wish he was the battered one lying upon the couch, despite the awfulness of the situation.

Jonghyun shook his head to rid himself of those negative thoughts.

‘I’m awful.’

“Hyun-ah, hurry up! Give me that wet towel and go back to the lounge room. I won’t be a second.” scolded Sodam, taking the now drenched towel out of Jonghyun’s hands and shoving him gently towards the lounge.

Jonghyun sat down softly besides Kibum, working up his courage and inching his hand towards Kibum’s. He cautiously placed his warm, masculine hands over Kibum’s feminine ones in tenderness and support, shooting the younger a sympathetic smile. Kibum’s heart leapt within in his chest, holding his breath at the tingles which ran over his skin as Jonghyun’s hand made contact.

“Are you sure it’s okay I come over to your house on Saturday?” queried Jonghyun delicately in attempt to divert Kibum’s mind from concern.

Kibum’s lips tilted gently at the ends, dimples appearing softly against the crimson rouge that graced his face. “Yeah, it’ll be fine Jjong. Besides, it’s not like I’ve got anything better to do. You’re doing me a favour, trust me.”

Jonghyun beamed, eyes crinkling at the ends in contentment. “As long as you come watch me sing on Sunday.”

“No need to persuade me; I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” scoffed Kibum in a discretely flirtatious manner, a wave of delight crashing over Jonghyun’s body in a pool of butterflies.

Sodam stood in the doorway watching on amusedly.

‘This must be Kibum! At least ‘Hyun’s got good taste.’

Despite the adorableness of the situation before her, Sodam knew there was more important matters at hand and briskly strolled into the lounge with an armful of supplies.

“Sit back a little guys, give the poor boy some room.” she ordered gently, and then knelt before the couch as Jonghyun and Key jumped off to begin working on healing Taemin’s cuts and bruises.

The two older males stood by idly and watched on in concern, Kibum observing Sodam’s professionalism with awe. “She’s really good,” he commented offhandedly.

Jonghyun nodded with a fond smile. “Yeah…I have memories of when we were younger; if anyone hurt themselves she would be the first to comfort them or get help. I remember this one time when I’d fallen over, there were no adults around.  Instead of panicking or crying or looking for someone else, the first thing she did was rip a bit of her t-shirt off and hold it against the cut on my knee. It wasn’t even serious, but she was so mature about it…I just know when she graduates she’s gonna be a great nurse.”

Kibum’s lips quirked as Jonghyun spoke about his sister, enjoying the way the singer’s eyes lit up in tenderness and affection as he spoke about the young woman. It was times like these in which Kibum wished he had a sibling – someone to keep him company during his childhood and take care of him when his parents were away working. Sighing the thoughts away, Kibum focused his gaze back on Taemin, heart clenching in hurt for the scrawny boy.

“Kibum?” Jonghyun nudged, gaining the third year’s attention immediately.

“Mm?”

Jonghyun gestured to the kitchen, a lopsided grin plastering itself onto his handsome face. “Would you like something to drink? Noona may be a while…”

Kibum nodded eagerly, glad to finally have something take his mind off the bedridden boy. Jonghyun gently tugged at Kibum’s hand eliciting a blush from the younger, and led him into the kitchen before opening the fridge. After the two decided on a can of soda each, they took a seat on the kitchen stools and sipped at them leisurely.

“Is your mum home at the moment?” asked Kibum curiously, earning a chuckle out of Jonghyun.

“Nah, she went grocery shopping right before you rang. She should be home soon though.”

Kibum nodded, running his finger around the rim of his can casually. “Your family is so cute.” he commented before taking another gulp of soda.

Jonghyun shot Kibum a look of incredulity. “You haven’t even talked to them.” he laughed.

Kibum giggled. “I know, they just seem so cute.”

Jonghyun rolled his eyes playfully. “Sure, sure. Do you want to come see my bedroom?”

Kibum blanched, eyes widening in surprise. The mere thought of going into the older boy’s room with just the two of them gave him a pleasant, warm feeling in the pit of his stomach; however an abundance of butterflies also flew maniacally, evoking a feeling of nervousness to engulf his mind.

“A-ah yeah…if that’s okay with you?”

Jonghyun poked his tongue out between his teeth teasingly, standing up from his seat and pulling Kibum with him. “I asked, you idiot. C’mon!”

Kibum bit his lip excitingly and scurried along with Jonghyun, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he walked. As they strolled, his eyes glanced over the photos upon the wall, a light giggle spilling out of his lips as they landed on a photo taken when Jonghyun was a child.

“You were so cute!” he exclaimed in a squeal, causing Jonghyun’s eyes to widen and his face flush bright rouge.

“Were?” the singer questioned mischievously, raising his eyebrows suggestively at the younger boy.

Kibum scoffed. “Yes, were. Now you’re leaning more on the handsome side.”

Jonghyun felt his heart leap at the compliment, biting his lip in contentment as they reached his bedroom door. “Why thank you Kibum…I’ll let you be the cute one between the two of us.”

Kibum’s cheeks reddened considerably, however their distinctive pink shade thankfully went unnoticed as Jonghyun pushed his door open and stood back to let Kibum inside first.

“Welcome to my shrine.” he exclaimed extravagantly, presenting the average sized bedroom with his toned arm.

Kibum took a cautious step in and looked around with interest. A large, double bed covered by an abstract, blue duvet lay in the corner (not that Kibum was getting any thoughts), and a dresser sat beside it; the other side of the room decked with novels and cd’s within a bookcase and a lone guitar lying to the right.

Jonghyun rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I mean…it’s not that great. But it serves its purpose, and that’s all that really matters.”

The dancer shook his head in denial, eyes shining at the simplistic yet comforting aura the room expelled. Kibum took slow steps towards the bookcase and laid his eyes upon the extensive collection of cd’s lying within. His eyes widened at the sheer amount of English artists, shooting the older male a sceptical look.

“Can you even understand these? You don’t take me for a linguistic person.”

Jonghyun gasped in mock hurt.

“Again with your rudeness Kibum! I may not be able to understand the words, but the music speaks to me.” he spoke passionately, joining Kibum by the bookcase and reaching out to stroke an album’s spine dramatically.

Kibum threw his head back and chuckled loudly. “You are so cheesy, stop!” he choked out in laughter, holding onto Jonghyun’s arm for support and unknowingly causing a large flutter of chills to run down the elder’s spine.

“And why the heck are you stroking the album?! I know you love music, but damn Jjong!”

Jonghyun adopted a fake look of anger, crossing his arms over his chest and aiming a glare at Kibum. “You dare kink shame me in my own home?”

This sent Kibum over the edge, barking out a boisterous cackle that unwillingly tugged at Jonghyun’s lips and lightened his heart. At that moment, Jonghyun found that Kibum’s beautiful laugh was contagious, following the younger boy’s lead and laughing loudly at his own immature stupidity and god-awful acting. They laughed and laughed until their stomach’s ached and their breaths came in short, audible puffs; and as it seemed, their booming chuckles had been distinguishable throughout the entirety of the house, a small knock rapping at the door soon after their laughter had died down.

“Jonghyun-ah?” came the voice of said boy’s mother, causing the two males to immediately straighten up and divert their heads to the chipped, wooden door.

“Come in!” granted Jonghyun, his voice inducing the door to open and a middle aged woman’s head to poke through the gap.

“’Hyun-ah, your friend will wake up soon. Do you and…” she spoke, trailing off towards the end and shooting Kibum a curious look.

“Kibum.” assisted the said boy with a bright smile, Jonghyun’s mother nodding in gratitude as a questionably sly and knowing gleam glinted in her gaze.

“Do you and Kibum want to sit in the lounge until he awakens? The poor boy probably has no idea where he is.”

Jonghyun nodded, gesturing at Kibum to follow behind him as he strolled out the room. “He doesn’t even know who I am, so you better explain Kibum.”

Kibum trailed behind Jonghyun, taking one last glance at the cozy room before exiting with the hopes of seeing it again soon. Upon entering the lounge, Kibum and Jonghyun immediately took notice of the change in aura, a more light-hearted feel adorning the room instead of the previous gloomy, urgent one. The afternoon sun shone in through the open curtains and brightened the room considerably, the light rays peeking through the window landing on Taemin and giving him the appearance of an angel.

Jonghyun and Key sat down on the sofa nearby, Jonghyun turning on the television to fill the silence that lingered throughout the room. It was a comfortable silence, but that didn’t stop Kibum from worrying about the fragile boy beside them.

“Next time I see those guys…I assure you I’m going to slit their throats.” muttered Kibum angrily, emitting a hum of agreement from Jonghyun.

“Text me when you do, I’ll come help.”

Kibum laughed and Jonghyun followed promptly, finding that the younger boy’s laugh was quite infectious.

“How did you manage to get rid of them today, anyhow? I won’t be bailing you out of jail anytime soon, right?” chuckled the singer in question, nudging Kibum gently with a slight smirk.

Kibum scoffed. “If you can get arrested for verbally slaying someone, then maybe. I gave those assholes a piece of my mind and their puny brains just couldn’t handle it.”

Jonghyun rose an incredulous eyebrow at Kibum’s blunt words, however the smirk on his face didn’t fade in the slightest. “I quite like this diva side of you.” he commented, lying his arm next to Kibum’s so that he could relish in the warmth and comfort that the other boy’s presence gave him.

Kibum’s eyes widened with a blush, not expecting the older male’s reply. “Thanks, I guess. You’re one of few.” he mumbled, down casting his eyes cutely in embarrassment.

“Well then aren’t I lucky?” grinned Jonghyun, inching his hand over slightly to rest on top of Kibum’s.

Kibum lifted his gaze slowly with his lower lip trapped between his teeth, Jonghyun internally cheering as their eyes met. “Besides, who could dislike someone as adorable as you?”

Although Jonghyun was mentally slapping himself at his straight forwardness and cheesy comments, he couldn’t will himself to stop. The different facial expressions that flashed across Kibum’s face were all too fascinating to Jonghyun, and he just wished at that moment he had a paper and pen to capture the pure adorableness of the beautiful, feline boy.

Unfortunately he didn’t however, so he opted for merely looking at Kibum; studying the way his lips tilted gently when amused, the slight crease that appeared between his brows when confused or surprised, and especially the enticing pink hue that glazed across Kibum’s cheeks all too often when embarrassed.

Kibum’s blush only continued to intensify after he noticed the older boy’s staring, awkwardly diverting his gaze back to Taemin upon the couch. He stole secret glances out the corner of his eye every once and a while, only to see that Jonghyun was still looking at him with that stupidly adorable smile etched upon his chiselled face. It was just a few minutes later however, when he looked back towards the youngest male in the room, where his jaw dropped in surprise, noticing Taemin’s fluttering eyelashes and stirring body.

“Jjong…I think he’s waking up!” he exclaimed, jumping off the couch hurriedly (much to Jonghyun’s chagrin) and rushing over to Taemin’s side.

Jonghyun stayed seated, not wanting to scare the boy with his presence once he had awakened. After all, the two had never even met. He watched while Kibum’s grin began to widen as Taemin’s eyes squinted at the light, the frail boy groaning in discomfort as he tried to shift up into a sitting position.

“Stay lying, Taemin-ah. You have to rest.” coddled Kibum in a soothing tone, running his hand through the young dancer’s luscious, brown locks.

Taemin’s brows furrowed, and he looked in struggle for something to say. “K-Kibum…Where’s Minho?” he stuttered, tilting his head to the side frantically in search for the other boy.

“Calm down, Taem…I don’t have his number. Tell me his number and I’ll ring him now.” spoke Kibum gently, fishing his phone out and preparing to tap in the frog-like male’s contact details.

Taemin hoarsely told Kibum the digits to Minho’s phone, Kibum tapping them in hastily and pressing call. The phone rang a few times, but Minho answered almost immediately, voice sounding frantic from the other end.

“Hello?!” it came gruffly, although Kibum didn’t miss the slight amount of concern that laced the soccer player’s voice.

“Minho…It’s me, Kibum. I’ve got Taemin right now, he’s safe.”

Kibum heard a huge exhale from the other side of the line. “Thank God…where are you? I’ll be there soon.”

“I’ll text you the address, okay?” replied Kibum, smiling at the care and worry Minho held for Taemin. It really was quite adorable.

“Okay…Tell Taemin I’m coming now.”

“Will do. See you soon, Minho.”

“See ya, Kibum.”

[haprilona]

Descendit Lunaticus, Chapter 4

Title: Descendit Lunaticus

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Genre: Hurt/comfort Rating: M Note: This is a ‘music fic’. Each musical note symbol ( ♫ ) links to a FFXV song that adds to the mood and reading experience. You’re not required to listen to the links while reading, but I highly recommend it! This story was written mostly for the sake of playing with the atmosphere and mood, not for the plot.

I recommend you read this in AO3 as it has drawings, correct formatting etc. to enhance the reading experience. Characters: Noctis Lucis Caelum, Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, Prompto Argentum, Ignis Scientia, Gladiolus Amiticia, Aranea Highwind, Iris Amicitia Relationships: Noctis/Lunafreya, Ignis/Aranea, Prompto/Cindy Word count: 19049 Summary: When Ardyn makes Noctis choose between the Crystal and his friends, Noctis chooses his friends out of brotherly love and dooms the world. A decade later Noctis is no longer the Chosen King fighting to reclaim his throne, but a common hunter whose only purpose in life is his friends and protecting the remaining Lucian civilians from the horrors of the eternal night. One day he is reunited with someone he thought was forever out of his reach, but not in a manner he would’ve wanted.

Also at AO3 & FF.net

              ♫

Noctis sat back and watched Prompto set up his modified Drillbreaker on an elemental deposit. He covered his ears and watched as the drill sprung alive with the revving of its engine. It dug into the elemental-rich earth and drained it of its energy, similar to how his Engine Blade harvested said force from slain daemons and beasts. Next to the drill were several metal barrels meant for the harvested fuel.

The driller wore large yellow earmuffs that shielded his hearing from the loud buzzing. They were covered in doodles made with a thick tipped marker: a chocobo, a curvy monkey covered in grease – a reference to Cindy, he presumed – and the main cast from King’s Knight to name a few. Even his newly gifted garage overalls had been decorated with random inked phrases and doodles. Clearly his friend had taken the chance to vent his boredom during the long car drives on his clothes. He wondered what Cid thought of Prompto’s artistic habits.

Noctis buried his bearded chin in the collar of his coat. There were no trees near Dainse haven to cover them from the chill breeze that carried all the way from Callatein’s Plunge. The steam of his breath tickled his face. Figuring he wasn’t going to get any warmer by sitting on his backside, he removed one hand from his ear, tapped his friend’s shoulder and waited for the drilling to stop.

“Sup?” Prompto removed the tacky earmuffs and wiped his sweaty forehead.

“I’m freezing my ass off. I’m gonna take a walk.”

The freckled man looked apologetic. “Ahh. Sorry, buddy, I didn’t pack another drill with me.”

Noctis shoved his freezing hands in his pockets. “That’s ‘cause you don’t have another drill.”

Prompto grinned. “True.” He took out an empty crystal flask from his pocket, put a pipe in one of the barrels and with a turn of the tap filled the flask before casually tossing it to his friend. “Just don’t go too far. I don’t wanna get ambushed by daemons.”

Noctis caught the flask. “I’ll watch your back. Just need to get my blood flowing is all.”

With that Prompto put his earmuffs back on and switched on the drill. Noctis briskly walked further away from the ear-piercing racket.

Ignoring the phone vibrating against his thigh was becoming a habit as Noctis didn’t need to confirm the caller ID to know it was Iris. He had been avoiding her for the last two days and had yet to reveal his mistake to anyone, even Prompto. Not necessarily for the lack of wanting to – although that did play a part in his reluctance – but because he didn’t know how to bring it up.

‘Hey, Gladio. I screwed your sister.’ He wouldn’t have to worry about continuing the Lucis Caelum line after the fiercely overprotective brother was done sterilising him.

‘Ignis, do I smell like Iris? Your theory would be correct this time.’ He’d be lucky to escape with a firm lecture.

‘Prompto, you said you wanted to see me hook up with Iris…’ Definitely not what his friend had meant.

He couldn’t keep ignoring the issue forever. If he didn’t address Iris and talk this through, she would bring it up to ‘Gladdy’ and then the whole fort would know.

Bracing himself, Noctis brought the cell phone to his ear and pressed the ‘accept call’ -button. A long monotonous beep was his only reward. She must’ve hung up just as he answered. Figures. No way did he had the guts to call her himself.

With a frustrated sigh he shoved his phone back in his pocket. Guess he’d just have to talk to her once they returned to the fort. Noctis noticed Umbra hiding under the van. The dog was a pathetic sight as he covered the sensitive ears with his paws to muffle Prompto's drilling.

Noctis knelt down and peered under the car. “You okay there, boy?”

The canine gritted his fangs in an ugly grimace as if commenting on the noise. Chuckling, Noctis dragged the dog out.

“Some guard dog you are. C’mon, I need to write Luna a message.”

Reluctantly Umbra allowed himself to be pulled out from under the car. The notebook was removed from its casing and flipped to a blank page. Noctis hadn’t seen her since she brought him the Carbuncle figurine and healed his arm. He wanted their next meeting to be more casual and less about saving dying birds or his sorry hide. More than anything, he wanted to actually sit down and talk with her. To her. Whatever. He could start by asking why she never spoke.

It was slightly unnerving how easily he had gotten accustomed to the unnatural. To him it was perfectly normal that he could contact his dead fiancée through an old weathered notebook that was carried by an immortal dog. It was just another day in his life when he caught brief glimpses of a white dress from his peripheral vision or when the latest injury from a daemon encounter was mysteriously healed the next morning.

He tapped the end of the pen against his bearded chin as he tried to think of a good way to invite her over.

‘I’d like to spend time with you, if your undead schedule isn’t too full.’ Nah.

‘Poor little old me misses my friendly ghost. Throw this geezer a bone and come visit?’ Hell no.

When did he become such a loser? He scratched his cheek absently. Last time she came to visit, Noctis had thanked her for saving him and expressed his longing for her presence. Maybe a good ol’ ‘I miss you’ could do the trick?

He glanced at the miserable dog and the bushy tail tugged between quivering legs. Umbra really hated that drill. Somehow he could be brave and ferocious when dealing with daemons and not be bothered at all by the racket of turrets firing right beside him, but for some reason Prompto’s drill was making him miserable. Maybe it produced some sort of high-pitched whine along with the regular buzzing that only dogs could hear.

Noctis set his pen on paper. ‘Miss you. Come visit me soon?’ Much better. Simple yet effective. He wondered how she could receive the message when the messenger refused to do his job. In the end it hardly mattered as long as it worked. He closed the book and put it back in its casing before standing up and letting Umbra inside the van. The noise was much more bearable there. Making sure the Engine Blade was securely tied to his belt, Noctis made his way back to Prompto.

              ♫

As soon as he drove the van past the gatekeeper-MT, Noctis spotted the pale figure of Little Luna balancing on top of a fence that separated the airship landing zone from the rest of the fort. A slow grin crept to his lips. She had received his message.

“Is that who I think it is?” Prompto peered through the windshield.

Noctis couldn’t keep the excitement from his tone. “Yep.”

He parked the van and stepped out. Prompto jogged off to find a trolley to move the elemental energy-filled barrels to the garage. Despite civilians and hunters alike flocking the area, Noctis could clearly see Little Luna’s white dress gently swaying in the chill breeze above the crowds. She spotted him and waved. Incontinently he waved back. He doubted people would pay any attention to him or realise he was waving at thin air – from their perspective, anyway.

He didn’t notice someone else returning his wave.

“Noct!”

His eyes fell from Little Luna to the brunette in farmer’s overalls.

“There you are. I’ve been worried about you! You haven’t answered my calls.” A strong smell of hay floated up to his nose as she came closer. Her boots were covered in mud and chocobo manure. She must’ve just returned from the farm. He could make out Talcott’s familiar flannel shirt and Hammerhead cap peeking behind passing bodies.

“Must’ve had my phone on mute”, Noctis easily lied. He didn’t want to have ‘The Talk’ in public. “Doesn’t help I’m half-deaf after hearing Prompto’s drill for an hour.”

Iris let out a relieved sigh accompanied by a small giggle. “I’m so glad to see you’re okay now. You’ve been acting strange lately and I didn’t really know what to make of it.”

“Yeah.” Noctis shifted his weight uneasily and glanced to where Little Luna had been standing. Of course she was gone. Damn it.

“Say, Noct. With all the hustle and bustle of the Market day and the daemon attack, we haven’t really had the chance to spend time together. You should ask Ignis to grant you a day off.”

A day off? It’s not like he had assigned work days; he worked when it was required. Other times he passed time with mundane activities or helping Cid with what he could. Although he rarely had to worry about boredom as Aranea was more than eager to make sure he didn’t stay inactive for long.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and frowned. “What for?”

“So we could hang out, silly!”

This could be his chance to find privacy to dissuade her of any romantic notions. He doubted she wanted an audience. He sure didn’t. But he didn’t like misleading her and giving her false hope.

Noctis nearly jumped out of his skin when he noticed Little Luna appear from behind Iris’ back. She settled between them and looked up, her head turning back and forth between them as if assessing the situation. Seeming to come to a conclusion, she took a step back to stand next to Iris and frowned. She ruffled her blond hair and made a valiant effort to style it similarly to his before stuffing her hands in imaginary pockets and hunching forward. Was she imitating him?

Not able to help himself, he snorted.

Ha. Ha. Very funny, you cheeky little imp.

Iris’ smile faded as confusion weighing down her pink lips. “What?”

“That’s a good idea”, he managed to say even as his lips quivered from a suppressed grin. Little Luna beamed up at him and dropped her hands from the imaginary pockets. Reaper, he had missed her. He would do anything to see her smile.

“Really? I mean, great! I’ll ask if I could get Ignis to cook us something.”

Oh crap. She was taking their social outing as a date. Not only a date, but a dinner date. Way to ruin her day by ending it with a “sorry, it’s not you, it’s me”-talk.

“Maybe that’s too much”, he tentatively cut in. “I mean, Ignis is busy with work and can’t just come down from his tower to cook a meal for random denizens.”

Iris put her dirt-covered gloved hands on her hips and glowered. A storm brewed in her hazel eyes. This could end badly. Next to her Little Luna copied her expression and pose. It was hard to concentrate with her actively trying to make him laugh. “We’re not just random denizens; we’re his friends! I’m sure he’d like to have a break and do something he actually loves for a change!”

How did he always end up in these situations?

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea”, he mumbled in defeat.

Recognising his reluctant agreement, Iris grinned at him in delight. She always got her way when it came to him, Gladio, Ignis and later Prompto. After all, she was the group’s baby sister and they had adored pampering her ever since she was a little girl. But then she reached her thirteenth year and started casting doe-eyes his way whenever they happened to be in the same room. Those two years had been highly awkward times and he had made sure never to leave Gladio’s side whenever visiting the Amicitia household. When he had complained about the youngest Amicitia’s behaviour to Ignis, the advisor-in-training assured him that it would pass and she was just having a little crush on him.

“Not so different from the one you nurture on Lady Lunafreya, I should think.”

“I-I am not!” his seventeen-year-old self had heatedly claimed, but even back then he hadn’t fooled anybody.

Those were much simpler times.

“I’ll let you know when it’s ready. And be sure to wear something nice!” Offering a final wave in parting, she joined Talcott and strolled down to the underground levels with a spring in her step.

Defeated, Noctis ran a hand through his hair in frustration before glancing at his ghostly companion. Little Luna covered her mouth to silence her muffled giggles.

“I’m glad you find this funny”, he grumbled and went to help Prompto unload the barrels from the van.

Noctis sauntered to his dorm. Iris had asked him to wear ‘something nice’. A simple request, but not one he could fulfil. His idea of nice equalled a clean hunter’s uniform, since he didn’t exactly own outfits for casual social events. Figuring he could leave the vest, scarf and weapons behind, just this once, he pulled out a clean shirt from the wardrobe. He stripped out of his coat and skull-printed shirt and carelessly tossed them on the bed. When he didn’t hear the expected rustle of cloth hitting cloth, he turned around and saw Little Luna sitting on his bunk and peering at him through the collar of his shirt. Suddenly self-conscious about his topless state, he turned his back to her and hurriedly pulled the long-sleeved black shirt on.

Little Luna dropped the shirt and coat, stood up and held one hand behind her back as if she was hiding something. She beckoned him to come closer.

“What are you up to this time, you little minx?” His grin softened the bite of his words. Hands on his hips, he stood in front of her and quizzically raised a brow.

She motioned him to turn around. Noctis frowned in suspicion, but complied with a melodramatic sigh. “I’m gonna regret this, aren’t I.”

Something was wrapped tightly around his neck. For a brief moment he panicked as he imagined a noose strangling him, but the expected light-headedness resulting from running out of air never came. He looked down. It was the tie he had worn with his royal raiment back in Insomnia. He turned around to glare at the little girl.

“It’s not a date. I don’t need to dress up.” Ignoring her pout, he pulled the white striped black tie off. She lowered her glassy eyes to stare at her toes. Was she seriously sulking over a tie of all things? Why did she want him to wear it so badly? He sat down next to her and fingered the silken cloth. Was it because she had expected to see him wear it while waiting for him in Altissia? Was he denying her an innocent daydream?

He loosely tied the piece of cloth around her bare neck. “You know what? If you want to see me in the suit so badly, I promise I’ll put it on for your-“, he stopped himself. Curious, she looked up at him expectantly, but he didn’t have the heart to say it out loud.

              ♫

Funeral.

Her funeral was less than two weeks away.

It had been over a month since he found Little Luna in Caem and retrieved the corpse of his fiancée from the icy waters. She remained in the same condition as when he found her; one unfocused eye staring into space, pale slime-covered skin of a recently killed victim and lacking the foul stench one would associate with a corpse. Even if she was left unattended with her body bag open, the flies didn’t appear interested enough to bother her. She was frozen in time like the flowers Little Luna had given to him. Ignis suspected her body was biologically four to six hours old after death. When Noctis had asked how he knew that, especially without his vision, Ignis told him to try clenching her fingers into a fist. Thinking nothing of it, the hunter had done as asked only to realise it was impossible.

“Rigor mortis. Causes limbs to stiffen and lasts seventy-two hours. Can occur as early as four hours post-mortem”, Ignis had explained. “Truly curious how she hasn’t proceeded past the third stage of death. Do you suppose the ghost of Lady Lunafreya you mentioned earlier could have something to do with it?”

“Definitely. I think she has everything to do with Luna’s condition.”

It was then that he had noticed her left hand. The dominant hand had been clutched as if she was holding an invisible pen. He could’ve sworn both of her hands had been in a relaxed position when he last visited her. It had made him think; had he received the notebook messages from her instead of Little Luna? Or was she truly one and the same? The black blood he had found next to the last entry pointed towards her smaller counterpart. He highly doubted the Luna in the body bag would just unzip her bag from the inside, walk to his room while he slept and write to him as well as bleed over their notebook.

Noctis carefully studied Little Luna. She didn’t seem to have any visible wounds besides the faint bruises that peeked underneath his tie. However, the Luna in the morgue still had the blackened stab wound below her right breast. He had to admit to himself that the image of Luna’s animated corpse moving around was highly unsettling. As desperate as he was to be with his fiancée and enjoy every waking moment he could steal from her younger counterpart, he couldn’t say he wanted to add more to his ever lengthening list of nightmares.

Little Luna smiled sadly as she realised what he had left unsaid. He wondered if she knew what would happen after the funeral. Would she stay with him or disappear for good? From the bittersweet turn of her lips he could tell more than he wanted to know.

“Hey.” He gently lifted her chin. “I’ll join you soon enough. You just enjoy your well-deserved break from saving my sorry behind, okay?” He tried to imagine living another thirty to forty years without her. He doubted he’d ever live to be as old as Cid. Even reaching sixties seemed highly unlikely; something was bound to kill him long before then, whether it was daemons, his own recklessness or ever elusive sanity, an illness or something as mundane as extreme case of food poisoning.

Her small hands balled into fists in her lap. It was an unpleasant conversation, but he needed to get it out of his chest and make sure she fully understood what she meant to him. “I swear I’m not meant for anyone else. What happened with Iris was a mistake and I intend to tell her that.” He took her cool hands in his and opened the fists by interlacing their fingers together. “I admit I’ve been a coward and avoided her, but I know it’s unfair to keep her in the dark.” Her troubled eyes focused slightly past him in deep thought. He wished he could somehow read her thoughts from her layered face.

Noctis released her other hand and lifted his knuckles to caress her bare shoulder. She didn’t appear to notice. There were no shivers nor did she get goosebumps on her pale skin from his feather-light touch. He scolded himself internally for expecting her to react. Their last night together should’ve made it clear to him that she was unable to enjoy his proximity in the same way he enjoyed hers. It wasn’t a mutual relationship if one could even call it one. She was always giving while he was always taking. “And it’s equally unfair to you”, he quietly added.

To his surprise Little Luna pointed at his chest and cupped her hands. She presented her open palms to him as if offering his heart back.

Creases formed on his forehead from a frown as he attempted to decipher her hand signs. “You’re saying my heart is free to let you go and move on?”

He didn’t miss how she clenched her jaw and pursed her lips to keep them from trembling or the sadness that flashed in her downcast eyes before disappearing under the curtain of her fringe. Little Luna solemnly nodded. She was serious about this. It was obvious she didn’t want to lose him, but true to her nature she would rather leave this world knowing he would be happy after she was gone. Not only did she look after him and his health, she held his happiness in high priority – even if it meant sacrificing her own.

“Idiot.”

She sharply looked up, confusion and hurt dancing in her misty gaze.

“I can’t ignore how I feel about you. It’s you or no-one.” His lips curled into a teasing smirk. “Besides, my heart has a no-return policy.”

A faint, almost unnoticeable rosy hue dusted her pale cheeks and she shyly played with the hem of her dress. Overwhelmed with adoration, he wasn’t able to resist the sudden impulse to place a hand to the nape of her neck and guide her head closer to his. Butterflies fluttered in the pit of his stomach when he saw her blond-lashed eyelids closing instinctively. His lips delicately brushed the corner of her mouth in a chaste kiss. As much as he wanted physical proximity from her that had been denied from him when she died, he didn’t dare to cross the thin line between romantic and familial intimacy. She had the appearance of a child and he was old enough to be her father. He was scared what she might think of him if he were to indulge in more passionate displays of affection.

She didn’t resist when Noctis pulled her to a tender hug and rested his bearded chin against her blond crown. Gradually she relaxed and allowed her cheek to lean against his breast. He was certain she could hear and feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Not for the first time, Noctis wished he could give Little Luna more than these fleeting moments, that he could keep his promise to her and fulfil the prophecy that everybody close to him seemed to think he was a part of. But he wasn’t a virtuous warrior of legend like Cor or a noble king like his father. He was just a broken man who had little hope of redeeming himself before the time came to face his forefathers.

Little Luna’s skinny arms wrapped around his waist. He had nearly forgotten how good it felt to be held. His eyes closed involuntarily as he exhaled in content.

His walkie-talkie buzzed.

“Oh, come on”, he grumbled in irritation.

Little Luna pulled away and fetched the bothersome device for him.

“Thanks.” He rewarded her with a quick peck on the cheek before bringing the walkie-talkie to his mouth. “State your business.”

Prompto’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Hey, uh. Iris told me to let you know she’s waiting for you.”

“Gotcha.” He tossed the walkie-talkie next to his discarded clothes on the bed. “Guess that’s my cue. Wish me luck.”

She picked up his Carbuncle figurine from the nightstand and placed it in his palm. He turned the wooden ornament in his hand before pocketing it. “I’m not really into charms and such, but if you think this’ll help, I’ll definitely carry it around the clock.” Her encouraging smile made him feel like he was ready for anything, even to face the possibility of breaking a good friend’s heart. He really hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

Halting at the door, he glanced at her over his shoulder. “Luna. When I come back, I wanna talk with you. Really sit down and talk. There’s so much I need to know.”

Glazed eyes stared past him, but she slowly nodded in acknowledgement.

“So no disappearing acts, eh?”

She pointed at the seam on her face and waved a finger in a refusal.

“All right, we’ve got a deal.” He walked back to her, lowered to his knees and offered a pinky. It reminded him of the day he had persuaded her to leave Caem behind. Her face serious, she wrapped her pinky around his and shook. “You won’t disappear on me as long as I don’t try ripping your face off. Sounds reasonable enough.”

She wrinkled her nose in distaste. He chuckled and left with a final parting pat on her blond head.

              ♫

He was pointed to the command tower. Aranea stood by the elevator, her heeled boot impatiently tapping against the asphalt.

“About time. I have actual work to do.” She ushered him inside the lift and placed her key card on the reader. Instead of the top floor, she pressed the third floor.

Noctis eyed the Niflheimian woman curiously. She was in full battle gear and carrying a satchel filled with potions and cooling gel patches. Her previously destroyed leg guard had been replaced. “What work?”

Her tone was taut from vexation. “A single red giant has been sighted heading our way by one of the scouts. I don’t want that thing anywhere near the fort. The walls get weaker every time we have to repair them and I’m not about to have greenhorn hunters losing their lives due to inexperience.”

“I could help”, he immediately offered.

“Thanks, but I can’t have Specs slaving over your fancy dinner date for nothing. Besides, I have Biggs and Wedge. We work better as a team than you and I. No offence.”

He internally cringed at the mention of a dinner date. “None taken.”

Aranea listened to the coordinate exchanging on the radio for a moment before briefly glimpsing at him. “Aren’t you a little under-dressed for the occasion?”

He glanced at his red-soled boots, black jeans and shirt before shrugging. “Not sure what you’re talking about. What’s so special about this event?”

The dragoon brought her gauntleted hand up as if to rub her temple, but her helmet’s visor blocked the subconscious motion. “Your date hasn’t even officially begun and already I see a red flag.”

Noctis huffed and crossed his arms. “Speak plainly, will you.”

“That Amicitia girl had Specs make you fancy food, redecorated our personal dining room for a candle-lit dinner and dolled herself up under strict guidelines of dress to impress. And then you show up in jeans. Either you’re as ignorant as Specs is blind or you’re not into her at all.”

Oh great. Now Aranea was pulling an Ignis on him. Deducing should be left for detectives only. Then again, he figured being the leaders of a settlement required some detective-skills.

“I see.”

The lift came to a stop.

“Right, I’m off. Play nice.” She pushed him out of the elevator. “Oh, and by the way, our bedroom is off-limits.”

A rather ungentleman-like retort threatened to come out of his mouth as he spun on his heel, but was cut off when the lift-door closed and blocked contact with the shameless dragoon.

With a roll of his eyes, Noctis entered the dining room. As he feared, the lights had been switched off in favour of using candles. At least they weren’t scented candles as those tended to give him headaches. He wasn’t sure if they were even a thing anymore in the post-apocalyptic world. Some people had hoarded luxury items from the old world and now made a living by selling them at ridiculous prices.

Their food waited on the table hidden beneath dome-shaped covers. He wondered where Ignis had gotten them. He was aware the blind brunet did some shady trading if the dozen boxes with dubious labels in his trailer were anything to go by.

“Noct, I thought I asked you to wear something nice.”

He turned towards the scolding voice and felt his mouth go dry.

Noctis had always been aware Iris was pretty, beautiful even as she grew older, but he wasn’t prepared to see her as she was now. Gone were the faded farmer’s overalls and dirty boots. In their place was an elegant black dress that hugged her figure in the right places. The hem of her dress barely reached her knees and exposed her toned legs. A tastefully cut neckline made it difficult for him to look at her without his gaze falling to inappropriate places. Swallowing heavily, he focused on the familiar choker and necklace that she had worn during their journey from Lestallum to Caem. Her hair had been tied up to a fancy bun that must’ve required a helping hand from a friend to achieve.

Everything about this situation felt so wrong; almost like he was intruding on a private moment that was never meant to be seen by him. It was nearly on the same level of wrong if he were to witness Prompto walking in on Luna wearing nothing but lingerie.

Awkwardly he cleared his throat. “Afraid I don’t own anything nice.”

Iris crossed her arms. Was he imagining it or was she subtly pushing her breasts up with her arms?

Reaper, kill me now.

“I know you still have your suit.”

“That’s meant for special occasions.”

              ♫

Wrong answer.

“And this isn’t?”

He scratched his head as he tried to think of something less offending to say without having to lie. “I’ll wear it only when I’m representing myself as Lucian royalty. Right now it’s just two friends spending time together. Hardly reason to put the royal raiment on.”

“Friends.” The way she said the word was as if she had taken a bite of a lemon, skin and all.

He’d have to be tactful. For one, they should eat first before bringing up the difficult subject and not waste Ignis’ efforts.

“Better not let the food get cold.” Remembering his manners, he pulled the chair for her.

They ate in silence. The mood was strained. Iris was clearly not impressed by his approach on their ‘date’. She was clever enough to realise the night wouldn’t end with a sequel to their last… session.

She daintily wiped her pink lips with a napkin and pushed her plate to signal she was done. “So, are we done beating around the bush, Noct? I can see we’re not on the same page and had totally different expectations for tonight.”

Noctis finished his meal. He made a mental note to praise Ignis’ cooking and thank him for his trouble, even if it was in vain. Setting the napkin aside, he leant forward with his hands clasped and elbows resting on the table. Time to address the catoblepas in the room. “Iris, I’ll be blunt. That night was a mistake.”

She visibly tensed, her slim fingers gripping the armrests of her chair. Her face was void of any expression as she tried to process what he had just said.

“Truth is, you found me at a very bad time and I was ready to do just about anything to forget about my problems. Had I been sober, I would’ve never agreed to sleep with you.”

Her grip tightened until her knuckles were white. “So you’re saying you used me?”

Noctis sighed and lowered his gaze. He felt terrible, but it was too late to back down. And even if he could, it would only get worse over time. Best make this as swift and painless as possible. “Yes. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

He could feel Iris’ gaze boring holes into his head, but couldn’t summon the will to look up and witness her heart breaking into million pieces. His guilty conscience suffered from too many nightmares already.

Iris’ nostrils flared as her breathing grew erratic. She clenched her hands to keep them from visibly shaking, her lips quivering and voice brittle as she spoke. “Why were you in that state in the first place? What happened to make you so desperate?” She was having hard time accepting his rejection.

He couldn’t tell her about Little Luna. She would never believe him and would think he was blaming Luna for his state of mind. “I’ve been suffering from night terrors and anxiety attacks. They got worse when I returned from the mines.”

“I heard from Gladdy that you were poisoned.”

“Yes.”

Despite having the opportunity to take the easy route and blame his condition on poison, Noctis wanted to be as honest with her as he was able. He had to take responsibility over his actions and make it crystal clear to Iris that he had no intention of pursuing a romantic relationship with her.

A loud sniffle forced his attention back to her. By some basic instinct coded in male DNA, his eyes shot up to see her hazel eyes well with tears. A tear fell, then another. Panicked, he hurried to her side and dabbed at her cheeks with a napkin. Oh crap. Gladio would kill him for making her cry.

“Am I not good enough for you? Is there nothing I can do to change your mind?”

Iris and Luna. Day and night. They couldn’t be more different. Whereas Luna bottled up her pain in favour of allowing him to pursue his own happiness, Iris openly expressed her unhappiness and attempted to bargain to change his mind. He’d have to be mindful of his words, yet not give in an inch or she’d wrap him around her pinky like she did with her brother. She was cunning as a coeurl when she wanted to be.

“Iris, never question your self-worth. You’re funny, smart, sweet and easy on the eyes. Any man would be lucky to have you.”

“But?”

Noctis sighed. Honest. He had to be honest. “But I can’t return your feelings.”

“Do you mean that, Noct? Am I really nothing more than just a temporary relief for you to use and forget about the next day?” She openly sobbed and wiped her eyes, but the tears just kept coming. There was no stopping the flood. A tight knot formed in his stomach as he helplessly watched her cry.

He took one of her hands and gently held it between his in an attempt to calm her down. “Of course not! Iris, you’re my friend. You’ve been my friend since I was fourteen and you will continue to be my friend for as long as you’ll have me. That’ll never change.”

Iris abruptly pulled her hand from his and stood up. “I need to go. Goodnight.” She nearly knocked the candles off the table as she made a run for the elevator. Noctis darted after her and blocked her escape at the last second. He grabbed her by the shoulders to keep her still. Cheeks burning from humiliation, she shut her eyes to block him out, but he knew she was listening. She always listened to him.

“Iris, I want you to know that this is in no way your fault or something you should feel ashamed of. I don’t want you to be stuck in an unhappy relationship with me. I know how much you’re willing to sacrifice for me, and trust me, it’s not worth it.”

Teary eyes lifted to his, followed by a dubious scoff. She still believed she could find her happily ever after with him like in the fairy tales. Somehow he had to make her understand, regardless of how bad he was at voicing his thoughts. He took a deep breath and wished he had at least a fraction of Ignis’ and Luna’s talent with speeches.

“I’m barely a shadow of the man I was ten years ago and incapable of giving you what you want from me.”  His grip on her subconsciously tightened as shame weighed his shoulders down. “I’m a walking disaster and there’s no living person on Eos that can fix me.” The only one he believed capable was dead.

“Obviously not, when you won’t let anybody close enough to try!” she cried. She was like a lovestruck teenager who refused to see him for what he was in favour of fawning over a warped, idolised version of him.

“I’m not a math problem that can be solved with time and patience”, he snapped. “Half of me died ten years ago in Altissia and the rest has rotted over time with each year I’ve failed to fulfil my supposed destiny!” His eyes blazed as anger and frustration leaked out beneath his calm and composed façade. He could barely hear his own voice past the rushing blood in his ears. “I’m not a prince from one of your romance novels.”

Painfully his fingers dug into Iris’ bare shoulders. She flinched and seemed to shrink away when for the first time she felt fear towards the man she had pined for since childhood.

As if a veil had been lifted from his eyes, Noctis froze when he realised what he was doing. Horrified, he released his hold on her. Bruises similar to the ones that permanently decorated Little Luna’s pale neck now marred Iris’ skin. Feeling light-headed, he lowered himself to the ground and covered his face in shame.

Iris sucked in a shuddering breath. He could detect sadness, disappointment, shame, fear and anger from the next three almost inaudible words. “No, you’re not.”

The elevator door opened and closed. She was gone.

He stayed on the floor and stared at his feet in a stupor. Their ‘date’ had been nothing short of a royal screw up.

              ♫

When he finally left the dining room, the candles had gone out and the floor was covered in darkness. In a daze, Noctis exited the lift and stumbled out of the tower into the cool autumn air. He could barely see in front of him or hear the clanking of patrolling MTs as they passed him.

Hey!

Not only had he ruined Iris’ night and stomped on her feelings, he had physically hurt her. He felt out of control and like he couldn’t trust himself anymore. It was one thing to ask her get over her crush on him, entirely another to expect forgiveness after physically assaulting her.

Is there anything you wanna tell me?

Could Luna even look him in the eye if she knew what he had done? How could she trust him to hold her without hurting her when he had harmed one of his dearest friends in a fit of anger? It was Balouve mines all over again. He took meagre solace in the fact that he hadn’t been armed. Reaper knows what might’ve happened.

Hey, I’m talking to you!

He bumped into something solid. Someone shoved him back. He lost his balance and fell on his backside on the hard asphalt. Large hands lifted him by the collar on his feet before he could even consider getting up on his own. His vision finally cleared enough to recognise the muscular tattooed arms and the furious scowl on his former bodyguard’s face.

“Care to tell me why my sister came back from your date in tears and with bruises?” His voice was dangerously low like a predator’s that was ready to jump on its prey.

Noctis gritted his teeth and shrugged off Gladiolus’s hold on him. “’cause I’m a fucking coward and a failure. I’m not fit for anyone, let alone your sister.” He raised his fists and settled to a fighting stance. “You here to fight? Let’s get this over with.” He was dying to let off some steam.

Gladiolus crossed his arms and stared him down, animosity twisting his mouth into a sneer. Just when Noctis thought the older man would give him a sound beating, Gladiolus slowly exhaled and forced the built up tension to dissolve. “I should knock some sense into that thick head of yours, but it ain’t worth it. Just because nobody hails you as king, doesn’t mean you can act like a brat.” Taken aback, Noctis lowered his fists.

“While you’ve been too busy moping and raiding the drug-dispensers, the rest of us have been doing the best we can to keep this fort safe.” Noctis clenched his jaw and lowered his gaze. Iris must’ve told Gladiolus while he had been brooding in the command tower. He was fairly certain she had kept his secret until he removed her last reason to defend him. “You’re now one of the few remaining combat-ready hunters in this fort after the raid. So I want you to get your head out of your ass and get your act together. First thing tomorrow you’re apologising to Iris.”

Noctis squared his shoulders and evenly glared back at the older man. What little remained of his wounded pride insisted he keep stubbornly resisting, but he knew better than to argue. Instead, he opted to silently stare and channel his anger into good old fashioned passive aggression.

“Before I got here, I received a word from Aranea that there’s been increased daemon activity in the southern part of the peninsula. She’s worried another assault is imminent. So you, me and Prompto are gonna go take care of it.”

He was tempted to point out he and Prompto did just fine without him, but Noctis had known the tattooed man long enough to recognise when he was making a roundabout effort to reconcile. “Fine.”

Of course Gladiolus couldn’t just drop the issue there. He always had to have the final word. “And if you ever pull crap like this again, don’t think I won’t bring it up to Aranea and Iggy. Stealing from the medical staff is a serious crime, especially in this time and age.”

“It won’t happen again.” He had silently vowed as much after waking up to the stench of sweat and sex. Even in his dreams he had faced away from Iris as if his unconscious mind couldn’t forgive himself for the act he had committed. He could barely understand how Luna could forgive him so easily. Did she believe she didn’t have the right to feel cheated or upset, because she wasn’t part of the living world anymore?

Noctis pushed past the bodyguard and tensely made his way back to the dorm.

“See to it”, he heard Gladiolus call after him.

Prompto lifted his gaze from his tinkering when Noctis entered and shut the door behind him. The freckled man appeared to be doing monthly maintenance on his Auto Crossbow. “How did it go?”

“Pretty badly.” Noctis kicked off his boots and flopped into his bunk.

“Why? What happened?” Prompto set the machine aside and settled down next to him.

Throwing his arm over his tired eyes, Noctis exhaled loudly. “Long story short, we had a misunderstanding and I had to turn her down. We both lost our cool and I got physical with her without meaning to.”

His friend’s light blue eyes softened in sympathy. Prompto might have had only fragmented pieces of what Noctis had been through lately, but he understood the former monarch’s psyche better than most. He was willing to give Noctis the benefit of doubt and not jump into conclusions. “Have you apologised to her?”

“I will first thing tomorrow.” Suddenly realising something was missing, Noctis sat up and looked around. “Where’s Luna? And Umbra?”

Prompto shrugged. “Umbra’s doing that thing he does sometimes. Patrolling or something. Luna went with him.” He lowered his voice and smiled thinly. “I think she misses him.”

Noctis could empathise. Even with Little Luna nearby, he still missed her and longed for their days together in Tenebrae. It was not the same when they couldn’t stand on equal ground or even communicate like regular people. It was too easy to ignore the painful truth of their situation and pretend that she was as real as the other children of the fort. Only when his eyes would fall from her sweet smile to the ugly bruises on her neck or notice the mysterious seams peeking beneath her blond locks would he snap back to reality and remember the two of them were worlds apart.

At least he didn’t have to worry about Little Luna pretending he didn’t exist. He wished he could do something to make Umbra stop ignoring her. He recalled the dog noticing Little Luna when she first appeared to them, but had proceeded to treat her like thin air once Noctis discovered Luna’s corpse. Did he consider Little Luna a fake? Or was she literally like air was to him; something he knew existed, but couldn’t see and therefore took for granted until it was gone?

“Hey, Noct.” The blond hunter’s voice snapped him out of his musings.

“Yeah?”

Prompto pulled his legs to his chest and peered at Noctis. “Cindy and I have been thinking that I should move to Hammerhead. She’s busy with work and can’t make it to Fort Highwind to come visit.” He bit his lip and glanced at the nightstand where Cindy’s cap sat. “And honestly the whole long distance relationship thing kinda sucks.”

Noctis smirked. “I know that from first-hand experience.”

It had its perks. It was nice to unload all of his troublesome feelings and thoughts on paper for Luna to read and give her thoughts on when he knew he would have difficulties doing the same face to face. But mostly it was cons. He couldn’t hold her to make her feel better when she felt crushed beneath Niflheim’s thumb or squeeze her hand reassuringly and then look on in pride and adoration as the newly ascended Oracle stepped forward to provide healing to the desperate masses afflicted with the scourge.

He ruffled Prompto’s blond mop of hair. “So when are you flying out of the nest?”

“In a few days when the traders head to Leide. But don’t worry! I’ll definitely come back for the funeral. I’ve got the ride sorted out and everything.” Prompto’s eyes gleamed with giddiness and he leant closer as if about to tell a secret. “Apparently some former member of Kingsglaive is gonna attend and he lives close to Hammerhead.”

“Think I know the guy. Met him in Meldacio Stronghold while I was there with Ignis. His name is Libertus Ostium.”

Noctis had heard from Ignis in passing that the mines were cleared and Cor had already put weapon manufacturing into full production. Thinking of the children in Meldacio Stronghold and how they had wielded small knives on their person made him wish Aranea wouldn’t have to adopt a similar protocol in Fort Highwind. It was hard to imagine the care-free children of the fort wearing brown vests and carrying weapons like the grim youth of the stronghold. His imagination involuntarily conjured up an image of Little Luna wearing faded hunter’s uniform, covered in dirt and blood, her left hand clutching a short sword like a lifeline. He would have to step up and make sure they wouldn’t lose anymore hunters and that way ensure the children wouldn’t have to touch a weapon before their 18th birthday.

“I was thinking of wearing the Kingsglaive uniform in Luna’s honour at the funeral, but was worried I’d look like a fraud next to someone like Libertus.” Prompto’s gaze subconsciously fell to his covered wrist with the imprinted barcode.

Noctis pulled Prompto to a side-hug and rested his cheek against his friend’s freckled one. “If I’m allowed to wear the royal raiment, you’re definitely allowed to represent yourself as what you truly are. I’m sure Luna would agree.”

“What I truly am?” He couldn’t see Prompto’s face, but he could definitely hear the disbelief in his voice.

“You’ve proved yourself every day since we set out of Insomnia. You’re part of my guard, even if I don’t have the title to promote you to a member of the Kingsguard.” He affectionately squeezed his friend’s freckled shoulder. The upcoming mission might be their last together. He wanted Prompto to know his worth and what he meant to him before setting out to Leide. “I couldn’t ask for a better partner or a friend.”

He felt something wet touch his cheek. Pulling away, he saw Prompto embarrassedly wipe his teary eyes. “You don’t know how much it means to hear that from you”, his friend confessed with an abashed chuckle.

“I might have a vague idea.” Noctis lightly teased before sobering. “In all honesty, though, I doubt Libertus will think much of it. Specs wore the uniform while we were in the mines and he didn’t even bat an eye.”

Prompto still appeared uncertain. “But he probably saw Ignis and Gladio a lot in the Citadel and knows their faces.”

“And soon he’ll know yours, too. I bet he’d like to increase his ranks and share some glaive-tricks.”

A slow grin lit up Prompto’s freckled features. “I’d like that.”

              ♫

The next morning when Noctis woke up to Prompto’s obnoxious chocobo alarm clock, he noted that Umbra hadn’t returned from his patrol. He didn’t have time to mull over it as he had to get a move on and find Iris before her assigned dorm group would go to the showers.

“Be a pal and reserve us a table. I’ll join as soon as I can.”

“Good luck”, Prompto called after him.

Iris’ dorm was at the other end of the corridor. Noctis’ and Prompto’s dorm was close to the stairs that led up to the surface level. As hunters they had to be close at hand for anything. Briskly Noctis walked past the civilians that made their way to the showers and the mess hall before continuing to their assigned work stations. Most of them ranged between ages twenty and forty. Families with children were located closer to the shelter further downstairs where civilians took refuge during daemon attacks. To Aranea the safety and defence of new generations was held paramount. She understood their importance.

Noctis approached the familiar wooden door with a tacky heart-shaped ‘welcome’-sign. Iris shared her room with Wiz’s granddaughter whom she had befriended when the Niflheim base had still been known as Fort Vaulleroy. Outside farm-related business, he hadn’t really talked with the girl much.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door.

“Just a second”, a half-hearted female voice slurred. The door cracked open and he was greeted by the sight of a barely awake Iris. He peered past her into her room and saw piles of used tissues scattered over the bunk, table and floor. She must’ve been crying all night and had barely caught any shuteye. Guilt twisted his insides.

Iris blinked several times and rubbed her face. Once she was certain her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her, she fixed her slouched posture and glared at him. “What do you want?”

Noctis tried to ignore the people passing Iris’ dorm. Most of them didn’t pay them any mind, but he could feel occasional pair of eyes glancing their way in curiosity. The last thing he wanted was to cause a scene.

“Can I come in?”

Her hazel eyes narrowed. “No.”

Noctis sighed and ran his hand through his messy black locks. “Look, I’m really sorry for last night. I know you were really looking forward to it-“

“Understatement of the century”, she scoffed and crossed her arms.

“-I just needed the privacy to tell you the truth. I never intended to lead you on or hurt you.”

“Well, you did.” He could see the dim light of the corridor lamps reflecting from her watery eyes. Fresh tears threatened to fall, but she choked them back. He reflexively lifted his hand to touch her arm to comfort her, but she flinched back defensively as if anticipating a strike. Clenching his jaw, he let his hand fall uselessly to his side.

“Iris, you have to understand-“

“All I understand is that you’re an asshole!” Her tone dripped from venom, her usually friendly and warm eyes flashing from hurt and anger as she pointed an accusing finger at him. “Do you have any idea how it is to feel this way about you? How much I hate myself for it?”

Noctis frowned, his eyes widening in surprise and confusion. What was she talking about?

“Fifteen years, Noctis.” Her lower lip quivered as she took in a shuddering breath. “Fifteen damn years I’ve held these feelings in. I’ve liked you since I was a kid. Even when I knew you were going to get married, I couldn’t just make my feelings go away no matter how hard I tried. And when she was gone, I thought I had been given a chance to be with you. But then you went off on your own and I heard from Gladdy that you were trying to find a way to fix everything. I admired and loved you all the more for it.”

Her long brown bangs hid her eyes as she lowered her chin and clenched her hands into fists, nails painfully digging into the skin of her palms. “But when you came back to us, you never so much as looked my way.”

Her voice cracked. “That night I thought you were opening up to me and I wanted to help you. I thought you could finally see me as a woman who loves you, not just your bodyguard’s little sister. I was a fool.”

Her shoulders slumped, the last remnants of her anger spent. Too tired to fight back, she let the tears freely stream down her cheeks. “All I ever wanted was for you to look at me the way you did when you saw Lady Lunafreya on broadcasts.”

Hesitantly Noctis took a step closer, hoping to comfort her somehow, but her shields were instantly up and she shoved him away from her. “Don’t touch me!”

He held his hands up in a peace-offer. Seeing no other way to fix this mess, he decided to tell her the truth. “Luna isn’t gone, Iris. When I retrieved her body from Caem, it wasn’t the only thing I brought with me. I’ve seen her ghost regularly. She’s the one who found the missing chocobo. Without Luna’s interference, Prompto and I would still be searching for her. She even saved me from getting ambushed during the daemon raid.”

“Is that the best you can come up with?” Iris laughed humourlessly, her timbre dripping from bitterness. “Do you think you can blame your behaviour on a dead person? You’re a bigger bastard than I thought. I’m sick and tired of your crap. Just leave me alone.” She slammed the door in his face.

              ♫

Noctis pulled the van to a stop and addressed his bodyguard without bothering to face him. “Hope you’re not thinking about keeping that leather jacket on. Gonna be a short stealth mission if you give our position away the second we’re in earshot.”

Gladiolus glared at the back of his liege’s head, but shrugged the attitude as well as the jacket off. “How far away is the territory?”

“Half a mile. We can’t alert them with the van, so we’ll have to walk the rest of the way”, Noctis explained as he checked his equipment. “We won’t be using torches, either, unless we’re forced into melee-combat.”

“Got it.”

Gladiolus reached for a pair of night vision goggles next to Prompto, but the freckled scout was quick to snatch them out of his hand.

“Woah there, big guy! This baby is off-limits.” He dropped an ordinary pair in the tattooed man’s open palm. “This one was specifically made for me. It’s far superior to the ones I lost during the raid.”

“Oh yeah? What’s so special about them?” Gladiolus humoured the younger man in hopes of dissolving some of the tension between himself and Noctis.

“Cindy made them”, Noctis stated matter-of-factly as he got out of the van. He let Umbra out and handed the potion satchel to Gladiolus.

They trekked in silence through the darkness. Umbra had taken point, his ears moving in every direction as he listened for any sounds of danger. Once they reached the forest edge, they slowed down and quietly crept past the tall pine trees. The air was crisp and slightly chilly. Noctis could hear faint chirping from high up and a persistent knocking as a woodpecker worked on a new home. As long as the birds weren’t alarmed, they could rest easy.

Umbra suddenly halted. Noctis signalled for Gladio and Prompto to stop and knelt down next to the dog. The canine’s posture remained relaxed even as his ears were pointed forward in alert. His mouth opened to pant. Noctis recognised the sign – no danger. Then why did he stop?

Prompto noticed a familiar landmark and patted Noctis’ shoulder to gain his attention. “We’ve reached the territory.”

Gladio peered into the darkness through the goggles, but couldn’t see any movement besides the flickering of the green hued image of his night vision. “I don’t see any daemons.”

Noctis ushered Umbra forward. They sidestepped fallen dry branches and walked deeper into the woods. Setting his nose on the forest ground, Umbra followed the scents to a previously discovered daemon nest.

“I think I see something”, Prompto whispered.

Noctis didn’t need the aid of the night vision to find what Prompto was referring to. The buzzing of flies and a foul smell led him to a pile of daemon manure. Next to it laid cleaned bones of a spiracorn. “They’ve been here recently.”

“Yeah.” Gladio swatted away a persistent fly that was eager to make a home in his ear. “Question is: where are they now?”

“Out hunting, maybe?” Prompto suggested.

“Not so sure.” Noctis moved the pile of bones with the tip of his boot. “The evidence suggests they’ve just eaten. There has to be some kind of den nearby.”

Gladio scanned his surroundings for any clues. “What kind of daemons did you find here before?”

“Mostly goblins and imps; the small ones that like thick vegetation”, Prompto replied. “They tend to be scattered, though. We should’ve seen at least one by now.”

Something was off. Had the daemons moved to find new hunting grounds or had they been chased away? The forest felt too empty. “Let’s move on.” Noctis rose and quietly ordered Umbra to resume the search. “We’re bound to run into them sooner or later.”

The ground softened as they continued further. The sponge-like moss silenced even Gladio’s heavy footsteps.

Umbra stiffened, his ears turning to every direction as he listened. He sniffed the air and turned to point towards their left.

“What is it?” Noctis asked. He peered into the darkness, but couldn’t distinguish anything out of ordinary.

Prompto sharply inhaled. His more advanced goggles must’ve picked on whatever had given Umbra a pause.

“What?” Gladio hissed impatiently.

Prompto licked his lips nervously and swallowed heavily, his Adam’s apple popping. “I think there’s a body hanging between those two trees.”

Deeming it safe enough to switch a torch on, Noctis alerted his companions to remove the goggles to shield their vision from the sudden light. Sure enough the shaft of his torchlight revealed a small humanoid figure hanging limply in the air. On closer inspection they realised it was a goblin corpse cocooned in gossamer that hung from a large thinly weaved web.

“What happened here?” Prompto breathed.

Gladio’s tone was gruff as he eyed the unfortunate victim. “Survival of the fittest.”

“An arachne moved in and claimed the territory”, Noctis guessed. “The daemon activity the MTs took notice of was the goblins and imps leaving to find a new place to stay.”

“That’s a good thing, right?” Prompto nervously fingered the straps of his Auto Crossbow. “I mean, now we have less daemons to worry about!”

Gladio grimaced and crossed his tattooed arms. “In the best case scenario we have only one arachne to worry about, but it’s highly likely that it has already laid its eggs. Soon we’ll have a whole brood of ugly spider-ladies crawling about. In the worst case scenario the goblins and imps will make a new home closer to the fort and we’ll end up having to deal with both daemon packs.”

Prompto’s optimism dimmed immediately. “Oh. That doesn’t sound good. So what do we do now?”

Noctis peered around. “We find the nest and burn it before the arachne spawns more of its kind. Aranea can deal with the small fry.”

The further they continued, the more they saw webbing covering trees and blocking the way forward. Noctis cut a path with his Engine Blade through the sticky-threaded patterns. Umbra’s nose caught a foul smell and led the trio to a dank cave. The putrid stench was even worse inside. Several half-eaten goblin corpses littered the entrance and covered the soft forest floor in fresh black blood. Flies buzzed and laid eggs on the carcasses. The decaying bodies bustled with activity as countless larvae made quick work of the daemons. Noctis wrinkled his nose in disgust. It would appear bugs made no distinction between man, beast or daemon.

He motioned his companions to stop. “Put your night vision on.” He purposely kept his torchlight on; the goggles distorted the images enough to spare Prompto from the gross sight. He was glad Little Luna had stayed behind. While she might’ve not minded – just as she had barely reacted when he had shot a chocobo right next to her – he still felt the need to protect her from life’s ugly truths, even if it may have been too late for her. She had most likely spent the past decade with nothing but her own adult self’s corpse for company. That ought to have messed with her head more than nature’s course ever could.

Noctis switched off the torchlight as they entered the surprisingly cramped cave. It could’ve easily been a lone coeurl’s den were it not for the thick webbing that covered the rocky surface. There were no signs of their target. No cocoons, no eggs-sacs, nothing.

“This can’t be right”, he muttered.

“Let’s do a thorough sweep. It might be hiding somewhere if it heard us coming”, Gladio proposed.

Umbra’s paws got stuck in the sticky gauze. With a revving of the sword’s engine, Noctis cut him free. “Wait outside and make sure we don’t get ambushed from the rear, okay?” The canine gladly made his way back, not appearing to be bothered by the stench of death and decay. As much as Noctis wanted to rely on Umbra’s superior senses, he didn’t like bringing him to places that were clearly not meant for his kind. Still, the dog remained loyal and refused to back down from challenges. The Belouve mines had proved as much.

Prompto slapped a hanging silken thread from his face. “We could just toss a firaga flask and call it a day.”

Gladio removed the greatsword from his back and tested the webbed cave-walls with it for any hidden passageways. “If the arachne isn’t here, it wouldn’t do us any good. It’d just find a new place to lay its eggs.”

“I guess.”

Noctis’ boot sank as he stepped on a thick patch of webbing, the ground seeming to stretch under his weight. He made to jump out of the unstable area, but his boots were as if glued, and he only ended up sinking further down.

“Guys-!”

“Noct!” Gladio rushed to his side.

              ♫

The net broke and he fell to a hidden room. His landing was softened by dozens of cocooned egg-sacs that were smashed under his weight with a wet squelch. He hurriedly sat up, his hands fumbling for the hilt of the Engine Blade. An unsettling thrumming coming from above made his skin crawl. He froze and held his breath.

He could hear the gaping mouths of its patellae chittering in anticipation. Very slowly, Noctis turned his head and saw the giant arachne glide down from its webbed nest with ease. It was close enough that he could see each thick spike-like hair on its curved spider-legs. Another mouth, that was located just beneath where the feminine humanoid torso began, gnashed hungrily. A bright red forked tongue slipped past its sharp fangs and tasted the air as if trying to pinpoint where its prey was hidden. The female torso attached to the spider-body turned around, its dark pink eyeballs scanning the nest for the intruder.

Another egg shattered under his weight. The arachne sharply turned towards the noise. More forked tongues stuck out from the patellae-mouths. It slowly crept towards him, clawed hands reaching blindly in front of it. Short high-pitched hiccup-like yips and squeals bubbled in the back of its throat.

Cold sweat trailed down his back as his clammy hands felt around for the Engine Blade. His shallow breathing was uncomfortably loud in his ears. The arachne picked its speed when it saw the faint movement and heard the rustling of his clothes against the broken egg-sacs. He briefly wondered if the daemon could smell fear as panic threatened to take hold of him and dull his rational thought.

Air rushed past Noctis as the clawed hand extended to grope at his face, twitching with inhuman motion and speed. It was like being stuck in a horror movie. More egg-sacs were smashed as he retreated away from the daemon. Only when his back hit the hard rock wall, did the panic subside enough to remind him of the sniper rifle that strapped to his back. Quickly he removed it and aimed.

The arachne was faster.

It swiped at his face and sent the night vision goggles flying from his head. The muzzle flash of his rifle illuminated the cave like a strobe light, momentarily displaying the arachne’s bloated body in all its disgusting glory. The bullet missed its mark. Something wet fell heavily to the cave floor and broke open. A chorus of chirping and clicking of chelicerae grew in volume. The arachne matron cackled gleefully as its thick, curved legs jabbed at the ground around him. He rolled out of harm’s way, sticky web clinging to his hunter’s uniform in the process. Too dizzy to get back on his feet unaided, he hurriedly crawled on all fours to get some distance to the daemon. Noctis nearly cut himself when his hand bumped the blade of his sword.

Using the Engine Blade as a crutch, he staggered on his feet and slashed blindly around him.

The daemon shrieked in displeasure. More wet squelches alarmed him to hatching eggs. Tiny arachnae that had yet to develop humanoid torsos swarmed his booted feet. Disgusted, he kicked away the spiders and hurriedly switched on his torchlight. The matron let out a guttural hiss and backed away from the blinding light.

For every wave of arachnelings he slashed, another egg-sac would hatch, renewing the threat. His sword-arm grew tired from the relentless exercise; he had to get out of here, but the only way was up. Gladio and Prompto hadn’t attempted to follow him down, thankfully, but they didn’t appear to be making efforts to help him out of the hell-hole, either. They must’ve been swarmed as well.

Noctis turned his attention to the matron and its angrily snapping patellae-mouths’ jaws. It was his only way out. He side-stepped and killed the arachnelings that attempted to overwhelm him. Hurriedly he sheathed his sword and took aim. The bullet flew right past the humanoid female face. The arachne matron reared back in surprise, its front spider-legs swiping at air in bewilderment. Not wasting his momentum, Noctis jumped on the daemon’s back and held on to its spiked hairpiece to avoid getting in range of its clawed hands.

The arachne thrashed around and rolled on the ground, but Noctis’ grip held. With an outraged screech, the daemon jumped out of the underground nest. Deeming it time to abandon ship, Noctis removed his other hand from the hairpiece and took hold of his sword to stab the disgusting creature’s spine. Finally the matron collapsed, its spider-legs twitching and patellae-mouths gnashing. Mustering what remaining strength he had left, Noctis beheaded the humanoid torso and impaled the arachnid lower body. Black blood splattered to his clothes and face as he removed his stained blade from the twitching corpse.

Stumbling off the daemon’s back, he paused to listen and assess the situation. A stampede of tiny insect-feet scraped the rocky wall as the arachnelings emerged from the hidden underground nest, their chelicerae clicking angrily in vengeance.

“Noct!” Prompto’s frantic cry forced his attention to his best friend.

The sight of Gladiolus lying motionless on the ground was enough to make his blood run cold. Prompto was firing his Auto Crossbow left and right, rapidly downing the overwhelming numbers of arachnelings. However he wouldn’t be able to last long – the machine was threatening to seize up if the shaking and sputtering was anything to go by. Vapor poured out of the welded joints and fogged Prompto's goggles.

“Prompto, take Gladio and get out of here. I’m burning this place down!” Noctis took out the magic flask Prompto had given him the day they had been harvesting elemental energy. It felt warm in his gloveless hand. He moved between the daemons and Prompto to cover his retreat.

When his friends were at a safe distance, Noctis backed away and threw the crystal flask. It exploded in brilliant magical flames. The shockwave sent him flying backwards, the intense heat threatening to scorch his beard and eyebrows. The flames caught the thin webbing that hung to his clothes. Panicked, he rolled violently among the larvae-infested goblin corpses in an attempt to put out the blaze, the bodies and dry lichen surrounding him inadvertently catching fire. Prompto hurried to his side and helped Noctis smother the flames.

Noctis shakily stood up with Prompto’s help and glanced down. His burnt vest was tattered beyond repair. The stench of burning corpses, manure, and vegetation hung heavily in the air.

“Here. Take this”, Prompto quietly said and offered him a potion bottle with shaking hands. Noctis quickly downed the medicine.

“What happened to Gladio?”

“I don’t know. One moment he was protecting me from the spiderlings, the next he collapsed and didn’t get up. I gave him a remedy and an elixir, but nothing’s helping.” Prompto wiped his sweaty brow and fidgeted, his body trembling from the adrenaline that insisted him to fight or flee. Noctis suspected it was thanks to the hormone that the svelte man had been able to carry their heavy-built friend to safety.

“We need to get him back to base. Help me carry him.” He took hold of the muscular man’s arms while Prompto lifted his legs. “Umbra, lead us back to the van, double time.”

              ♫

The gates had been left open for them. Noctis wasted no time driving past the MTs and parking in front of the entrance to the underground levels. Medical staff rushed to move Gladio’s still body from the backseat to a stretcher. The two scouts ran after the medics, worry lightening their steps to the point it felt like they were gliding across the long hallway to the emergency room. Startled civilians moved out of their way. Noctis didn’t even notice when Umbra skidded to a stop and ran off in the opposite direction.

Noctis and Prompto stopped in front of a large glass window. From behind it they witnessed the doctor examine Gladiolus’ unclothed body while nurses monitored his vitals through computer screens.

“How’s he doing?” They turned to see Aranea approach them, with Ignis and Iris not far behind.

Noctis ran his hand through damp bangs. “No word yet. We have no idea what caused him to collapse.”

Iris refused to acknowledge him and lifted a calloused hand to the glass, hazel eyes glued to her brother’s still form. She must be so mad at him for letting this happen to her only family. If he had been more careful, he wouldn’t have been separated from his companions and could’ve covered the bodyguard’s back. Or if he hadn’t asked Gladio to take off his jacket, he might’ve been protected. Noctis stopped when recalled Cor’s words; what ifs and buts would do him little good. This was the reality he had to deal with.

Ignis’ nostrils flared when the stench of burnt cloth carried from where Noctis was standing to his sensitive nose. “Are either of you hurt? We should have you examined, just in case.”

“I’m fine. We’re fine.” Noctis turned his back to the blind brunet and anxiously watched the medical staff inject something in Gladio’s veins.

Aranea wasn’t having any of that. “Specs is right. You could have a serious wound needing medical attention and you wouldn’t even notice it thanks to all that adrenaline pumping in your veins.” She gently put her hands on Prompto’s freckled shoulders and guided him away from the window. “C’mon. He’s not going anywhere. We’ll let you know the moment anything changes.”

Noctis clenched his jaw in defiance, his hands involuntarily clenching into tight fists. “I said I’m fine. I need to be at his side.”

“Noct, there’s nothing you can do for him right now. You can return as soon as you’ve been examined.”

He ignored his former advisor.

“You should go.” Iris’ quiet voice immediately grabbed his attention. She refused to face him and opted to keep her hard gaze firmly on the happenings of the emergency room. “You’ve caused enough problems.”

He felt like he had been punched in the gut. “Iris…”

Eyes burning with anger and resentment, she sharply turned to him and pointed to the exit. “Leave. Now!”

He held her gaze for a few seconds, but deemed it best to follow her wishes. “Fine.”

After the examinations, they were summoned to the infirmary. Gladio had been moved to a room the patients liked to refer to as ‘solitary confinement’ which was meant for cases with contagious diseases. Noctis noted Iris was absent, presumably to avoid him and disturbing the other patients. Ignis let the two hunters inside.

Several lamps with bright blue lights had been set around the bed to point towards the unconscious man. He was clothed in a faded hospital gown that appeared to be few sizes too small.

“So, what’s wrong with him? Why’s he held here?”

Ignis moved next to Gladio, his gloved hand fumbling as he searched for the edge of the covers. He lifted it enough for them to see. The bodyguard’s left breast, shoulder and armpit were covered in black substance. On closer inspection Noctis realised the pulsing liquid was faintly moving, almost as if attempting to hide from the burning hallowed light.

“Is that daemon blood?” Prompto hesitantly asked and instinctively backed away.

Ignis silently shook his head, the muscles around his neck tightening as he fought to keep his voice stable. “Starscourge. He is infected.”

Noctis’ breathing dwindled to shallow gasps to the point his lungs couldn’t get the oxygen they needed. He felt light-headed and stumbled backwards, hitting his shoulder against the white stone wall in the process. Prompto was at his side in an instant and helped him stay upright.

“Y-you’re joking, right? I didn’t get infected and I was there right next to him!” the blonde hunter babbled.

Denying the obvious was futile. Noctis had to know if there was anything he could do for his sworn shield. “How long-?” he managed between gasps.

“The lights are slowing the plague from entirely taking him over, but it is only a matter of time before he loses the fight and turns into a daemon.”

Noctis let out a shuddering breath and closed his eyes. This was all his fault. “Does Iris know?”

“Yes. She said she needed some space.”

During their conversation the plague had spread further down his arm and up his neck. The light slowed its advance, but Noctis doubted Gladio had more than two hours before the transformation was complete.

He eyed the IV that pumped fluids into his friend’s bloodstream. “What did the medics inject him with earlier?”

“I’m presuming the daemons you encountered were poisonous. The wound that’s hidden under the plague was festering and needed treatment, while the intravenous therapy is merely to correct the dehydration caused by perspiration.” Ignis let go of the covers and headed towards the door. “It is all we could do for him. Now we can only make his last hours as comfortable as possible and prepare for the worst.”

Noctis found Iris skulking outside the medical staff’s office with her ear pressed against door.

“What are you doing?”

She lifted her finger to her lips to signal silence and continued to eavesdrop. He could hear Aranea talking.

“So what you’re saying is that there’s nothing we can do to prevent the transformation?”

“If we could, we would’ve never needed an Oracle.”

“Thank you for stating the obvious. Now let’s stop wasting time and cut to the chase. How do we deal with him?”

“He is an Amicitia, is he not? The King’s Shield deserves a clean death. We could give him a drug overdose. He would die in his sleep peacefully.”

Iris covered her mouth to muffle the gasp, her wide eyes welling with tears. She stood up and hurried off. Noctis followed.

“Iris, wait.”

Abruptly she turned on her heel to face him. Her face was red and blotchy from crying. Tears glimmered between her dark lashes and served to only further irritate her bloodshot eyes. She quickly wiped her clogged nose with a dirty sleeve. Her voice cracked as she attempted to talk through the lump in her throat. “They want to kill my brother like common cattle. He deserves better than that!”

Biting her swollen lower lip, she squeezed her teary eyes shut as a sob shook her slight frame. She didn’t resist when Noctis’ warm arms wrapped around her in a loose embrace and buried her runny nose in the crook of his neck while he stroked her back. She breathed through her mouth and sniffled in an attempt to spare the collar of his shirt.

He was at a loss of what to do. He couldn’t fix the situation, but he had to support Iris somehow just as she had been there for him in his darkest moments. Returning the favour was the least he could do. “Iris, tell me what you want me to do.”

She drew a shaky breath and slowly exhaled in an attempt to gain a measure of composure. “Help me say goodbye to him.”

They entered Gladio’s room. A machine hooked to his body beeped steadily to his calm heartbeat. A lone nurse was monitoring his vitals.

One glance at Iris’ puffy eyes was enough to make Noctis take the initiative. “Excuse me, could we have a moment alone with him?”

The nurse nodded her consent and left the pair alone.

“I hate anything remotely resembling a hospital. It’s so cold and sterile in here”, Iris mumbled and rubbed her gooseflesh covered arms.

Even with the covers hiding most of Gladio’s body, they could see the black substance had spread far enough to cover most of his tattooed torso and scarred face. His blanket and hospital gown weren’t spared from the plague’s influence, either; the cloth was wet and thin and looked like it was ready to fall apart from where the black substance had seeped into it.

“Gladdy”, she hoarsely whispered and sat down next to him on the bed. Without any regard to her own safety, she tossed the covers aside to expose rest of his infected torso to the hallowed lights and took hold of his large, rapidly cooling hand.

“Iris, be careful or you might get infected, too.”

She said nothing, but her silence spoke volumes: she didn’t care. Her only family was being taken from her and the love of her life had rejected her. In mere twenty-four hours her life had turned on its head. Absently she caressed the plague-ridden hand, not minding the cold, inky substance that latched onto her hand and squelched between her fingers.

The heart monitor’s beeping quickened pace as the older Amicitia slowly came to. The left eye was entirely hidden under thick, black, twitching matter, but the other one cracked open to reveal a warm hazel eye that struggled to focus on his surroundings.

“Gladdy?”

The large fingers interlaced with her delicate ones and squeezed reassuringly.

They could see the plague had clogged his mouth and throat, but Gladio was determined to respond to her. “Good… t’ see… you, baby… sis-” He violently coughed as more rotten substance forced its way down to his lungs.

She gave him a watery smile and sniffled. “I’m here for you, Gladdy.”

He managed a weak, lopsided grin, before the lack of oxygen forced him back to unconsciousness. The hand in Iris’ grasp slackened. With a raspy sob, she lowered herself to hug her brother’s still body and quietly wept. The plague didn’t waste any time latching onto her shaking figure and weakly binding the two Amicitias together.

Noctis felt like someone was tightly holding his heart in a persistent grip. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. He hadn’t had the chance to talk things through. He couldn’t allow his bodyguard leave this world without reconciling.

He shook the tattooed man’s uninfected side. “Gladio! No. No-no-no. You gotta wake up!”

The black webbing coated the rest of Gladio’s head and spread to his pillow and mattress. The pattern of the effervescent substance on the cushion reminded Noctis of the bloodstain and bits of brain matter that had splattered on the cave wall when he had shot the chocobo. Faint gurgling sound came from between the dying man’s parted lips as the plague fully clogged his trachea. He silently hoped his friend would be choked to death and that way sparing Iris from having to witness the people she trusted snuffing out her brother’s life.

Noctis let go of Gladio’s shoulder when the Starscourge threatened to reach his fingertips. Tears blurred his vision to the point he couldn’t distinguish his friend’s features anymore underneath the plague. He backed away to rest his back against the wall and covered his face to hide the tears. His legs gave out and he slowly fell to his knees.

              ♫

Noctis barely heard the door creak as someone entered the room. Umbra hurried to his side and pressed his wet snout against the hunter’s cheek. The dog pawed at his shirt to get his attention, but Noctis merely patted Umbra on the head and continued to stare apathetically in front of him without really seeing anything.

The quiet sound of dripping pulled his attention to Gladio’s bed. He sharply inhaled when he noticed that the plague was no longer spreading, but moving back towards its source. Over the wound rested a small pale hand. Little Luna stood next to the bed, her lips stretched to a thin line and her brows creased in concentration.

“Luna?”

Iris lifted her head from Gladio’s chest and gasped when she saw a faint flicker of movement in the still air. Slowly, as if witnessing the sunrise casting its first light over something previously hidden, she could make out a vague, ghostly figure of a small girl. She blinked and rubbed her eyes to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. The unfocused image sharpened and Iris could clearly see the girl in a white dress standing next to her, absorbing the plague.

Gradually the thick black webbing crawled away from Gladio’s tattooed skin and stained cotton. The substance made its way up the little girl’s arm and merged with her pale skin. Iris watched in mute fascination as the plague latched to her arm did the same. The wound on Gladio’s shoulder pushed out the remains of the black puss before closing and healing on its own.

Noctis’ eyes shone with gratitude and admiration as he watched the miracle unfold. Gladio would live!

Suddenly Little Luna stiffened and convulsed. Excess plague leaked out of her nostrils and mouth, staining her pale chin black. Panicked, Noctis hurried to her side and knelt down in front of her. More black blood spilled from the seams of her face and trickled down her neck. Her glassy eyes rolled to the back of her head and she collapsed to his waiting arms.

“Luna!” He shook her and caressed a bloodied cheek, but she remained motionless. Noctis carried her to his dorm and left Iris to welcome Gladio back to the world of living. They would talk things through later.

Prompto sat in his usual spot on the top bunk, cradling his camera as he went through pictures of their great journey together. He could hardly believe they would lose a vital member of their former Crownsguard. As much as he wanted to be there for the gruff yet warm man, he couldn’t bear to see his friend in such a state. He preferred remembering Gladiolus as he was in their photos: healthy and full of life.

He blew his nose on a tissue and grimaced. His nose was red and raw from constant contact with paper, but he couldn’t stop the snot or tears. Without warning the door burst open nearly causing Prompto to tumble from his perch. The blond man watched Noctis rush in, eyes wide in fear as he set Little Luna down on his bed.

“Noct-?” Words died in Prompto’s mouth when he saw the condition she was in. “Oh no. Has she been infected, too?” He couldn’t lose another friend to the Starscourge so soon.

“No. She purged the plague from Gladio and Iris… I don’t know what’s happening to her.”

“Hold on.” Prompto uncorked a potion bottle and set it between Little Luna’s parted lips. Noctis held her nose to make sure she would swallow the healing liquid.

Instead of the desired effect, she began to splutter and choke. Noctis let go of her nose and pushed the potion bottle aside. He saw the liquid sizzle in her mouth as it touched the corruption. Little Luna coughed violently, drops of black blood flying everywhere and staining his sheets. He was instantly reminded of their notebook and the black drops that marred her last entry. Was this the reason?

Laboriously she sat up and attempted to climb out of the bed, but ended up sprawled on the floor. Supporting herself on trembling arms, shuddering and heaving, she vomited more black substance. Noctis moved his hand on her back in soothing circles. Her arms gave out and she lost her balance, her slack body hitting the stained carpet. Gently Noctis turned her around and pulled her head to rest in his lap. He wiped her blackened chin with a sleeve and brushed the damp bangs from her listless eyes.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he quietly asked. Little Luna shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut as another violent cough wrecked her tiny frame. Try as she might, she couldn’t keep few black drops from spilling and staining his face and clothes. Noctis clasped her small hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly.

Just when he thought she wouldn’t be able to take much more, the inky substance began to move. As if pulled by an invisible force, it inched towards the seams of her face and disappeared between the barely noticeable cracks. Even the drops on his face fell and were sucked in.

Once all of the foul matter had disappeared, she opened her eyes and smiled weakly at him. He choked on a relieved laugh. She was fine. Gladio and Iris were fine.

He leant down to press his lips on her temple in a lingering, heartfelt kiss. “I don’t know how you did it, but you saved them. Thank you.”

He watched the focus dull from Little Luna’s eyes as exhaustion overwhelmed her. With utmost care, Noctis lifted her back in his bed and pulled the covers to her chin. A soft, warm smile tugged at his lips as he sat down next to her and stroked her golden head.

              ♫

A knock on the door alerted the men to a visitor. They exchanged glances. Noctis shrugged.

“It’s open!” Prompto called.

Iris stepped inside visibly disoriented as she struggled to process everything that had happened. Her gaze fell to the still figure of a pale girl resting in Noctis’ bunk.

“Is she okay?”

Prompto did a double take. “W-wait a minute. You can see her?”

Iris haltingly nodded and sat down next to Noctis.

“But how? You never saw her before even when she was right in front of you.” Noctis watched in disbelief as Iris reached out to tentatively touch the cool cardboard-like skin of Little Luna’s arm.

“I don’t know. She sort of appeared out of thin air. At first she was nothing more than a vague figure, but when I concentrated she seemed to turn solid.” Other than the nearly imperceptible twitch of her lips, Little Luna remained dead to the world even as Iris’ hand reached down to hold the girl’s small hand. “Thank you for saving my brother.” Noctis gazed at Little Luna in quiet satisfaction. Despite the blank, blue eyes staring unblinkingly into space, he had a feeling she was going to be all right.

Iris let go of the hand and turned to address the dark-haired hunter. “Noct, I’m so sorry. I didn’t understand why you couldn’t return my feelings”, she dropped her eyes to her fidgeting hands. “And honestly, I blamed you for using me and causing harm to Gladdy. There’s so much I still don’t understand, but now I realise you were telling me the truth.”

“You had the right to it. What happened to Gladio was entirely my fault.” He sighed and rubbed his face, fatigue from hours of relying on adrenaline to keep him going starting to weigh down on him. “If I had been less irresponsible and paid attention to the people around me, he wouldn’t have insisted on joining me and Prompto and none of this would’ve happened.”

A small smile curved Iris’ pink lips as she shook her head. “If he hadn’t joined you, neither you nor Prompto would have returned home. If there’s one thing my brother is good at, it’s keeping you out of harm’s way.” She grinned and poked his chest.

Noctis chuckled. “You might be onto something.”

The tension left Iris’ slim shoulders and she shifted to a more comfortable position. “The nurse told me Gladdy’s recovering well. No sign of Starscourge anywhere, even the blankets were spared! His vitals are good and they were considering moving him to the infirmary tomorrow. Would you mind if I took the radio to him?”

“Not at all. You bought it.”

“Great!” Iris reached for the handheld radio on the nightstand, but paused and gasped when something grabbed her attention. “Where did you get these? How long have you had them?” She delicately touched the vibrant blue petals of a sylleblossom.

Noctis had already forgotten about the flowers. “Luna brought them to me some time ago. I think they’re like her, only certain people seem to be able to see them.”

“What makes a person see her? Have you two always seen her?”

Prompto shrugged. “I saw her when she got out of the van with Noct and Umbra. Didn’t realise nobody else could until Aranea pretty much ignored and looked through her. I’ve tried to capture her on camera a few times, but that never worked.”

“We don’t know what caused her to become visible to you or us for that matter.”

Iris scratched her head in thought. “Have you ever asked her?”

A slight grimace soured Prompto’s freckled features. “She doesn’t really talk.”

“Why not?”

Noctis leant over Little Luna and carefully slid a finger between her chapped lips. “I’m planning on asking her, but I think I have an inkling to why she can’t.” He parted her lips open and peered into her mouth. As expected, he couldn’t see anything – not even teeth or a tongue – but thick, black oil-like substance. He wasn’t sure what to make out of this newfound information. “She’s mute”, he concluded.

“I see.” She took the handheld radio and stood up. “It’s been a rough day, huh.”

“You can say that again.”

“But I’m glad we can now put this behind us. Be sure to visit Gladdy when you’re able!” She was about to turn the handle of the door and leave, when Noctis’ voice cut her off.

“How are you going to tell Gladio about his miraculous recovery?”

Iris smiled faintly. “By telling the truth.”

              ♫

Noctis woke up to Little Luna stirring in his arms. Her glassy eyes were wide open as she took in her surroundings. He could tell she was about to do another disappearing stunt when she realised she couldn’t escape his hold.

“Do you always leave me hanging, little minx? I recall you promising not to disappear on me.”

Startled, she looked up to his kind blue eyes. Guiltily she shook her head.

“Relax. No need to be so jumpy.” He lightly stroked her bare shoulder with his thumb, but she didn’t appear any calmer. “If you’re worried about me finding about your little secret, you can rest easy.”

Confusion and worry altered on her expressive face.

“I didn’t rip your mask off or anything like that, if that’s what you’re fretting over. I promised not to, after all.” Some of the tension faded from her stiff shoulders and she allowed herself to lean into his tender embrace. “But I might have peeked inside your mouth.”

Instinctively she clenched her jaw and pursed her lips to a thin line. He now knew it was to keep the black blood – or whatever it was – from coming out of her mouth. Had her insides always been coated in it?

“I’m guessing it’s the Starscourge, since you seemed to be able to somehow absorb it from Gladio and Iris. One could come to the conclusion that you’re a daemon-” She shook her head vehemently in denial. “-But that wouldn’t make much sense considering you’re constantly in contact with the hallowed lights and don’t appear affected by them.” Rigidly she lay against him and waited for his judgement.

“So, the question is: what are you?”

He hadn’t expected an answer and was pleasantly surprised when she lifted her left hand to show him the scar on her ring-finger. I am Luna, she seemed to be saying. And he believed her.

But that didn’t answer his question. He had to think of something else that she could answer.

“Were you down in the mines with me a week ago?”

She glanced up at him, confusion written all over her face as she shook her head.

He might as well make sure he had the full picture while she was willing to indulge his curiosity. “Are there more Lunas other than you and the one in the morgue?”

The corners of her eyes crinkled in good humour from a suppressed smile. Again, she shook her head and relaxed in his arms. She must’ve thought him crazy.

He breathed out in relief. It had been just a vivid hallucination. Everything he had gone through in the mines had been created in his messed up head – or at least partially. He still couldn’t quite distinguish what had been real and what made up. She hadn’t pulled his heart out of his chest, that much was certain, and it appeared he hadn’t hurt her either. He felt like a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders and that his conscience was slightly less tainted.

Little Luna’s skinny arms wrapped around his neck. She rested her chin on his shoulder and held him tightly. The unexpected show of intimacy caught him off-guard, but he happily returned the gesture nonetheless. He had a feeling it was her way of thanking him. He wasn’t sure for what, though. For accepting her despite the lack of oral hygiene? His lips twitched with dry humour. He placed a soft kiss on her shoulder and allowed her close proximity to lull him back to a blissfully dreamless sleep.

              ♫

The line to the mess hall was moving unusually slowly – something about visitors from Leide disrupting the carefully planned schedules according to Prompto. Not that Noctis minded too much. He wasn’t exactly starving to death, but he had hoped to bring Gladio some proper food. Who was he kidding? Iris more than likely already had that covered. He merely wanted to do something nice for his bodyguard to lessen the inevitable awkwardness.

A loud stage-whisper caught his attention. Little Luna stood outside the hall next to Umbra whose notebook holster had been replaced with a package.

He nudged Prompto’s side. “Be right back.”

The way Little Luna covertly checked if the coast was clear before presenting the box made him think of a shady drug dealer. The silly mental image made his lips twitch from a suppressed grin.

“What’s this?”

Curious, he lifted the lid of the box and was greeted by the alluring scent of freshly baked goods. It was an ulwaat berry tart, the dish he had fallen in love with during his stay in Tenebrae. He could tell it wasn’t quite the same as the ones he had enjoyed as a child, which was most likely due to lack of required ingredients. The trade wasn’t what it used to be and fresh bread was unheard of outside Lestallum and Altissia. But its lack of authenticity hardly mattered when the tart was fresh and made his mouth water. Next to it was a note.

‘Give my regards to master Amicitia.

PS. I might have had to borrow your gil, for I believe supporting the local industries is essential.’

Noctis snorted. Nobody would’ve noticed if she stole a single pastry from a busy bakery, yet she couldn’t bring herself to steal even with the obvious advantages at her disposal.

“You should come with us and give it to him yourself. If nothing else, it’d be funny to see his reaction to a floating box. It’s not like he doesn’t know of your existence.”

Little Luna placed her hands on her hips and glared at him in disapproval. He held his hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine. No frightening recovering patients, I get it.” She nodded importantly in agreement. “But you can’t deny you’ve thought about it once or twice. I know you better than you think.”

Glassy eyes widened in surprise and embarrassment. A hearty laugh rumbled in his chest.

“I knew it. C’mon, let’s take this to Gladio.”

A passing hunter gave him a funny look before turning to nudge his friend’s side, but Noctis paid them no mind. He had less than a week before Luna’s funeral and wasn’t about to let anything ruin his final days with her.

“Well, look who decided to show up.”

“Hey, we came as fast as we could”, Prompto protested and set down the tray piled with food in the recovering man’s lap for emphasis. “Can’t have a comeback party without goodies.”

The IV had been removed from Gladio’s arm. Iris had sewn him a temporary hospital gown that looked far more comfortable than what he had previously worn. His long, brown hair looked like it had been recently washed. He must’ve been to the showers with some extra help, but couldn’t stay out of bed for extended periods of time. She had also brought him several spare pillows to make his stay as comfortable as possible. Other than the obvious fatigue from the recent trials, he appeared to be healthy as a spiracorn.

Noctis’ voice was quiet as he clasped the older man’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you.” He blinked away the tears that threatened to well in his eyes. He was determined not to make this into another emotionally draining ordeal. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

There was no hint of resentment in his warm hazel eyes as Gladio’s large hand reached up to clasp his liege’s. “Glad to see you’ve got your head sorted out. Iris told me everything.” He turned his attention to the little girl hiding behind the dark-haired scout. “Who’s this?”

“There’s someone I want to introduce to you.” Noctis grinned and gently ushered her forward, his arms warm and reassuring around her small frame. “Meet Luna.”

Gladio gaped at her in disbelief before embarrassedly admitting: “When Iris told me Lady Lunafreya’s mute ghost healed me, I kinda expected her to look older than that.”

Noctis awkwardly shifted his weight from one foot to another while Little Luna’s gaze fell to stare at her toes. “Yeah, uh, I can’t really explain that. I don’t think it’s something she chose.”

Prompto shamelessly stole a biscuit from Gladio’s tray and munched on it thoughtfully as he voiced what all three of them had been thinking. “So, how come only we can see her?”

Gladio studied the pale girl, taking note of her unfocused, pupilless eyes and her slightly, well, dead appearance for lack of better word. It unnerved him to see Noctis so easily holding her like she was some prized porcelain doll. He suspected the former monarch had spent too much time with the dead to realise how abnormal and absurd the whole situation was. You don’t just casually hold your deceased lover’s animated corpse in your arms like that, no matter how alive it appeared to be. “Is it because we’ve all been healed by her?”

Prompto ignored the tattooed man’s disapproving glare as he spoke with his mouth full of food. “She never healed me. Besides Noct could see her before she healed him.”

“Actually”, Noctis cut in. “The first time she healed me was in Altissia before she died, but that’s beside the point.”

Gladio contemplatively stroked his beard. “What else do we have exclusively in common?”

Noctis thought of the black substance that coated the inside of Luna’s mouth and the bruises that marred her frail neck. He remembered how the imps hadn’t hesitated attacking her when they caught her in their sights. All of it had to be somehow connected. Then he remembered Iris. “All of us have been in contact with the plague. Iris could see Luna only after she had been infected.”

Prompto uncertainly wriggled his hands in his lap and bit his lip. “So you think I’ve been in contact with it, too? I mean, I’ve never been infected. Not even when I was right next to Gladio when he got infected.”

Noctis tapped his chin and frowned. “Do you think it’s possible you might’ve been in contact with it without getting infected? Weren’t you engineered to become an MT? You might’ve had a brief contact with it in the laboratories.”

Prompto tilted his head and pursed his lips in thought. “Yeah, but wouldn’t that mean I’d get infected more easily?”

The dark-haired scout hopelessly shrugged. “I don’t know, I’m just throwing out ideas. So far it makes the most sense to me.”

They sat and ate in silence. A cheery Lestallumian melody played from the radio sitting next to Gladio’s bed. While the three hunters had been debating, Little Luna had quietly withdrawn and huddled next to Umbra who obediently sat in the hallway as not to violate the ‘no animals allowed in the infirmary’-regulation. Her fingers combed through the happily panting dog’s shaggy fur. Noctis figured she might’ve felt a little unnerved by all the attention she was receiving lately. She was too used to being ignored and had spent too many years on her own.

Prompto broke the silence. “Y’know, it was kinda nice being back together for that mission. Would’ve been like in the good old days if Ignis had been with us.”

Gladio’s eyes glazed wistfully. “Wouldn’t that be something.”

Noctis noticed Little Luna was looking at him with a funny look on her face. He couldn’t quite decipher what was going inside that enigmatic mind of hers. It was times like these that he realised she really was older than what she appeared to be. It was almost like she was burdened by something he couldn’t understand. She broke the eye contact before he could come to any conclusion.

Returning to the conversation at hand, Noctis nudged his best friend’s side teasingly. “So, you heading to Hammerhead to get away from ‘paw-paw’?”

A faint blush dusted Prompto’s freckled cheeks, but he hid it with an easy grin. “Nah, I called Cindy and we agreed to meet up for the funeral. She got Takka’s kid to cover for her.”

Noctis didn’t miss how Little Luna tensed and tried her best not to appear to be eavesdropping. What a bummer. It must’ve been so strange for her to hear people casually talking about her funeral. He decided then and there that he’d spend the rest of the week making her forget about all the doom and gloom and just enjoy their time together.

Neither Gladio nor Prompto noticed the change in Little Luna’s body language. Then again, Noctis liked to think he had gotten pretty good at it. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but he could definitely read her emotions like an open book.

Prompto’s happy chatter brought him back from his musings. “Besides, we’re not in that much of a hurry. With Gladio here bedridden, it’s the perfect time to do some catching up and playing cards together like we used to. Might even get Ignis to join us if I practise my kicked puppy impression hard enough.”

Gladio licked the ulwaat berry jam from his fingers and chuckled. “You do realise that won’t work when he’s blind, right?”

“I think he meant he’s gonna try sucking up to Aranea.”

“Hey!” Prompto objected.

“What? That’s what you said.”

“I prefer the term ‘winning her over’.”

Noctis rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say.”

              ♫

He ran like he was late for his dorm-group’s assigned supper. Some people might have called him immature, while others might’ve thought him to be plain insane. Noctis hardly cared when he saw the wide smile lit up Little Luna’s pale features, her shoulder-length hair and white dress dancing in the breeze as they rushed past the denizens of the fort.

He had borrowed a trolley from the garage and used it to push Little Luna around at high speed. She clung to its rails and beamed at him through the curtain of tangled blond locks.

They had spent the last few days together doing silly activities such as this whenever his schedule permitted. Anything worked as long as it kept a smile plastered on her face and brought them memories of their time together in Tenebrae. Their current activity had been inspired by their memory of Luna pushing his wheelchair around the Fenestala manor. Noctis still remembered the shocked and appalled faces of the servants as their dignified princess had thrown her manners out of the window, just to make the sick Lucian boy laugh.

As promised, she hadn’t disappeared on him, not once. Every night she lay in his arms, not really sleeping – he suspected she never did – and kept him safe from the recurring nightmares. He would fall asleep to the comforting weight of her slight body draped over his, her cool hand absently caressing his coarse cheek. Prompto had jokingly asked if he could borrow her when he saw how positively her presence affected the former monarch’s mental well-being. Noctis knew his best friend was still shaken after what had happened to Gladio. To their surprise, the little girl hadn’t hesitated hugging Prompto. It became a habit of hers to hug him every night before retiring to Noctis’ bed. The sight of Little Luna holding Prompto’s middle was heart-warming and only served to remind him how much she cared about all of them, even the ones she had hardly known in her life.

Each morning she followed Umbra around the fort while the two hunters showered and ate. She would even join them in their reconnaissance scouting. While she was never in any real danger, thanks to her ability to disappear at will, Noctis still liked to keep a careful eye on her to make sure no daemons would harm her. Even though he hardly considered these missions something he wanted to share with her, he could tell she was happy to see his everyday life and be a part of it.

Gently he slowed their ride to a stop.

“Better head for the airship landing and make it look like I’m actually doing something with this.”

Little Luna covered her mouth and silently giggled. She always appeared so self-conscious about opening her mouth; he couldn’t help but wonder if she constantly worried about spilling the plague. If that was the case it was most likely just because she didn’t want to disgust him rather than actually fearing about infecting someone.

Something hit the asphalt with a muffled clatter. Little Luna hopped off the trolley and lifted the item for him. It was the wooden Carbuncle. He had forgotten he still carried it in his pocket.

“Y’know, I think this might’ve actually helped. Just a week ago everything was a wreck and look at us now.” He grinned and playfully tickled her cheek with the wooden figurine’s snout.

She half-heartedly swatted his hand away, her wide grin diminishing into a soft, almost bittersweet smile as she nodded in agreement.

His smile faded, a worried frown taking its place. “What’s that look for?”

Little Luna shook her head as if dismissing the matter. Now he was positive something was wrong. His frown deepened. With a faint, teasing grin, she attempted to diffuse the situation by imitated his expression just like she had back with Iris. No frowning. His lips twitched in good humour, but he wasn’t going to let her off the hook that easily.

“You might wanna reconsider answering my question. Otherwise I might be inclined to demand you pay back the tart-gil you stole.”

Little Luna feigned shock and slumped her head and narrow shoulders in defeat. Her hand rose and beckoned him to come closer, even as the rest of her remained hunched over. Obediently he knelt in front of her and expectantly looked up to her downcast eyes. Noctis nearly lost his balance when the scrawny girl pounced on him, arms wrapping around his neck and chapped lips brushing against his bearded cheek.

“H-hey!”

She hid her face in the crook of his neck and held him tightly, almost as if expecting something to come and pull her away from him. He reassuringly stroked her back and hair, unsure what caused this sudden – yet very much welcome – display of affection.

When she pulled away, he noted her glassy eyes appeared to be more reflective than normally. It was then that he realised he had never seen her cry. He lifted his hand to her pale cheek and waited with baited breath for the first tear to fall, but nothing happened. Was he imagining things? She leant into his touch and briefly closed her eyes before shyly withdrawing.

Not quite ready to let the moment pass, he leant forward to caress the tip of her nose with his and kissed her cheek. Flustered, she grabbed his hand and pulled him on the trolley.

“What are you-“

He had forgotten how strong she could be.

Something was off.

He felt like something important was missing, something essential. Something that was part of him.

Drowsily he yawned and stretched the kinks from his stiff muscles. As he slowly came to, he realised his bunk felt more spacious than usual. His hand felt around for the familiar chilly body, but found nothing. Panic twisted his insides and his heart skipped a beat as he sat up, hoping she was still nearby. He scanned the room, peeked into Prompto’s bunk and checked under his own bed, but didn’t find even a hair from her golden head to indicate she had been there. Little Luna was gone.

Before he could start thinking about forming a one-man search party, something blue caught his eye and he turned around to find a single sylleblossom placed next to his pillow. He noticed the royal raiment had been placed over the bed’s headboard. Then he remembered.

Tomorrow was her funeral. Tomorrow the illusion would shatter and he would be forced back to bleak reality. He would spend the rest of his life apart from the person he longed to be with the most.

With a faint, bittersweet smile he inhaled the flower’s sweet scent.

All good things come to an end, huh.