#and i have to save the shoe laces BUT can put in my checkered ones if i ever decide to wear them

[frnkiebby]

idk who i talked to on here about these but i was helping to clean out one of the sheds at the old house and found my old ass suitcase and opened it once we got to my storage unit and LOOK WHAT I FUCKIN FOUND

have your peak Y2K emo formal footwear~🎃

[rhenuvee]

Skater Boy (Fred Weasley x reader) [AU]

Yeahhhhh this was in my drafts for a while so here you go.

------------------------------------------

It was a chilly Saturday morning when you and a couple of your friends decided to head out to get some fresh air. You were bundled up in layers as you walked through the crowd to get to your destination.

“Oh jeez, I’m never gonna make it.” you said rushing yourself. It seems that you were a tad late, and now you were panicking because you knew they’d scold you for it.

“I need to catch my breath-” Just as you slowed your steps to walk to a nearby wall, you felt your foot kick something. Your eyes widened as you saw the large object start to tip over. In a split second before it hit the ground, you extended your arm forward and caught it before it your fall. And then you looked up and saw him-

Fred Weasley. You definitely knew him, he was in a few of your classes. Not to mention the guy you’ve had a crush on for a little while. However, you had to admit you were a bit intimidated by him which is why you barely had the courage to speak with him.

You watched with your mouth slightly parted and your hand still holding onto the object as he turned his head towards you. He was wearing a denim jacket with a red checkered flannel and white t-shirt underneath. He wore dark washed pants, and a pair of casual shoes with laces. 

Suddenly you remembered why you were here, and not to stare, but because of what you almost knocked over. He glanced down at what you now know is a guitar in its case, and then back at you. You were sure you flushed red as a stop sign when a grin broke out on his face.

“Thanks for saving my guitar.” he said.

“Oh god, I-I’m so sorry.” you stuttered as you gestured to give it back to him. You were so embarrassed that he caught you- thank the lord he played it off as ‘saving.’

“No problem,” he said putting his hand on top of the instrument. “Be careful next time, alright?” 

“Y-yeah...” you said softly, not sure if he heard you. On the inside you were screaming at the fact he told you to be careful- let along speak to you. You were about to bid him goodbye when he spoke again.

“Where are you off to anyway?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m supposed to meet my friends at that cafe down the street... I’m kinda late though.” you admitted. 

“I’m actually going there too, we could go together.” You froze. Fred Weasley was asking you to walk with him?! This had to be a daydream, you thought.

“Um, sure! I mean- if you want...” you said trailing off the last bit. He smiled that gorgeous smile of his and swung the guitar around his shoulder.

“’Course, I was the one who offered.” he said chuckling. You mentally facepalmed at your dumb response.

“Oh, right...” What a golden time to be a dumbass.

“Well then let’s go.” he said bringing a hand behind your back to lightly push you in the direction of the cafe. You hoped your cheeks wouldn’t be red for the whole journey.

---

As you walked through the courtyard, you noticed that Fred was not only carrying a guitar, but also was holding a skateboard with his right hand. You knew he had a skateboarded so that wasn’t a new sight, however you couldn’t help but wonder what he sounded like playing the guitar.

“You interested in my skateboard, love?” he asked looking back at you in a teasing way. You quickly whipped your head in the other direction, not conscious that you were in fact staring again. Plus, he made you feel more flustered with that term of endearment.

“Uh yeah, it’s cool.” you said shyly, not really sure what to say.

“Would you like to see me ride it?” he asked.

“Sure.” you replied as you tried your best to not sound shaky. With that, he dropped the item in his hand which made you jump slightly because of the sound from it hitting the stone ground. He hopped on and pushed the surface with his right foot. 

You watched in admiration as he swerved left and right with ease. He couldn’t do much since there were other people crowding the courtyard, but you found it impressive otherwise. When he slowed down, he hopped off and stopped the board with the front of his foot. 

He turned back to look at you, as if to see if you were watching him. You had to jog to where he was since the skateboard obviously was faster than by foot.

“Might as well leave me behind.” you joked referring to the difference of speed. He grabbed the board back in his hand as you caught up to him. 

“Well, you can take it there if you’d like.” he responded catching onto your sarcasm. 

“And get me a step closer to death? No thanks.” He grinned at your reply. 

“You scared?” he asked, not in a mocking way, but more of a genuine curiosity way.

“I guess you could say that, I don’t really think that my small feet could balance well enough.” you said while looking down at your feet. 

“I could teach you.” he said quickly. Your eyes widened.

“Oh- that’s really nice of you, but...” You couldn’t say yes, not only would you make a fool of yourself, but you thought you’d combust after spending so much time with him. But then you watched his chocolate brown eyes, looking at you pleading for an answer- how could you say no?

“Um maybe later?” you said. Just like that his smile returned and he nodded, hoping to take you up on that offer sometime.

—-

The rest of your walk to the cafe was silent. You were scared to look him in the eye, or be caught staring again.

Once you arrived, you rushed to open the door for him since he was carrying so much. He was a little surprised but was grateful nonetheless.

“Thanks.” He said to you as he walked through the door way. You smiled in response, and was about to make a dash for the table you spotted your friends at because if they saw you with Fred they would ask a million questions.

“Hey wait!” He called before you could take more than two steps away. You stopped and turned back to him.

“You’re (y/n), right? You’re in my class.”

“Yeah...”

“(Y/n).” he repeated which you swore was melody to your ears. “And I’m-“

“Fred Weasley.” You covered your mouth instantly after blurting his name out. He was taken aback as he saw that you knew his name.

“Yeah,” he said chuckling at your flustered form. “See you later (y/n).” You couldn’t even get anything out of your mouth, so you simply waved and quickly headed to the table where your friends were, and he did the same.

And just to your luck, you sat down realizing that your friends had been watching and giggling the whole time.

“What?” You asked with a slight growl in your voice.

“You and Fred Weasley?”

“Ooh since when was (y/n) (l/n) becoming a troublemaker?”

You groaned and waved your hands to them as if that would get them to stop teasing you.

Meanwhile at the other end of the pub, a certain redhead you were just with had a similar conversation.

As Fred sat down, he didn’t say anything. All he did was take a sip of his drink that George already ordered for him and look out the window. His twin and Lee Jordan looked at each other with knowing looks, both sharing the same thought about what they just saw.

“Hey Fred?” started Lee. Fred looked back from the window to his friend. “Who’s that girl you walked in with?”

“Hm?” He hummed, not really paying attention.

“That girl.” Said George nudging his twins arm and pointing to the direction of you.

“Just a girl I bumped into.” He said tilting his head downwards, though he was fooling no one, and especially not the two people he hung out with everyday. Though Fred’s smile could barely be seen, both of them could see his dimples forming, and looked at each other giggling.

“Not a girl you fancy?” teased George while putting his tongue between his teeth to stop grinning so much. Lee ducked his head down to hide his laughter as well. Fred shook his head, but George and Lee were not having it.

Back to your situation-

“I swear this isn’t a big deal!” you protested. Arguing with your friends about this topic was hopeless.

“And having him walk you here isn’t a big deal?”

“And him offering you to try skateboarding isn’t a big deal?” It was pointless to even speak- your two friends versus just yourself, they’d never let this go.

“(Y/n) look at us, we’re two miserable single souls and we’re jealous over your relationship!” she said dramatically. You blushed at the thought, but you rolled your eyes so it could somehow cover it.

The rest of your time eating a drinking was fine once your friends stopped the teasing, even if you knew that wasn’t going to be the end of it. 

However, that night as you fell asleep, you couldn’t help but remember what had just happened that afternoon with Fred.

--- 

The next morning, it was a lot warmer than yesterday. You had no plans on this nice Sunday, so you weren’t sure what to do to make use of your time. But when you walked past the courtyard, a familiar voice called out to you. 

“Hey, (y/n)!” Your head perked up to see Fred waving to you. You put on your best face and waved back. Then you realized he was also beckoning for you to come where he was. You were confused at first but you cautiously walked over to where he was.

“Hi Fred.” you greeted. Then you noticed what he had brought knee and elbow pads, as well as a helmet. 

“I- Fred I was joking about me skateboarding.” you said frantically barely able to get your sentence out. You were surprised he even remembered and kept his word.

“You said I could teach you later- it’s later.” he said smirking. Oh god, you were going to die today. “Well c’mon, put the stuff on, darling.” Your eyes narrowed into slits as you heard a second term of endearment. 

“Do you call all the girls that?” you asked genuinely wondering as you shifted the pads on your limbs. 

“Just you.” he mumbled as he handed you the helmet. You were very nervous- what else could distract you from the fear of falling on your butt?

Once you adjusted the helmet strap tighter, he gestured you to step on the board. In an instant you thought it was going to slip from underneath you like in those silly videos. But a pair of hands flew to your sides to stabilize you. Guess there was something to distract you.

“You can hold on to me, you know that right?” he asked. That was enough to snap you back to your senses. Except now you placed your arms on his forearms, which didn’t help in preventing the pink tint spreading on your face.

In being so close to him you could recognize some of his features in greater detail. You noticed that he had loads of freckles littering his face, mostly on the tops of his cheeks. You caught a whiff of his cologne which wasn’t too strong, but under that he smelled like cinnamon and firewood. 

“Alright, put your left foot a bit more to the front, that’s it... and bend your knees a little, otherwise those tiny feet of yours won’t balance well.” You bent your knees like he said but shook your head in displeasure as he giggled at your reaction.

“I’m gonna run you over with this skateboard.” you threatened jokingly in response to his comment.

“Ouch,” he said pouting. “But we’ll see if you get this down. I’m gonna start walking now, just stay steady like you are.” He slowly removed his hands from your sides, which made you release your grip from his arms. He put his hands under yours, and held them close to him. It made you felt more wobbly.

“Fred, I’m gonna fall.” you whisper-yelled.

“(Y/n), I’m holding you, you’re doing great.” he said laughing in between. You were squeaking as he walked across the courtyard and back. You felt a bit self-conscious when you saw a few others watching in the courtyard.

“See, that wasn’t so bad.” he said once he stopped walking. 

“Oh yeah, it was fantastic.” you said sarcastically. 

“Now let’s see you try this yourself.” 

“Fred wha-” And just like that, he let go, and stepped back and you were left to wobble with your arms outstretched everywhere. You yelped as the board seemed to be tilting.

“Fred! Don’t just leave me here!” you shouted, not feeling that you could stand much longer.

“Don’t you wanna run me over with a skateboard?” he teased. “Alright, c’mere-” Just as he was about to come over, you happened to come over first- that is, you fell with your hands right on his chest. He was shocked, and genuinely scared that he almost let you fall which led him to wrapping his arms around you. You looked up at him in embarrassment, and the proximity of your faces.

“I-I’m so- sorry!” you stuttered out. You were scared of what he was about to say, however you didn’t get to hear once Fred heard a wolf whistle from not very far and and turned his attention there.

“Hey Fred.” said George to his twin. Fred didn’t reply. George then turned to you and waved while smirking. You awkwardly waved back. You heard Fred mutter ‘That git.’ under his breath. Golden timing from George.

“Sorry to interrupt,” said George comically while putting extra emphasis on ‘interrupt’. “Fred, we’ve gotta go.” You looked up at Fred who looked back down at you, who looked like he suddenly remembered, then he thought of something.

“Meet me back here after lunch,” he whispered which made you let out a slight hum in confusion. “We’ll continue this later.” He unwrapped his arm around you, and gave you a small peck to your forehead. He helped you off the board and you quickly took off the pads and helmet to give back to him.

Once he jogged off with George and out of range from you, you were left with a series of unanswered questions in your head. You brought your fingers up near your forehead, feeling where he had just kissed you in the middle of the courtyard.

“Did you mean continue the skateboarding?” you whispered rhetorically to yourself, still dumbfounded about what just happened.

Only after lunch you would find out.

————————————————

[monochromemedic]

Stuck with Ben-man

So being stuck in a sandstorm with Benny sucked.  Benny cropped up to try to ‘face me’ aka antagonize me and my friend when a sandstorm popped up, a real bad one.  One that made the winds whip and our vision fade until we were yelling at each other  and trying to hold hands. I managed to hold on to someone as we tried to hunk down, only for the sand to overcome us and nearly bury us. I woke up slumped against a rock with sand covering me from the waist down. I looked to the friend I had held on to, only to see the familiar checkered suit and dusty smug face slowly coming too. No chairmen, no lackies, no followers, no friends. Just me, and Benny. The sound of Benny taking his shoe off and dumping sand back on to the desert and beginning to walk again was constant, as was the grumbles and sighs. “You know I use to be.... good at this stuff. Use to own this place like I was a king. Course when House came around, I had the chance to be better instead of fighting over roach meat, I took it. Now i’m back and I hate it. All grody and dusty. I feel like i’m back in that time. I hate it.” “Well sorry someone got a taste of champagne and now can’t stand to be in the real world for 5 seconds. Oh boo hoo, survival for the big boss man.” I sarcastically cried, my hands making a fake crying motion. Benny gritted his teeth, stomping up closer to me, placing a hand on my shoulder which made me recoil away instinctively.  “Oh and you wig out everytime i’m round you. What a little lead in the noggin hurt you that bad? Listen I’m 18 karat, i’m a real swell guy. I won’t turn on you less you turn on me so let’s just keep it smooth until we find our people again, and we’ll be golden.” I paused, trying to deduce what the hell we was saying to me before continuing to walk. “Yeah course that’s what you always say and then I end up getting crossed. For all I know you got that dumb gun of your pressed against my back-” “Her names Maria and she’s twice the gal you’ll ever be, babe!” He barked, kicking a little sand as we walked “Oh did I cut a little deep there lover boy? Insult your girlfriend? You like to put your peepee in the gun hole to make you feel good?” “Get bent you nasty broad, I only stick my dick in class acts unlike yourself. You’re lucky im still hanging around, I could hightail it out of here and leave you all alone but since i’m such a swell guy i’m HELPING you out.” “Yeah i’ve survived out here for years, I don’t think some douche in a checker print suit with a pea shooter will make much of a difference.” I could practically feel the hissy fit he was having behind me the way he was  stomping around in the sand. “GOD I JUST WANNA STRANGLE YOU! I TRY TO BE NICE, I TRY TO BE A REAL GENT, A REAL STAND UP GUY AND YOU STILL GIVE ME THE SHAFT.” I turned around, raising my arms sarcastically. “OH GEE I WONDER WHY, MAYBE IT’S BECAUSE OF ALL THE SHAFTS YOU GIVE ME TIME AFTER TIME. LITTLE GEEK er-er... FINK CAN’T HANDLE A LITTLE PLAYFUL BANTER CAN HE? WHAT A FRAGILE LITTLE EGO-” I was cut off by him tackling me to the ground, arms trying to wrap around my neck as he screeched angrily. I thrashed back, fingers scratching his face which only made him angrier. “YOU LEAVE THE MUG ALONE, OFF LIMITS, YOU GANK ME YOU KEEP IT BELOW THE DO-” “FUNNY WORDS FOR A MAN WHO SHOT ME IN THE MUG-” Benny’s hand flew in the air as he quickly got up, walking away and screaming into his own hands while I still thrashed in the dust angrily, yelling as well before we both started to chill out, getting the lust for each others blood on our hands. I stared at Benny, who tried to smooth his hair back, only failing for the lack of gel that was in his hair. “Alright i’m chill, i’m chill. My nest look like death but i’m chill. Let’s just... let’s just get going.” I glared back at him, slowly getting up and giving a final scream before nodding. “Yeah ok i’m... i’m good.” As we turned around and went to take the first step, we saw that our little spat attracted the attention of a couple of geckos, staring with wide eyes. Benny muttered a little swear under his breath as he reached for Maria and pointing it at the biggest gecko. “Dibs.”  A familiar sound echoed in the air as the gecko’s head turned into a red paste as he turned to the next one that began to charge at us. I quickly grabbed my own pistol and began to put rounds  into any gecko that began to come close to the both of us. As we began to  finish off the rest of them a larger, fire gecko came charging from the side, knocking Benny down and beginning to swipe at his chest, his blood splattering against the dusty ground. I aimed at the gecko, pausing for a moment to consider the fact that ‘Benny Gecko’ dying by a gecko would be funny at take out the entire situation of the bastard lingering around before sighing and beginning to lace the creature with bullets. It fell over with a slump, a little burst of flame exiting it’s mouth, showing how close Benny was to getting singed. I glared at Benny who wheezed and slowly began to get up, hand on his slashed chest.  “I’d say i’d owe you but, Ben-man don’t owe nothing to no one-” “I heard you that if you get the fire sack out of a fire gecko you can squeeze it and make flames come out. Now if you keep talking I might just do that to you and finish the job that gecko was gonna do before I saved your ass.” Benny was quiet, hair hanging in his face as he eyed me up, and began to walk again. “Do you at least got a stimpak on you?” “I mean... I do. But you gotta say the magic word.” His stare intensified, before he rolled his eyes and began to give me puppy dog eyes. “May I... please have a stimpak?” I dug in my bag, throwing out a stimpak to him as we continued to walk wishing we were with anyone but each other.

[stranger-who-writes-fiction]

i don’t believe in peter pan, frankenstein or superman

Fandom: Supergirl Rating: K Summary: As Alex and Kara help Eliza prepare for a garage sale, a shocking secret is revealed! A/N: *wants to tell a single joke about dragons on Krypton* *ends up writing thirteen pages of what is probably incoherent nonsense*

...

Spring in Midvale is...a bit tempestuous, to say the least.

It brings just as much rain as it does sun; plants blossom in the warm weather one week, only to have the new buds washed away by a freak downpour the next.

Kara doesn't mind the indecisiveness of the season all that much—she likes the sound of the raindrops on the leaves outside, and the sunlight is pleasantly mild, when it decides to make an appearance. So, she's fine with a few stretches of grey clouds, here and there.

“Yeah, well. Not all of us are impervious to the cold,” Alex mutters miserably from inside her jacket and scarf.

Kara just shrugs, not even batting an eyelash at the windchill.

Now, allergies, daylight savings, standardized testing...some of those, Kara does mind, and she'll wholeheartedly agree with Alex's complaints.

Especially when it comes to another annual spring occurrence.

“Girls, if I have to ask you one more time—”

“Alright, alright!”

Kara watches as Alex rolls her eyes and hastily tosses a few more books into the cardboard box situated in the center of the room. Kara moves a bit slower, adding a pair of old shoes that no longer fit, but hesitating with the pair of jeans in her hands. The knees are starting to go a bit thin and threadbare.

“Keep those,” Alex says. “Ripped jeans are cool.”

Kara frowns, not entirely convinced, but does as Alex says, setting aside the jeans and instead reaching for her freshman math book instead. “What about this?”

Alex huffs, clearly annoyed at being interrupted, but schools her features into something a bit more patient as she looks over her shoulder, and considers.

“...Yeah,” she finally decides, nodding towards the box. “I don't think you'd get much if you took it to a used bookstore anyway.”

Kara tosses it in.

She's been on Earth for...a little over two years, now? And thus, she's familiar with the yearly ‘Danvers' Household Spring Cleaning and Garage Sale,’ a ritual that does not actually involve the sale of garages...though Alex did try and convince her, that yes, that's definitely what garage sales are about.

(And...okay. Kara...maybe believed her for like...five minutes. Four. Tops. And then Jeremiah kindly set the record straight.)

“Girls!” Eliza calls, and Alex huffs again.

“Coming!” Alex yells. “Are we good?”

Kara looks at the sizable collection of items in the box, and nods.

“I think so. I...don't really have anything else to put in.”

“Yeah, figured,” Alex says. There isn't much that Kara has that's old enough to warrant tossing out—everything works perfectly fine, or fits perfectly well, will definitely last another year. Most of the stuff they've found belongs to Alex—old books and board games. Of course, Alex first offered them to Kara, but. Kara didn't have much use for an old Chinese Checker set that was missing half the pieces. (And Kara certainly had no use for Clue...as she’d been permanently put off of murder mysteries ever since Kenny.)

But Kara does has more to contribute this time around, at least. Like those shoes, for instance. (And that pair of jeans she sneaked back in the box, when Alex wasn't looking.)

Her sister stands, hefting the cardboard box as she does so. Kara grabs a smaller box, and Alex feigns annoyance.

“Hey, you're the super strong alien...you should take this one.”

Kara smirks.

“Sorry, can't. I'm not supposed to use my powers, remember?”

Alex nudges her in the side, adding a drawn out, “riiiiiight,” generously laced with sarcasm. They both laugh and head downstairs.

“Finally!” Eliza says, once they reach the bottom of the stairs. Kara wonders if they're in for a lecture, but Eliza's clearly too wrapped up in prepping for the garage sale to fit in any scolding. “Just put them over by the door, and then Alex...I need you to go through some of the things out in the shed...”

“What?!” Alex yelps as they add their boxes to the (ever growing, it seems) stack near the door. “You never said I had to clean out the shed...that'll take forever.”

“It's just a few things,” Eliza insists, “some of the sports equipment, and the old camping gear. I think one of the tents is broken...”

“Uggggh,” Alex groans.  And Kara is ready to leave her behind, and retreat back to their room, because she's been out in the shed a total of two times, and both were entirely unpleasant affairs.

Besides, Eliza only mentioned Alex. So Kara’s pretty sure she in the clear.

But of course, Alex isn't about to let that happen.

“Can Kara at least come and help me lift stuff?” Alex asks, and Kara—having zero desire to get roped into this, is quick to remind her:

“I'm not supposed to use my pow—”

“It's just moving junk out of the way,” Alex says, turning to Eliza to plead her case. “It'll go faster, and then we'll be all set for Saturday.”

Kara can see Eliza turning the idea over in her head...clearly taken with the notion of being ahead of schedule.

“But—!” Kara tries once more, but Eliza is already moving towards the office, several empty milk crates in tow.

“Help your sister!” she calls over her shoulder. “But no flying or super speed—just strength!”

Alex chuckles wickedly under her breath as Kara slumps, and emits a disgruntled whine.

“You're the worst,” Kara mutters. And Alex just shrugs it off.

“It’s a sibling thing, get used to it,” she says, and when Kara gives her an inquisitive look, she elaborates, “'if I'm going down, I'm taking you with me.'”

The shed is just as bad as Kara recalls.

Dark, damp, and void of any semblance of organization, it's a dumping ground for outdoor gear, (both broken and functional), gardening equipment (that they never use) and patio furniture that, by Alex's calculations, has not seen the light of day for at least six years.

“Okay, I know mom said just strength...” Alex starts, staring into the shadowy abyss, “but you think you could...?”

Kara sighs, and slips her glasses off, using her x-ray vision to quickly locate the items they've been sent to find.

“Camping gear's all the way at the back,” Kara says, “What sport stuff did Eliza want you to look at?”

“I dunno,” Alex says, pushing a few foam boogie boards out of the way. She nods towards some lawn chairs, and Kara grunts, but ultimately obliges, easily hoisting them out of the way. “Let's do the camping stuff first.”

“'Kay.”

Alex is right, of course; Kara's super strength makes clearing a path a cinch, and, admittedly, it turns out to be an invaluable asset, given that the tents are buried beneath several layers of cobweb-covered junk.

Kara hauls everything out into the backyard, allowing Alex to yank the tents from the shelving units.

“Okay, let's check and see...” Alex starts to say, dumping the pieces out onto the lawn.

A puff of red dust and the moldy remains of what was once a canvas tent come tumbling out.

“...Yeah, I think that's...done.” Alex surmises.

Kara nods, recoiling slightly at the smell of water damage.

“Here, just—put that in the garbage, actually. No one's gonna wanna buy that,” Alex tells her. “I'll start putting this stuff back.”

Kara does as she's told, gingerly taking the tent to the side yard, and shoving it into one of the trashcans.

“Yeeeuch,” she mumbles, shaking her head and trotting back to join her sister. Alex stands just outside the shed, brushing her hands on her jeans, and regarding two items propped up against the shed's corrugated metal siding.

Kara recognizes them as bicycles—bikes.

“Do you need my help, moving them?” Kara asks, wondering why Alex has paused. The whole reason she was out here in the first place was because Alex wanted to rush through this.

“No,” Alex says slowly, “I think I'm actually gonna move these to the garage.”

“For the sale?”

Alex shakes her head. “No,” she says again. “Or. Maybe...” she scratches her head. “I never ride mine, anymore. But, I dunno...” she runs her hand over the seat, which Kara thinks might be black, underneath the thick layer of dust. “They're kinda nice to just have, you know?”

Kara nods, even though she's not really sure she understands.

“Uh...yeah,” she agrees, and her hesitation must be apparent, because Alex turns and gives her a funny look.

“Oh...come on,” she says suddenly, realizing. “You guys seriously didn't have bikes on Krypton?”

Kara crosses her arms, feeling a twinge of defensiveness working its way into her response. “Why would we? They're...archaic.”

Alex doesn't take offense at the comment, instead grabbing one of the bikes and nudging the kickstand up out of the way.

“Well now we have to keep them,” she grins. “Here, take this, I'll go see if I can find the helmets—”

“Uhhh...” Kara is forced to take hold of the nearest bike by the handle bars, because Alex is already dashing back into the shed. A few loud crashes follow, along with some grumbling and more than a few phrases that would have Eliza frowning in disapproval, but at last, Alex emerges, two bike helmets in hand.

“Here,” she says, giving one to Kara. It's smaller than the other—bright blue, with the faded, gummy remains of stickers dotted along the front.

“But I don't—”

“I know you don't need it,” Alex says, clipping her own helmet into place. It's larger, and a plain dark grey.  “But, you know. It's the law, and everything, and you have to blend—”

“No, I—” Kara steps away from the bike, handing the helmet back to Alex. “I don't...want to. Ride, I mean.”

Alex blinks.

“Oh,” she says, taking the helmet from Kara. “Like...you don't wanna go right now, or...?”

“Yeah,” Kara nods vigorously. “I...I forgot I have...some APUSH stuff to finish.”

Alex narrows her eyes. They're in the same class.

“What APUSH stuff?”

“I meant Bio,” Kara says, already heading back towards the house. “We can go...some other time, maybe!”

Alex watches her go, eyes still narrowed, so not buying this.

“Riiiight.”

It's not the same thing, Kara tells herself as she stares at the ceiling in their room, sprawled on her bed and not working on Bio or APUSH.

It's not the same thing at all.

And she's not sure if that makes her feel better...or worse.

Kara doesn't even entertain the notion that Alex will leave well enough alone—she knows, right from the get-go, that her sister is going to keep harping on this until...until something happens. Either until Kara snaps or caves or does something else that Alex can hyper-fixate on.

“I can teach you,” Alex offers, literally riding circles around Kara. She's taken to riding her old bike to school...no doubt an attempt to wear down Kara's resolve.

Kara just shrugs, and keeps walking.

“No thanks.”

Alex sighs angrily. “I just don't get it,” she says. “Why not?”

Kara shrugs again, “I dunno, I just don't want to.”

“That's not really a reason.”

“I don't need a reason,” Kara insists, gripping her backpack straps a bit tighter. Alex has stopped pedaling, allowing the bike to coast alongside the sidewalk. Kara can hear the spokes clicking loudly in her ears.

“I guess not,” Alex admits. “...But it would...kinda be nice to have one.” She thinks for a moment. “You can't be scared—it's impossible for you to get hurt.”

Kara scowls.

“I'm not scared.”

“Yeah, I know. I just said you weren't.”

“Good. 'Cause I'm not,” Kara reiterates firmly.

Alex squints at her. “Well, now I'm thinking that you kind of are.”

“I'm not!” Kara says again, raising her voice. Alex frowns, taken aback.

“Whoa, calm down, I didn't—”

“I'm not scared of your...your dumb Earth bikes. You know why we didn't have them on Krypton? Because we had dragons. These big—lizard—dragon things with wings that were ten times scarier than any of your antiquated...” Kara stammers a little, the Kryptonian and English getting jumbled in her head. “Stuff. Your antiquated stuff.”

And she knows she shouldn't, but she uses a touch of super speed, because she's done talking.

Alex watches her go, still a little...stunned, by Kara's outburst.

“...Dragons?”

“Is it scary?”

“Mmmm.” Uncle Jor hums thoughtfully as he chews. “A little. At first. What do you think, Zor?”

Her father nods in agreement.

“At first, yes.”

“I had to push him, you know,” Uncle Jor tells her, leaning forward and pretending to whisper. Kara rolls her eyes—Uncle Jor is under the impression that she finds his antics hilarious.

(Which, admittedly, she did. When she was five.)

But she is interested in the story.

“Did you really?” she asks, looking from her uncle to her father, and back again. Uncle Jor laughs.

“I see you've not shared this particular story with Kara, then?”

“He has not shared it with me, either,” her mother interjects, joining them at the table. She raises an eyebrow and smirks at Zor.

Her father's smile is sheepish.

“Well...it has never come up before...”

“Zor was certain he would take to flying much faster than I,” Uncle Jor says, leaning back in his chair. “But when we got to the cliffs, he froze.”

“I was merely taking my time,” her father says.

Uncle Jor shakes his head. “He froze.”

“So you pushed him?” Kara asks. Uncle Jor nods.

“H'Raka was going to leave without him!” he claps his brother on the shoulder. “So I gave him a good shove, right off the edge of the cliff.”

Her mother covers her mouth with her hand in an attempt to hide her smile.

“I am surprised the thantho flez allowed that,” she chuckles. Her father looks sheepish again.

“She...did not.”

“She threw him right off.” Uncle Jor nods.

Kara's eyes widen, and her mother abruptly stops laughing.

“Did you get hurt?” Kara asks, trying to imagine the scene. Were the cliffs steep? How far did father fall? Was H'Raka alright?

“I landed in a Hantha tree, thank Rao,” her father smiles. “I broke my arm, but if could have been...much worse.”

“I pray you had the decency to feel badly,” her mother turns and scolds Uncle Jor, who is nodding, wearing a very serious frown.

“Oh, of course,” he says, just as he winks at Kara.

Kara doesn't laugh—in fact, she remains quiet throughout the rest of the dinner, still thinking about Father, and flying, and being frightened.

Eventually, Uncle Jor leaves—he has to meet Aunt Lara at the High Council building. She doesn't join her parents, in seeing him off.

“Alright, Little One,” her mother says, once Uncle Jor is gone. “Something is troubling you.”

Kara shakes her head, but her mother and father know better. Her father rubs her shoulder.

“It will not be scary,” he tells her, correctly guessing the source of her worry. “Flying. I promise, it will be fine.”

“Do I...have to go?” Kara asks in a small voice. Her mother and father share a look—something passes between them, a silent conversation. Kara marvels at their ability to do that—seemingly speaking to one another, without actually talking.

“You must take the test...eventually...” her father says slowly, kneeling so that they are eye level. Again, he rubs her shoulders, soothingly. “You know this.”

“Thara waited until fifth tier...” Kara argues.

And she can see her mother, ready to protest, to tell her that she may not wait, she must take the test before her fourth tier lessons.

But it's her father who speaks, soft and reassuring.

“We will wait until you are ready,” he says, smiling. “And when that time comes, we will be right there beside you. To teach you. To help you.”

Kara feels the anxious knot in her stomach come undone.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

That was one year before the planet started falling apart.

(Though...according to her dad and Uncle Jor, the planet had been falling apart for a long time, but. It didn't become...noticeable until...just before the end, really.)

She never took her flight test.

Her parents never taught her how to ride a thantho flez, or a hover skiff, or...or anything, really. She was too young for some of those things...too scared for the others.

And when at last she found some courage (I'm not afraid, father)...

Well.

By then, it was too late.

Kara sighs, poking her head into the living room, finding Alex lying on one of the couches.

“Um. Hey....” she starts. Alex glances up from her phone.

“Hey.”

And Kara takes that as a good sign...Alex doesn't sound like she's mad at her. If anything, she sounds bored. And that's fine. Kara can handle bored.

“I'm...sorry,” Kara says, shuffling into the room somewhat awkwardly. She takes a seat in the chair across from the couch. “About yelling at you. And calling bikes dumb.”

“And antiquated.”

“And antiquated,” Kara sighs again. “I didn't mean it. I'm sure bikes are...are great.”

“Yeah, well,” Alex shrugs, gaze flicking back to her phone. “They're not quite as exciting as dragons,” she drawls, casting a pointed look in Kara's direction. Kara winces. “But. They're okay.”

“I was just upset,” Kara says, wringing her hands, feeling that she owes Alex some sort of explanation.

“Clearly,” Alex snorts. Kara lets the interruption slide, forging ahead.

“Everything you said...about being scared and...and learning to ride...” she shrugs. “It. Reminded me of my parents, I guess. Kind of. Of...something that...I never...” she adjusts her glasses, looking down at her feet. “Never got to, um. We never...got to do, together.”

She takes a deep breath; that's as much detail as she can muster, right now, not wanting to remember too much, to linger too long on those raw emotions. She looks up to see Alex nodding, sitting up and setting her phone aside.

“Sorry. I didn't, uh,” she scratches the back of her hand. “Know. About...that it was...bringing up some stuff.”

Kara nods. “Yeah,” she says.

“Yeah.”

They sit in awkward silence for a moment as Kara struggles to think of something else to say. Fortunately, Alex puts an end to it, as she raises an eyebrow and asks:

“So...when you say dragons, do you mean...?”

Kara grins. “Like. Dragon dragons.”

“Seriously?”

“Well. Some of them look more like dragonflies, but...”

“And you guys would ride them?”

“Yeah.”

“That's...” Alex allows herself to sink back into the couch cushions. “Whoa.”

“Definitely whoa,” Kara agrees, remembering seeing Thara prepare for her test, practicing, her Winged One—her thantho flez—swooping and circling high overhead.

Alex returns to her phone, and Kara...Kara realizes with a start that, no, she never did learn to fly, back on Krypton.

But she did learn on Earth.

“You sure you want to do this?” Alex asks.

Kara buckles the strap on her borrowed helmet.

“Yes,” she says firmly.

“Because you don't have to,” Alex tells her. “I don't want to like...traumatize you, or something, and then you rat me out to mom.”

“I would never,” Kara says, entirely unconvincing.

“Mmmm hmmm,” Alex smirks. “’Course you wouldn't.”

She slings her leg over the bike—free of cobwebs and dust, and sporting a new set of pegs on the back.

“So, do I just...?” Kara asks, stepping forward somewhat tentatively. Alex nods.

“Yeah, but...wait a sec, lemme make sure...okay, go for it.”

Kara steps up onto the pegs, placing her hands on Alex's shoulders. Alex flinches.

“Too tight,” she hisses. Kara eases her grip.

“Oh, sorry. Better?”

Alex nods. “Okay, so now, you just...hang on, I guess.”

“Okay,” Kara says.

And then, they're off.

Slowly, and somewhat wobbly.

“Oh, this is great,” Kara lays on the sarcasm thick. Alex grunts.

“Would you just—I've never had a passenger before, alright? You're throwing off the whole...” Alex manages to straighten out, and pick up some speed. “Ha! Okay, there.”

And now they're really off—Alex picked a particularly hilly neighborhood for the ride, and soon enough, they're coasting down streets, wind in their hair, pale afternoon sun pleasantly warm on their backs.

They don't ride very fast, or very far—it's over all too soon, in Kara's opinion, but Alex is still paranoid that she'll emotionally scar her, or something.

They come to a stop at the bottom of the hill, tires skidding slightly on the asphalt.

“So?” Alex asks, turning. “How as that?”

Kara beams.

“Good,” she replies. “Really good. Almost like flying.”

Alex nods, humming slightly.

“Well,” she says, “as someone who's flown with you once,” she moves her feet back to the pedals, ready to head for home. “Agree to disagree.”

Kara doesn't fully explain to Alex, just what was bothering her. Kara doesn't know if she herself really understands the scope of it. (That will come later—when she has words for things like survivor's guilt.)

But Alex...Alex must understand some of it, because after the ride, on the way home, she tells Kara—somewhat haltingly, and unsure—about how her parents taught her to ride a bike—that, during the summer, they'd go for long rides on the nearby trails together. She tells Kara that there are still some things, she can't even think of doing, because Jeremiah isn't here to do it with them.

“So if I...you know,” Alex's shrug is hindered, somewhat, but Kara's grip, but Kara can feel them tense a little. “Pressured you, or something, I'm sorry.”

Kara shakes her head, only to realize Alex can't see her, focused as she is on the road. So she squeezes her shoulder, and assures her. “It's okay.”

“Quit doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“That—that thing that you're doing—normal humans can't balance like that unless both feet are on the ground.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.”

“You have to pedal. We can't have an E.T. moment, okay?”

Kara has to think for a moment—which one was E.T.? But then she remembers...and grins.

“You sure?”

“...Honestly, no. It's very tempting. But—secret identity.”

“Right, right. Secret identity.”

“Okay, so. Pedal, and, uh. That's the front brakes—don't use those first, unless you want to flip the bike. Use the back ones—yeah, those. And....there's the gears,” Alex continues to point out  the various parts of the bike. “Don't bother with those for now...you should be fine in two.”

“...Okay.”

“Alright, I think...I think that's it...” Alex says. “Ready to give it a shot?”

Kara nods, her new helmet not quite as snug as the one she'd borrowed from Alex. It tips forward into her line of sight, and she has to push it out of the way.

“Yes.”

It doesn't take long to get the hang of it. Soon enough, Kara's riding like a pro. She skids to a stop in front of Alex, breathless, not from exertion, but from excitement.

“This is fun!” she declares. Alex just laughs. “Here, you wanna...?” she gestures to the pegs.

Alex looks skeptical—Kara is still technically a rookie after all—but she does have superpowers on her side.

So she hops up onto the back of the bike.

And is immediately suspicious of Kara's sly grin.

“What are you—”

“You said no E.T. Stuff, right?”

“Right...?”

“So no flying.”

“What are you—”

Alex doesn't finish, words snatched away as Kara starts pedaling.

Alex never said anything about super speed.

Several Years Later

Alex comes home for Spring Break—it's a surprise; she'd told them she had too much work to catch up on, that she wouldn't be able to visit.

But she arrives, single duffel bag in hand, tight grin on her face.

(Kara's noticed that about Alex lately...her smiles are a little...tense.)

“I didn't even hear you pull up!” Eliza exclaims, wrapping her in a hug.

Kara didn't either...which is very strange.

“Friend dropped me off,” Alex says. “She has family up the coast...we carpooled.”

Eliza is satisfied with this answer, but Kara is not.

Still, she knows better than to interrogate her in front of Eliza.

Her answer comes later...much later. Like, middle-of-the-night later, when Alex nudges her awake, and throws something round and heavy onto her stomach.

Kara groggily regards the item with confusion, running her hands over it, not sure what she's dealing--

She sits bolt upright.

“You didn't,” she says, already grinning.

Alex's smile is no longer tense, or tight—it's small and quirked to one side and so patently Alex.

“I did,” she says, shrugging on her new motorcycle jacket. “Come on.”

And Kara doesn't have to be asked twice.

Notes:

- Kryptonian culture varies, depending on which comic you read; the bit about learning to fly/Jor and Zor is taken from the Injustice 2 title. - Formal speech/minimal contractions on Krypton is a Supergirl: Rebirth thing - Dumb title is dumb...gosh, I hate naming things.

[sparrowkingsley]

New Legends of Tomorrow 00

“Within The Footsteps" Part One

Time Tribunal Headquarters, The Vanishing Point

“Laurel Olivia Lance you are once again standing before the Time Tribunal for breaking the timeline. You have caused various abbreviations resulting with a level seven time quake. What is your appeal against these charges?”

Laurel smirked. It had all been harmless fun and the Legends were already “fixing" her interference of the timeline. So, Cleopatra had become ruler of the Roman Empire? All thanks to one little tank from the year 2370 she may have loaned to her. Which then led to her conquering the entire globe but still. No big deal, right?

“My good Tribunal I feel that I must respond to you with my own question. Don’t the pyramids of Los Angeles look lovely this time of year?”

She heard a disapproving groan and snicker behind her. She didn’t have to look back to know the groaner was her Mom, Ava Sharpe. The laugh came from her closest friend. The Time Tribunal before her all muttered amongst themselves before turning back to her with an agreed verdict.

“Due to you being underage and your intern status as a Legend we are sentencing you to five hundred hours of community service. Your time license shall be revoked pending restoration following your sentence. You will be released to the custody of your legal guardians. This court is adjourned.”

Her handcuffs were removed. Once again, her charisma had paid off. She was proud of the fact. At least till she turned around to face her mom.

“Your charisma is not what saved you. You’re lucky they choose to give you such a light sentence. You can’t keep doing this.”

Oh, that serious look of disappointment her mom Ava was so famous for.  It made her break out in a spurt of laughter. The stare grew more intense, but it didn’t phase her much. She was used to it. Still she bit down her amusement. After all she loved both her mothers even if they didn’t really understand her. Not for lack of trying or anything. They just had different goals in life.

“Sorry for being me. Your wonderful, drop dead gorgeous, prankster of a daughter. Always breaking time. Hey, just like you and mom? Right?”

“Laurel, please, enough. Honestly, I just, I don’t know what to even say at this point. Come on. I’m taking you home.”

Laurel let a defeated sigh and followed her mom without any more smart remarks. They say that following in your mother’s footsteps can be a difficult thing to do. Try having two sets of the best to follow.

“So Lo, you really messed up the timeline,” Her friend paused as she fell into step beside her, “This time.”

“Oh, Heywood. You complete me.”

Indie Rae Heywood. The woman who had turned down the Air Force and NASA to step into the shoes of her father, Nathaniel Heywood. Together they had joined the Intern Legend Program. Indie was the future Steel. Laurel was, well she was never really meant to be a Legend. Indie had always been destined to be one. Her best friend was truly amazing.

“Hmm, well even though you didn’t let me come with you I still left some of my mom’s kimchi for you back at your place.”

“Oh did you? What about those spicy, stir-fried rice cakes of her’s?”

Indie chuckled, “Yes. Of course, I did. I know how much you like tteokbokki.”

“What would I do without you?”

Indie shoved her shoulder against her friend playfully, “Get caught obviously.”

Laurel first instinct was to laugh her off but when Indie took her hand, she felt her throat tighten instead. She laced her fingers with Indie's. Somehow no matter the façade Indie always knew what she needed. She saw pass the fake smile. Saw pass the illusion of laughter. Laurel didn’t know how she was going to cope without her.

“Thanks for being here, Heywood.”

“Nowhere else I would be.”

******

Midway City, The Stein Institute

A few months ago, Ronnie had begun to dive into the research of his grandfather’s greatest discovery. Dived into his legacy. The legacy that was Firestorm. The very something he had promised his mother he would not tinker with. Except recently his mind had driven him to work on it. Once he had started he just couldn’t stop. Now here he was staring at it again. He had made his own stable core. It was… astonishing.

“Hello, Ronnie? Oh Dr. Stein! Seriously, where are you?”

He quickly ran out of his test chamber and slammed the door behind him. He scrambled out of his hazard suit almost tripping on his face he was moving so fast.

“Martina?”, he gasped as he entered his study,” What are you doing here?”

“We had a late lunch date, remember?”

“Yes at 2:30 and it’s only,” he stared at his Palmer tech watch, “4:37. I apologize, I got so caught up in my work. I was running an experiment-!”

She waved a hand at him, “Ronnie, don’t worry. It’s basically how you operate and I adore you. You’re my family and the other thing bothering me right now is that I brought you some vegan tortas and your workspace is such a mess I have no where to put them.”

Ronnie laughed, “I’ll find you a spot don’t worry.”

After quickly rearranging his workspace and clearing his clutter they sat down together. Even though the two were five years apart they had always been close. When Martina called him family she wasn’t exaggerating. They had always been a part of each other’s lives. His grandfather and her father were two halves of the second incarnation of the hero Firestorm. Having it so close and not telling her what he had achieved felt wrong. It was for the best. She was leaving for MIT tomorrow. She didn’t need to know what he was planning.

“So, want to let me in on your latest project? Or am I just going have to guess?”, she teased him, “Dr. Stein tell me about your latest revolution.”

Of course, she would ask. He was a such terrible liar.

“Well, I have made a recent breakthrough but as I recall you told me you wanted to speak to me about something. So, tell me, what’s been on your mind.”

“Nothing I just, well honestly,” Martina sighed, her mood sour, “Edward and I we… broke up.”

“Oh, I am so sorry to hear that.”  He placed his hand on her shoulder in support, “What happened?”

“I broke it off. We are both going to be so involved in our studies and I just, I know it was the right decision but Ronnie, I devastated him. I waited too long. He had been so hopeful. I’ve never seen him so, well he is absolutely heartbroken."

“At least you both chose to live in the dorms and not with each other.”

“Thankfully. That would have been less than ideal.”

She seemed like she wanted to say more but she just leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes instead. The truth was she was heartbroken as well. They would only be two miles away from each other. He was going to Harvard and it had all seemed so perfect. Except it wasn’t. Not for her. She didn’t understand why.

“Did you hear about the latest stunt your favorite intern Legend pulled?”

Martina groaned, “Seriously Ronnie? I am already in a bad mood and you have to bring her up? I can not believe they even allow her near time travel capable mechanisms. She is truly the most insufferable person I have ever met.”

“I thought I could perhaps give you some comfort in letting you know the Tribunal did revoke her time license.”

“That actually does make me feel somewhat better. Did they finally remove her from the Legend program? Please say yes!”

Ronnie pushed his glasses off the brim of his nose as he shook his head, “No. As far as I heard all that happened was, she lost her license and has to do some community service. I wonder what kind of community service she will be required to do? Will it be temporal related if she does not have her time traveling privileges?”

“Ugh, she gets away with everything!”

“Why does she bother you so much?”

“Because Ronnie" She wrinkled her nose in distaste, “She thinks she can do what she wants whenever she wants. She never accounts for others or consequences. She’s not just some nuisance, she is literally a time criminal!”

 Martina and Laurel had never gotten along. Even when they were little the two butt heads. Laurel always pulling her latest prank. She seemed to get a particular kick out of pranking Martina since she always got a tremendous reaction from her. Saying that they didn’t like each other was an understatement.

As he was about to continue their conversation his alarm system started going off. He jumped up and started typing into his computer furiously. The core was suddenly unstable. Why was it unstable?

“Ronnie, what is going on?”

“I don’t, I’m not certain. My project it has become unstable and, Martina you have to get out of here.”

“What? No, Ronnie! I’m not leaving you. Just tell me what’s happening, and I’ll help y-!”

“There is no time to debate this.” He moved away from his computer and sprinted to his lab. “Get out of here!”

He opened the lab door and he instantly paled when he realized his containment was already falling. It was too late. The lab, the city, the core would destroy it all.

“Oh my god, Ronnie is that? Did you? You made Firestorm?”

“I did and I… I have failed. I can’t stop it Martina. There is nothing we can do.”

She took his hand, “There has to be a way Ronnie. We must stop this. We have to stop it together!”

“Martina, I-!”

He didn’t have a chance to say anything else. Glass shattered. The building shook. Their hands stayed locked as the radiation engulfed them. Like he had said. It was just too late.

******

Coast City, Pro Motocross Championship

Nothing was more satisfying than the feel of a Palmer original singing and vibrating through your whole being. The thrill. The roar of the bike that pushed out the crowd. And winning. Winning gave him a rush that he could only compare to the joy of building his very first engine from scratch.

As he met the checkered flag, he lifted his hands in victory and blew a kiss to the crowd as he took his victory lap around the track. He dismounted covered in dirt. He rode the wave of his success taking in all the praise. He lifted his trophy high above his head. This was all he wanted in life.

The crowd receded and the interviews finally came to an end. He helped his team load his masterpiece. This may have been the world championship but there was always more races. Always new tracks to conquer.

“Great race, Damien.”

Damien turned around in order to greet a fan and was met with an identical face. It would have been like looking in a mirror except his twin always wore that green cloak while he tended to be in his motocross gear most days.

“Carson freakin’ Palmer! Give me a hug bro!”

Carson rolled his eyes but gave into his brother’s whim pulling him in a tight hug. They hadn’t seen each other in three years. Carson had been off the grid somewhere honing his magical skills. Having him back just made everything feel so complete in that moment.

He let his brother go, “So you saw the race huh?”

“Of course. You left everyone in your dust. I’m proud of you, Damien.”

“Mom and Dad know you’re back on the grid?”

“I called them after I landed.”

“All that magic training must have really paid off if you’re out here flying around like Superman.”

Finally, Carson let out a laugh and Damien grinned in triumph. Carson could be so serious sometimes. It was good to see he could still make him laugh after all this time. He really did miss spending time with his brother.

“ So, race season is officially over, right?”

“Oh yeah, but there is always a race somewhere and you know me, can’t stay off the track too long.”

Carson scratched the back of his head, “Yeah, I know. I know how much you love spending time on that bike of yours. She’s definitely a beauty.”

“Carson, you know you can ask me anything so go ahead and ask. Safe space. You’ll always have one with me.”

“I know you love racing and I would never ask you to leave it permanently, but the truth is, I missed you while I was gone. I’m officially joining the Legends. Now that my training is over I just, I want to be a team again.”

“You want me to suit up again? Science and magic, side by side nobly standing up against injustice?”

“The Druid and The Conduit. Together again. What do you say?”

Damien looked at his brother and grinned, “Traveling through hyperspace ain't like dusting crops, farm boy!”

Carson broke into a grin that matched his brother's, “Glad you have my back.”

“And you always will.”

******

 Star City, Intern Legends Training Facility

They were not sure why they had decided to join the team. Legacies like them were always offered invitations. Except they had been solely focused on setting free their art, their stories into the world. They had fans and everyone wanted to know who Clever Ascribe was. Except they didn’t want the limelight. They just wanted to work on their craft. Create their worlds and share them openly. So why had they accepted the invitation?

“Axl, you seem to be unfocused on the task at hand.”

“Sorry about that, Gideon. What were you saying?”

“I was saying that your infield training has improved by eight percent. Thanks to your involvement all abbreviations produced by young Lance’s latest interference with the timeline has been fixed and the timeline has been restored.”

“It would appear so.”

Gideon placed her hand on the intern’s shoulder, “You seem less than thrilled about this success. Would you like to take about it?”

Gideon sat down across from them. For years now she had been given freedom from the Waverider thanks to her android form. She had left her life of containment and now was head of the New Legends program. The program was bringing in younger members to train under safe conditions before becoming full members. Axl Ford was the grandchild of one Mick Rory. They were doing well in the program and Gideon believed they would be a Legend of their own in no time. Even with their personal uncertainties.

“To be honest. I’m sort of sad to see those pyramids of Los Angeles disappear. So much art that could have been, a whole world history vanished from existence. Brought out only because of one piece of technology introduced to a powerful woman seeking to be remembered. It is an existence only we have knowledge of. A somber beauty encased in our memory.”

“Axl, I don’t quite understand your viewpoint if I am being honest. But I would like you to know, your perspective is marvelous.”

Axl hummed as they sat forward, steepling their fingers under their chin, “Thank you for your kind words, Gideon. Is my performance assessment over?”

“Yes. You are free to go.”

Axl left and entered their room. They stood at their easel as their latest mission flowed through their mind. Before they could even comprehend their own movements, their hands began their work. It had been awhile since their work had so easily flowed through them.  It was cathartic. It was spiritual. It was why they were meant to be there. Now they understood. They had answered the call of the universe.

******

The Household of Sara Lance and Ava Sharpe

“I fucking love your mom's cooking. You’re lucky she is married to your dad because if she wasn’t, you’d be calling me mommy, Heywood. I’d marry her just so I could eat like this for life.”  

Indie cringed at her friend’s words, “There is so much wrong with what you just said, and you know I love you but ew. Seriously like, what the hell, Lo?”

Laurel let out that signature laugh of hers. Why’d she have to be so cute? How could she say the most absurd and ridiculous things and still make her heart beat hard inside her chest? Why did she have to be in love with her best friend? The best friend she knew better than anyone else. The best friend that would always close herself off, even to her.

“You know, I can’t believe your mom is letting us just hang out up here together. I mean you literally just committed a time crime and were officially charged by the Time Tribunal.”

“Hmm, well I lost access to the Waverider, my time couriers and I’m stuck for twenty days plus some change doing who knows what. She’s probably doing all this for you. I’m guessing we won’t be seeing each other again for awhile.”

Laurel had plopped down on her bed. Her now empty bowl set aside as she put her hands behind her head. She was lost in thought. Her mind shuffling around with ideas. Indie could tell by the way her grey eyes shifted ever so slightly back and forth, how her foot tapped excessively, and how she bit her lower lip. Damn. Indie really wanted to kiss her.

“Three weeks won’t be so bad.” Indie sat down next to her friend but faced away from her. Staring at her was not good for her heart. “I mean after all this you’ll be back. We keep are heads down for awhile. We follow the rules. Oh, and we definitely don’t give historical figures tanks again.”

“We huh? Last time I checked it was me who was breaking rules and timelines. Not you, Heywood.”

“Yeah but we’re a team. We’ve always been a team and this, what happened today, won’t change that. Me and you will always be there for each other.”

It was quiet after she said that. Laurel would usually quip back with a joke or smart-ass comment but for once she didn’t. They sat in that uncomfortable silence for what felt like hours. Then she said five words. Five words that made Indie feel like she had taken a sucker punch to the gut.

“I’m not coming back, Heywood.”

She turned around and saw her friend had sat up. She was looking out her window, her legs pulled tight against her chest. How could she just say something like that? How could she say that and not even look her in the eye when she did? And she wasn’t going get away with it either. Indie punched her hard in the shoulder.

“Ow, geezz Heywood!”

“Don’t.” Punch! “Geezz.” Punch! “Heywood.” Punch! “Me!” Punch and Punch!

“Okay, okay! Stop with the punching bag routine already! I give up! God, you have a nasty left hook you know that?”

“Don’t avoid the question!”

“What question? You haven’t asked a question.”

Indie huffed, “Well I meant to and I’m gonna. What do you mean you’re not coming back?”

The laughter, the smile that she used to hide behind wasn’t there. Indie had seen the mask fall away before but never like this. She had never seen Laurel look so sad. So vulnerable. It took her breath away.

“Heywood, I’m named after some pretty amazing heroes. And my moms, they are both the definition of what a Legend should be. The truth is I’m nothing like them. I’m never going to be. It’s not who I am. I’m not, I’m not good enough to be a Legend.”

Indie couldn’t believe the words she was hearing. Laurel saying such horrible things about herself made her want to cry. She wanted to just pull her in hug and hold her close. Instead she took her hands in her's.

“Do you remember how I told you the Air Force and NASA were both taking an interest in me and right after that I was accepted into the intern Legends program. Do you remember what I told you?”

“You told me what I already knew. That you wanted to Be a Legend but you wanted to step on the moon more. You were afraid that if you went into the Legends program now that you would lose that opportunity. You didn’t want that.”

“Yeah and remember what you did for me? For my sixteenth birthday you stole the jump ship right from under your moms' noses and flew right up to my front door. You wouldn’t tell me where we were going. You just said, ‘Surprise Heywood! Get in.’ Then suddenly we are in the year 1869 and I didn’t get why? Then you told me that I deserved to be the first person to ever step foot on the moon and I was going to make history a hundred years early.”

Laurel smiled, “Well yeah. It was my best plan ever. Then you pretty much ruined everything when you took that first step and said some lame movie quote.”

“It’s not the years, honey. It’s the mileage. I’ll have you know that is my favorite Indiana Jones quote! The fact you still don’t appreciate those movies after all this time legit hurts me! I’m named after him you know.”

“Yeah, a fictional archeologist and the one and only Raymond Palmer. You are literally named after your dad’s imaginary best friend and his real best friend.”

“Truth bomb aside, do you realize just how amazing that day was?” She squeezed her hands affectionately. Their eyes locked. “That day we played tag in lower gravity, hopping around after each other like we were little kids again. You used giant moon rocks to spell out our initials. The LOL and IRH that we left behind are so massive that when astronomers discovered it, they freaked out. They thought it was some sort of attempt at alien communication. Then we erected the LGBTQIA+ flag and claimed the moon for the whole community. That was the best day of my life. And you’re the one that gave it to me. You erased my doubts by making my dream come true. I didn’t have to worry about losing it anymore. You say you’re not good. But you are. You say you’ll never be a Legend. But you are one. You have been one your whole life. You’ve always been a Legend to me.”

As she spoke, she had not realized how close they had gotten. They were so close their noses were almost touching. In that moment they both had seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. All Indie had to do was lean in and their lips could touch. Indie placed her palm against Laurel's cheek. She was finally going to do it. Finally, she was going to have the courage to let Laurel know exactly how she felt about her. Today was going to become the new best day of her life.

“Ahem.”

They jumped away from each other. Both their faces flushed as they found they had obtained an audience. The audience of Sara Lance.

“Oh hey, Sara we were just talking um, I should probably go huh?”

“Probably for the best, Indie. I need to talk to Laurel alone and you really should be getting back to the facility.”

“Right, yeah so totally right! Righty, right.”

Embarrassed Indie scrambled out of Laurel's bed and practically ran to the door. Nervous she spun around to look back. She needed to say something cool. Something cool and memorable.

“Lo, I’ll um, I’ll see you or I’ll um, talk to you or, I’ll k-um no I mean, I’ll miss you! But like see you, when your sentence is like over and we’ll hang and stuff, um yeah. Bye?” That. That was so very much the opposite of cool.

Then Laurel flashed that smile at her. Her genuine smile. That perfect, beautiful smile that she always seemed to save for her.

“See ya, Heywood.”

Laurel watched her best friend smile brightly at her before then walking right into the doorframe. She was such a goof. How could someone be so utterly and perfectly ridiculous? Even after she had left the room Laurel found herself staring after her. Everything else forgotten in her mind.

“So, you and Heywood, huh?”

Oh right. She had so totally forgotten about her mom being there. What did she just say?

“W-what?”

“Oh, you know, I was just saying that you two are absolutely adorable and you need to make a move and stop leaving her pining after you already.”

Laurel didn’t think her face could get any redder but suddenly she felt like she might burst. “I was, we were just talking, it was, it wasn’t anything like that okay.”

“Right. Is that why you’re blushing right now? Because you and Indie were just talking? She adores yoooouuuuu. And you liiiikkkeee her.”

“Mom, stop!” Laurel ran her hands down her face with a groan, “Seriously just, can you just stop making a big deal out of nothing and just get to the lecture already? I can’t take it when you act this way.”

“Well if you’re so eager for me to provide you with a lecture, I got one just for you, kiddo. Which lecture did Ava lay on you by the way?”

“Lecture number four.”

“Right and which one was that again?”

She started counting off her fingers, “Point one, I just don’t understand what you were thinking. Two, do you want to end up in jail? Because that’s what’s going to happen if you keep doing this. Third, the whole I am disappointed, you are better than this argument. Ending with point number four, wait till your mother gets here.”

Sara laughed, “Did she make me bad cop?”

“No. She pretty much laid down the law letting me know I’m stuck in this house when I’m not doing my community service. Basically, lock down mode is my life. You’re just here to back her up.”

“Sounds about right.”

“You already talked to her didn’t you.”

“Obviously, now scoot and come sit next to me.”

Together they sat on the edge of her bed. Moments like this were her favorite although she would never admit it out loud. Just sitting with her mom, with either of them, she was at her most content. The one thing that she never had to question was them. The love they had for her.

“Want to tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Too much. Like always.”

Sara pulled her into a sideways hug, “What can I do to help?”

“Hmm I don’t know. Maybe give me permission to have a pet dinosaur.”

“Ha, again with the pet dinosaur routine. You’ve been pulling that one since you were three.”

“Um, cause dinosaurs are awesome and we have full access to be able obtain one whenever we want.”

“Okay, well first you’ve watched Jurassic Park movies your whole life and you still don’t get having any in modern ages is a horrible idea? Having a t-rex come charging at you is not fun. I literally have real life experience of such an encounter. And second, one of us has officially lost their time travel eligible status. Literally less than an hour ago. Lockdown mode, remember?”

Laurel groaned, “Don’t remind me. Being stuck in one time is so boring and yeah I know, actions equals consequences I get it.”

“You know, you were set to graduate the program next month and now who knows when you will be able to. I have a feeling that there is a definite connection to that and your latest reinvention of reality. Am I hitting the mark? Cause I’m sensing a bull’s-eye and I always hit my target. Trained assassin, remember?”

Laurel bit down on her tongue. Her mom was right, obviously. Sara could always see where she was going three steps ahead and Ava was always the one to react and pull her back into a safety net whenever she did ever take things too far.

When Laurel was four, she was climbing up a tree Sara had told her not too. It was too tall, and she would get scared. Laurel did it anyway. She climbed so high, Sara watching her, letting her learn for herself.  Then she looked down and froze. Scared, terrified. When she started crying, Ava came running and had her back down as quick as a speedster.

Of course, they made up quickly. Her moms could never stay mad at each other for long. That memory was one of her most solid memories. Memory that told her that her moms were both there for her. They would never let her down. They would love her no matter what. And yet…

“It is a possibility I suppose. You haven’t been an active assassin in so long. You’ve probably lost your touch.”

Her mom put her in a playful headlock, “Oh yeah, you sure about that? Maybe a noogie will make you think twice about that, kiddo.”

“Okay, okay! Stop!” She spurted with laughter, Momma, seriously? I take it back, cut it out already.”

Sara released her, “See, I still got it.”

“Yeah, yeah you do.”

“Serious talk time. I know you don’t want to talk about it right now and that’s okay. But I need you to hear me, playing with time like that, just for kicks, you know that’s not the right thing to do. The timeline is sacred. Yes. I’ve told you time and time again. I get it. You’re seventeen, you don’t need to know everything you want right now but you can’t keep running away from it all either.  No matter what you decide or if you change your mind down the line, your mom and I are not going anywhere. We are co-captains of the ship named supporting and loving you always. Even if you are someone who wants to put all her energy in being some kind of time rouge. Don’t ever forget that. I love you.”

Laurel sighed but smiled. She let her mom pull her into a full on hug now. She returned it with no resistance. Her mind and heart settling as she found comfort. Comfort in the knowledge that she would always have a place to come home. In the arms of her parents.

“I love you too.”

“Come on, let’s go downstairs. You have your mom literally about to go up the walls. Her pacing is burning a hole through the floor and the least you could do is tell her that you’re going to at least try and behave yourself for awhile.”

“Hmm, no promises.”

“You’re a literal nightmare, you know that?”

“Geez, wonder where I get that from?”

“Oh yeah? You want to play that game?” Sara jumped up and hurried to the door, “Guess I should tell your mom what you and Heywood were doing up here then.”

Laurel stumbled as she followed out the door after her, “Wait, don’t! We weren’t doing anything! Don’t say anything about whatever you think happened! You don’t have proof of anything!”

“Right, so you were just casually just staring deeply into each other's eyes? You never had a spark like that when you were dating that guy Josh. You need to go for it like I said. She won’t wait for you forever.”

“It is not like that! She is my best friend!”

“Best friend you have the hots for! Let’s let your mom weigh in. Oh, Ava! Guess what!”

They made it down the stairs and the chase continued all the way into the kitchen. Ava nearly getting barreled over as the two started grappling with each other. Laurel trying and failing to keep her mama silent. Sara laughing as she painted a picture of the love scene to Ava as she told her what she walked in on.

“Oh, so you two finally confessed to each other? About time. That Josh you were dating never made enough effort the way Indie does to be there for you. I am so happy for you. You’re still grounded. When you finish your community service and prove you’re not going to be breaking the timeline again, we’ll help you plan your date together.”

“Indie and I aren’t dating! We aren’t, seriously both of you are making a big deal out of nothing.”

“Your face says otherwise, dear.”

“See. You two have sparkage! You liiiikkkeee her. You want her to be your giiirrlllfriend!”

“Uggghhhh, why are you both like this? So embarrassing.”

“Easy,” Ava pulled her into a hug, “Because we love you. We want you to be happy. Even if you are a time criminal. I’m your mom and as frustrating as you can be, you’re still my little beam of sunshine. No matter how old you get that will never change.”

“I’m so reaching my limit of this lovey, dovey mom stuff. Please. Stop.”

Sara joined in forming a family group hug, “It’s part of your punishment so you’re going to have to deal with it for a little while longer. Got it, kiddo.”

“Fine. Whatever. Just get it over with.”

Oh, but the truth? The truth was that Laurel wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right then. No other time. No other moment. This was the right time and there would never be a wrong time for moments like this. Moments in time like these, with her moms, could never be broken. She would make sure of it.

*******

Midway City, The Stein Institute

Eyes opened and fear, confusion and pain flooded all their senses. All that seemed to exist was the fire. The fire and the need to break free of it.

Ronnie!? Ronnie, where are you? I feel, so strange I think, I think… I don’t think I’m okay.

He could hear her but couldn’t see her. Ronnie slowly got to his feet. His head spun and he reached out to try to steady himself. Then he froze. His hands. His hands were no longer his hands.

M-martina, where are you? Are we? I think we are… oh. Oh, I’m so sorry, Martina.

Now those hands were shaking uncontrollably. Clenching as purple flame poured out of them. Panic took over as more flame began to surround them. Their feet left the ground as their fire drove them into flight.

Ronnie? Ronnie what the actual frack? Are we? Are we, what I think we are right now?

I didn’t want, I mean I didn’t think… the core was stable and I, I never meant to drag you into this Martina.

Ronnie you told your mom you wouldn’t, you promised me you wouldn’t! And I do not, no. No, no I’m going to MIT I’m not, I don’t want this! I never wanted this!

Her frustration fueled their flames. Thanks to their merge the damage was contained to just his lab. The rest of the building could still be saved. They needed to work together.

Martina please. I know this is my fault. But we need to remain calm. We can figure this out. Together. You and I, we can figure this out.

Their shared form took a deep breath. Once again, their feet were back on the ground. The flames dissolved. Their minds became focused.

Your mom would be the best option for us, wouldn’t she? She could help us better than anyone else. She knows about your granddad’s research better than anyone. Well except maybe you.

Perhaps. Although I would prefer not informing her about any of this if possible. She might literally have my head for this one.

The things I’m willing to do for you, Ronald Stein. Fine. In that case we have one other option at this point, and I’ll have you know you’re going to be owing me for this one for the rest of our lives you got that?

What are you suggesting?

We are going to visit some old friends.

*******

[beauvoyr]

Lazy People’s Club for the Sleepy and Tired | 10

flowering | interlude; the prince and his prisoner

Pairings: Noctis/Reader Genre: Friendship/Romance/Friends-to-Lovers Tags: Fluff, Humor, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, Abuse, Torture, no beta we die like men, pre-canon a.k.a before FFXV, Chapter Rating: T Crossposted on: AO3 Summary: Rules to join the Lazy People’s Club for the Sleepy and Tired: 1) One must love sleep. Sleep is love. Sleep is life. 2) One must be tired. Physically or emotionally, both are acceptable. 3) One must love video games. Halfhearted interest in video games will result in immediate termination of membership.

Fortunately, Noctis falls into all three categories.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: noctis teaches you what ramen tastes like.

IT STARTS WITH A FRANTIC RUMMAGE through your closet, rifling through each and every article of clothing you possessed. An assortment of shirts and pants, dragged out from the bags. Things that you never thought would see the light will actually see the light today, how about that. Byron’s stack of fashion magazines, ones plastered with Claire Farron on the covers, never taught you this. How does one go about dressing up again? How do you pair up the plaids and the plains? Or what about the patterns with the checkers?

Skirts over pants? Cargos over jeans? Button-up shirts? Or casual sweaters in case it’s cold?

This is an absolute disaster, you groan inwardly as you hoist whatever seems casual enough for a night out—technically, your first night out to the city, to the life of Insomnia.

Minutes later, struggling through a properly fitted cotton shirt and putting one leg after another through a flowy skirt, you grab your purse and checked your credentials. ID, cards, wads of Credit and jingling coins, all set and ready to go. In your haste, you pass a comb through your hair to gather it aside before stalking off to a separate bag than the rest. This is where the rest of your unused shoes came to live, the carefully curated selection of wedges and kitten heels and sandals handpicked by none other than your fashionable butler.

Considering the practicality of the situation whilst simultaneously combating the growing excitement gnawing your nerves, your fingers slink through a pair of strappy sandals, praying fervently the entire ensemble worked out in your favour. Because. Really. Going out with friends. Together. You, and Noctis, and Prompto, for a night out? You, the denied daughter of Andronicus, setting your foot into the dizzying and dazzling nightscape, walking amongst the citizens? Living a life outside these four walls? Completely unheard of.

Yet, here you are.

Standing before the vanity, a gaunt reflection preens in the mirror. Almost unrecognizable from the ghoul in homely shirt and drawstring pants, a picture of a youth in a striped shirt with a chiffon skirt cinching her waist. Hair primly tucked to the side, falling in soft tendrils over the curve of her jaw, guarded by a single clip. Roses blooming on her cheeks, lips lightly parted to unveil a hint of teeth. Clutched in her hands is a decorative wallet, one that sees only its use when the butler comes around, and slung on a finger is a set of sandals, its tangle of ribbons draped over her wrist.

How strange.

She struggles to smile. Your cheeks hurt.

She averts her eyes. You gaze at your ransacked cupboard.

She inhales shakily. Your ribcage rattles at the action.

How strange indeed.

Emotions are wicked weapons in the hands of the untrained; they can hurt even its wielder. Today testifies your inexperience in handling remnants of your emotions despite having discarded most of them in your youth. Your lapse in judgment results in a whirlwind of emotions clouding your composure. Father’s constant berating, spitting out harsh insults to remind you of your place in society. Mother in the tub, her talented fingers spinning a knife on its tip, smiling her endearing smile. White bread sandwiching a chunk of meat, dripping with dressing. Three nibbles and quelling an overwhelming urge to regurgitate, passing the meal to the callused hands of the prince himself. He picks out the veggies, eats, watches you, eats again, and watches you again.

A nap, two comforters, and—

if you’re not good enough for me, i wouldn’t even show up the second time around

—a promise.

You’re good enough, he said. Swallowing away the dryness in your throat, because you’re good enough for him. If your king deems you worthy, that means it’s okay, right? That means you’re okay as you are, you’re okay where you are, and you’re okay just being who you are, right?

what makes you think you are worthy as the head of the andronicus

Because he said so, right?

what if he doesn’t mean it what if he takes it back in the end what if you’re delusional

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip at the thought. Because, truly, if he doesn’t mean it, then you’d rather—

A firm knock on the door is all the warning you get before the door creaks open, and Noctis’ fluffy head peers through the gap. “You ready yet?”

—fight the suffocating hands wrapped around your throat and stomp it down lest it crawls back up again. “Done, Prince. Gimme a sec, I need to grab my phone.”

Hands clicking off the lights to your bedroom, striding past the prince in a few quick steps, you locate your smartphone lying innocently on your worktable. No, your hands aren’t shaking as you slip the smooth device under the zippered confines of your clutch. No, Noctis isn’t staring at your back, still standing where you left him. No, your heart isn’t in your mouth even when you tug the sandals and wrap its dainty ribbons around your calves. No, you tell yourself, you’re not delusional because this is real and every single second is as real as it gets.

Straightening up once more, you wrench the door open and allow yourself the momentary victory of gazing at the panorama of the Crown City’s dusky skies, an ashen grey with its edges heavily daubed in midnight black. Everywhere, the skyscrapers are lit in lights, all glassy sheen with warm streetlights mirrored in their reflection. You grip the doorknob tight, the metal biting into your skin. Soon enough, you’ll be wading through the streets and you’ll be breathing in the crisp night air, just like what all the books talked about.

Turning on your heels, Noctis is already lacing up his boots and standing up, brushing his hands on his cargos. Somewhere underneath the choppy ends of his lengthy bangs, his blue eyes are unreadable. “Let’s go.”

Let’s go.

Let us go.

Three words.

Those three words are enough to make you fight your wavering smile so it’d stick on your face as the prince closes your room behind him, stepping past the hyacinths.

Us.

Not only him.

Us.

HE’S ALREADY WALKING AHEAD, heading towards one of the many lifts scattered in the Citadel, and you hear the pitter-patter of your sandals on the marble floor as you amble after him. It still feels unreal because you’re chasing after Noctis’ broad back, your colourful reflection on the glass panels trailing after his dark figure, fingers pressing in a poke on his shoulder to tell him to slow down a little. He stops in his tracks, makes a face at you, but his pace definitely slowed down a little, just enough for you to skip beside him in one-two steps.

Yet, every brush of chiffon against your knee reminds you this is very real and here you are, standing beside the prince, waiting for the ornate elevator to arrive. A ding! and a shuffle of footsteps later, the red LED panel shows the descent from 56th to 55th, 55th to 54th, 54th passing through 53, 52, 51, like a timer counting the seconds to your freedom. G finally shows up on the screen and Noctis steps out, throwing a glance over his shoulder like he’s making sure you’re following him properly.

Of course you are.

Of course you’re following him properly, your feet moving on their own accord, skittering over the monochromatic marbling and catching up to his wide steps. The Citadel’s majestic lobby is empty, save for several staffs standing by the reception counter, sifting through papers and pen. Upon the sight of the prince himself, they stand ramrod straight before folding into a bow, echoing a greeting for him. And Noctis, just casual, lazy Noctis, nods at their general direction as he continues down the aisle.

You wanted to laugh a little. Almost.

Because—really, it’s too surreal when only several months ago, Byron’s pulling your bag and you’re clutching your phone to your chest with glittering chandeliers shining on you and him. Gold pillars entwined with black marble, white accents refracting light. Gilded scrollwork and red carpets, rope barriers cordoning areas only Citadel staffs could access. A ceiling far up there and a space too big for you to fathom since you’re not trapped in a box of four walls anymore.

Here, right here, as Noctis walks past the bowing guards with an air of casualness that only the prince himself could command, you obediently fall into his every step. Curious eyes are on you, lingering a second too long for you to ignore, but they’re silenced by the very fact that you’re together with the prince and he’s throwing one or two looks behind him just to make sure you’re keeping up.

It doesn’t matter when the doormen pull the Citadel’s grand doors for him, fresh night air sweeping through the lobby.

It doesn’t matter when you fall into step right beside Noctis, sandals and boots descending the lengthy expanse of the staircase, a modern day depiction of watercolour fairytale.

It doesn’t matter when the valet steps up, handing Noctis the keys to his Audi, meekly opening the door to the passenger’s side for you.

It doesn’t matter when Noctis gets in from the driver’s half, shutting the door, starting up the engine with a push of a button, and—

“Hold on tight,” he drawls.

—you’ve barely fastened your own seatbelt when he eases the gas pedal, turning the steering wheel around the bend of the road and now you’re off into a foreign world together with him, right in this two-seater.

The guards have already opened the gates for him and he rolls past them with the rumble of his car, blue eyes trained on the road all the while. Twisting on the leather, you catch a glimpse of the sleek LED lighting the dashboard, displaying a street map of Insomnia on its elaborate console. He’s already over 90 mph, and the purr of the engine downright shifts into a guttural growl when he accelerates again, fingers drumming idly on the leather steering. Taking a sharp right away from the Citadel, the car speeds into an empty expressway, where the curving street hangs between glassy skyscrapers.

Underneath the incandescent flickers of streetlights, from the expressway’s vantage point, traveling at only a speed Noctis could handle, Insomnia is a blurry landscape of mammoth buildings against a backdrop of black. A world—his world—and you’re sitting right beside him, hands in your lap. You gaze expectantly at the opulence of the city, drinking in the adrenaline rush from the drive when Noctis throttles again, the decadent roar of his car going under your skin in pinpricks. Everything’s so fast, everything’s so beautiful, and everything’s just so overwhelming until it’s getting a little hard to breathe.

The prince expertly manoeuvres his Audi into another linking expressway, and the overpowering speed, paired with Insomnia’s fragile beauty behind this window, is enough to catch your breath. He takes you past a tall, gaudy building decked in manicured trees, racing past the signboards and empty roads, and slowing down for the briefest moment to glance at your direction before revving the engine up to speed again.

There is a growing tightness around your throat again, like the hands snuck to wrap its sneaky little fingers around your neck.

You’re here in this car, with your future king, off to join a dinner together with Prompto. Isn’t it what you’ve always dreamt of? Sure, it’s just a little dinner between friends, sure it’s probably just Noctis pitying your wretched, sheltered life, but it's your first time doing something like this. Something like going out at night with friends, a prospect utterly unmentionable a scant year or two ago. The benevolent prince extends this exclusive invitation purely out of the kindness of his heart, kindness you are taking advantage of. The prince with the car, whisking you off into a world beyond the meagre stretch of your fingers.

You are undeserving to be here like this, to sit by his side.

From the corners of your eyes, you catch Noctis sneaking a glance, and you return it with a questioning look. As though he’s scalded, he quickly focuses on the road again, gripping the leather tight. It’s a little weird how he’s gone silent all this while. Just like this, behind the wheels, you could map out the lines under his eyes, and the bony knots of his fingers.

You’d never taken a good look at him before. Sure, the newspapers and the Internet are chock full of his portraits. The tabloids are quick to print paparazzi shots of his private life, but nothing expresses a look so intimate like this. Nobody’s seen the small mole on his temple before, concealed carefully behind his unkempt fringe. His lips are thin, downturned, except the rare occasions where he’s mocking Prompto or yawning at Ignis’ incessant mothering. He’s all sleek lines the Astrals composed under a curtain of black, forming a pale beauty bearing the crown of the kingdom.

The car slows down when it’s his turn to catch you staring at him, and there’s obvious discomfort in the way he clears his throat, forearms fraught in veins.

“ ‘sup?” he nonchalantly asks, or tries to be nonchalant anyway. Nimble fingers flick the blinker to exit left, gliding down the ramp.

You don’t have to hide the slow slip of your lips curving into a smile. With him, you don’t have to hide your smiles anymore. Resting against the headrest, you draw a deep breath, exhaling quietly.

“Just hungry, that’s all.”

IT’S PROBABLY NOT A GOOD IDEA to bring you to a place like this, but it’s his favourite hideout with Prompto: A soba stall huddled by the arcades. Nothing like the hazy glow of the low lamps or the sleepy arrangement of simple furniture give off any air of posh classiness. Just good food served in large bowls, rich broth, steaming noodles, and fresh green tea to warm up the spirits; plus, the owner’s known them long enough to recite their favourites by heart. Prompto’s already sitting in one of the booths, waving him over by the side.

“Hey guys!” he chirps, letting you slide into the seat with Noctis in tow. “Dude, I can’t believe you made it out with Noct! Seriously, you need to tag along more often.” He hands you the menu and forgoes Noctis since they’re both regulars who already memorised the entire page anyway, twiddling his idle thumbs. “So, is this your first time out?”

Scanning the dog-eared copy of the menu, you take in the faded prints with a frown. “Uh.” Obviously distracted by their varied selections, because the place serves some of the meanest ramen and soba in town, and that’s coming from Noctis, the pickiest prince in all Lucii history. “Uh no…not really, no. My first time out was with my mother.” You pause, wetting your lips, putting away the plastic sheet. “But I was just a kid, so. Don’t remember much. My second time was with Byron when I was about to move into the Citadel. That’s about it.”

Prompto hums sympathetically, nodding along to your tale. “Third time tonight, huh?”

“First time at night,” you correct him with a vague smile gracing your lips, shrugging. “It’s a bit overwhelming but kinda exciting.”

Prompto flashes you his cheesiest smile and leans in close, all conversational. “I get ya. But it’s okay, take it easy, all right? We’re here with you.”

And the small smile gracing your lips grows bigger by a fraction. “Mhmm. Thank you, Prompto.”

As much as it’s all heartwarming like watching cute dog videos while procrastinating his assignments, there’s no hiding the sullen grumble of Noctis’ stomach rumbling through the conversation. Thankfully, the raucous clamour in the shop drowned it out; if not, Prompto’s sure to bring this up even ten years down the line. Nudging you in the side, you tip your chin to study him curiously, and Noctis taps on the menu. “Thought about what you wanna eat yet?”

That perks you up. Bringing the sheet to his face, your immaculately trimmed fingernail point at some of the dull writings. “Dunno what’s good, Prince. Recommend me something?”

Geez, menu too close to his face much? He lowers your hands with a firm press of his own and you might or might not have pouted a little—if the slight jutting of your bottom lip counts as something. Propping his head with a palm to his cheek, Noctis casts a sidelong glance at your collarbones. “I’ll just get you what I’ll have. You okay with green tea?”

“Tea’s awesome, zero complaints from me.” Your head bobs with every word, and it’s almost funny how you’re trying to be all subtle with your eagerness, even if it’s starting to manifest uncharacteristically in your behaviour. “Please and thank you, Prince.”

With that said, Prompto flags down one of the nearby waiters and a grinning man shows up, a paper and pen readied in his hands. “Two bowls of tonkotsu ramen, one kitsune soba, and three green tea, please.”

“Comin’ right up.”

The waiter shuffles away to slip a paper to the cook, and Noctis notes how you pensively stare after his retreating back. Seconds later, you twist here and there in little tilts of your head, taking in the low lamps dangling by a single wire, the rugged trim of the scratch-worn counters, the sponge sticking out of their booth seats. If Prompto notices anything about your insatiable curiosity, he doesn’t say anything. All he does is to share a cheeky grin with Noctis, eyes flicking back and forth in Prompto Speak™, mouthing stuffs his way. Completely unintelligible stuff because Noctis can’t read lips, damn it.

The moment you trail your finger over the grainy countertop, the blond pipes up. “So! You guys doing anything good later?”

“No idea, I’m just following the Prince around.” You shrug. “No plans.”

Prompto hums at your answer, awaiting Noctis’. That’s obviously a trick question because Noctis is pretty sure they only agreed on dinner since they can’t stay out too late; if not, Gladio’s gonna own their asses come tomorrow morning’s practice session, and he’d very much like to show his Shield a thing or two about respect, damn it. But Prompto’s got that glassy sheen in his baby blue eyes like a chocobo yearning for gyshal greens, rocking his legs nervously under the table, and it takes all of Noctis’ mental faculties to remember this is Prompto he’s talking about.

And turning down Prompto is one thing he never mastered even with five years worth of training.

You’re already looking up at Noctis with wide-eyed interest, almost the spitting image of Prompto, and he swallows whatever protests he’s gonna make. Because two against one is seriously illegal, and he should probably make a law to ban this travesty, goddamn it all.

“Nah,” Noctis grimaces, and he’s starting to regret it already when Prompto’s got that grin going wider than the whole stretch of the Citadel. “…what, there’s something you wanna do?”

And that’s obviously a go.

“Dude dude dude,” Prompto starts gushing in three different inflections, and Noctis barely rolled his eyes just ‘cause oh boy here it comes, “remember that horror-thriller movie I was talking about? The Blind? It’s already out and y’know,” he rubs his nape, tries on an abashed smile like he’s trying to win him over, “you’re my best buddy and all, and we always watch movies together, so I was wondering ifyouwannatagalongwithmetowatchittonight?”

Noctis arches a slim brow. “—wanna what?”

“ ‘cuz buddy,” Prompto ignores him, all elaborate hand gestures that make absolutely no sense in trying to reinforce his point with them, “it’s a real good horror movie and since you’re my best friend—“ like Noctis hasn’t heard of that one before, “—and you got her too, so we can all go watch it together. This is totally not a ploy just ‘cause I’m scared to watch it alone or anything, by the way.”

Right. Totally not a ploy, right.

Prompto’s used this tactic too many times until it’s starting to get all too predictable by now. High school had them scrambling for the cinemas as soon as the last bell rang and they watched their fair share of rom-coms, pseudo horror-thrillers, and space alien operas enough to predict what’s going to trend next season. But graduating high school and starting university courses is another matter altogether. If Gladio isn’t throwing Noctis down the practice mat, Noctis scours the Internet to see if anyone’s uploaded extra slides on his class—and snoring dead asleep is a given afterwards. If Prompto’s not expiring past his back-to-back part-time job at YaruKamera, he drags his feet for a quick jog around the park before dying on his bed come midnight.

So, by right, he is entitled for a movie night since it’s been long overdue, right?

Right. Just for old times’ sake.

“You like horror stuffs?” he hears you ask, and Prompto nods rapidly.

“Totally love ‘em. I can’t stomach some of the squicky parts so I just cover my eyes, but Noct’s pretty good with all the gory things.”

“As long as they’re not bugs, I’m good with that,” Noctis grunts. “Bugs are just—”

“—gross.” Prompto finishes his sentence for him, wholly in sync. “Totally gross. Can’t deal with their creepy crawly legs.” He’s already shuddering at the mental images he conjured, like it’s an apocalypse if Eos gets overrun by giant centipedes or a fleet of beetles. “No bugs for us, no-no. You like bugs?”

“Not sure, can’t really say. I don’t really have an opinion on bugs yet.” Tucking a hand under your chin, you seem to be contemplating more on the matter, and that’s kinda gross because Noctis is pretty sure he can’t go on thinking about wriggling caterpillars for more than a minute without getting nightmares about it. “To be honest, I didn’t get to go out much. I only know bugs on print, but never really saw things like millipedes and stuffs.”

“What about cockroaches?” Prompto outright shudders, a hand over his melodramatic heart, bless him. “Those little jerks are so persistent, Six should smite them. You can blast a whole can on ‘em and they’ll still walk away like it’s hairspray for their antennas.”

That gets you frowning. “Squish them, I guess?”

If the thought of green pus seeping out seems appealing to you, Noctis is more than ready to rest his forehead on the table. “No.”

And Prompto, best buddy Prompto is always there to share his sentiment. Wholeheartedly. Always backing him up, the true buddy he is. “Absolutely no. Gross, dude, gross.”

“Slice them?” you try again—and Noctis almost wants to flick you on your forehead because that’s completely unheard of. “I remember when Byron saw cockroaches on the floor. He’s real good with knives so…” you trail off, looking aside, “yeah, real good aim too. Just one slice and you get two halves with no mess—“

“Aaaaaah, stop, stop!” Prompto squeaks out, squirming in his seat with his hands clapped over his ears. “Dude, no! No way, dude, stop! I knew it that guy’s pretty off in the head but—dude, no. That’s so creepy and gross.”

As much as Noctis wants to share Promoto’s sentiment on how disgusting the imagery can be, he’s a little distracted by something else. Something incredibly transient, mentioned so offhandedly with your own lips.

Pretty good with knives, you said.

How could you talk about something so disturbing without an ounce of emotion? Like it’s a passing thought, nothing weighty at all. Sure, he might be overthinking it, but something doesn’t sound right to him. That or your sense of humour is a chart going off tangent. For someone who utterly despises bugs, Noctis totally doesn’t want to encounter a roach in his room ever again—save for unfortunate spells where his whole place is upturned like a junkyard with stale cups of Nissin fogging the air and Ignis is battling off an army of roaches armed with scrubbing gloves and wielding a can of spray—but slicing them is kind of next-level sadist thing.

They’re saved by the waiter showing up again, expertly balancing the three bowls in his arms and serving them steaming mugs of green tea. That seems to stop the sadistic spiel from your end since you’re distracted by Prompto bringing over your bowl of ramen, rich broth glossy under the mellow lights.

Breaking off his own pair of chopsticks, Noctis slurps up the noodles and tries not to think too much about it.

PROMPTO, THE GOOD BUDDY HE IS, books tickets for everyone. Noctis gets the feeling that even if he turns him down, Prompto’s gonna use you against him, rattling off how this is your first night out with them and ‘Noct should be more of a buddy and let her experience more things, right?’ like that. In hindsight, you’d probably be okay forgoing the movie session since it’s already past nine and he needs to return you to the Citadel because you probably have some sort of undocumented law on how the universe works, starting with no shoes in your room. But there’s something about the way you’re walking that gets his resolve crumbling little by little.

For once, you’re not the slouching, sleepy child dragging yourself from the kitchenette to the worktable, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand. Sick of the fluorescent lights, oversized shirt with its drooping neckline, cradling a mug of hot chocolate, a constant dreamy quality to your voice whenever you talked to him. Like you’re drenched in a reverie you never woke from.

Here, you are the tottering lady chasing after Prompto, who’s darting up Insomnia’s streets and pointing animatedly to the many signboards hanging near the crossroads. An inexperienced woman denied of the world, thirsting after its many sights and sounds, head bobbing along Prompto’s vehement babbles on Uniqlo’s fast fashion and how its ironic portmanteau of Unique Clothing is destroying Insomnia’s street fashion. Bathed in the prismatic lights melting off your skin, gaping at the on-screen ads, fingers trailing over chipped railings, for once, you looked alive.

It’s both a little funny and a little relieving to see you like this.

More like a human, and less like an android of the Andronicus.

Pocketing his hands, Noctis saunters up your side and watches how Prompto pulls you to one of his favourite camera shops, enthused with the work of detailing his part-time job as a photographer in one of the shops downtown. You gasp over the photos in his phone and he’s low-key abashed with your shower of compliments, pulling up one picture after another until he’s finished with his collection. Noctis only snorts when Prompto pockets his phone once more, rubbing his reddening ears.

Then they go up the streets a bit more until they get to the iconic Crown Crossing where all the broad roads intersect, with more LED panels showing ads and more colourful ads. BMW, Audi, Mercedes, all raring in competition. Vivienne Westwood, Bottega Veneta, Louis Vuitton, classy models flouncing on their tiptoes. Lucichrome’s spelled out in big, bold letterings over Crown 109, glinting silver under the streetlights. Tacked over one of the tiled walls, Caelum Via’s poster beckons passersby with its exquisite picture of a sun-drenched bedroom, promising an experience in a hotel like no other. Each and every mundane detail, Noctis knows you’re taking it in with an unseen nod, stowing them away inside that knotty head of yours, probably to be replayed on a later date.

The lights go red and the cars stop before the pedestrian crossings. You dart ahead, slipping between the throng of humans, and Prompto squawks as he chases after you, barely managing to catch you by the wrist before you’re off again, already at the other end of the road. He huffs at your small victory, scrunching his nose, and complains at Noctis that you’re too slippery—like catching a strand of ramen between chopsticks. And that little comparison gets you smiling wryly, prancing together by his side as Noctis slows down to let you catch up.

It’s kind of fun, just like this.

They show up at the nearby cinema with only a few minutes to spare. With everyone already full from their early dinner, Prompto flashes his phone over the ticket barriers and pulls you in by your hand. They search for the third hall, going up to the tenth row and trying to seat themselves in the centre. Being the impeccable gentleman Prompto is, he cites ten different reasons why you should sit right in between him and Noctis because ‘the movie’s really scary’ and ‘if you scream, Noct’s gonna punch you in the shoulder’ and that gets Noctis frowning a little because he certainly did not punch Prompto in the cinemas before—it’s usually Prompto who’s crying and clinging onto him for dear life.

Still, the lights dimmed altogether to signal the start of the movie spree, and thirty minutes into the intense build-up, Prompto’s already flinching in his seat. The VFX’s great, if Noctis wants to be nit-picky about the quality, and the plot seems bearable, if not a little clichéd since just almost everyone seems to be getting lost in the Duscae woods and there’s always that creepy caravan that just screams bad things are gonna happen if they stay overnight. Now he’s just waiting to see who’s the first sucker to die, placing his bets on the nosy man with the greasy face.

An hour later, Prompto shrieks along with the crowd when someone gets brutally disembowelled with a kitchen knife, curling up on his chair with his hands slapped permanently over his eyes. Even Noctis grimaces a bit as they showcase the explicit detail of the blind old man digging out a woman’s eyeball like it’s a golf ball stuck in a hole, sparing her no mercy at the tip of his spoon. The messy, gruesome spatter of blood caking the caravan is nauseating, an orchestrated madness with almost every corner of the screen doused in red.

While Prompto’s jerking at every sickening squelch of a metal bat beating into a body, you are calm. Disturbingly calm. Apathetic to the woman’s pained cries, blinking away at the sight of the blind man sawing her body to bits. There is no flinching at all, not even when he strings her up by her neck, choking her around the throat. In fact, your placidity is almost unnerving when you sense Noctis’ eyes on you, turning to meet him partway.

Over the expanse of your skin, painted in red, you are an image of quiet delirium.

Almost unbidden, Noctis drops his gaze to your throat, where the flushed flesh lays bare. If he thinks hard enough, he can recall how your jugular jumps under his thumb, and how easily his hand fits around your neck. And if he tries harder, he knows you’re warm enough to be human, human enough to choke with a squeeze of his hand, just enough for him to remember your frigid skin pressed against his, like you’re draining his warmth to make him yours.

His throat runs dry and he looks away.

”HONESTLY? I REGRET WATCHING THAT,” Prompto bemoans his fate, still holding his head in his hands as they walk towards one of the many parking lots scattered by the LR-Central Subway. It’s past midnight and the roads are emptier where they’re at, a hushed silence sweeping in the air. “Thought it was gonna be bearable but thirty minutes in and I wanted out. Out, like never coming back to Insomnia, burial by the sea sort of thing.”

“Was it that bad?” you ask, genuinely curious. As far as you watched it, the whole movie is tastefully done, given how short some horror flicks could be. “They covered the bases pretty well, if you ask me. The plot’s solid, and we didn’t get cheap cliffhangers at the end. And plus, they gave the blind man a good backstory to show how he came to be. Sure, there were some clichés like the whole ‘getting lost in forest’ trope, but then again, it is a movie.”

Prompto looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “Uh. Yeah. I dunno how you could just watch it like that. I don’t even wanna remember the whole thing. Gonna head home and bleach my brain out.”

He’s so honest with his thoughts, it’s almost adorable to see him like this. You shrug, letting him fall back. “Good luck with that. If there's anyone who can do it, it's totally you.”

Noctis, who had been walking ahead, comes to a halt in his tracks and glances over his shoulder at the blond. “Prom, you’re taking the train home?”

“Yep, easier that way,” he chirps, thumbing over at the closest station. “Gotta go now, the sooner I get home, the faster I can pretend the whole movie never existed. See ya guys tomorrow!”

And with a big wave, Prompto crosses the street, his lithe legs carrying him immediately down the steep steps of the subway. He disappears behind a concrete pillar, leaving behind you and Noctis. This must be a common farewell without much fanfare between them, because Noctis is already heading towards his car, drawing out the keys and unlocking the sleek ride with a press of a button. His beautiful Audi, with its fractal of flowers for its sports rim, and the intricate arabesque patterning the sides. RHS 736, the number plate states, an exclusiveness afforded only by the prince himself.

You had to mentally shake yourself a little to realise he’s already getting in, and you’ve been standing there dumbly, all the while admiring the stainless silver finishing. Taking your own seat by his side, you close the door and pull your seatbelt with Noctis gently easing his car out of the parking lot. The easy glide of the wheels on the asphalt is almost hypnotic, lulling your senses with your head lolling aside, watching the lazy drift of the glimmering city blurring behind the window.

All this while, Noctis is silent.

It’s not a strange occurrence, for a lapse of silence like this is enjoyable. He doesn’t pursue any topic relentlessly like Prompto, and spoke only when needed. At most, he’s content to leave you to your thoughts, though there is a certain wariness in the way he rests his eyes on you. Silent, dissecting you inside out, tearing you apart only to put you together again once he achieves comprehension.

“Sleepy?”

Over the thrumming purr of the engine racing down the empty expressway, the prince finally breaks the silence. You glance over just in time to catch the interest in his eyes, and they linger on you for a few seconds before looking straight again, focused on the highway. Sitting up, you glance at the dashboard’s clock and bite back a yawn. “Kinda, just a little bit,” you admit, borderline whisper.

There’s amusement lining Noctis’ voice at your small confession. “Get some sleep for a bit. I’ll wake you up when we get there.” You haven’t missed the small smile on the edge of his lips as he tightens his hold on the steering and revs up the engine to speed down the highway faster. “I don’t drive much since it’s Iggy’s job, so I take naps when he’s behind the wheels. But I kinda enjoy nights out like this.”

While the offer sounds tempting, just a nap surrounded by things that put you at ease—the humming of the engine, the blurring lights over on the streets, the silent companionship from the prince, there’s just something about it that keeps you awake. Just something small, something incredibly insignificant to others, but it means the whole Eos to you.

Leaning your head to the side, you cast him a hazy look, trying to fight off the seductive whispers of sleep in the leather seat. He definitely saw it when his smile turns lopsided, like he’s amused with the sight.

“I dunno, Highness,” you mumble, drooping a little, “I just thought that it’s such a waste if I fall asleep. I want to see this day to the end, because it’s too good to be true.”

Noctis doesn’t answer.

And, honestly, he doesn’t need to anyway.

His comforting presence is more than enough to remind you this is real, this is very real.

Minutes of his driving pass by, and the exhilarating speed remains breathtakingly beautiful as Insomnia deliquesces behind the glassy windows. Leaving behind the city you adore, and the memories you made. The way Prompto bounces on his feet, guiding you under stained glass domes and wrought iron gates. The delicate laces adorning mannequins in the shops, a handbag in its hand. How the prince slurps up his ramen in a very unprincely way.

All too soon, the Citadel looms into view and Noctis slips off the ramp through the opened gates, bringing you to the long stairway before the imposing double doors. He shuts off the engine, getting out. A valet opens the door for you, and Noctis circles around his car as you fumble out of your seat, straightening up after yourself with a shaky yawn. Try as you might, even if you want to deny you’re sleepy, the yawn is solid proof enough that you should march yourself right to bed and call it a night.

Noctis gets the idea and beckons you to follow. Content enough to be led around, you meekly trot after him through the doors and into the icy confines of the Citadel again. The receptionists are long gone by now. All that’s left are you and him, standing before the elevators, waiting for it to arrive. And when it does, you’re yawning again, rubbing your eyes this time, struggling with putting one foot after another. You don’t know whose hand it is that pressed 56, but the lift floats upwards and just like that, he leads you through the winding hallways again, retracing the steps he takes to your room.

Yawning for the nth time again, your overworked muscles strain with the effort of keeping up. As fun as it was, the excitement burnt you out faster than you thought. Noctis throws the door open, putting a hand on your back and slowly guiding you in. “Get some sleep, you look like shit.”

The prince really has a penchant for telling you look like shit, but a witty comeback is lost amidst all your yawns and you grudgingly obey him. Lights clicked on, sandals slipped off, you’re pressing your toes on the pricking chill of the marble again, standing in your workspace once more. A dimly lit Insomnia spreads before you, separated by the glass panes. It’s a picturesque panorama you used to marvel over and over again, but what used to be hopeless yearning morphed into a brilliant dream. The sight itself dissociates you from reality, knowing well that without the prince, you couldn’t have made it out there. His compassion knows no bounds. Truly a prince worth the fights you fought against father, just so he’d be your future.

Noctis still stands in your doorway, hair all mussed up like the usual, but it manages to fall in flattering layers around his face. Dark eyes brush over your entire body; you can tell he’s searching for something, but because it’s him, you find yourself not minding that much. He’s seen you through your cracks, picked you through the pieces. There’s still a lot more to you he hasn’t pried, hasn’t dislocated your limbs and popped your joints.

If he does, the secrets you kept will sully his hands.

As long he does not ask, he does not know. That is your endgame. Willing yourself to meet his eyes, you hold your breath. “Thank you for today, Prince. I really appreciate it.”

And Noctis, just casual, lazy Noctis, rakes a hand through his hair and turns away. His voice is thick with sleep, but you can’t miss the weird little smile there. A weird little smile he gives, for he knows nothing of you. “Yeah sure. See ya tomorrow.”

Tomorrow.

It’s a promise.

[tbc.]

90 miles per hour is about 145 km/h :’D noctis is trying to get himself killed with the protagonist just so they’d ascend the astral plane together for unlimited naps 24/7. they live happily ever after in the afterlife, the end.

also it should be noted that prompto once mentioned he never saw gil before when you first start the game and stop by hammerhead, so it’s implied that insomnia has its own currency as well. i took the liberty to name their insomnian currency as credits (im crap at making currency names ugh)

thank you very much for the overwhelmingly kind responses from you readers! I love reading everyone’s kind words and encouragement for this fic to go on <3  the plot is going to get even more bizarre, starting in the next chapter as things get morally dubious. (side-eyes the preview)

PREVIEW:

Adjusting his grip wrenches another solid gasp from you, and it’s such a pity you’re a wrecked mess right now, not when he knows he can go tighter than that to make you shudder, pretty pink all over. You’ve stopped struggling against him, making desperate, high whines—sounds that he doesn’t know you can make. You’re always so impassive, so aloof, so discreet with your emotions. Seeing you unhinged like this riles him up, gets this itch wanting to be scratched, wants to push your buttons until you break.