#and no one will drag me anywhere on monday omg

[playgroundeyes]

that's it. I fucking hate everyone going to wwwyf fuck you

what does it feel like to be living my dream

[luvrxbunny]

hii!! just read ur vampire!eddie fic and it was so goooddd!!!! 🥹😩 I was wondering if I could request tho maybe mafia!eddie(??) totally okay if u don’t want to or if that’s not ur vibe hehe ☺�� thank you!! 🤍🤍

omg you're my first request! i hope this is along the lines of what you wanted ily enjoy! also this was supposed to come out next Monday but I didn't wanna wait

Pairing: Mafia!Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Summary: Eddie has you sit in during a meeting and hijinks ensue.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, fingering, piv, unprotected sex, exhibitionism(?) (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 3.5k

A/N: he works out of an office building… don't ask

Eddie is in a meeting when you show up. His receptionist has you sit in the waiting room while he wraps up so you’re sitting there quietly with your little basket of home-baked muffins. Your sundress is fanned out around you delicately, and a soft smile is on your face at the thought of seeing your fiancé 

Your heart jumps and you stand up when the door opens and two suited men walk out as Eddie shakes hands with the third one. You’re fixated on how his silver rings shine in the light, you run your eyes up his body and notice he’s wearing your favorite outfit.

It was your birthday when you picked it, he said you should choose the outfit he would wear to your party. You put him in a black suit with a sleeveless black turtleneck underneath, a silver watch that you bought him, a silver chain, and his silver gauges for accessories. 

He looks so incredibly powerful, that it has you clenching your thighs together desperately. You admire his curly hair, loving the way it falls over his shoulders when you notice him looking at you, very confused. “Sandy, what is she doing out here?” He says in a rough, angry voice as he makes his way over to you with an angry scowl. He grabs your arm more gently than you expected and drags you over to the doorway of his office.

“I told you to always send her right in. Don’t let this happen again.” He slams his door shut before Sandy can answer and kisses you softly. “Hey, sweetheart.” He takes your basket and walks to his desk, you following close behind him. “What’re you doing here? Need me?” He places them on his desk and drops himself in his chair, legs spread and smirking as he looks up at you. 

You giggle at him, a little flustered that he saw through you so quickly. “How did you know?” You’re staring at the ground as you ask him, your weight shifting from leg to leg. Eddie is silent as you stare at your feet, waiting for him to answer but little do you know, Eddie is waiting for you. He’s watching you shift around nervously, looking anywhere but into his eyes and he decides that he won’t answer until you look directly at him. The silence gets a bit unbearable and you look up to see what’s taking him so long only to see him already staring at you, a smile breaking out on his face when your eyes meet.

“I know my fiancee, baby… And I know you’re not wearing anything under that sundress. You never do.” His voice sounds a little far away by the end of his sentence, his eyes wandering down your body. You watch his smile widen as he takes you in. Your thighs clenching together when his gaze rests there, you can see his jaw clenching in response as he fixes his gaze back on your face. “Come sit in my lap, baby.”

You smile brightly and place yourself in his lap, facing him and you can already feel his dick hardening and pressing against you. “There’s my pretty girl.” He whispers into your lips before devouring you and an all-consuming kiss. It’s obvious in the way he bruises his lips into yours that he’s missed you too.

His hands are gripping both sides of your face, pulling you against him. His hands run down your back and to your sides, his thumbs coming up to stroke your nipples softly, feeling them stiffen up underneath his thumbs. He moans into your mouth at the feeling and pulls at the straps of your dress, trying to free your boobs so he can play with them properly but you hear his door open, pulling you out of the moment and forcing your lips to part from Eddie’s.

“Sandy, what the fuck have I said about knocking?” His voice is booming, it almost makes you flinch, as Eddie yells at him. You turn halfway in Eddie’s lap so you can see Sandy, his eyes bulging at your mussed state, staring at your fallen dress strap and your nipples pressing through the fabric of your dress. You feel Eddie’s breathing speed up, a deep growl working its way in as Sandy takes more and more time to answer, undressing you with his eyes instead. 

“You’re on thin fucking ice right now.” Eddie’s voice is low and dangerous as he speaks to Sandy, snapping him out of his trance. His face is completely red by the time he looks up at Eddie, jumping a bit when he sees the look in his eyes. Eddie looks like he could hospitalize him, you can feel his hand balling into a fist where it rests on your hip, his muscles tensing as he considers it. 

You wrap your arm around his shoulder and place a calming hand on his chest, feeling him relax under it as Sandy finally speaks.”Sorry, sir! Y-Your five ‘o’ clocks are here. Would you like me to tell them to wait or?” You can feel Eddie’s breathing stop. You’re quite upset that you won’t be able to stay but try not to show it. You’d never want Eddie to feel bad for doing his job but he was busier and busier nowadays, and you’ve started to feel a little lonely. 

Eddie’s voice booms across the room when he speaks up. “Why was I not informed?” Sandy flinches at the sound and opens his mouth to speak but a squeak is all that comes out. You can feel Eddie revving up to yell again when you start to get up from his lap, fixing your dress in the process. “Eddie it's fine, I’ll head home and see you when you’re done.” You say happily, trying to diffuse the situation and save Sandy from further reprimanding. 

You lean down to place a kiss on Eddie’s head when he tears his gaze from Sandy and looks dead into your eyes. “Sit down.” He says it with such conviction, in such a commanding tone that you don't even think about questioning him. You immediately place yourself back in his lap as you were before. He keeps his eyes on yours as you sit before looking back at Sandy. “You send them in but if this ever happens again you are dead, understand?”

Sandy mumbles out a quick “Yes sir.” and rushes out of the room. Eddie takes a deep breath before looking at you and pressing a soft kiss to your neck. “You stay here. It shouldn’t be too long.” He whispers in between kisses. You bring your hand around his head and stroke his hair gingerly as he kisses you. He sighs into you when you part your lips, allowing his tongue to roam your mouth. Your hips begin to move subconsciously, pushing your pussy down on his thighs for friction when the door opens again. You pull apart from Eddie, taking a deep breath to try and calm the frustration bubbling in your chest at being interrupted again.

Prominent men and beautiful women file into the room and sit in various seats, some standing along the walls, and all intimidating to you. They await Eddie, waiting for him to kick off the meeting, waiting for him to send you out. Instead, Eddie welcomes everyone and begins stroking up and down your leg to calm you as he starts talking business. You watch Eddie as he speaks, saying a lot of things you don’t understand but you love it. You’ve only gotten to see him like this a few times, in "business" mode. He’s scared your opinion of him will change. 

He’s so strong in the way he demands respect. He talks in a way that makes you want to hear what he has to say. He asserts himself and no one questions it because he carries himself and speaks with unwavering confidence. He’s almost a different person when you see him like this, talking in a gruff, angry, domineering voice that takes charge of a room. You reluctantly pull your eyes from Eddie to watch the rest of the room only to notice that almost everyone has their eyes on you. You begin to squirm uncomfortably as everyone stares and Eddie instantly notices.

“Hey!” He shouts out sharply, causing the whole room to jump, multiple people reaching for their waistbands, worrying you a bit. “Everyone’s attention seems to be divided… is there a reason?” He’s using that low, threatening tone again and it has you leaking into your dress. You watch as the terrifying characters look around nervously, steering clear of Eddie’s gaze in hopes of avoiding the question. The silence sits heavy in the air until someone speaks up, a large, burly man who has you curling in, trying to hide in Eddie’s lap. 

“I guess I’m just wondering what your tramp is doing sitting in on a confidential meeting.” He says in a tough, confident, almost smug voice. You watch Eddie’s features twist into an expression of rage at the man’s words. His hands squeeze your hips momentarily before pushing you up and out of his lap slowly. Your eyes are on Eddie’s face when he reaches underneath his desk and you hear the scrape of his gun against it. You’re heart races, you’ve never seen it before. He stands at his full height, stretching his back and cracking his neck as he crosses the room, slowly walking over to the man. 

You stare at his thick fingers wrapped around the silver metal, turning off the safety and cocking it. “What… the fuck did you just call my fiancée?” Eddie asks lightly, his tone is almost jovial as he presses his gun against the man’s lower stomach. You’re breathing quickly as you watch the scene unfold, you watch Eddie slide his gun up the man's body and underneath his chin when he’s met with silence instead of an answer. “What did you call my wife?” 

Eddie’s finger hovers over the trigger, anticipation building inside you as you press your legs together. You feel your wetness begin to drip down your thigh when you see a smirk split Eddie’s face as the man tries to answer. “I- Ed I- I didn’t know. I thought she was just a fuck, man. I-” Eddie fires right next to the man’s ear, making you jump as the man doubles over in pain, both of his hands pressed to his ear in an attempt to stop the painful ringing. 

Eddie turns to the rest of the room, ignoring the man’s groans of pain in favor of making an announcement. “If anyone even thinks of disrespecting my wife I will put a bullet in you... Consider this your first and final warning.” Eddie strides over to you, your eyes are wide and frantic and his turn apologetic when he sees yours. You look unsettled and frazzled as he seats you back in his lap. He’s still looking at the room, avoiding your gaze. “Pitch your ideas and get the fuck out.”

He’s panting while you stare at him, his eyes cold and violent until they meet yours, softening to a loving gaze instantly. He mouths out an apology as people start pitching their ideas to him. You shake your head and kiss his forehead before resting your head on his shoulder as he tunes back into his meeting. His hand starts rubbing up and down your leg again, reaching higher and higher up every time. It’s working you up, causing you to leak against his thigh and hold back whimpers. He finally gets his hand up to your inner thigh and that’s when he starts to feel your wetness. His focus goes to shit the moment he feels it, not even hesitating before pushing his hand further up your dress to come in contact with your soft, soaked pussy. 

You watch his face, it’s hard as marble, stoic as he continues to listen and give feedback but you can feel him hardening in his pants again. His breath quickens and stutters as he pushes his fingers into your hot, wet cunt. His eyelids flutter as he curls them, pressing against your G-spot and feeling you clench around his digits. You can feel his other hand tighten its grip on your hip as his hips subtly push his dick up into your thighs. A satisfied grunt falls from his lips as he plays his movements off as him readjusting his position.

A whimper falls out of your mouth and against his into his neck as you bury your face in it, trying to hide your expression from the rest of the room. His fingers are thrusting deep inside you, you’re trying to regulate your breathing so you don’t alert anyone in the room but you’re struggling as you crawl towards an orgasm. Your hips start to gently thrust forward to meet Eddie’s hand, grinding his palm against your clit and whining softly into his ear.

Eddie is struggling to contain himself, growing decreasingly interested in the meeting and more in the way your body is reacting to him. Your face is resting in the crook of his neck and he can hear your whimpers as they slip out, he can feel your breath as it fans his skin. Your back is arching, he doesn't think you realize that you’re pressing your chest against him but it’s fucking him up. The way you’re yearning for him, the way your body is reaching out for him in front of everyone has him straining inside his pants. 

He watches the meeting wrap up in a daze, every sense muffled to everything else, tuned in to you as you grind yourself into his lap. He can feel your arousal soaking his pants and it’s making him twitch. His hips buck into yours as his cock throbs inside his pants. He already has you standing by the time the door shuts behind the last person. Your knees are so weak that you almost collapse when he props you up against the desk. He presses your face into the hard surface and spreads your legs with his own, forcing them open and resting his legs against yours. 

He’s holding both wrists behind your back with one hand as you moan and listen to him fumble with his belt and zipper. “I’m gonna fuck you so well, baby. Just how you deserve.”

You can hear him stroking himself, a wet noise resonating through the room. You’re head is spinning and you’ve never been more turned on in your life. You push up onto your tip toes, trying to grind your hips back into Eddie, trying to get him inside you faster.

“Please, Eddie! N-need it so bad, please.” You beg and beg as Eddie lines himself up with your entrance and pushes in. The stretch isn’t too bad because of how worked up you are but you’re still tight enough that the initial thrust has you and Eddie moaning out. Eddie’s hand releases your wrists when he bottoms out, pulling your hips to his and holding you in place. 

“Fuck, darling. You’re so perfect, so tight and wet for me. Just how I like it, huh?” He slowly wraps one hand around, grasping your throat. His wide fingers gripping gently for pressure but not cutting any air supply yet. His body is hunched over yours, caging you in and creating a curtain with his hair as he starts to gently fuck into you. His hips are moving languidly into yours, savoring the suction of your pussy every time he slides back into you. He’s groaning into your ear about how magnificent your pussy is, he’s telling you about how much he thinks of it throughout the day, how often he wishes he was buried in your instead of dealing with idiots.

You’re moaning much louder than you should be, considering you know there are people around, right outside of Eddie’s office but you just can’t hold back. Eddie brings his hand from your throat up to cover your mouth with his entire palm, the action has your eyes rolling back and just moaning louder into his hand. “F-fuck, baby. You like that?” His hips stutter as you clench around him moaning in response to his question. “I love it, Eds. Baby- Eddie please- fuck.” You gasp out against his hand, your voice muffled. You’re hips grind back against his cock as he plunges into you as deep as he can, staying there and watching you fuck yourself back on his cock.

He’s obsessed with the way your hips are moving, his hand coming up to grip his hair as he tries to calm himself. His eyes roll back and close as you desperately push your hips back against his. He’s groaning out your name with every other thrust as he starts fucking into you again, his voice beginning to sound more like a whine that has your legs giving out. You start to lose your rhythm, getting caught up in how Eddie’s cock slides against your walls, how the tip abuses your g-spot perfectly with every thrust, how he fills you to the brim so it’s all you can focus on. Eddie takes note of your struggle and gets to work. One hand goes under you to play with your clit, and the other grips your hip, stabilizing you as Eddie pounds into you with renewed energy.

“This pussy ‘s so fucking flawless, baby. Dunno what I’d do without my favorite girl.” He rambles on as he approaches his high, hyperfocused on the tightening of your pussy as he hammers into you. You can feel the heat in your stomach spreading throughout your body as your muscles tense, your legs starting to shake and your knees completely give out. Eddie flips you onto your back so you’re lying atop his desk gripping his biceps. He takes no time to thrust himself back into you, hands grasping your hips and moaning against your face before diving in for a kiss. “Gotta see that pretty face when I make you cum, love.”

You moan into his lips, feeling your pussy begin to pulse hopelessly around him. “Eddie. Eddie, I’m ‘onna c-cum. ‘M so close please-” You cut yourself off with a gasp as your hands move to his hair, fisting in it as your orgasm crashes over you. Your hands pull at his hair and rake down his arms, leaving red streaks for him to show off later.

He’s enamored with the way you look when you’re cumming. The way your eyes squeeze shut as he continues to pound into you. He can feel his stomach tensing, his balls tightening up in preparation for his load but he holds off to keep fucking you. He holds back as long as he can in favor of watching you, the way your eyebrows pull inwards when the pleasure spills into overstimulation. You whine at him to stop thrusting into you, telling him it’s “too much” and that you “c-can’t take it” but it only spurs him further.

He’s moaning your name on repeat as your senses are assaulted, pleasure stabbing between your legs with every thrust until Eddie cums hot and hard into your cunt. He folds forward with a painful groan and moans for you. His hips jerk into yours with every rope of cum that shoots out of his cock, coating and covering your walls as you milk him. He groans out when you're purposely tighten your pussy on him, prolonging and intensifying his orgasm. His arms give out and he basically collapses against you, moaning into your neck and kissing along it. 

You stroke his hair as he gently thrusts into you, relishing how good you make him feel. He pulls his head from your neck and presses a loving kiss to your lips. You moan gently into his mouth and he whines in response before pulling away with a smile. He looks deep into your eyes as he presses a thumb to your bottom lip and kisses you again. You wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close, his chest against yours and your legs wrapped around his waist, keeping him inside you. One of his hands is behind your head, cradling it as he kisses you gently, his other running up and down your arm soothingly. You pull away from Eddie with a dazed smile that has his smile widening as he picks you up off his desk and across the office. 

He gently places you on a couch he had installed for this specific reason, there were too many times he’d fuck you in his office and you’d have to leave almost immediately after because you needed sleep or you couldn’t just stand in the corner. It made you both feel awful so he bought this couch. It barely went with the decor of his office but it was your favorite color so he doesn’t care. He rests your head on a cushion before pulling a blanket over you and kissing your forehead. You watch him through sleepy eyes as he brings some papers, his laptop, and his glasses over to the couch. He gently lifts your legs, places them in his lap and his laptop on top of them earning a little snort from you. He turns to you quickly with a surprised smile. “You still watching me? Go to sleep, baby.” He has a soft laugh throughout and rubs your leg lightly. You giggle at him and let sleep take you. 

Thank you so much for reading! and thank you even more for requesting!! Please please please give any feedback you may have! I want it all!

[taehyungsgrowl]

" You could call me babe for the weekend" with Jim plsss (maybe dark! Jim?) -drunk anon

omg 😳this one w dark!jim... ahh!

thank you so much for the request! ily!

--

when y/n returned to palos verdes to visit her mother, being dragged out to bonfire by one of her old friends wasn't part of the plan. in fact, she hoped she could make it in and out of palos verdes without anyone knowing. without him knowing.

she wasn't the type of girl who obsessively kept tabs on her ex-boyfriends, but it was different with jim. or at least that's what she told herself when she found herself scrolling deep into different instagram profiles where he'd been tagged on.

y/n felt guilty when she left palos verdes - when she left him. she knew how much he was struggling, but she couldn't stay. she tried to keep in touch, but he was so angry with her then.

that was how she justified keeping those "tabs" on him. she just wanted to see if he was okay from afar.

but a lot of time had passed since then and all she could hope for was for the weekend to pass quickly so she could go back to her own home.

-

the night was warm and it was surprising to her how easy it was for things to feel at ease once she was on the beach with the people who grew up with.

she felt a heavy gaze on her as she brought her bottle of beer to her lips. he watched her with a growing smirk as her lips wrapped around the top.

jim could recognize her anywhere - no matter how much time had passed.

she met his eyes and felt the world hold still.

her ears were pounding and her heart racing as he approached her. would he still be angry with her?

jim looked different than the last time she'd seen him. his face was more rugged and his brown hair had gotten a little longer, his curls framing his face, but looking into his eyes was as if no time had passed. even in the dim moonlight, they were pale blue comfort with too much unspoken sadness.

"didn't expect to see you here - or ever," he raised his brows as she stood up.

"jim..." she didn't know what to do with her hands. a hug didn't feel like the right thing, especially with so many eyes on them.

jim chuckled at her discomfort and rolled his eyes. "relax, y/n, i'm messing with you." his eyes scanned her body, lips twitching into a smirk, "you look good,"

y/n didn't know if was the wave of nostalgia crashing like the waves on the shore or if feelings for jim never truly went away.

he invited her for a walk on the beach and felt engulfed in his warmth. their hands brushed past each other and she secretly hoped he'd take hers in his.

"how long are you in town for?" he kicked at a rock, watching it fly towards the water.

"i leave monday," out of the corner of her eye she saw jim grimace.

he grabbed her wrist and stopped walking, turning her towards him. she let out a gasp at the suddenty of it all. his eyes danced across her face, fleeting from her eyes to her lips, slowly inching closer.

"jim," she choked out before he could kiss her.

"i cant... we cant go down this road again." she bit her lip, almost tasting the taste of his lips. as much as she wanted to - they couldn't open that door again. she had a life far from california; she wasn't there to disrupt his again.

he pressed his forehead to hers, chuckling softly with his eyes closed for a moment. "relax, y/n," he told her for a second time that night.

"i'm not asking you to marry me," he shrugged easily. the back of his hand gently caressed her face. he smiled watching her lean into his touch. he knew he'd lost his chance with her long ago. before she even moved out of p.v - he made mistake after mistake -- but he was young and stupid then.

but seeing her back...having her so close again - he didn't care if he only had her for a moment's time. he didn't care about feeling empty once she left - he didn't dare think that far ahead.

"just..." he let the silence hang heavily between them as he searched for the words. his lips ghosted over hers, making her breath hitch in her throat. "call me babe for the weekend," he smiled against her lips. "just like old times... just for one more night..."

his eyes widen in surprise when she grabbed the back of his head and closed the gap between their lips, crashing his to hers and kissed him with the passion of finding a missing part of her.

as soon as he kissed her all the what-ifs and lingering questions disappeared.

he held her face in both his hands and kissed her like he should have before she left.

--

i hope you like it babie and i hope it makes sense sfkjs

i'm trying to keep my taylor swift prompts short since i got a bit of them left to do i wanna try to get to them all!

taylor swift inspired prompts

[chrisevansszn]

MAKE IT LIKE IT WAS PT 4‼‼

Shit is getting real 😳

Thank you for the likes. I hope you are enjoying this as much as I am!!

1.3k word count‼

It has been a rough few day. You and Chris are sleeping in separate rooms, the baby can definitely sense something is wrong, and you have yet to return to work. You have been working from home and rescheduling clients and lying saying that you are ill. You decide to go into work tomorrow. It’s Friday and then you are free again. Chris came up to you last night, and you guys had a conversation. He expressed how much you guys marriage means to him and that he was willing to do anything. You both agreed to therapy just to see if this is even salvageable.

 

You wake up the next morning and get dressed. Since its Friday, jeans, blouse, and heels of course. Maxwell is already gone with the nanny. “Good Morning”, you say to each other. Not much more. It was hard walking into your business…embarrassing the least. You hold a meeting and apologize for your actions. Nothing more, nothing less. You get your day started, and the phone rings. It’s Mateo. You decline it. He can call Chris for whatever he needs.

 

The weekend goes by.  It’s Monday morning, and it’s the first counseling session. You found Dr. Grant on the internet and ran with it.

 

“Good Afternoon, and welcome”, she says so politely. You both respond. “Can I get a little history about you two and tell me why we are here today?”, she requests. Chris is doing all the talking, why should you?  You both are on opposite sides of the couch, nowhere near touching each other. He’s the reason why yall are there.

 

“Chris, what was it about the other woman that made you choose her?”, Dr. Grant asks.

Chris is floored, and terrified to answer. “Um….I really don’t know”. “Chris you have to be honest here. Y/N deserves to know”. “Well…um…I guess because she was something new… and different”.

 

Your heart sunk and your head dropped. Instant tears are streaming. That hurt and bad. Chris sees your tears and puts his hand out to touch you, but then stops. Dr. Grant picks up the tissues and you grab a couple.  

 

“Chris, why did you stop yourself from consoling your wife?” “I am not allowed to touch her right now…”, he replies. You get yourself together. “Y/N, tell me how you feel.” “Like I want a divorce…I’ve already contacted a lawyer and everything”.

 

“YOU CONTACTED A DIVORCE LAWYER??”, Chris yells. His eyes are wide open, he couldn’t believe it. “Y/N, are you serious”, he asked. You look at Chris. “Yes, I got all my questions answered about the business, the house, and my baby”. You tell him without emotion.

 

“Ok Chris, calm down”. “What is stopping you from taking the next step with the divorce Y/N”, the doctor asks. “I  want to be around by baby every day, and Chris says he wants to make it work”. “I’m trying”, you reply. You both finish up the session, and head home. The car ride is silent. You guys arrive home, and Chris walks into the kitchen to grab a drink.

 

“I had not a clue you were serious about the divorce lawyer.”, Chris says as he takes a drink.   “I told you I was Christopher”. “I can live without you and Maxwell. You both are my world.”. You look Chris in the eyes and go upstairs to take a shower. You are feeling pretty rebellious tonight. You text your best friend, Brittany, and ask to go out for drinks and she says yes. You put on a beautiful black form fitting dress, open toed heels, and do your make up. You walk downstairs and see Chris playing with Maxwell.

 

“Where are you going dressed like that?”, Chris is irritated looking at you from head to toe. “Out for drinks, I will be back later”.

You grab your purse and keys and walk out. You left out at about 8:30PM. You and your friend go to a local bar to get drinks and to dance. A couple of men flirt with you and you flirt back. You both are dancing away on the floor. You can even remember how many drinks you’ve had. You look at your phone and its almost 1AM. “I have to go. It’s getting late”, you say to Brittany.

 

You make it home safely, but you are a little more drunk than what you thought. You stumble out the car when you hear screeching tires. It scares you but you continue to walk up the driveway. Next thing you know, someone is grabbing you from behind. You are doing your best to fight back. You are yelling “get off of me, and help”, but no one hears you. The two men throw you in the back of the car and begin beating you. You hear the car take off and you are just screaming for help and for them to stop. They continue, fist after fist to the head, back, stomach. Everywhere. It seems like it lasted forever. Then the car stops. One man drags you out and leaves you on your front yard, and they speed off.

 

What just happened??? There is blood everywhere. You manage to get some strength and crawl to your front door.  You ring your doorbell…over and over. You are leaning against the door, and it finally opens. Chris catches you. “OMG Y/N, WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?”, he yells. Chris looks you over, two black eyes, a busted lip, scratches and bruises on your face. He lefts up your dress and you are bruised and bleeding.  Chris has a lot of connections, so he calls up a friend who is also an ER doctor. “I NEED YOU TO COME TO BY HOUSE Y/N HAS BEEN BEATEN BADLY!”

 

The doctor arrives and takes a look at from head to feet. You are bruised pretty badly but the main issue is that your ribs are fractured. You have to take it easy for a while and will be wrapped up for some days. Going to the hospital wasn’t an option, this would-be all-over town. The doctor leaves, and Chris helps you out of your clothes and runs you a warm bath. “Honey, who did this to you?” “Chris, I don’t know. I just made it home from the bar and two guys grabbed me, put me in their car, beat me for what seemed like an eternity, and then threw me in the front yard”. You are crying nonstop. Everything hurts so bad. “Two men? Fucking Mateo! That’s who did this. I am going to fucking kill him! I forgot to get his money to him the other day. That fucking bastard is dead!”. You have never seen Chris so mad in his life! His face was extremely red, and eyes were such a dark blue they were almost black. Chris is shaking as he tries to wash all the blood off of you. He gets your dressed in one of his t-shirts and lays you in the bed.

 

“Chris…please don’t leave me…I’m so scared to be alone”. “Baby, I’m not going anywhere I promise.” He moves your hair back and kisses your forehead, and then lays next to you in the bed. Oh, how he missed lying next to you, holding you, kissing you, and making love to you. The doctor gave your medicine for pain, so you fell asleep quickly. Once Chris realized you were out, he got out of the bed and went downstairs to make a phone call.

 

“Hello”…

“Mateo, you are a dead mother fucker!”……

[nedrasnielsen]

So here’s the story… Remember it has fish in it, so there’s always fish tales to go with any fish story. You’ll have to figure out what’s true or false. Yet again it could all be true. You decide.

We left Friday, July 3rd. We were due for a little R&R. Time to get out of the office and off the road for awhile. Well we did have a bit of a drive to get there.  216 miles. Not any further than Lake Powell is from us, but it takes twice as long to get there.

When we were almost there, we caught our first surprise. It wasn’t a very pretty site. All of a sudden the traffic come to a dead stop.  It was on a curve and I could see traffic stopped in both direction. Being in my line of work I figured ROAD CONSTRUCTION… Boy was I ever wrong. It was someone parked part way in the road and part way on a drive approach. Then I could see the fiery blaze. He was trying to get it out of the line of traffic and further off the road without catching the grass on fire. I couldn’t imagine our boat going up in flames. And I’m pretty sure the first thing I would have done was disconnect my rig from the boat. But he didn’t. The flames started at the back. Then worked their way forward. Everyone got out of the vehicle okay including the dogs. But it’s all still sad.

  So after a little rubber necking as we drove by we were off to the the gorge again. ALMOST THERE…!

I did convince Hank we needed to eat before we hit the water. We stopped at this cute little place in Manila UT. The name of it was the THE GORGE…. food was really good. As far as the service. It was a little on the slow side. They tried to justify it with the fact they had just had a big table come in. I found out on Monday the service is just slow. It was pretty good service even with it being slower than snail dung.

Finally we hit the water about 3pm. Now that was nice. But poor Hank had to work his but off. I’ve never fished for Mac before and it’s a whole new story. I had no idea how to rig the pole or anything. That’s were my knight in shining armor comes in as always. He just went to setting up my pole and getting all of my stuff fixed up. I knew all he really wanted was to get his own pole in the water. But I always come first. And that’s only one reason why I love him so much.

Photo by Maria Pop on Pexels.com

Photo by Berendey_Ivanov / Andrey_Kobysnyn on Pexels.com

Now we’re both rigged up and fishing … Well guess who catches the first fish? If you said me, you’d be dead wrong. Hank always out fishes me. And he has done this before and has a good idea of what’s going on. Me I’m like a newborn fresh out of the fire. Oh I know how to fish. I know how to fish for normal things anyway. Mac , not so much. Boy did I ever get a schooling.

As you see we’re talking about big fish. That’s not a little cooler.  As far as Hank was concerned these were little fish. He wanted about a thirty pounder.(or more) Most of what we caught were only ten pounders at best. Mine on the other hand were about 3 pounders. And after reeling in 10 pounds of sinker and pop gear I was tired. My arms hurt. I’m not as tough as I used to be. And I can’t give away trade secrets…. I’d be in big trouble for that. I like keeping my husband on my good side. I will tell you he makes a lot of his own gear.  Some of this stuff he makes costs over forty dollars for one to buy. And it gives him something else to do besides reloading ammo in the winter. I can’t say he was disappointed but he wasn’t thrilled either.

The other great thing about this trip was it was just us. No kids, no family,  no friends, no nobody. It was so nice to just spend one on one time. To reconnect a little. We have a lot of time alone at home. He’s out on the tractor working on our place, or I’m doing paper work or something. We try hard to keep close to each other but it doesn’t always happen. We lead busy lives and we try not to let life get in our way. Yet sometimes it does.  AND THAT’S LIFE !!!!

Flaming Gorge is such a beautiful place. One thing that made it even more beautiful was the place we stayed. THE VILLA….. Let me tell ya a little about the THE VILLA. It’s owned by a sweet gentleman by the name of Dirk. And Dirk is no push over. He wanted his info up front and was willing to answer all of my questions when I called for details on his little place in Manila. The price was right and I wouldn’t have to switch rooms for our stay for any reason. Remember this was July 4th weekend.  I’d done my research online before I had even called. Now this was a fishing trip, not a hang out in the room trip. And Dirk’s add catered to fisherman. Plenty of room to park a boat and he gave a free bag of ice each day you stayed. And I didn’t think we would be spending much time in the room anyway. So when the comments said the rooms were dated I really didn’t give a care. All other comments were quit favorable. Others had said that the rooms were very clean. And that was pretty much all I was looking for this trip. But when we got there…… OMG. Clean rooms was an understatement. I don’t think I’d ever been in a motel room ( and that’s from one end of the US to the other) that could compare to the cleanliness of this room. And so every morning we would go in and say HI to Dirk. He would make sure we got our bag of ice, and that everything was satisfactory with our room. And would ask if there was anything else he could do or us. And of course there was always fishing stories exchanged and great advise about the local waters he knew so well.  I had thought if we had come up for a more girly trip I would have wanted to stay somewhere more ROMANTIC… But after staying at THE VILLA. I would never stay anywhere else up there. THANK YOU DIRK for such an amazing atmosphere. We loved it and we’ll be back.

We did take some time a make a few business contacts and drop off a few cards . But not a lot. After all it was 4th of July weekend.

So we fished till late Sunday. We caught a fair amount of fish. And we had a great time. And on the way we did a little site sein’ .We had fun and got a chance to work on our personal connection. It was a great trip all and all.

OH WAIT I FORGOT TO SHOW AND TELL ABOUT MY GREAT CATCH WITH THE SILVER FISH……. OKAY LET ME GO SMOKE A SMOKE AND CHECK ON MY HUSBAND AND I’LL SHOW AND TELL YA ALL ABOUT IT.

……… Okay I’m back. Now for the rest of the story. Like I said we were fishing for BIG FISH. Not the normal lake trout or what have you. So I’m holding on to my pole cause that’s what ya do. There’s no rest in this game. And we’re trolling along…. And all of a sudden my drag runs out. I’m thinking ok I’m snagged again. You know how they call some girls Hagatha. Well you can call me Snagatha. I’m really good at it. But then I get some give. OK well maybe it’s not a snag. So now I’m trying to real in and I can’t. It won’t real in !!!!! Hank reals his line in a and comes over to help me. He can’t real it in either. So here we are thinkin’ its a big fish. I’m pretty excited and so is Hank. That was the purpose of this trip was for me to catch a big fish and it looks like it’s going to happen.  I’m trying to reel in with all my might. It’s just not working so we both know that’s it’s dead weight coming off the bottom. And this is what these big fish do. It takes more power than what me or the reel have. Hank grabs a towel and starts pulling it in. I real as fast as I can… Sometimes it’s not fast enough. I’m thinking I don’t want to loose this fish…

Hank keeps pulling and I can tell there’s a lot of weight there. I keep reeling. After a few minutes of all this. Here’s my fish being pulled into the boat. I’m thinking this is a strange looking fish. But then I get a closer look and I realize just how big of a catch I got. I’ve just reeled in $50.00 worth of downrigger supplies. Including the catch and release gear to go with it.  Dead weight off the bottom. Am I disappointed …. Oh hell no. He’ll use it in the future for sure. Am I disappointed I didn’t catch a big fish. If I was it would mean I missed the whole point about this trip. Spending time with you’re significant other is priceless.

Hope you all had a fantastic forth of July….  Stay and safe and remember all the fantastic thigs you can do for each other.

Lots of love…..

couple more photos of a fantastic area.

Flaming Gorge ! Fishing Trip. Reconnect. So here's the story... Remember it has fish in it, so there's always fish tales to go with any fish story.

[hurtcomfortetc]

I was thinking the apocalypse timeline, if that's okay! :) and omg thank you for sending me your fic, I'm so amped to read it!

Original Prompt - vaguely-- 

“since you’re looking for TUA prompts” how about Klaus with pneumonia? the others keep joking about how he needs to quite smoking and shit (and telling him to stop whining when he says he’s not good to go with them on some kind of wild adventure”

Okay, so this was a fun one to write! Hope this was in the realm of what you were looking for! :)

MONDAY(28 days sober)

Klauscan hear the distant sound of glass shattering and what might be abookshelf falling down. The sound surprises him, and he sits up soabruptly that he gives himself a head rush, and a splash of watersluices over onto the tile floor. He sits there, listening for yellsof anguish or gunfire. All he hears for the next minute is the faintcongestion in his breath.

“Vanya-it's okay – look we don't have to stop for today-”

Adoor slams.

Klausrelaxes.  

Heslides his head back under water and goes back to wondering if thisis the normal congestion he's had on and off since his cocaine phasein 2012, or if he's just getting sick.

Thenhe starts craving cocaine again.

Hedebates, for the hundredth time maybe, if Sober Klaus still smokesweed.

“Klaus,you better not have fallen asleep in there!”

TUESDAY(29 days sober)

Klauscreaks open his eyes to a blinding light and a grating voice comingfrom the other side of his door. His eyes manage to come to a focuson his clock. 1:30. Klaus is faintly pleased. It's much easier tostay sober when you're unconscious for most of the day. And he's soclose to actually deserving that thirty day chip.

Thebanging doesn't stop.

“Klaus!It's your turn with Five and Vanya today – please get your ass downhere so he'll get off my ass?” Diego calls, and continues bangingon the door.

Fiveis relentless, Klaus muses. He proceeds to remain unmoving on hisbed.

“Yougonna keep moping in here forever?” Ben asks from somewhere in thecorning of the room.

Klauslets out a loud groan that he draws out for almost twenty seconds.Ben covers his ears after ten, but Klaus has to stop and let out ashort cough before he can make it to a grand finale. Gross.

“Seriously?”Ben asks. Klaus peels himself off his bed and does a quick smell testof his underarms.

“Shhhh-I need to focus on finding a clean shirt so I can go make sure Vanyadoesn't end up murdering my second least favorite brother,” Klaussays. His voice comes out rough. Ben, for his part, looks appeased.

WEDNESDAY(30 days sober)

It'sbeen a good day.  He completed an entire arm wrestling match with atangible Ben (turns out that that in death Ben must have somehowdeveloped killer bicep muscles, but no one needs to know how thatparticular match ended) and, invigorated by his sobriety milestone,Klaus dragged himself out of bed before noon and made eggs foreveryone (they burned remarkably quickly, but Allison did eat a pieceof toast he buttered so overall a win).

Butnow it's almost dinner time, and all he can do is lay bonelessly onthe couch and listen to his siblings bicker over one of Luther's“mandatory debriefs.”

“Theday of the apocalypse is over, can't we all stop treating Vanya likea ticking time bomb?” Allison demands.

“Yousaw what she almost did to Diego a couple of days ago, we can't stopworking on this,” Luther fires back.

“Guys,I'm right here, can you just stop,” Vanya adds. There's an awkwardsilence.

“Istill don't know if the math is right, everyone. Look, the best guessis to keep trying at -”

Therest of the conversation is lost to Klaus, who feels something inhimself snap. He hastily lights a cigarette. His siblings cyclicalnonsense arguments give him a craving for nicotine that simply willnot be ignored. He takes a long drag and then feels something catchnauseatingly in the back of his throat. He sits up and coughs untilsomething slimy seems to dislodge.

Hegoes to try another inhale when he sees that everyone is looking athim. He thumps his chest for dramatic effect.

“Smokingkills, kids,” he announces, and waves a finger at his siblings,accosting. Diego rolls his eyes.

“Keepthat up and you're gonna get an iron lung before you're forty,”Diego says.

“Andwhat a thrill that would be,” Klaus retorts. The bickering carrieson after that, and he spends the rest of it tuning out his siblingsand attempting valiantly not to cough.

Hedrags his way out of the room during a longer pause. In the doorway,Allison grabs his arm and slaps something into his palm. It lookslike a bandaid, and Klaus' brain cannot produce what it is.

“Nicotinepatch. I thought you were cleaning up. It might help,” Allisonsays.

“I'llhave to change my shirt. This beige will clash hideously,” Klausreplies.

“Iordered Chinese for tonight– come down later?” Allison asks himas he continues out.

Hethrows a grateful wave behind him.

Hespends the rest of the night alternately chain smoking and hackinguntil his chest is sore.

THURSDAY(31 days sober)

Today,Klaus starts to wonder distantly if there is something wrong with hisimmune system. This cold just doesn't want to go away.

It'sa nice distraction, he supposes.

FRIDAY(32 days sober)

Klaushas just completed almost entirely turning over his room in order tofind the one sketch pad that he'd stashed away years ago. He used toget high and doodle bats and shit during his goth phase.  “Get ahobby” was something they tell you a lot in rehab.

Ithelps that, honestly, Klaus has no energy to do anything but scribbleabsently today. The mere act of searching through his closet justleft him with a racing heart and feeling out of breath. It isactually nice, in a way. The lethargy makes it very easy to settleinto a blanket puddle on the floor with and feel content to scratchout nonsense pictures with a pencil.

Benisn't anywhere to be seen for some reason, and Klaus actually feelslonely.

Ashadow appears looming over him. He looks up to see Five leaning inhis doorway.

“Getup. We're going on a field trip,” Five announces.

“Pass,”Klaus groans.

“Notasking. What, you'd rather laze around here all day?”

Klausdraws his blanket closer around him by way of answer.

Fivegrits his teeth and looks away. His foot is honest-to-god tapping.

“Getup. We need your help. We're gonna let Vanya loose today, and we needall hands on deck,” Five finally explains. Klaus sits up and giveshim an incredulous look.

“DidVanya okay this?” He asks. Five looks at Klaus like he's a cat thathe's trying to coax out of a bush.

“Ofcourse.” Klaus wonders why he bothered asking, his answer trulydoesn't inspire confidence.

“Andhow do you expect me to be of any use?” Klaus asks. On any otherday, he would bask in any remote bit of confidence in his ability,but today the concept of standing up for more than a minute is makinghim dizzy.

“Iseem to recall that you can summon Ben's ghost from the dead, amongothers. Dead people are great collateral if something goes sideways,”Five says.

“Um,great idea, but here's the thing – I can't -ahem- get it up all thetime. Apparently it's more common among mediums than you might think– one in ten!” Klaus says, praying that Five will drop it. Fivelooks at him like he's contemplating murder.

“Look,do you want me to get Luther to come persuade you?” Five threatens.

Klausraises his hands in surrender.

“Uncle,uncle! Christ, let's just get this over with,” he sighs. On the wayout, he grabs his most obnoxious faux fur jacket, partially as a lamegesture of rebellion and partially because he's utterly freezing.

“That'sthe spirit,” Five mutters, and leads the way.

----------

Fiveglanced into the rearview mirror of the car. With Luther crammed intothe passenger seat the atmosphere already feels oppressive enough,but a glimpse into the backseat reveals Vanya nervously perched inthe middle seat, Diego sitting cross-armed and surly on the right,and Klaus completely passed out on the left. The car is packed andradiating nervous energy.

Five eases the car down the bumpy dirt path, the final sign that theyare clear away from civilization. That creep Leonard really had theright idea about a remote cabin in the woods. Plenty of isolation andtrees to practice on. So lacking in human contact is this particularcabin that the unkept foliage lining the path creeps towards theroad, untamed and leaning. The cabin itself is barely a thread awayfrom losing any structural integrity. The windows have maybe threeunbroken panes of glass between them. It's perfect.

Fivebrakes violently, and winces when Klaus' forehead makes a audiblewhack on the window as he smacks himself out of his nap. Not the mostgraceful awakening, but effective. He wants everyone alert.

“Alrighteverybody. Follow me,” he says. He steps out of the car and towardsthe back of the cabin, where he has prepared a paper target on a treeabout fifty feet from the small clearing. It's visible, but wellsurrounded by other trees.

“Diego,wanna demo?” Five asks. Diego furrows his brow, but never turns upan opportunity to throw something sharp. He takes one look at themark and pegs the center ring with a hasty flick of his wrist.

“Doyou expect me to do that? That's not exactly in my wheelhouse, Five,”says Vanya, squinting at the target and looking like she'd rather beanywhere than here.

Fivetakes a handful of loose bullets out of his pocket, and places themon a tree stump.

“Woah,”interjects Luther, “we're not expecting Vanya to have to shootpeople-”

“Ofcourse not,” Five grits out. He expected this, but it doesn't makeit any less tiresome. “This is just an exercise in precision andcontrol.” Vanya looks at him, wary, but she picks up one of thelittle silver ovals and turns it around in her fingertips.

---

Ittakes the better part of an hour before Vanya manages to drill a holedirectly into the target. It's a bit left of center, but by thatpoint, Diego and Luther have finally relaxed an inch of tension outof their shoulders. Vanya is a quick study, and actually pulls asmile when the little tap of the bullet making contact sounds throughthe forest.

Klaus,for his part, has been lounging like the Queen of Sheba on a softpile of pine needles. His eyes seem out of focus, but he claps whenVanya succeeds.  

“Whooooo,you show that tree who's boss,” he calls. Vanya smiles again. Fivewonders if Klaus might have been more of a liability than anything,considering how spacey he seems for all his apparent sobriety, but ifanything it makes Vanya more relaxed when he yells out some stupidline of encouragement than if it had just been Tweedledee andTweedledum trading constipated looks and flinching every time a twigsnapped.

Fiveis contemplating dragging one more round out of Vanya when Klaus sitsup suddenly at attention.

“Woah,Vanya that's kind of creepy,” Klaus says, looking at something inthe distance. Five walks over to Klaus as he stands up, clearlyalarmed. There are goosebumps running down his arms.

“Whatare you talking about, Klaus?” Five asks, quietly. He doesn't wanta scene.

“Theway she's moving the branches of the trees like that. They're gettingall twisty. I mean it's tasteful but definitely a touch odd, wouldn'tyou say?” Five doesn't know why he looks over to see what Klaus istalking about, but he does. There isn't so much as a light breezerustling the branches.

Suddenly,Five realizes what must be going on and he's furious.

“Jesus,Klaus what are you playing at? Whatever you're tripping on is notworth risking this entire training session,” Five spits. Diegoperks up at that.

“Ithought you were going sober, man,” he says, looking at themsearchingly. Klaus, pale and sweating, does not look like thatbenchmark for clean living.

Klausdoesn't seem to notice, and continues looking at the forest, eyesfollowing something unseen.

“Unbelievable,”Five turns away, taking ten paces and breathing through his nose.

“Klaus,it's okay – I'm not doing anything,” Vanya says. She walkshesitantly towards Klaus, eyes wide and sympathetic.

“Leaveit, Vanya,” Luther cautions. Vanya reaches out a hand on Klaus'sforearm, to try to get his attention. Klaus clears his throatthickly, and coughs a bit into his fist.

“Don'tworry, Vanya- I like it, very pretty,” he says. Vanya's eyes widen.

“Guys,his skin's on fire,” she says. “Klaus, are you okay?” Shereaches a hand up his cheek, which is also burning. He doesn'tanswer, just shivers convulsively.

“Couldit be an overdose?” Luther strides over to them. Diego stiffens.

“Doesn'tseem like it to me,” Diego says. “Doesn't present the way itusually does with whatever garbage he's on.” Five's mind feelsblank.

“I'llstart the car. We have to get him out of here,” he says.

“Ithink he's just sick,” Vanya says. “He's been sounding reallyrough all week, hasn't he?”

“Shit,”says Diego. He moves to pull gently at Klaus' arm to lead him to thecar. Five takes the lead and starts for the front of the cabin.

“Wow,you can make the ground all spinny. That's a cool trick,” Klaustells Vanya. At that, Diego loops one of Klaus's arms around hisshoulder, and they start to haltingly follow after Five.

“Let'sgo, Klaus,” he says. As they make a shaky path towards the car,Five throws the passenger door open for them to slide in. They do,and it's now imminently obvious just how out of it Klaus is. Hemanages to maneuver into the passenger seat shakily, and immediatelyburies his head in his hands.

Fivewastes no time turning on the ignition and sloppily reversing thecar. He narrowly avoids bottoming out in a muddy patch. The car digsout and he slams on the acceleration as quickly as the dirt path willallow.

“Doesanyone have any water or anything?” Luther asks, and Five isdecently impressed that it's actually not a bad idea. There isrustling from the backseat as they all turn over the car searchingfor any provisions that will last them the entire ride back towardscivilization.

“Here,”Vanya finds a water bottle strewn somewhere beneath the seatcushions.

“That'sfor you,” Diego passes it to Klaus, who removes one eye from behindhis hand to look at it like it's a bomb. “I swear to god, Klaus,just take it,” Diego warns. Klaus extends a shaking hand andaccepts it. He takes a tentative sip, and then grimaces. That setshim off, coughing deeply. For each second he continues seeminglyhacking up a lung, Five's foot presses deeper into the acceleration.When he finally stops, Five meets eyes with Diego in the rearviewmirror. Diego looks panicked, and that's not a look Five is used toseeing.

“Jesus,Klaus, where's that stupid ass coat of yours?” Diego asks. “You'reshaking like a leaf.”

“Igrabbed it,” says Vanya.

“Wait-maybe we should try to keep him cool? Right?” Luther interjects.

“Idon't know- do I look like I went to fucking medical school?” Diegoasks, shooting a murderous look at Luther.

“Damn,how long has he been like this sick?” Luther asks no one inparticular.

“Ugh,right here,” Klaus says, breathlessly. “You should ask Ben, he'dknow.”

Diegothrows up his hands.

“Helpful!”

Suddenly,the car lights up a bright blue and Ben appears crammed betweenLuther and Five, crouched awkwardly on the dashboard.

Five,thrown for a loop, swerves the wheel and almost careens off the road.

“Woah-Five, get it together!” Luther calls. Ben grabs the wheel and pullsthem back on into their lane just in time to avoid hitting a tree.

“Nice,thanks,” Five breaths.

“Ben,”Luther said, dumbstruck.

“Toanswer your question, he's been out of it for a couple of days. Ithink that's why he couldn't see me anymore,” Ben says. Lutherseems unable to process the information, his mouth still gaping open.Ben rolls his eyes.

“I'mjust saying, please can you find some kind of medical professional?Like, ASAP?”

“Nooooo,”Klaus murmers through his hands.

“Klaus,”say Five, Luther and Diego almost simultaneously, all in some variouscombination of desperate frustration and warning.

Vanyareaches over and put a hand on his knee.

“Ithink what they mean is that it's not a debate. You're going to see adoctor.”

[lovemesomesurveys]

On average, how many songs do you listen to in a day? Most days I don’t listen to any, but sometimes I’ll put on my Spotify, hit shuffle, and let it play for awhile. Oh, and if I go anywhere I’ll hear music in the car. It really just depends, man. Do you ever buy your pet(s) birthday or Christmas presents? Yep! I always do. For her birthday we get her a special doggy cookie or something and for Christmas she has her own stocking.  Although, it doesn’t have to be her birthday or holiday for her to get presents we kinda spoil her just a tiny bit. ;) What is something new that you learned today? Nothing so far. Worst movie ever? Uhhh. One that just came to mind is Nocturnal Animals. I didn’t like it.

Can you lick your nose? Nope.

Can you lick your elbow? No. Do you think your current relationship will last forever? I’m single, but yeah I probably always will be let’s be honest.

What do you want most out of life? I just want to be in better health physically and mentally,  or at least ya know feel like I’m managing it better and just be in a better place mentally, and to find happiness. I’d like to just be in a better place all around. Who would you love to punch in the face right now? No one. Would you rather watch a movie in the theater or at home? Depends on the movie. Some movies I just have to see in theaters because it’s better that way and adds to the experience, and others I can wait to rent at home or watch on TV. Do you still own any VHS tapes? do you ever watch them? We still have our Disney ones. I haven’t watched them in how I don’t know how long. A very long time. One thing you promised yourself you’d never do and then did? A lot of things. What is something you forget to do often? I forget. What hobby have you always wanted to pick up? I just wish I was crafty and did like DIY stuff. Do you ever feel like life is going by too fast? In the moment it feels like it’s dragging sometimes but then you look back and you’re like omg where did the time go. Like we’re almost in October and the end of the year will be here before you know it. What do you miss about your childhood? Everything. I miss just being a kid and being in my own little world of imagination and playing Barbies and playing with my cousins and stuff. I was dealing with stuff then, too, but I was a strong, resilient kid and I got through it. The tough stuff isn’t even what sticks out when I think of my childhood. My adult self is so weak. Where was the last place you went out for dinner? This local place. Have you ever had to call 911? No. Are you more scared of going to the doctors or dentists? Both. Would you ever stay in high school for an extra year? Why on earth would I have wanted to do that?? What do you like the best about the city you live in? My family is here, but otherwise nothing. What’s the closest orange object to you? The orange string of lights I have across my dresser. Have you ever rolled off your bed in your sleep? When I was a kid that happened sometimes so I had a railing put on the side. What is something that you do everyday? Drink coffee. Dark or milk chocolate? Milk. Have you ever had a pen pal? Yeah, we did that in 3rd grade. What is your favourite thing to order from a restaurant? Chicken tenders and french fries. Do you own any Nike shoes? Yes. Do you put your shirt on or your pants on first? My pants. Do you edit a lot of your pictures? I add a filter to them. I don’t do any like Facetuning or anything like that. What was the silliest thing you got mad about this week? I don’t know, I get irritated/annoyed at any little thing sometimes. How do you like your potatoes? Mashed potatoes, baked potatoes, in french fry or potato wedge form, in hash brown form, in potato chip form... I love potatoes. Do you get along with your significant other’s friends? I’m single. Are you one of those people who will not use a public washroom? Only if I really need to. Are you afraid of spiders? EXTREMELY. I just looked up at my ceiling to make sure there weren’t any. I check that a lot. What is something that you do often with your family? Watch TV. Have you ever been stung by a bee? No. Do you enjoy the sound of crickets at night and birds in the morning? I don’t hear any. Do you prefer ice cream in a bowl or cone? Bowl. I take too long to eat it so cones get messy. What is a good name for a baby boy? Alexander. Have you ever tried counting the stars? How far did you get lol? Yeah, I have. Not very far, ha. They’re innumerable. What bank do you go to? You don’t need to know. Do you enjoy board games? I love board games. Who is the most overrated singer? Taylor Swift. Do you need a haircut? Nah. Can you say the alphabet backwards? I mean yeah, but it would take me longer. When was the last time you were sick? I last had a virus thing back in like May, but otherwise I feel some kind of crappy, sickiness often. What was the scariest moment of your life? The last surgery I had. What is the most expensive gift you have ever given someone? Hmm. Do you hate Mondays? They’re just another day for me now since I’m no longer in school and I don’t have a job. Have you ever taken pictures in a photo booth? Yes. Describe your socks. They’re black ankle socks. Does it bother you when people talk throughout the whole movie? Yes. What do you regret the most? Just not taking care of myself better. Some of the things I’m dealing with now could have been prevented. Do you believe in yourself? No. Do you think you have found your “true love” yet? Nope. What is your greatest weakness? I don’t know. Would you rather live “A good life” or “THE good life”? A good life. Do you feel bad when you kill bugs? No. :X How much water do you drink each day? Only like 3, sometimes 4 glasses. :/ I used to get the full 8 a day, but when I got that virus back in May I slacked off and haven’t gotten back on track since. When was the last time you ate popcorn? Last Saturday. What is your favourite planet? Earth. Do you like animal print things? Not clothing, but I have a body pillow with giraffe print that I really like. Do you have any pets that you had since you were born? No. Do you own anything that you had when you were a baby? Yes. Are you one of those people who are always cold? Nope. I’m usually the one always hot. Do you enjoy Mario games? Yes.

[beauvoyr]

Lazy People’s Club for the Sleepy and Tired | 15

flowering | children of the end of the world

Pairings: Noctis/Reader Genre: Friendship/Romance/Friends-to-Lovers Tags: Fluff, Humor, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, Abuse, Torture, asphyxiation, no beta we die like men, pre-Omen trailer route, pre-demon Noctis Chapter Suggestion: Read it on AO3 for cuter formatting during chat sequence. Chapter Rating: T Crossposted on: AO3 Summary: you will love him to ruins you will love him to ruins you will love him to ruins you will love him to ruins you will love him to ruins you will love him to ruins you will love him to ruins you will love him to ruins you will love him to ruins you will love him to ruins you will love him to ruins you will love him to ruins you will love him to ruins you will love him to ruins you will love him to ruins you will love him to ruins you will love him to ruins

CHAPTER SUMMARY: You will love him to ruins.

HIS MORNING IS DIFFERENT NOW. Different, as in Noctis doesn’t have to drag himself out of bed at 5.30 just so he’d make it to Gladio’s training session on time. That and he doesn’t have to struggle with rousing the cat from her nap, which is a codename for waking you up and getting a swish of claws in return. These past few days taught him how to dodge unpredictable attacks better than his Shield ever did. Ignis checks up on him at 7.30, giving him more time to grumble about the too-damn-early Contemporary Management class that’s only available at 8.30 only on Mondays and Wednesdays. Noctis picks up on his dull routine of brushing his teeth, yawning under the hot shower, shucking on whatever shirt and pants combo he can locate in his closet, and hauls his backpack with another yawn.

The ride to Lucis U has Ignis filling him in on the council updates, boring stuff that has him yawning four times in twenty minutes of morning traffic, and manages a bleary nod once his Advisor sees him off at Block B. As a senior, most of the fresh-eyed juniors gawk at him the moment he strides through the hallways, scanning the doors for BU 3-1. He’s the prince, he kinda gets that a lot, not that anything’s changed over his entire lifetime. They don’t care about him past his title, and he doesn’t see why he should care either. Noctis occupies the seat farthest from the board, saves some space for Prompto, and checks up on his planner. If it’s up to him, he’d never get himself something as posh as leather-bound, but this was all a conspiratorial gift by none other than Ignis in final hopes that it’d instill some orderly sense into Noctis.

But did it work?

Probably, seeing how he had his final timetable scrawled in one of the front pages in case of discrepancies—

—oh.

Prompto’s not taking this elective with him. Right. He signed up for Media and Journalism since he figured his photography skills would come in handy, babbling all about it when they were filling up the subject registration form last semester. That kind of sucks, now that he thinks about it. If Prompto’s not here, then he can’t steal naps when the lecturer’s not looking. And he can’t skim through the lecture notes Prompto’s jotted down amidst all his lazy doodling. And they can’t coordinate where to grab their lunch because Lucis U’s menu dates back to M.E. 358, all sloppy mashed potatoes and premature beans on every other day, ugh.

Shutting his planner, Noctis slumps over his desk as the other students begin to file in. Some are vaguely recognizable faces, like that guy with the mohawk or that girl with a birdlike laugh, while rest are an assortment of squashed noses and sharp jaws and droopy eyelids, people who recognize him from afar, people who never approach in the end. There is an unspoken line drawn between them and him, separating the prince from its people.

Chin on the scratched desk, Noctis slips out his phone and puts it on silent, knowing the misery of abandonment all too well.

N: hey P: morning noct!!! dude im so psyched for medjourn omg N: lol nerd P: no rly lol P: we’re getting pruvia drusus P: u remember that segment at 9? on 8tv? P: she goes undercover and infiltrates drug cartels, yakuza houses??? badass stuff???? armed w/ only a camera?????

Noctis searches the depths of his head for a semblance of connection to this Pruvia person, finds that he doesn’t even know the channel 8TV exists prior to Prompto’s yammering, and sighs.

N: no idea, sorry P: aw man u missed out big time. she kicks ass  P: cuz she’s gonna be teaching us this sem!!! N: what really P: yea man! special contract only this sem and first come first served, limited seats blablabla u know the deal

That mad dash Prompto did just to submit his form at the counter last semester? Bouncing on his feet the moment the registrar gave it a once-over and nodded? And that little fistpump he did at the end of it? Yeah, all of that totally made sense now.

N: is it too late to congratulate you P: naw it’s never too late!!! P: thanks noct!!!!

A loud bang and the lecturer abruptly enters, setting down a folder heavy with paper, looking like she’d rather be anywhere else than here. Noctis shares that sentiment too; he’s starting to miss his bed a little too much. Madam Yoshino Faustus is a middling lady with three large rocks on three different fingers and they glimmer each time she waves her hand about, the hallmark of a nobility gone rogue, throwing out the Lady in her to adopt Madam instead. He’s had her two semesters ago, an encounter in Introduction to Conflict Management that ended with Noctis scoring an A- despite slamming into classes an hour after she started, all thanks to his notorious oversleeping skills. Her squinting sweep over the entire room to take in the faces of her future victims tells Noctis that this semester is going to be even worse than the last one.

“Usus magister est optimus,” her lilting voice begins, and by the number of times she always recited that phrase in every class, Noctis knows it by heart to remember one thing: Practice is the best teacher, a motto she lives by. “All right, let’s do a little roll call, just to make sure everyone’s here today and nobody’s signing for their friends,” she drones on, consulting the name list of those registered under her class, a true veteran who thwarts every student’s attempt on playing hooky. “Albel Williams?”

“Here.”

Noctis turns to his phone when she belts out a few more names.

N: yoshino’s here P: same P: pruvia’s here too omg im pumped

Which means Prompto’s replies are going to get increasingly spaced out by the seconds as he enjoys Pruvia’s class while his best friend is withering away here. Great. Resigning himself to enjoy his own company, Noctis logs into King’s Knight. CONNECTING TO SERVER circles endlessly on his screen with pixelated Ray Jack, Kaliva, Barusa, and Toby marching to the beat, brandishing their weapons. After what seems to be minutes—when it’s only seconds, really, Noctis tends to exaggerate when it gets boring—he’s all logged into the game, scrolling through the dev notes and checking today’s quests. He harvests his Zell trees for free cash, a thoughtful gesture once-per-day meant to aid the newcomers, and then he goes to his FRIEND screen, where—

“Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum?” the lecturer calls out in a tone that suggests she sees him with his phone out. “Are you with us?”

Prince. Right. He really needs to make a special decree just for stopping people from calling him that in class. Noctis straightens up his slouch, looks her in the eye like a dutiful student and the proud son of King Regis, doing his perfected princely nod. One sharp bob of his head, not a timid two. “Yep.”

Something about her adjusting her eyeglasses begs to differ, but she exhales all the same and moves on. “Noleva Mai?”

—he taps to his messaging application and tries to hide his grimace.

N: yoshino saw me texting RIP P: yoshino more like yoshiknows

Noctis resists the urge to snort out of the imminent knowledge that Madam Yoshino might start chucking markers at him like all teachers do in anime, and sends out a last message.

N: lol catch you later then N: have fun with pruvia P: thanks noct! P: u have fun w/ yoshi-no-no too!!!

Swapping back to King’s Knight, Noctis checks on his mini friend list. There’s Prompto but he’s offline, as expected. Gladio’s never online unless Noctis is the one badgering him to go on a raid with him and Prom, so Barusa’s all greyed out on the screen like Prompto’s Toby. He scrolls a bit more, searching for a glowing Kaliva rocking a skull-tipped weapon and oozing sheer badassery, but. It’s all greyed out too.

Well. He didn’t expect that.

The lecturer’s already scratching her name on the whiteboard and it reads Madam Yoshino Faustus in case anyone’s a newbie, then she’s already jumping into the first chapter listed in the pro forma because that’s how seniors roll on their first day in the final semester, all badass and probably dying by the end of the term. Noctis swallows a groan, watches Madam Yoshino put up some drab slides of black text on white background, and turns back to King’s Knight.

It probably doesn’t hurt to text you before he puts his phone away.

TO: THE ARCHITECT FROM: NOCTGAR SUBJECT: [none] MESSAGE: wake up.

He only hopes you’ll get back to him soon enough.

the jump from high school syllabus to university courses is something most people spend an average of a month to synchronize with the rhythm of building properly cited reports and bookmarking journal archives on their computers. you are fourteen and you only had a week. a week of the pinch-faced man running his fingers over your documents before handing byron your necessary textbooks, listing out your learning outcomes from the top of his head, and diving headfirst into your workload. he is only paid to teach you, not to make you understand, so he packs his briefcase by eleven and leaves for his next lecture on campus.

this is how you learn.

at six you rise, eating breakfast thirty minutes later. by seven you are dressed and sitting at your desk, reading your texts in advance before the lecturers arrive. eight a.m. they enter, an assortment of he, she, they, names you do not memorize. lessons end thirteen hours later, interspersed bites of meals squeezed in between your lecturers’ arrival. byron cleans as you wash up, readying a dinner that you nibble in between glances of your assignments. the clock chimes twelve. sometimes you sleep on your books. most of the time you do not sleep at all.

flipping through ancient solheim and decoding the dead language, you occasionally catch yourself muttering under your breath. “i’m an idiot. i’m an idiot. i’m an idiot.”

byron stops fiddling with his feather duster and corrects you softly, a pitiful look in his silent eyes. “to me, you are the most intelligent person i’ve ever had the honour of meeting, milady.”

what good does intelligence bring you? it is a word that has lost its meaning. intelligence bring you crippling thoughts of no i can’t do this no i don’t want to do this anymore no i want to stop please. intelligence makes you jump at every passing minute, dreading the moment he she they step in, posing a question designed to unveil your idiocy. intelligence has your bed collecting dust, dust that byron obediently expels with zeal.

so tell me, what good does intelligence bring me?

you must’ve vocalized the question, for byron shakes his head and corrects you again. “milady, i never had the chance to go to school.” he meets your eyes like it is the most natural thing for a twenty-seven-year-old man to remain uneducated, while you are fourteen and too educated for the world to appreciate. “one of the men i worked with taught me to read and write, then basic maths once i know the difference between bemused and amused. my first salary was only 50 gil, so i spent some on books and veggies, and saved the rest in my tin can. by the time i had close to a few hundred gil in my savings, i bought this beautiful leather-bound diary and a pen i saw in this stationery shop, and taught myself some cursive from the old man at the bus stop.” with a voice that doesn’t quite match the melancholy on his face, he turns his back to you and resumes dusting your bookcase. “so please, do not think so lowly of yourself. you are worth so much more to me.”

all at once, you are ashamed. ashamed of yourself for whining at him for the scratches on your palms when he has welts on his body. you are fourteen when you realize you are blessed in all your misery. while it doesn’t make things any better with father pretending your existence is nullified, nor does it have the manservants respect you any better, you have byron.

byron who has nothing else left in life than you.

NOCTIS QUICKLY COMES TO THE CONCLUSION that the final semester sucks.

Four days. Four days is all it takes for Noctis and Prompto to find out that downing 12 cans of Ebony in 3 hours will send Prompto into a twitchy mess, then embarking on an adventure with marathoning four whole seasons of JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure blasting from the TV. Ignis isn’t quite pleased to find his stashed Ebony raided with no cans left to spare, though he refrains himself from berating them when they’ve finally finished compiling the report and slides for Strategic Management, a compulsory core unit both he and Prompto couldn’t ward off with credit transfer. Ever dutiful, Ignis takes up the task of sweeping pizza crumbs under the sofas, separating cans of energy drinks from plastic bottles for recycling, and pulls his sleeves to his forearms, banishing grease from the plates.

By the time Friday rolls around, Prompto’s draped over the cushion, a fine imitation of a corpse. Noctis, on the other hand, doesn’t recall how exactly he found his bed—or rather, his arm found it while he died on the floor. Over a box of cereal and some morning Malboro cartoon, they both agreed that the first week is shit—“Is that why all our ex-seniors looked like they died three years even before their final sem started?” Prompto asks aloud, then bursting into melodramatic tears when Noctis, in stately somberness, nods—and consoled each other with Ignis’ freezer-wrapped meals. When dusk falls, Noctis catches up on a solid fourteen more hours of sleep, while Prompto finally went home for the first time in decades.

Saturday. Ignis, bless him, decided to let Noctis sleep in a little past ten a.m. and only woke him up once it shows eleven on his watch. Gladio wants all of them back in the training hall for some ‘relaxed sparring’ to ‘polish on teamwork’ after ‘taking a long break’, a lie that Noctis could smell even if the Citadel’s miles and miles away from his apartment. Still, they picked up an unwilling Prompto from his house, sat through the crawling Insomnian traffic, reverse-parked in the prince’s underground bay, and ended up in the training room all the same.

Prompto is the first one to throw the door open, all singsong. “Gladi—oh.” And then he stops short. His hand falls off the doorknob like it burns him, jammed right in the pocket of his sweatpants. “Wow, uh. Hey. Architect. Hey, uh, Architect’s butler…?”

Ignis is only a step away from Prompto, a gentle hand landing on Prompto’s back to guide him into the training hall, spurring him out of his statuesque stand. The blond awkwardly slinks in with the Ignis in tow, who is all serene calmness even though he’s surveying the floor in great interest behind his spectacles. He, too, waits for an answer.

“Byron the butler, in case you forgot,” the mess of white offers, all smiles.

Something about that has Prompto paling faster than slapping a monochrome filter on a picture. Blue eyes are skittish, darting from one side to the other as he pulls the worst kind of smile that’s undoubtedly jumpy. “Uh. Right, Byron, nice to see ya again. And uh,” he nods over to the last party member, “who’s that guy?”

“Nyx, Nyx Ulric,” Gladio answers from the other end, as gruff as always. “Noct, get your ass in here so we can start.”

He can definitely count on his Shield to be an ass about this. “Shut up, I know.”

So. What Noctis sees once he finally reaches the hall are four people. It’s hard to miss out Gladio, so naturally he’s the first person Noctis picks out from the floor, a crooked grin on his scarred face as he waves them in. As much as Noctis doesn’t want to see your butler again, Byron’s there for who knows what reason, substituting his fitted suit for a sharp ensemble of button-up shirt and khakis. There’s also some uniformed Glaive seated cross-legged beside him, all handsome ruggedness with his hair slicked back, trailing down his shoulders in little braids. Presumably the one called Nyx, since nobody else fits that description. He has the look of a predator if Noctis doesn’t know any better, minute tattoos dotted under his eyes, and decked in too much leather to be just a normal guy.

Noctis lets his blue eyes stray from the stranger and drift up grey sweatpants and a shirt too loose, clothes that he’s long accustomed to. You. For some reasons, when he sees the smallish smile gracing your face and the familiar glaze in your eyes when he meets your gaze, something stirs in him. Something like a bad stomachache—no, that’s not it. Something like overeating and getting nauseous—no, that’s not it either. It’s something knocking inside him, asking to be heard, except he has no idea what it is. But it makes him conscious of the way he’s returning your look with a slight wave—then turning it into some weird wilting of his fingers once the deed’s done—and then turning into an awkward rub of his nape.

At any rate, he joins all of them on the floor, sitting in a crude circle, feigning ignorance at your keen peeking every once in a while. It’s not like he hasn’t been talking to you in these past few days and it’s not like he’s ignoring you on purpose, Astrals no. Classes have been hard, sure, but King’s Knight bridged the gap between his physical distance with you. You texted him your training regimen, he texted you his day, you gave him pointers on how to draw up a report that netted him Madam Yoshino’s compliments, and he shared some room IDs for you to join his raids with Prompto. Normal, casual interactions, no red sirens anywhere, so he shouldn’t be on red alert like this. But it’s all a lie. If anything, it’s the way things are going that makes him a little too hyperaware of that persistent knocking in him each time he ignores your fleeting peeks.

Maybe he’s just thinking too much about this.

Things are normal. Things are casual. Things have been both normal and casual.

But things are different with how you’re here with Byron, finally giving up on catching his attention and turning to that Glaive instead.

Your friendliness is infectious and it doesn’t help that Nyx practically established no walls with you. He murmurs something, you listen, he murmurs a bit more, then you stifle a laugh behind your hand. Thankfully it hasn’t devolved into anything remotely touchy-feely that would’ve trespassed some borders for Noctis, but it sure as hell looks like the guy is a long lost friend catching up to years and years of chatter. And you’re all too honest with your feelings these days, smiling that same smile of yours at Nyx. That very same smile you were once reluctant to share with anyone else but him.

Noctis turns away, picking off the little thoughts overrunning inside like they’re ants swarming a crumb.

He’s being ridiculous. That’s what it is. He should be proud of your progress in making friends instead of feeling like he missed out on something in the days he hadn’t spent by your side. This whole thing is just all in his head and he should forget about it. His eyes drag over the opposite end where you sit, tracing over the docile quirk of your lips as words are whispered to Nyx, who turns it into a joke of some sort for you to laugh over. The searing flash jolting up his nerves is immediate, forcing Noctis to look away.

Yeah, he should definitely forget about it.

Gladio finally steals the moment by clapping once and Noctis is more than willing to fix the Shield his attention to end his thoughts. “All right, listen up. First off, meet Ulric. He’s a senior member of the Glaive—Kingsglaive,” Gladio tacks on a bit of an explanation once Prompto goes bug-eyed at the new term. “Elite soldiers who risk their lives to protect Lucis, Prom. They’re war veterans out there, fighting to keep people like us safe in Insomnia.”

“Too much credit, Gladio,” Nyx counters, sounding modest even if the mischievous grin on his face never went away. “Just doing my job. You guys must be the Prince’s entourage; Prompto Argentum,” he starts from clockwise, “Ignis Scientia, and His Royal Highness, Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum. Pleasure to meet you all.”

As Prompto and Ignis echo some pleasantries, Noctis can’t even bring himself to nod. Glaives are part of his dad’s legion of protectors even if the Crownsguard are bodyguards for the royal family. At the first signs of Niflheim’s forces stirring unrest outside Insomnia, the Glaives are the frontliners fending them off. On days they don’t get any action, Noctis knows some of them are tasked with tailing him from afar if he’s out in town, harnessing the power of the Crystal through his dad just to make sure they remain out of sight by scaling walls and such.

So what’s he doing here?

Unfortunately, Noctis finds no answer as Gladio moves on.

“And this guy right here,” the Shield thumbs at Byron, who’s gone ahead and braided his hair out of disinterest at the droll conversation, “is Byron, the little lady’s butler. Think of him as the older, pissier Iggy.”

“Flattered with the description.” Unconcerned, Byron continues braiding his ponytail like it’s the most natural thing to do, elegant fingers deft with its handiwork and twining one lock after another. You hide a smile behind your fingers, though it doesn’t escape Byron’s watchful eyes as he huffs not unkindly. “It means there are at least four levelheaded people in this ragtag band of,” he searches the ceiling for answers, “young adults. Young, moody adults.”

Is that a jab at him? Whatever it is, it has Noctis scowling after taking the bait, arms crossing over his chest. “As if you’re not a young adult yourself.”

Byron makes an expression of dramatized outrage, clicking his tongue like a mother hen, severely scandalized at the thought. “What a compliment, I must appear younger than I look. With all due respect, Nyx and I are the only full-fledged adults around here. We’re both well over our thirties.” He draws up his chin in disdain, sneering Noctis’ way. “The lot of you are simply children to us.”

Thirty—Noctis almost sputters at the words crossing his mouth, but Prompto groans and presses a hand to his forehead. “Gladio’s right,” he grumbles, “Byron is an older and pissier version of Ignis. Ugh, talk about two Iggies.”

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing,” says Ignis ruefully. He gestures to the rest of the members of this odd gathering, himself included, and inclines his head towards Nyx—who, by now, is already taking in their exchange with a wry grin of his own. “Do forgive them, the children can be quite excitable in presence of new companions.”

Nyx props his head up and clears his throat, eyes bright. “Nah, not at all. Just happened to be assigned for patrolling in my new roster and heard loud noises—weird loud noises,” he corrects himself, nodding your way, “and the rest is history. Nowadays I just check them out every now and then to make sure they’re not getting into trouble.”

“You got the small kid to blame for the weird loud noises,” Gladio heartily thumps your back as you vibrate from the sheer force of it, scowling Byron’s way.

“Well, I wouldn’t have made those ‘weird loud noises’ if someone wasn’t trying to detach my spine from my hip.”

Byron deflects your lethal glare with the look of a customer service representative sent to deal with a particularly pesky customer, never once acknowledging the blame. “Milady, you’re as flexible as a plank. You need to stretch more.”

“Pretty sure there’s a difference between helping and attempting murder,” you rebuke as Gladio turns his sympathetic back-patting into comforting head rubs instead. “What if I broke something and had to go to the ER?”

To which the shameless butler rolls his eyes and pretends examining the twines to his braid a far greater issue than your metaphorical dislocation. “You’re being overdramatic. Nyx, do me a favour as a fellow old man and tell her she’s being overdramatic.”

“I’d say no to the part with the old man,” Nyx shrugs at the betrayal, “but yes to the overdramatic part. It is what it is.”

Hopelessly ganged up by the two men, you sulk under Gladio’s petting and wither. “Gee, thanks guys. Real nice of you.”

Ignis surveys the friendly banter with raised brows, though he ventures no further on the matter. Prompto looks like he doesn’t know if it’d be his place to join in when Byron’s involved, and Noctis kind of gets what he’s thinking. The last time Byron meddled, things ended as well as someone’s funeral. Their collective silence works out for Gladio since it gives him a chance to lay out his plans for the day, starting from the not-so-subtle looks he’s been tossing Noctis’ way.

“All right guys, enough chitchat,” Gladio brings everyone to attention once again. “The reason why I called you all here today is because,” he gives a sharp look to Noctis, “Noct, we’re gonna give it a shot with attuning her to magic today, see how well she takes to it, and decide where she goes from there.”

And Noctis couldn’t help the way his brow arches automatically at that. “So that’s why you called me out here?”

“Ya got any other sibling out there who’s also the prince?” Gladio scoffs. “Of course you gotta do it, dumbass, she’s yours.”

His, huh?

That sounds nice for a change.

“Ohhhh boy, I’ll go grab The Bucket™ real quick,” Prompto groans, dragging a hand over his face as he scrambles to his feet. Met with your confused gaping, he only finger-guns your way and flits from the circle, rushing towards the showers. Cue clanging sounds, startled jumps, and epic sounds of scuffling before the blond emerges with a steel bucket dented at the side. He sets it down in front of you coolly, much to Nyx’s amusement.

And you’re all but fingering the suspiciously empty bucket at the rim, stumped. “What’s this for?”

Noctis knows what that’s for. Hell, Ignis and Gladio were both well-acquainted with The Bucket™ at some points, but they’re very much disinclined to acknowledge The Bucket’s™ existence since all it does is bring back bad memories. Bad memories of puking uncontrollably, Ignis wiping his mouth and hunching over The Bucket™, Prompto dropping dead into a faint after just touching Noctis, and The Incident That Must Not Be Named™ involving Gladio stumbling like a newborn anak fawn all across the training hall.

Well. This should be interesting.

“Not everyone can handle magic, even in trace amounts,” Nyx explains much to your gratification, fingernail tapping against the steel handle knowingly. It sets you into a mode of perpetual alarm, breathing shallowly, and Nyx chuckles even louder. “Calm down, you’re not gonna die or something. The worst that could happen is puking,” he lists off his fingers, “fainting, disorientation, or maybe all three.” He stops at the sheer horror crossing your eyes, shrugs, and finds it appropriate to add, “For a few days, I guess. We still have newer Glaives who puke when they land after warp-strikes, so that’s another case. Can’t get used to the thing if you don’t practice daily.”

Usus magister est optimus, the Yoshino in Noctis parrots. Practice, practice, and more practice. Practice even when he’s sick, practice even when Gladio served his ass in three different flavours, and practice even when his legs had failed him.

“Warp-strike is the thing where,” you chew on your bottom lip, all frowns, probably recalling the number of times he inadvertently showed you the move through his many practices, “you kind of throw your weapon somewhere and just—just end up warping there, right?”

Huh. Noctis just can’t help but to nod along when you throw a furtive glance his way as if confirming that’s the thing, right? At least you had been paying attention to him, that’s for sure. His skin prickles at the intriguing thought.

“All Glaives can warp since we utilize King Regis’ magic, and he’s strong enough to lend us his strength. Think of His Majesty as a conduit, it’s easier that way.” Nyx tilts his head over, lazy eyes ghosting over Noctis. His hardening stare threatens to expose him, yet he says nothing and is content to pick up the briefing where he stopped. “His Highness over here is also another conduit, but he’s only serving his retainers for now. So if you wanna get good, get practising.”

“It’ll also help if you haven’t had your breakfast,” Ignis points out, a knowing glint in his eyes. That’s definitely talking from experience right there. “If you’re rather famished by now, then it might be wise for us to begin right away.”

Byron finishes his braid with a bauble hair tie procured from his pocket, snapping it into place. He cycles through everyone’s expression for digestion and comes to a conclusion. “Since that’s everyone’s consensus, then we should start, milady. The sooner you start puking, the better, since I can clean up your mess before I start on lunch.”

“Someone has his priorities right,” Ignis agrees, meeting Byron’s eyes with a grateful nod sent his way, and Six, is his Advisor seriously getting along with the creep for your butler? Today is so not Noctis’ good day. “Come along now, Noct, hold your hand out to her. And you, Architect, do us all a favour and give Noct a hand.”

Prompto hoots and slaps Ignis’ back, who looked oddly pleased with himself for thinking up that one. Ugh. Whatever. He needs to get this over with. Noctis scoots over to where you sit at the same time you shift closer, both meeting at the halfway point. With all his friends and some random Glaive grinning wildly at the side, it feels a bit weird to do this—but not in the way where it’s getting uncomfortable—just slowly getting there, somewhat. It’d be better if he had some privacy in the first place for concentration, but he can’t be too picky with how the circumstances are playing out.

Theoretically, the Crystal’s magic seems can be condensed into the simple concept of eating. Right now, he’s simply letting you have a taste of the magic, just a lick or two for your tongue to learn the flavour. Later on when you’re much better off at it, you’d be able to eat all you want through him if you’d like it. And him? He’s not the one eating from the Crystal. The Crystal is the one eating him like how it ate his dad alive.

Everyone knows how it is, everyone saw how he hobbles with a cane for a crutch.

The spiderweb spreading on his father’s right, uprooting the little pale canvas he has to offer, says enough to Noctis that the doctor isn’t going to announce his cause of death as a natural cause. What little magic Noctis could afford to channel to his friends isn’t enough to let him share his dad’s burden. But he’ll get there sooner or later once the ring is sitting on his finger, once his friends are part of the council, once you’ve succeeded your father.

To start that off, you need this.

You need him.

Noctis holds out his hand to you, the standard procedure of channeling the Crystal’s magic through him as the conduit, and he can’t say he’s surprised when a familiar ice grazes his palm. Fingertips, as cold as The Glacian’s touch. He’s felt this before. The first time you brought his hand up to your face, letting him wrap his slim digits around your neck, icy manacles of your hands draining the warmth from his wrist. Do you still remember that day? He can’t tell, not when you’ve gone ahead and wiped the emotions clean from your face, slotting your palm over his.

“How romantic,” Byron drawls. “Romance movie of the year, ten out of ten.”

Gladio snickers and that asshole for your butler is smug with his achievement of riling the prince. Noctis makes a mental checklist to deck Byron later, just to demonstrate why he’s the Prince of Pain. Unaffected, you just side-eyed Byron as though you’re long used to his assholery, turning back to a pink-dusted Noctis. “Don’t mind him, Prince, he’s always a jerk.”

“Glad you’re suffering with me right now,” he snorts, earning some sort of a quiet huff of amusement under your breath. Once the racket settles down, he closes his eyes and lets the darkness reach out to him. Time to get his act together; it’s been a while since he’d done this. Hopefully soon enough, he’ll get to guide you through this without messing up. “All right, first thing you wanna do is close your eyes.”

“Ugh. Cliché.”

“Shut up Byron,” he hears you chide, Gladio cackling appreciatively at the unnecessary commentary. “Ahem. And then what, Prince?”

“Uh. Make yourself calm, at ease. Stuffs like that.” Totally not helpful, not that he’s good with words, but he’s been told that’s how it goes the last time he did it with Prompto. “When you feel calm and focused, then it’s a lot easier for you to reach out and feel things.”

“I…dunno Prince, all I’m feeling is how warm you are.”

That’s it? He must’ve been out of practice over all the months, damn. He catches Gladio muttering she said warm, huh? somewhere to his side, probably to Byron, and your butler’s snickering at you and him, totally getting a kick out of this. Champions of backseat everything, his friends. And your butler too, can’t forget about that. What are they, prepubescent kids? Clearing his throat, Noctis tries again, curling his fingers over the back of your hand. “Okay, try to concentrate on picking up something. Anything. Not the noise, not the warmth, just—“

“—like you’re trying to grab fish in the river,” Prompto pipes up to his left.

“No, it’s different,” Ignis points out, “it’s a transient feeling unlike any other. Almost like oxygen, it’s there, but it’s not seen to your eyes. Yet, it has always been there from the start.”

Noctis cracks his eyes open just a sliver before closing them again. “Guys, not helping.”

“Think of electricity,” Nyx supplies helpfully, and that’s more of an accurate description of the Crystal’s magic more than he could ever describe to you. Leave it to the pros to tell you how it is. “Flash of electricity, tingling under your skin and in your nerves. There should be a buzzing sound if you concentrate hard enough, and that’s the sound the Crystal makes. Like someone humming off-key, enough to make you aware of its presence, but low enough to fade into background noise. Think of blues and violets, if the colour helps you to imagine things. Put together that feeling and the electric colours when you search deep inside yourself.”

His lengthy explanation has you tightening your hold on Noctis’ hand, seizing him softly. In this darkness, he sees nothing. He hears nothing, once everyone falls wordless. Just like this, true to Nyx’s words, the Crystal’s distant hum beckons him, speaking in tones unintelligible to the human ears. The Crystal sustaining protection in Insomnia, the duty he carries as a prince to his people, everything as the Astrals ordained, bestowing salvation upon mankind, and so much more. Spikes of electric magic whizzes past, an ECG reading peaking from a flat, amaranthine bursting into blue—

—you squeeze his hand until pinpricks of pain sets in, and a gasp.

Noctis opens his eyes just in time to catch the dusts of magic reflected in your eyes—only, they are not blue, not his blue.

They are an infernal scarlet searing the blacks of your pupils.

He’s never seen that before.

And when you fall, he almost forgets to catch you.

titan, the archaean, steadfast as stone. ramuh, the fulgurian, sharp as lightning. shiva, the glacian, gentle as snow. leviathan, the hydraean, relentless as tides. bahamut, the draconian, unbending as iron. ifrit, the infernian, fickle as fire. since time immemorial, they have watched over eos.

cosmogony; the hexatheon.

EVERYTHING IS BURNING. The ground, the trees, the skies. Darkness and dust intermingle, clouds of smoke choking your mouth, scorching your lungs. Dry air strips moisture from your mouth. Nothing is alive, everything is razed to the ground. An abject sight of flames fanning over the hills, smothering steel into liquid. The blistering heat stings your skin and beads of sweat roll off your chest, but you do not care. Not when euphoria courses through your veins, rattling your fingertips with the intoxicating feel of victory. You throw your head back, scanning the melting horizon, searching for survivors that you know there wouldn’t be any.

You’ve made sure to eradicate every single one of them.

Down to their very last breath.

Wood crackles with fire gnawing through its crusty flesh, felling branches here and there. There is a sound, a displaced sound different from the rest. Footsteps. Heavy, booted footsteps, an uneven gait you’ve come to love and revere. You do not turn when arms snake around your waist, pulling you against a wall of bare chest. Liquid heat on your back, grimy hands leaving smudges of black across your torso, laving your flesh with ardent skims of flat palms and fingertips tracing circles on your skin. Something grazes your nape and ever pliant, ever worshipful, you tilt your head aside, broken, exposing your neck.

Dry lips descend on your skin, followed by a sharp nip of teeth, marking you.

This, right here in his arms, is where you belong.

Marked. Safe. His.

“We did it,” he murmurs throatily, and you groan your approval when his touches turn desperate, when his nips turn into bites, “we stopped them. You and me, just the two of us, we took them down.”

“Yes, yes we did,” you whimper, finding it hard to concentrate when he thumbs at your waistband, toying with the elastic. He restrains you tight, just like this, almost punishing in his strength—not that you mind it. You love it. You love him for the warning scratch of his fingernails digging through your skin, red welts rising from your unbroken skin. You love him for the way he runs his tongue over your earlobe, nipping at the shell, breathing hard in your ear. You love him even when he lunges a trident through a beautiful blonde, spattering her blood across his cheeks.

He buries his nose in your hair, inhaling with a ragged breath. “I love you.”

You know he means every word, for he loves as easily as he kills.

Eyes lidded, head resting against his chest, your hands dance across his fraught forearms and tangle with his fingers, filling in the gaps in between. This is a space made for you, meant for you, and nobody else will hold him like you do. He loves you. He completes you. He is you. Slowly bringing his hands to your face, you leave kisses on the bruises littering his knuckles, reverent. He is your Eos, he is your God, he is your King, and he is your Prince. He moulds you by his own two hands, filling the cavity with flowers for your lungs and honey in place of your blood. He deserves this corpse you call your vessel, down to your very last breath.

I love you is on your tongue, licking a stripe across his finger.

And he knows you love him too.

Turning in his arms, you crane your head to meet his heady gaze. Oh so wrecked, he stands stoic as his eyes bore into yours. Your sweet, wretched prince. Mirrored by the flames, there is a corrosive yellow to their quality, eroding his innocence. There is nothing innocent about him anymore. Gone are the Galdin blues; he has the eyes of the gold coins lost in the sea, a ring of scarlet rimming the edges. He’s beautiful, just as beautiful as the fire he starts. You cup his blood-crusted cheek and he leans into your touch, long black lashes fluttering in bliss, breathing his approval. His hand joins yours, holding you in place.

This is the world you ruined together with him, and there is no place better than Hell for the damned.

there once lived a man, born to a mortal but blessed with powers divine. conjuring a collection of glaives he dispelled the darkness plaguing our star. as a reward for his efforts, the god granted him a holy stone—the crystal, which he was to guard at all costs, for it would one day choose a king to see us through the coming disaster and lead us to salvation.

cosmogony; the crystal.

THE GLAIVE KNEW. Just one look and he knew. Noctis knows that look from anywhere—it was the same look everyone had when he strolled along in wheelchair, head downcast, never acknowledging the sympathy in their eyes. The fact remains that he isn’t as strong as King Regis to grant his entourage the same strength and magic the Glaives enjoyed. Yet in an effort to save face, Nyx withheld the judgment of a pro and offered your thoughts something else to ruminate. But what’s done is done. Noctis knows where he stands and it will never be on the same pedestal as the rest of the Glaives.

In the beginning, all was well. He was a child, but he was a prince, first and foremost. Afforded the luxuries many couldn’t ever since he could remember, but never the freedom other children had. “A prince shouldn’t dillydally shillyshally,” his tutor would click her tongue in disdain, brandishing a pen this way and that, marching up and down his room as Noctis pretends to be deeply engrossed in Lucian history just so she’d fade into a blur like one of the many wallpapers in his room. They all come and go just to stuff him full of knowledge as if education is a simple process of boiling textbooks into soups for him to devour. No matter how much they bore him to tears, they’ll never admit what they see: A young prince, hungering for the sun on his skin than the pages on his fingertips.

But he was weak.

After all, princes have to follow their father’s steadfast steps.

So what good was a prince who couldn’t walk?

Noctis has his back to the icy wall, but the scar on his spine burns white hot. He could just reach for it if he wants, searching under his shirt, feeling for the ridge where skin turns plastic.

Marilith.

His first taste of death came in a pool of red. Then came fear, shrouding him unlike any other fear he conquered. This was the monster under his bed, and it came for him. This was what it meant to be the prince of a kingdom, a price he paid in blood. This was death, and it wanted his life. The Crownsguard were diced into proportions by the Marilith’s blades, their coffins being the cars they drove in. Dying in place of the prince was regarded as the utmost honour one could hope to attain, but what good will a gold medal do to an empty coffin whose mangled corpse couldn’t even be retrieved? Nothing.

Things could’ve been different had Noctis not encountered that daemon. He replayed this scenario repeatedly, holding up the record to the sunlight to examine it in different angles as though a newer truth might unveil itself and undo what has been done. In another world, he never would’ve had to be wheeled around as an invalid, shoulders bearing the sympathies of many. Queen Sylva is never a casualty and Lunafreya wouldn’t be robbed of her parents, of her brother’s independence, leaving her as Niflheim’s prisoner. He never would’ve pushed everyone away just so they’re safe, safer where they are not a smudged scarlet on the floor. His nanny was an unforgettable example.

Anyone and everyone serving the royal line will be sacrificed for his safety. The Crownsguard, the Kingsglaive, the militia and the mass, all reduced to one thing: A fodder for his safety. Including his retainers, his friends. Ignis, Gladio, Prompto.

Ignis had been a staunch devout of an educationist in the very beginning. Graduated the top of his class in the Royal Academy during his earlier years, groomed into what they wanted him to be: His personal advisor. On paper, that is. In reality, Noctis craved the human touch Ignis possessed through their first handshake. Though duty remained a permanent distinction separating their friendship, Ignis isn’t as much as a stickler he could be at times. He’s the brain behind their nightly escapades out of the Citadel while Noctis is the brawn—or the one persistently convincing Ignis that it’s a good idea and they’re never going to get caught, thanks to his meticulous mapping of the Citadel’s hallways. They clambered through open windows, snuck past guards, and crawled in metal vents just for that small reward of the stars studding the night skies. And perhaps, for Ignis himself, the reward truly lies in Noctis’ brilliant smile.

Then there was Gladio.

Every swordsman marches into battle with a shield, just like how his dad has Clarus. The Amicitias, a lineage of Dobermans on a leash. All hard edges and buzzed haircuts, barking at Noctis’ shadow to pick up his pace. “Again,” he’d snarl after tossing Noctis into the air like a softball. “Again,” he’d groan when Noctis tripped over his parries and introduced his face to the hardwood for the umpteenth time this week. “Again,”, he’d scowl as the TV screen burns red with K.O. and Noctis fistpumps the air, seizing victory for the fifth time in a row. Again, and again, and again. They fought. They made up. And they fought again. Gladio gave him none of the niceties as his Shield. His reproaches bruised Noctis both literally and figuratively, hitting his body blue all the way to his heart. He’s nothing like Ignis’ thoughtful insights into Noctis’ tantrums, but strangely, Noctis doesn’t think he needs a second Ignis. Gladio’s okay just the way he is, all bites and barks and bruises too.

Along came Prompto.

His favourite animal? Chocobo. Favourite game? Assassin’s Creed, but he still can’t decide between Black Flag or Origins. His favourite subject to photograph? Noctis. Prompto jogs every morning, works part-time at the camera store up the City Square, eats all Noctis’ leftover greens. He’s the epitome of healthy living, an antithesis to Noctis’ snacks-and-soda galore. But the way the sun loves him, kissing his cheeks to leave freckles in her wake, bounding up the school gates to reach Noctis’ side, it’s a breath of fresh air for him. Nobody’s ever seen him like this before. Like they’re best friends from high school to university and more. Like he’s less of a prince and more of a person.

And then. You.

If he is the True King, then you are the Denied Daughter of the Andronicus. Unloved by your father, unrecognized by your family. Willing to be banished from the comforts a noblewoman should enjoy, retreating to the safety of the Citadel. But did you complain? No, you probably don’t even have time to entertain such thoughts. You’re too busy with chasing your dreams just to succeed your father, to complete your thesis, to live life unlike what you experienced before. You’ve smiled, you’ve laughed, you’ve made friends, and you’ve tasted what he offered. You swore to climb the ranks just to serve him. Who is he to deny you what you want?

Noctis casts a glance at your figure lying prone, head on Byron’s lap.

He knows the risk he takes each time he laces their lives with magic. All the fainting and retching as the average human body adjusts to the Crystal’s intrusion. All the hardships in the future that Niflheim brings. All the lives he might lose. It is a promise that his shared strength will serve as both protection not only for him, but for his friends as well. Senior Glaives commanded the Crystal’s magic through his dad, who also bore the brunt of sustaining the barrier doming Insomnia. The strain shows well enough through accelerated ageing and declining health, something Noctis had closely witnessed in the years that passed. The king suffers as much as his people do. Soon enough, it’ll be his turn. His turn to put on the ring and become the 114th King of Lucis.

And to do that, he needs to be strong, stronger than his father, stronger than the Glaives, and strong enough to protect everyone who risked their lives for him.

Such is the fate of the True King.

The first signs of your consciousness start with a sound, stealing his attention. A soft, weak moan. Noctis uncurls himself from where he’s lounged by the walls, perking up. You rose from your fainting like you rose from your slumber, all sleepy yawns while rubbing your eyes. Like nothing’s wrong, you pull yourself away from Byron’s dismayed fussing, batting off his constant mothering. Then, looking around the hall, he sees confusion creasing your brows, unanswered questions forming on your lips but never rolling off your tongue.

Only after your eyes travel from the high ceilings to the empty armours lining the walls, you catch him in the distance and beckon him over, mimicking a lucky cat calling in customers. “Prince—where’s everyone?”

Plodding over, he drops into the spot next to yours and reminds himself not to peer at your face unless he wants to get smacked in the nose again. “Nyx went back to patrolling. Prom’s at the shooting range. Gladio’s with Specs at the Royal Arsenal since they’re checking out the new shipment of weapons coming in.” After a beat, letting the information sink into your addled head, Noctis swallows. “Uh. Hey, you’re feeling okay?”

You nod, a little too enthusiastic, then regretting your decision seven seconds later. Swallowing down what seems to be an urge to retch, you doubled over with your arms wrapped around your midriff, trembling. “Um. No.” Muffled, but the suffering is evident in your wavering voice. “It’s – ah, a little too much to take in. Kind of,” you shudder, shoulders heaving with the effort of keeping it together, “just kind of – nauseous? Overwhelmed. Headache. Sounds, buzzing sounds like what Nyx said. Too much.”

With how things are turning out, the side effects are probably starting to kick in. Byron runs a sympathetic hand down your back, silenced for once, though the conflicting emotions on his face speak volumes. He brings you to a half-seating position, listlessly leaning most of your weight against him for support.

“This is truly a disaster, milady,” he mutters as your head lolls back into his shoulder. “You look like stale bread.”

Somewhere deep inside, you must’ve summoned the lasts of your strength to roll your eyes. “Thanks for the – accurate description, I feel – like stale bread too.” Momentarily repositioning yourself so you’d fit into the crook of Byron’s arm, you mouth words into his blazer. “What – time is it?”

“A little past two,” Noctis supplies. “You’ve been out for quite a bit.”

You make some indistinct noise in the back of your throat that doesn’t sound pleased, tugging Byron on his cuff. “Go – back, ’s close to father’s teatime. You can’t – miss it.”

Now it’s Byron’s turn to mimic your little eye-rolling, injecting it with a dramatic flair. “And whatever shall I do with you, milady? Leave you here to die?”

You can’t really die from something like this since Gladio, Ignis, and Prompto are living proofs on how the Crystal doesn't kill anyone. He can count on Byron to exaggerate everything. “It’s okay, I’ll take over from here,” Noctis steps into the conversation once again, knowing all too well that he’s standing on the ceremony of you vomiting your guts out—or whatever’s left of your breakfast if you took any. “Want me to take you upstairs?”

That is a line he shouldn’t cross if Byron’s around, apparently.

“We’ll manage quite well on our own.” Byron’s hand on your hip tightens just a fraction, almost imperceptible if Noctis hadn’t been watching closely. “Thank you for your kind offer though, I’ll be sure to be in your debt for several millennia to come.”

Drained from all strength to nag your butler, you throw Byron a mildly peeved look, shaking your head in exasperation. Noctis just shrugs when he catches your gaze, as if you’re apologizing on your butler’s behalf. A jerk, yeah, he knows that much because it’s nothing new if it’s coming from Byron and his prejudice against princes—or whatever that’s up his ass. Surprisingly strong despite his deceivingly lean build, Byron hoists you to your feet, wrapping an arm around your middle to keep your hobbles steady. You manage to wave your farewell like a disjointed ragdoll, one that Noctis receives with a chuckle and returns with his own.

“See – you in King’s Knight—?” you grit out, borderline wheezing now.

Byron, of course, pins you with a threatening glare with his lips pursed, and Noctis, well, Noctis likes pissing Byron off. So he nods as casually as he could, ignoring the well-aimed scowl Byron’s sending his way. “Sure, I’ll text you a Room ID later.”

They’re such simple, insignificant words that meant nothing to others, but they’re more than enough to make you smile for him—even if seconds later, you’re hurling all over Byron’s shoes.

[tbc.]

( ͡°( ͡° ͜ʖ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ʖ ͡°) ͡°)¡ intensifies.

1) so remember what i said about this going down the canon path? yea we’re doing a sliiiiight detour for pre-canon into omen route no takebacks now. for those who haven’t watched the omen trailer, you can do so by clicking right HERE! as much as i love the canon story, i can’t help but to wonder what’d happen if they go down the path of the omen trailer so here it is. pls stick around and watch as they ruin the world together (no). (DON’T WORRY I PROMISED HAPPY ENDING SO HAPPY ENDING IT IS). (BUT BEFORE HAPPY ENDINGS THERE NEEDS TO BE SUFFERING. can i get an amen for demon!noct in omen trailer.  

2) we’re going to delve into more of noctis and reader spending more time together (hope you readers don’t mind that) because this is the flowering arc for a reason. we’ll explore noctis’ thoughts and dilemmas and how it overlaps with the reader’s own ambitions and how they’ll work together as one. 8’) the next arc is going to be pretty. it’ll be fluffy. and angsty. and watch them fall in love with each other and pretty much go down the path of the omen trailer.

3) Hope you guys liked this long chapter, I couldn’t find a good time to cut off everything so here it is, roughly 9k words. (ALSO THIS IS PRETTY MUCH THE ENTIRE REASON WHY I WROTE LPC TBH, I WANTED AN OMEN ROUTE GDI, THE CONCEPT IS JUST TOO GOOD TO LET GO.) But good news is next chapter is super cute! And good news is, episode ignis is definitely going to ruin us all 8’)  

4) Thanks for all the likes and messages and the never-ending support for this fic, I truly hope you guys will enjoy the pre-Omen route, Noctis’ progress from prince to king, the eventual demon!Noct, and so forth. :D

5) I’m rather miffed at Tumblr’s image-inserting option as they no longer allow inserting pictures into the same line as text. It messed up loads of the chatting sequence that was supposed to be cuter with Prompto’s emoji stickers. Reading it on AO3 looks better tbh.

PREVIEW: Something tells him he should lament the loss—but the loss of what, exactly? He cannot truly have lost something if he does not remember what it is in the first place, isn’t it? Yet, the image you cast against a backdrop of fire is one of love, a severe attraction that ran for many months. It makes him forget he stands at the cusp of a shattered world when you stand at the other end, awaiting him with your arms wide open.

P/S: Noctis definitely watched JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure because his Ultimate Pose says so. JJBA is amazing.

[marie99-blog1]

four

My sexuality is something that has always been very important to me. Now I seem so lost. I had such enthusiasm for my sexual entity and I loved expressing that through humor and through action. But it always felt like I was playing catch up in my relationship. I guess you could say it moved to fast sexually but it didn't at least for me, but the sexual action itself was too fast. One second I was kissing him dearly and the next second my clothes were off and I didn't even no what happened. And every once in a while that is okay but that was my every time. There was no slow passionate kissing and him taking his time to make sure I was ready for him to come inside of me, he didn't care. He didn't listen when I said to be gentle, he didn't listen when I said it hurt, he didn't listen when I said I didn't want to tonight, he didn't listen when I said I love you but I'm just not in the mood. He didn't care. He was rough every time and I felt it to my core. I agreed to have sex with him because I thought it would be nice a break from his hands. I think maybe I should have spoken up more, told him more of what I liked but then I remember I did, he just wasn't listening. He had to not be, I don't want the other reality of him knowing what exactly what I wanted but him not performing that because it would take too long. And he wouldn't stop if I said no or it hurt too bad, he would only stop when he noticed I wasn't moving after a minute or two. That I was just laying there wishing my vagina wasn't so sensitive and it would hurt less. Wishing he would listen to me when I said this position always hurt, wishing he would have spent a little bit longer before hand, and wishing he would give me attention after we had sex. But he never did. He was so demanding it made me lose my sexuality and I never wanted to displease him so I didn't fake my orgasm, I learned how to do on command. You can only say it was in your head so many times. He made me prove my love to him through sexual favors and demanded I suck his dick when he didn't touch me. Not having him not want to touch me hurt mentality but at least it didn't hurt physically. I just wish he would had given me the amount of attention he gave me in bed outside of the bed. Maybe that's why I always gave up saying no because at least I had his undivided attention. Or maybe I gave up because I was too mentally tired to stand up for myself anymore. Maybe that's why he got so bored of me and annoyed at me and just didn't want to me with me anymore but still dragged me along. Because I lost myself. I lost my sexually because it was forced out of me and he drained every ounce from me. Maybe it was because he would try to do everything I wasn't comfortable in bed because he was testing me. Seeing how much he could manipulate me. Seeing how much he could touch me without my consent but with me giving up saying no. Seeing how much he destroyed my pathetic body. I can't even think about when I'll be okay with another man touching me. Trusting him with my sexuality and that he will give me time when I need it. I just didn't realize how much I missed the side of my sexuality till I was gaining it back. And I didn't realize how much I didn't try in the bedroom towards the end. I let him take control every time (because I'm too slow) and I let him do whatever he wanted. Not like it was much anyways he just tried to please me so I would agree to have sex with him. Maybe that's why he never left because I'm the only girl who would have sex with him. It's crazy to think he took my pants off and raped me on Sunday then I got him to stop by crying because it hurt so bad. Then that Monday he came over and demanded sex (which I know was because he thought it was gonna be the last time) which was pretty fitting because he didn't give two shits I was just laying there not getting anywhere close my usual forced orgasm. He just did his business and was done. Then on that Tuesday I broke up with him and he sexually molested me (his words not mine I prefer sexually assaulted me). It went along the lines let me show you I love your body so much and I said no and like usual he still grabbed my boobs and like usual I just layed there while a piece of me died then it clicked like the first time he raped me "omg I just sexually molested". He said "omg I just raped you" in November so he wasn't a guy for steering off his pattern. Part of me hopes one day he had a clicking moment again but it seems very unlikely since he's telling everyone he never forced me to do anything. Which makes me feel like one of my ex friends told him how I said he raped me. Maybe or maybe not, either way he'll always be a liar.