#and poor Gil nearly coughs up a lung

[softquietsteadylove]

can you write something where thena faints out of nowhere? some angst maybe?

love your fics, xoxo

Thena groans, waking up to the familiar feeling of an on-call bed under her. That shouldn't be right, though, because she's definitely supposed to be off by now. She's pretty sure she was headed to the parking lot.

A throat is cleared loudly.

Thena picks herself up, although she's dizzier than she expected herself to be. She sits up, though, looking down as she finds Gil's hoodie falling from having been laid over her. She looks up, and of course he's there. "Gil?"

He scowls at her.

Thena blinks at him. She's never seen that expression on him (at least not directed at her). "What happened?"

"You fainted, Thena," he informs her sharply, crossing his arms at her from the chair at the tiny on-call desk. "Just outright collapsed on the way to the parking lot. You're lucky I was loading up the bus when I found you."

Thena sighs. Not only is it embarrassing enough that she dropped like a fly, but also that she's sure everyone watched as Gil carried her back in here.

And that's besides him apparently being mad at her.

"I brought you back in on a stretcher, if you're worried about your reputation," he grumbles, taking his feet off the stool and slapping them down on the ground. "I wheeled you in because they're for people who are in need of medical attention."

Thena rolls her eyes, not one to take any sort of attitude lying down. "It's not a big deal, Gil. I'm sure they said I was perfectly healthy, no? Isn't that why we're in here and not in a room?"

"Actually, we're in here because I wheeled you here and asked Sersi to come check on you privately, so the interns wouldn't know."

Oh. That's...actually very considerate of him.

"And you fainted because you're barely cleared to come back to work, and you've immediately come into a 24 hour shift?" Gil glares at her--actually glares at her! "What were you thinking, Thena!"

"Well-"

"And I'm sure you haven't had enough to eat or drink," he looks at her, tilting his head to look at her as she holds the hoodie sitting piled on her lap over her blankets.

"I-"

"You're coming back from an injury, Thena--a serious one!" Gil stands now, apparently unable to take it any longer. "I mean, what if-"

"I'm sorry."

It comes out so small, almost like a squeak. Gil pauses in his anger and Thena is horrified to feel herself tearing up. She bites her lip.

"I know I shouldn't have," she admits quietly, toying with his hood in her hands. "But I...I couldn't take sitting around at home anymore. I couldn't take...thinking about it."

Gil softens, and he looks more like her Gil immediately. She looks at him and he nods, coming over and sitting beside her. He's nice and close, allowing her to absorb some of his warmth. "I think about it too. Nightmares?"

Thena shivers, "some."

He knows. He knows because he spent a good deal of time at her apartment while she was on leave. And while he was there, more than once he had to wake her up from a dream of being stuck under that car again. He'd had a few while sleeping on her couch.

Gil takes the hoodie from her hands, and her face flashes horror at the thought of him taking it away from her. He wraps it around her shoulders, though, pulling her to lean against him. "I'm sorry I yelled."

Thena allows herself the small moment, nuzzling her face against his chest. "No, I'm sorry. I remember how I felt when you came in from a run and collapsed right in front of me. I would never want to do that to you."

Gil holds Thena to him, kissing the top of her head as she threads her fingers through his. "Thena, that was the second most scared I've ever been in my life."

She leans her head up, pressing her forehead into his cheek, "I'm sorry, Gil."

"It's okay, Sweetie," he forgives immediately, because of course he does. He presses a kiss to her forehead and looks at her, "you're off rotation, you know. You should lie down for a bit. I'll take you home later."

She could just argue. She could tell him that they can't always be driving each other's cars to work. She could say that she just wants to go home and curl up in her own bed for another 24 hours. She could tell him her godforsaken leg hurts, for that matter.

Gil helps lay his hoodie over her again as she lies down, her head on his lap instead of the pillow. She drapes her arm over his knees. She has terrible sleeping posture for a doctor.

"You should sleep too, baby," she mumbles, already half asleep again.

Gil is in the process of just that, crossing his arms over himself with his back against the wall. At least his legs are stretched out. "Way ahead of you."

Thena tugs at the back of his shirt, then shakes the pillow she's abandoning in favour of his big strong/soft thigh. "'Hind your back."

Gil smiles, leaning forward and sliding the pillow up behind his back and neck as far as possible, trying to disturb Thena as little as possible. "Thanks, Honey."

[akampana]

Oh, oh, how about a Gil vampire lord and arty famous vampire hunter in a eternal rivalry for no.1, kinda Hellsing and dracula rivalry but with a twist

“I couldn’t live with myself, if I didn’t tell you.” Gilgamesh x Arturia Vampire x Hunter. Enjoy!

_______

Three bullets.

Two knives.

One vampire.

Arturia Pendragon clicked the cylinders back into place and brought her weapons up to her chin, the warmth of her breath misting the polished barrel. She was the only thing in this accursed mansion that had any sense of heat, as everything inside was either unlit, inanimate, or dead.

The small hunter cursed the winter. There wasn’t a poorer season for killing vampires than one that was as dark and cold as the night creatures’ hearts. However, she could wait no longer. For generations, her family had pursued the blood-sucking fiends, hoping to one day cease the plague that had haunted their lands. At last, it could come to an end. There would be no need for her little brother to learn to handle a gun as well.

All she had to do was put Gilgamesh to rest.

A sudden movement from the right had her fingers on the triggers, but it was an effort wasted. There was nothing but the creak of wood and a curtain dancing in the cold breeze. However, she was not too quick to drop her guard. The vampire she hunted tonight was older than time and just as wise. Tricks like this were not beyond him. It made his hunts more interesting, she bet.

"There you are, my love."

...

Too slow!

The Pendragon ducked to the floor just in time to hear his palm smash through the stone brick behind her. Aiming her revolvers, she sprang up like a gymnast, twisting midair to face the hellspawn.

Silver shot out of her gun, but she already knew it would miss. Vampires were quite the agile creatures, having shed their human limits in exchange for their souls. Even if Gilgamesh looked mortal like herself, the way he sidestepped fire at such a short distance clearly suggested otherwise.

The soles of her boots screeched against the floor as she secured her landing by chucking the revolver at her opponent. Empty guns were useless in fights that required all her attention, but thankfully, this one had extra utility against creatures of the night.

When a high pitched squeak more suited to a frightened pig passed her old rival's lips, she knew she'd made a successful play.

"A silver-barrelled gun? Ha! And here I believed you had exhausted all your options," the older one smirked, the skin of his hands hissing from the contact. "That must have cost your family the entire treasury, my dearest Arturia. Who did this once belong to, hm? Was it your father's? Grandfather's? Great-grandfather's?"

Arturia grimaced as she snatched one of her knives from her heel.

"Killing your kind brings quite the fortune,” she answered, as per their usual simultaneous verbal bouts. “I can buy a hundred more with the price on your head, Gilgamesh."

She spun the blade round her fingers to provoke him, stopping in a backhand grip.

"More of your distractions, girl?" he sneered, just a hint of irritation breaking through his haughty mask. "It will take more than parlor tricks to fell the likes of me!"

Arturia lunged like a fencer, weaving through his usual jabs till she nicked his skin, lamenting how terribly shallow the cut was. As her breaths began to labor, her eyes flickered to the hallway, debating whether or not she could make a break for it. There was no outmatching a vampire in a direct dance to death, but she’d already made that play. Gilgamesh was not going to let her go a second time-

A sharp hiss was the woman’s only warning before his hands seized her throat.

No!

Desperately, she fired the gun at his knee, but all it did was have him bruise her skull on the floor instead of the wall, flinging her around like she weighed nothing.

The woman kicked and thrashed, but for all her effort, all she managed was a slash to his face before he rid her of her knife. Black spots began to cloud her vision, but Arturia took aim even as her lungs began to burn.

She had one bullet. One final attempt to make sure no Pendragon would ever have to take up the craft again. She had to spare poor Arthur. Only six and already being taught how to wield a knife. Igraine was already planning to take him out to hunt foxes. Arthur loved foxes. God. She had to make this one shot. Just this last one. For his sake. Please.

It didn’t take Gilgamesh any effort to bat her gun away.

Arturia’s emerald eyes locked with those of her assailant’s. Her whole life, she’d trained for this day, only to still come up short. It didn’t matter, the thousands that had fallen to her technique. She was still no match for him, not even after all this time.

Her nails clawed into the skin of his knuckles as Gilgamesh dipped down toward her shoulder, no doubt preparing to sink his teeth into her jugular.

Was this how she was going to meet her end? So close to finally ridding the continent of every vampire there was? So close to liberating her brother, her entire clan, from cruel deaths at the hands of the immortals? Why, after all she’d sacrificed, after giving up her life to become a hunter, did she have to fail at her mission’s most crucial moment?

Tears fell from her eyes as she shut them tight, refusing her last glimpse of life to be the eerily perfect face of the undead.

His teeth scraped against her skin. A final torture before he drained the life out of her.

Arturia braced herself for the bite, her head screaming apologies to every person she was letting down. Igraine, her late father, her cousins, Arthur.

But it never came.

“You have done well, my queen,” whispered the old creature, his cold lips brushing against her neck. Arturia gasped for air, hacking and coughing beneath him, a million questions running through her mind. He quieted them all with his thumb on her bottom lip, freezing Arturia where she lay.

“I have endured several of your lifetimes. Each, more passionless than the last. I thought myself fortunate at first, able to experience every pleasure the world had to offer, but a thousand years can make even the sweetest fruit seem vile.”

A flicker of irritation crossed his sharp, eternal features, but it was quickly replaced by something Arturia had never seen before. The emotion swelled within his vibrant ruby irises, which glowed even through a night as dark as this one.

“Eventually, I saw this ‘gift’ for what it truly was: a curse, bestowed upon me by that loathsome snake an eternity ago,” he voiced cryptically, knowing this beautiful little girl would likely never grasp just how long he’d walked this earth.

The Pendragon stared up at him with those fiery irises he’d been fond of since the first time he beheld them.

It was exactly twenty years since the day she first came here. Fifteen years old, a mere child, yet one that possessed the gall to challenge him to a duel. He spared her that day, and she went on to challenge every single creature in the continent that had been turned, coming back every now and then for another shot at his head.

Arturia wasn’t anything like those that shared her last name. Her clan was stiff. Traditional. She took their knowledge, but did not stop there, taking various forms of study to hone her craft. She'd been to Ireland to study their methods. To France to understand alchemy. Three years ago, she nearly killed him with near-invisible wire she acquired from the east. Before that, it was a sword of fire. Today, apparently, she’d gotten dexterous enough dual wielding either guns or knives, when she hadn’t that skill prior.

Ever since they met, his days were full of excitement, anticipation for the day she’d return. Suddenly, he was always on his toes, rising at the first sign of night to prepare for her next arrival. His hunts were no longer mechanical, for he knew now that he and she were bound to cross paths. Where would she see him next? On a hike into the mountains? In summer, when the days were long? Maybe even at the local ball? There were so many possibilities!

About a decade into their arrangement, Gilgamesh realized he was feeling something he hadn’t felt in eons.

He felt alive.

But like most living things, he knew Arturia had a limit. And before she reached it, before his fun could be taken away once more, he knew he had to do this. What better time than now, when he had the opportunity to caress her cheek for the first time?

“However, despite how I’ve loathed my own longevity, I never want our duels to end,” he admitted, memorizing her face, counting her freckles, brushing his thumb against lips he didn’t dare kiss for fear of imparting his curse.

“You, wicked woman, have made this soulless being crave a soul, if only to meet you once more beyond the grave.”

Minutes passed in silence as Arturia registered his confession. The night did not conceal her expressions from him. Not the fear, the anger, the confusion. He witnessed the exact moment of her realization, felt her heartbeat quicken, saw the heat rise to her cheeks. At last, she understood why she lay under him and had not yet fallen victim to his fangs.

“Why are you telling me this?” she asked calmly, her voice strained, but clear. “Why now?”

“I have desired to do so for half a decade, I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t tell you...and I cannot die without you knowing that you are treasured beyond belief.”

Slowly, he reached for her ankle, where he knew she’d hidden her last knife. It burned his flesh as he grasped the hilt, rejecting the impurity of his being, but he persisted anyway, rejoicing in the sensation. This would be one of the final times he’d experience it.

“Wh...what are you doing?” she asked as he pulled her up to face him, placing the dagger in her grip and clasping his hands around hers. Even presented with the opportunity, it was no longer killing intent that resided within her eyes, only conflict.

“Without an end to one’s existence, love, the delights of what you call ‘life’ have no meaning,” he explained, moving her arms so that the blade’s tip rested just above his heart. “Therefore, Arturia Pendragon, I ask that your worthy hands grant me mine.”

He’d expected his death to be immediate, to happen as soon as he loosened his hold. Gilgamesh knew better than anybody what Arturia had at stake and who she was protecting. Hell, he was excited just contemplating what kind of life she’d lead, now that she’d been liberated of her family’s burden.

But now, when her goal was right in front of her, she hesitated.

For what seemed like a better eternity, Gilgamesh watched her stare into his exhausted red eyes, like she was engraving their intimidating splendor into her memory.

“Thank you.”

His death couldn’t have been sweeter.

[strayed-from-the-sun]

The Huntsman and the Knight

Waiting… Waiting…

The harsh sun's final hours were arriving and its brutal colors became an orange glow. The Keeper of the Moon was prone beneath a sand colored tarp high atop a well baked roof. He was motionless, still as a corpse with eyes fixed on the gates and roads into pearl lane. A pair of ice blue eyes scanned from beneath the tarp. He’d begin to slowly motion reaching for his paper.

One last look at his face.

The Moonkeeper had a good half hour left before his quarry would pass through here. It would be just them, no guards. No lights. The perfect ambush. He took this  moment to mentally prepare once more. Remembering the moments that brought him here. He spent three days alone studying the quarry and finding this ideal moment. He then remembered his contractor. That smug asshole. It was nearly a week before he took the job. Eliphas, another big name with a very big price on his head offered it. He’d never truly understand the magus that hired him. It was something the Enforcer of Ul'dah preferred to keep himself with his associates. He remembered the quarry.

Dimi...

Another Miqo’te, but this was an odd sort of Sunseeker. He was an easy mark to catch, too distinct. He learned the man supposedly came from Ishgard, and despite the outrageous claim it was very much a fact. He carried himself nobly, spoke like an Ishgardian, and skulked the nights and roads in armor not unlike most adventurers that come and go. He was very different, a stray amongst the crowd.

 Eliphas stated this adventure was a remnant of a client’s concluded business. A loose end of Adventurers that hadn’t been completely swept away. This adventurer, a knight, was taking vindication against the workings of the Syndicate underworld. It was honest and praiseworthy, but this was a business. 

Sami’ya wasn’t fond of taking a job like this but the pay was great, even if it had been from a snake like Eliphas.

Night fell and the window of opportunity was open. The streets of Pearl Lane were poorly lit for the night. This Dimi was likened to the cover of night and was on a chase of his own. Looking to cut down every conspirator of the downfall of his group. Sami could understand it, but he couldn’t fully sympathize. But the time to sympathize was over now. He was committed to hunt and he would see it through. ‘Bring him alive or dead. I dont care, I just need my client to know he can breathe easy again.’ Eliphas’s order rung in his head.

Sami drew his bow. His keen eyes quickly adjusted to the night. There he was. The knight appeared, carefully walking the streets. His darkened Ishgardian armor was heavy but the Sunseeker was adept at moving quietly in the street. Sami knocked an arrow. He wasn’t familiar with Ishgard armor but everything has its openings and soft spots. He spied a gap in the armor, Sami slowly crawled from the tarp. He carefully slumped up to a low firing posture. Dimi hadn’t spotted him yet, but the knight was cautious. He was aware there was something not right. It was too late, the hunter took his shot. The arrow hummed on the wind and struck the knight.

No good, the quarry turned and sunk into his armor but it wouldn’t be enough to pierce flesh. The arrow wedged itself in the abdomen of the armor between the chains and the plate which took the brunt of the shot. Dimi was quick, he grabbed the arrow to try and pry it loose but resorted to snapping the shaft in twain to keep it from impeding him. He reached for the flamberge on his back and turned to the direction the shot came from and spotted Sami who was in the rush. Another arrow knocked and loosed at the knight’s direction, this time for the head, but Dimi was able sidestep the shot. The knight charged forward with surprising speed, Sami had a lot of space to work with. He could see the path the knight would take, climbing on boxes and crates to get up to him. He loosed another arrow, struck in the shoulder but not deep. He was able to find a spot past the pauldrons of the knight armor.

He could see the fervent fury in Dimi’s eyes, but he was more than a leap away from being close, Sami’s instinct suddenly spelled danger, a shift in aether. He’d retreat to the next building and leapt upon it and found his gut to make a call. Dimi had leapt blade forward and struck it into the roof edge where the hunter was. It was terrifying. This was no ordinary knight if he could leap up and bury his blade into the roof in such a manner. Sami let off a shot hastily but it struck true, catching the soft part of the torso and digging deep. Dimi let out an audible grunt in pain. The shot was going to stop him for a moment but he’d still have plenty of fight no doubt. Blood trickled from the arrow’s shaft and dripped onto the rooftop and the knight took a second to evaluate the damage giving Sami the moment to retreat.

Sami spun around to climb to the next building, a quick leap off a ledge and a grab for the top and he was up. He felt another surge of aether but this time he hadn’t had the time to react. A crimson orb of energy struck him in the chest, suddenly bursting into thousands of needles many of which had run through his physical being. The sensation felt like a dozen small daggers pricking through his body in an instant. He coughed up blood and gasped for air in a panic but was able to recover in time. To his surprise the Knight had found a second wind and was at the chase again. The Sunseeker had been able to tear off the arrow from his shoulder and break loose the other. His armor was stained red now from his wounds but he showed no signs of slowing. 

Sami knocked back 3 arrows at once. There was no chance to miss. He pulled back and landed his trio of shots perfectly and the arrows dug into the knight. His other shoulder, neck and knee joint caught each shot and brought the knight down. Dimi fell to his knees, more blood dripping, his breath heavy and ragged. Sami could see it, the knight was in his death throes.

The knight proved his stamina once more however as a tumultuous surge of aether could be felt. The knight suddenly threw himself at Sami with ferocious speed. His eyes were different to the Hunter, noting the grayish blue hue was now a glowing red. The knight made a bestial growl as he grappled the hunter. Sami could barely react as the knight tackled him and slammed the hunter against the wall. Sami gasped in pain as his breath was forced out of his lungs. He recoiled from the shock of the impact. Again the Knight with what seemed like otherworldly strength would slam him against the wall, but there was less impact to it.

Sami was able to recuperate. He couldn’t break free from the Knight or reach for his dagger. He scrambled for whatever arrows he could grab and went for the neck. He jabbed and punched the arrow heads for his life now, thrashing as best as he could until the knight suddenly lost his grip. Sami kicked himself free as the knight stumbled backwards and collapsed.

Somehow the bastard is still alive

He cautiously approached the knight was more of a bloody mess now, Shattered arrow shafts and deep cuts from the grapple left the man covered in his own blood. Yet somehow the knight was still breathing, barely alive but held on. Sami stared down the knight. There was still life in his eyes, but it was fading. He watched the Miqo’te fall unconscious. His breathing was short till it was near stopped. Blood would trickle and pool on the rooftop. It began to drip over the side and onto the street below. The Hunter’s own breath was ragged but quickly calmed. He could feel every blow struck from the magic and from the grapple. He had been in many scuffles but few went as wild as this, at least with the people he tracked down.

Time was short for the Hunter, the window of opportunity was closing. He could hear the distant clanging of boots. The Blades were alerted to their fight and he’d have to leave. Sami gave the knight one last look. He could have made quick work and taken the knight’s life with a stroke of his dagger to the Sunseeker’s neck before fleeing, but he felt something.

This Dimi was a good man caught in poor circumstances and Sami felt respect for the man’s duty. He’d give the knight a fighting chance. Gil was gil and he’d still get his due. If the knight still walked, or was still eager to continue his pursuits it was no longer his problem. Sami collected his things quickly, he wiped the fresh blood from his hands off a cloth and would escape into the night.

[a-memory-of]

It was well into the evening bells; a fire had been stoked, a relaxing tea had been made. There was a soft scent of a low-burning candle wafting through the room. Ellere sat at her desk in the downstairs of her home, one elbow bent upon the wood, palm cupping her chin as she set about looking over her prize from the auction the previous morning.

Having already been gone from the clinic for more than a few suns, and having suffered one of Nafifi’s lectures for it, Ellere could only find the time in these late moments. It was a good thing, she thought, to occupy herself. Her mind had not been quiet, not since that night in Qarn. She flipped a page, the hand at her chin left to curl around the mug of her tea instead and brought it to her lips.

The book was old, there was no question. Those collectors at the auction had dated it correctly, she could almost guarantee. Sil’dih history, of course, was not her speciality by any means, but she knew enough. Normally, such a thing would not have even caught her eye, but, if there was one thing she was wont to spend gil on, it would be a book. And it would have been a shame to simply leave it there. The rich of Ul’dah did not have use for books. They went to auctions for shiny baubles and golden trinkets of status. Their loss, she hummed; only one other had bid against her, after all.

At a glance, the book was simply a medical journal, likely the property of a Sil’dihn mage or healer. Alchemical recipes, older ones, and some she recognized were neatly printed upon the aging parchment. Much of the information was no longer relevant, documenting herbs that Ellere knew could no longer be acquired. It was interesting all the same. But when she turned a page nearly midway through the book, her eyes widened in surprise.

There, among hollowed out pages was a small, leather-bound journal. Ellere furrowed her brow. The collectors had not mentioned such a thing at the auction. Had they missed it? She clicked her tongue, doubting they even had bothered to open the poor book at all. Instantly, she was far more awake than she had been when she had first sat down. There was a spark in her eye as she pried the little journal from its makeshift tomb.

Blowing off the dust, Ellere ran her fingers over the worn leather. There was a strange symbol engraved upon the cover. She tilted her head, untying the cord that kept the journal bound. It seemed just as old as the book itself. The first page was handwritten, and a quick thumb through the rest showed much the same. The letters were inked neatly, and the words spoke in a way Ellere easily guessed whoever had written them had been both highly educated, and well-versed in the arcane.

She felt herself lean back in her chair, taking the journal with her. This was far more interesting than any simple tome on ancient herbology. The text was personal, a diary perhaps. The owner spoke about their life, the people they met. As the pages went on however, the talk of war soon came up. Ellere hummed again; it was obvious of what it spoke of. Most historians, or scholars of worth knew what happened to Sil’dih, and Ul’dah’s own hand in her eventual destruction.

She could not recall of such a personal account ever being found, however. And spurred on by that thought alone, she kept reading. As the pages continued, she noticed how the once neatly written scrawl was slowly morphing. It became more hurried, ink blotting on letters. Even the way the writer spoke had changed. War and civil unrest, she supposed, would do that.

She read of the plague, a grimace on her face as the story of how the writer witnessed a young girl lose her fight against an illness, only for her body to twist and rise once more. Soon more and more dead filled the city streets. The journal spoke of chaos, of desperation.

Finally, the frantic writing grew dark. It spoke of a group that sought to turn the tide of the war. A group that had found the source, had learned what the mages of Ul’dah had done. And as Ellere read their answer, their idea of revenge, her eyes went wide. The handwriting had changed again. Letters took up much of the pages, the quill had been pressed into the parchment hard enough to make etchings on the next page. And then there it was, a name. Momomara.

Something crashed upstairs, a slamming against the wall that made Ellere jump from her seat. She set down the journal atop the book, waiting. The skywatchers had not predicted a storm. She knew better than to pass this on mere thunder. Only a passing moment more, and there was the sound of footfalls, many of them. Another crash, another. The doors leading downstairs.

Ellere cursed under her breath, there was no where she could go. She only had time to take one step back from her desk before several hooded figures descended her stairs, turning the corner and laying eyes on her. Some foolish thought had her grab for the journal, on instinct, if nothing else.

That got their attention. One raised a wand from under their cloak, and Ellere threw up a barrier but still felt a force throw her from her feet. Papers and bottles flew from her desk, shattering to the floor. She felt her back connect with a bookshelf, stealing the breath from her lungs with a harsh crack. She slid to the floor, books falling with her.

Looking up, the figures were advancing on her again. A glance to her desk where one of them had opened up the tome from the auction once more, and seeing the empty pit, and she knew her instincts had been right. They wanted the journal.

“Woman,” that figure said, a deep male voice, straightening up from the desk. “You test my patience.”

Ellere had to scoff, a small coughing like sound as she held her side, “You… you invite yourself into my home, and talk… of patience? Didn’t your mother teach you better?”

That had been a mistake. A wave of his hand and Ellere was sent crashing into the opposite bookcase. She gasped out, still clutching the journal to her chest. If it had been hard to breath before, now, now it was worse. Three of the others had closed in on her now, and all she could do was keep a barrier up. But without a grimoire, it was uncertain how long she could hold it. One of the men that approached slammed a fist into it as if to test it, before looking back to the only one who had spoken.

“First you meddle in my affairs at the auction,” he continued, slowly turning. Heavy-heeled boots clicked across her wooden floors as he took slow steps towards her. Ellere struggled back to her feet and she could only watch as with another wave of his hand the nearby furniture, a couch, a table, all were flung much like she had been. They crashed together, overturned by the fireplace. She swallowed thickly. This man. He was different than the others.

“And now you believe you can keep what is mine from me even still?” his voice almost echoed in her head. He stopped, just before the visible edge of her barrier, and the other hooded figures parted and moved away.

Ellere shook her head, knuckles whitening around the journal at her chest. Her breathing was labored, and speaking hurt, but still she refused. “I know… your type. If I let you take this…”

His hand shot out, sparking in aether against her barrier. And Ellere felt the breath steal away from her lungs yet again. She watched as her aether flickered once, then twice, and the barrier shattered. The figure’s hand kept going grasping firmly about her left wrist. Pain erupted across her bare flesh.

As he lifted her arm up, she struggled, screaming out as the skin under his hand burned. He used it to pull her closer, and Ellere felt herself nearly against his chest. Then there was only more pain. Her side erupted in pain, and the shock forced the journal to fall from her hands. As the figure let go of her arm, she stumbled back, looking down. Red was staining her tunic, she could feel the warmth seeping down her side.

Ellere lifted her eyes up, catching sight of the knife before her knees gave out. She hit the floor hard, gazing up as the hooded figure came into her line of sight once more, journal in hand. “There is no let, woman,” he hissed, almost sounding amused.

A gesture of the head, and the rest of the figures moved to retreat back upstairs. He remained, only a moment more, watching as Ellere struggled against the floor before turning and retreating himself.

Ellere lay against the floor, hand pressing against her side to try and stem what bleeding she could. Cursing under her breath, she tried to remain calm. But she needed help. It would not be long until she likely lost consciousness. Gasping out in pain, she tried pulling herself closer to her desk.

Her arm was in agony. It hurt to breathe, ribs she thought. The amount of blood was worrisome. “Alright, Ellere…” she breathed out. “N-Not going to die… tonight.” She told herself, and it became an internally repeated mantra as she crawled ever closer back to her desk.

It took a long moment of gathering strength once there to rise up and grip the edge of the wood. But her arm and chest screamed in pain, and she fell to the floor again. “Breathe…” she told herself, “B-Breathe.”

As she lay against the floor, her blurred vision saw the broken bottles, the mess of papers that had been thrown from her desk. And there she could see her pearls. She swallowed, giving a prayer in thanks of the one still within her reach.

Slowly, slowly, her arm moved out, still burning in protest with each ilm. Her fingers brushed against the familiar pearl, pulling it closer. “R-Ruran…?” she rasped out, quiet, voice giving out. “Please…”

[itshaejinju]

Family Is Forever | Chp 4 | FF15 Mafia AU

A/N: Sorry for not posting on Sunday, just was way too ill with the headache!

OCs in this Fic: @neko-otaku13 Evita is mentioned in this chapter! @fieryfantasy Sa’Van is mentioned in this chapter! @waifuthewhite Arabella is in this chapter!

Warning: Some blood | Word Count: 2,977

Enjoyed this? Why not help fund my therapy? Ko-Fi

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |

Tagging: @themissimmortal @stephicness @stunninglyignis @blindbae @rubyphilomela @cupnoodle-queen @lady-asuka @sweetchocobae @blondechocobobutt @ardyns-jabberwocky @cagedbycravings @inprotocreed @sheylann @mandakatt @misssarahdoll @mistressoli @neko-otaku13 @zacklover24 @waifuthewhite @fieryfantasy @insomniacapples @insomniasix @chocobabyporcelain @chocobropuffs @chocobroing @valkyrieofardyn @thirsty-angst-lord @nykamito @nyxswaifu @alicemoonwonderland @eternallydaydreaming2015 @roses-and-oceans @diadyn @promptoargentum-is-my-husband @promptoastandbutter

Chapter 4:

He wasn't really expecting the surprise attack from the Izunia's, Evita Hemlock and Lenore Graves to hit him with a gorilla attack. Nyx didn't do well against the two of them had he been with his partner it would have been better but Sa'Van was off doing other things. Really he didn't think he would need help just going to Fae Flowers to see Arabella to tell her that he had managed to solve her problems with the Family. It was suppose to be only a few minutes, that didn't pan out in his favor.

Evita and Lenore popped up out of nowhere their tag team attacks was was perfect to get him down it's not saying he didn't give them a run for their money it's just that his was a bit more dangerous. Evita coming up with smoke bombs and various poisonous grenades blinding Nyx's vision while Lenore dodged in snapping at him with her rapier with blinding speed. He was able to sneak in some return volleys as he Warpstriked to avoid further attacks from them to escape the area.

Nyx limped into the Fae Flower shop blood dripping on the floor of the white linoleum shop, the sharp smell of Styrofoam, roses, lilacs and cedar filled his nose masking the iron like smell of blood. Coughing a bit of thick phlegm coming out as his lungs were trying to vacate the grime it took in from the smoke bomb, his eyes normally clear blue looked red and patchy. His lip ring was nearly torn out in a spot as at one point the rapier had snagged it pulling on it roughly nearly tugging it out of his lip. He hadn't been wearing his suit jacket so the shirt and vest was ripped in spots exposing his back and chest with little nicks and wounds.

“Hello, welcome to Fae Flowers how can I help you to--- Mr. Ulric!” Arabella Fae shouted as she realized that the man before her is a bleeding mess.

“I'm quite fine I –.” Nyx said as he collapsed to his knees in front of the fresh batch of summer flowers.

“Oh no you are not!” Arabella called out her long blonde hair flowing behind her elegantly as she wore a soft cotton floral print dress that loosely clung to her petite frame.

Getting down on her knees before Nyx she placed a hand on his shoulder, soft blue eyes staring over at him concerned he had always been so kind to her since she moved to Insomnia. Arabella had enough money to open the flower shop she had been always dreaming of opening up and did well for quite a while until a huge lull in business hit. That is when she needed to also pay for protection from the Izunia's as she learned she was close to their border, getting attacked often to give them money or just vandalism of her shop. That is when Ignis Scientia and Nyx Ulric had shown up offering help from the Caelum family for a small fee, well the small fee didn't sound like much at the time as she was making quite a bit of money and it was needed of her to save her shop. But now that business has been slow for five months straight now 400 Gil a month was starting to be too much for her to afford on top of the other things she needed to pay for.

That is when Nyx came in he had been visiting a lot which Arabella thought was normal until a neighboring shop mentioned it to her that he was coming by way too much for a mafia member. They just show up once a month the associates show up weekly but soldiers not so often as Nyx being a soldier it is what made them curious. Her neighbor teasing her that Nyx had a thing for her, made poor Arabella blush like mad. Could he like her? He did offer to help with her month issues twice so far and here he was after she received some scary letters from the Consigliere of the Caelum Family about shutting her business down if she didn't pay the money.

“Let me help you, Mr. Ulric okay? I have a first aid kit in the back, let me flip the sign over first.” Arabella said popping up to her feet rushing over to the front door flipping over the sign and locking the first lock on it.

“It's just a flesh wound or two. . .I uh. . .saved your shop.”

“Shush, you are in a lot of pain!” Arabella ordered, not hearing what he had said as she  helped him to his feet.

Arabella brought Nyx to the backroom with her personal office, it was small and tidy sitting Nyx down on the chair opposite of her desk. The office just had a small desk, littered with receipts, scrap pieces of fabric she used to wrap up bouquets and a few flowers she was working with. The rest of the office was fairly bare in objects as the last time she had stuff of any personal value it got stolen and Nyx warned her to keep special things to a minimum in her shop. Pulling her long blonde hair into a bun out of her face, Arabella took the emergency first aid kit from the shelf placing it on the desk, unzipping it she was a bit nervous she had medical training but she still was always wary around wounds.

“Let me help you remove the shirt and such. . .will be able to heal them better than way.” Arabella commented, blushing at the thought of seeing him without a shirt, she couldn't deny a certain amount of attraction to Nyx.

As Arabella helped remove the shirt, she was quite in awe over all the scars he had on his hairy chest, some blood mixing in with the short shallow cuts he received from his opponent. She was curious as to what mafia member did this, she was also a bit too scared to ask. Nyx didn't wince when she placed a damp with rubbing alcohol cotton ball on his wounds. She expected him to growl and whine about it but he just let it happen, taking deep breaths.

“Don't have any potions on you? I normally do but I was in a hurry to see you so I didn't think quite ahead.”

“Oh those are too pricey. . .so just the old fashion things sorry, Mr. Ulric.”

“You know you can call me Nyx I've said it's okay like a dozen times so far.” Nyx chided her as he fiddled with the lip ring some.

“Don't mess with that Nyx, you'll rip it out.” She said batting at his hand gently away his hand.

“Did you hear what I said earlier?” Nyx asked a few minutes after silence as she gave him some cough medicine for the coughing fit he just had.

“Hmm?” She asked, as he turned to look up at her with concerned blue eyes.

“I got a reprieve for your shop, I got the money you need to be caught up for the rent you owe plus a little towards next month. So your shop is saved for now.” Nyx informed her, he was taking a great risk for all that he did for her, the use of pretty much all of his savings and getting in the line of fire from the Capo Familigia.

But he had a lot of feelings for her, he wasn't quite sure if they were love or not but he was sure that he wanted to explore them further with her. He just didn't know how to approach her or speak with about it because she was technically a client. In the of it Nyx was conflicted specially right now watching her carefully apply bandages to his wounds, a soft smile on her face.

“I really don't know how to thank you, Nyx. I really can't afford to take you out to dinner and I don't know what to do.” Arabella stopped what she was doing to tap a well manicured nail against her chin.

Nyx found that little move cute smiling broadly up at her, his heart thumping loudly in his chest.

“How about you come to my house after work and you help me cook up the dinner I have – there is enough for two people for sure.”

“Wouldn't that bother your girlfriend any?” Arabella coyly asked, as she placed a band aid on his forehead.

“I'm quite single. . .” Nyx said a slight blush rising to his cheeks as he gives her a coy smile.

“Then I think it would be quite nice to join you for dinner. Thank you so much for helping  me out.”

“Only helping out the pretty lady. . .”

Ignis was on his third cup of coffee in the library pouring over a crudely drawn map and some books he had found on the genealogy of the Fleuret family. Pushing his glasses back up his nose he heard the soft padding of bare feet on the floor, the smell of fresh coffee arising to his nose. Looking up he spotted Morana walking over to him, she placed the pot down on the table. Quietly she took two cubes of sugar from the jar beside his mug taking them with her fingers instead of the tongs beside it, causing him to roll his eyes a little. He watched as she poured the coffee a drop spilling onto the map she had drawn.

“Would offer the pot itself for you to drink out of but I think that is too uncouth for you, Iggy.” Morana commented as she poured in a bit of cream for him.

Ignis had all the rights right now to be wary as to why Morana was pouring him coffee and making it exactly how he liked it. Anyone beyond Gladiolus should be worried when Morana did something nice for them because that generally meant she wanted something or had done something that she was going to ask forgiveness for. So when she sat beside Ignis running a hand through her long black hair light green eyes going over the map with the notes he had added, he took a tentative sip, waiting. She said nothing, it made him peeved just slightly though because surely this was not some act of kindness from her.

“This map is fairly detailed.” Ignis commented, a gloved finger brushing over the sides of the cup.

“Well I spent a lot of time there so I guess I remember more of that shit-hole than I thought.”

“It also worries me when you betray us for another and remember such information that it will be our downfall. I will make sure to kill you for leaving.”

“Or entice me in ways I won't leave?” Morana snapped back a smirk playing on her face as she appreciated that Ignis never hid behind a veil like others did about her newfound loyalty to the Caelum Family.

She never gave anyone reason to question her loyalty since she became a Caelum but then again she didn't give them reason not to. Morana did put all her effort in her missions despite it might not always be to the rule she did get the job done.

“I think Gladiolus entices you in many ways in staying in bed at least.” Ignis quipped back, tapping a finger on a corridor on the map.

“You could always up my pay, literally 1000 Gil a paycheck isn't much to go by on what I do.” Morana complained.

“That is plenty, Morana. Now this corridor leads to the dungeon, correct?”

“Yes it does, otherwise I wouldn't have marked that door with the word dungeon on it. Would have been a waste of time don't you think?” Morana replied dryly, grabbing a sugar cube popping it into her mouth.

“So everything leads to this being Stella Nox Fleuret from what you've said and what I've learned in books about her. I want to learn a bit more before I speak with the Capo Familigia about it.” Ignis stated, leaning back in his chair running his hands through his tawny hair.

Ignis knew Morana wasn't going to mess things up and give him wrong advice he did trust her that much. What made him trust her was not that Gladiolus trusted her blindly as many followed what Gladiolus said when it came to people's integrity. She had countless chances to betray them that would leave the family devastated and she didn't, always taking the best route for the family. He tested her faith in the family several times and each time she proved herself to be a woman of integrity.

“So you are saying that you want to go about and question some other associates of the Izunia family for what they can squeal for?” Morana asked, propping her bare feet on the table top, frayed hems of her slacks resting on the table top.

“Yes, do you know of any weak ones we can target?”

“I do. A few in fact. . .I do have someone that I could chat up they are a bit of a informant for Izunia and a close friend of mine.”

“You have friends?” Ignis interjected, eyes wide as he turned to face her.

“I know it's quite odd that I somehow managed to collect a few of those strange things called friends. Not sure why they stick around, surely not because of my lovely personality.” Morana commented chuckling as she grabbed another sugar cube.

“Yeah I am quite clueless as to why they stay with you either, I often wonder myself why I consider you a friend.” Ignis replied a smug look on his face.

“What you think of me as a friend? What madness is going on in this world?” Morana barked with laughter.

“A lot of madness for sure, soon Ebony will only be decaf and Gladiolus will hate cup of noodles.”

“And that's when I clock out of this world. There will be too much madness for me to handle. It's perfect the way it is right now.” Morana hummed closing her eyes a little.

“Babe you in here?” Gladiolus called out entering the library, amber eyes scanning the room landing on the two of them. “Heya Iggy what are the two of you scheming?”

“Mass genocide and to overthrown the national regime.” Morana replied sarcastically, getting to her feet, walking over to Gladiolus getting on tip toe placing a kiss on his jaw.

“Good, always need a good dose of genocide and plans to over throw the rich.”

“You do realize we are richer most of the royal families? We have more control over the economy than the royal family does.” Ignis explained, chiding the two of them.

“They why are they the ones getting a lot of credit and love?” Gladiolus asked, wrapping a arm around Morana's waist pulling her close to him as she rested her head lazily on his arm.

“Because they do things legally and where we do things less than legal.” Ignis answered, rolling up the map trying to ignore how cute they looked together in each others arms.

“Anyways, Morana do you think you can help me with that? Since tomorrow is Sunday we won't be able to do anything. We would have to wait until Monday to actually do anything.”

“I can talk to my friend tomorrow they will be able to help me.”

“I assume you are going to bring me up to snuff with this conversation?” Gladiolus asked, curious notes hitting his voice.

“Yes, Morana you can tell him – Gladio might come to some help with this actually.”

“Well good I was going to tell him no matter what, it's not like we are doing anything secretive. Just infiltrating Izunia forces for information.” Morana laughed shrugging her narrow shoulders.

“Well babe that can wait till later Noct ordered us to take Prompto out on our Saturday night rounds.”

“Why are we taking that little runt with us?” She asked, rolling her eyes, hands on her hips a slight disgruntled look. “He doesn't know anything. . .”

“Exactly why, apparently training didn't stick with him and the Capo Bastone wants us to train him on territories more.” Gladiolus explained, stressing the title for Noctis reminding Morana that it was a direct order from the boss that they needed to accept it.

“Fine the Capo Bastone, picked a toy.” Morana grumbled as she agreed. “Let's go then, bye Iggy.”

“Put some shoes on why don't you. . .” Ignis commented. “I don't want to hear from the medical center about you hurting your feet on broken glass again.”

“I hate shoes. . .and really keeping a eye out on my medical visits, Ignis?”

“As Consigliere I need to keep a eye on where the money goes and buying you a pair of shoes is cheaper than the medical bills we have been dealing for feet related injuries.” Ignis spoke as she shook her head, tugging Gladiolus towards the exit.

“Sure Ignis I'll sure put on shoes. Ease that troubled mind of yours.” Morana commented as she waved to him.

“As much injuries you take in with Gladiolus I would wrap you up in bubble tape if I had my way.” Ignis commented to himself as the door shut.

[fortheloveofeos]

Meeting Him (Gladiolus)

My first Gladdy Story! I have some major love for the big guy. So, this story is kind of an intro to pave the way for part two (maybe some smut?). I can’t wait to get into this!

XXX

There was absolutely nothing like the smell of a grassy plain after a fresh rain in the morning. You sniffed the crisp morning air and stretched. It was going to be a good day. A little coffee, some hot breakfast, and you would be well on your way to an easy hunt and some quick gil.

[several hours later]

It was so not a good day. The rain from the morning had begun once again. However, this time it was like someone had pissed off the Astrals enough that they were trying to wash away the offender. You were soaked to the bone, your clothes a heavy sodden mess. Mud was caked onto your boots and your hair was every bit as wet as it would be if you were in the shower.

Six, did a hot shower sound good right about then. Sadly, you were quite a drive from Lestallum and you still had a mission to think of. You had come this far, no sense in backing down now. You were so relieved with the spiracorns came into view that you nearly groaned. Nearly. You weren’t that stupid and this definitely wasn’t your first hunt.

Carefully, you brandished the daggers strapped at your hips and stalked forward. All were turned away from you, focusing on something in the opposite direction that seemed to be winning their attention. Finally something was working out for you.

With a careful leap, you swung the razor sharp blades not much bigger than your forearms taking down one spiracorn before the others could react. One down, five to go. You dodged as another charged you, easily rolling to the side and inverting your grip on your weapons. Spinning, your blades found purchase in the side of another who hadn’t anticipated your moves. It staggered to the side, not quite giving up. You had this in the bag. Or so you thought.

A blue light caught your attention from somewhere to your right. In a flash, a young man with a glimmering sword struck the injured spiracorn sending it flying backward. Gunshots rang out from behind you and someone let out a battle cry charging into the fray. You were so shocked at the arrival of four young hunters that you hadn’t noticed the creature charging directly for you.

Thanks to years of training and practice, your body automatically moved. However, the large, twisted and jagged horn of the beast caught you in the side. You knew it was only a flesh wound - the point of impact not being quite right to have done any major damage, but the world lurched all the same.

You landed on your hands and knees, panting and gritting your teeth against the pain. Forcing yourself to stand, you forced your eyes to focus on the two remaining targets. A blonde brandishing an ornate pistol and a lithe brunette squared off against one. The man who had appeared from nowhere leaped at it from the opposite side, gaining its attention. The other creature was being attacked by a mountain of man with a great sword that seemed far too large to be practical. Still, he was alone and, although he seemed to be holding up quite well, you were proof of how the tides of battle could turn.

Adrenaline pumped heavily through your veins washing away the pain of your injury and pushing your forward. Thunder cracked overhead as you threw one of your blades into the creature’s long neck. With a grunt, you jumped, slamming the other into the side of the beast leaving a long gash in your wake. The giant took its head in another swing.

Without a word, you pulled the dagger you had launched from the poor creature’s neck, a wet cracking sound satisfying in your ears as you freed it. Sheathing your weapons, you let the rain wash the blood - both yours and the dead hunt’s - from your hands. Another step and your knees gave out. Without the excitement of battle, your body was losing strength quickly.

You vaguely realized you never hit the ground and instead was now being securely held against something firm and warm. “Iggy,” the large man called through the pouring rain. “She’s hurt!” Before your eyes closed and you slipped into the darkness that waited, you saw three men rushing towards you.

Waking up was sudden and painful. You gasped, air rushing into your lungs as if you had been deprived for some time. The sudden movement only caused the injury on your side to burn and ache with a vengeance. I violent cough raked through your body and you could have sworn you tasted the familiar tang of iron in your mouth.

“Easy,” a deep rumbling voice attempted to sooth you. Attempting to blink away the darkness that still plagued your sight, you realized you were somewhere out of the still raging weather. You were dry, or at least damp, and you smelled the comforting musk of a campfire. “You need to wake up,” the voice coaxed. “You have to be awake to drink the potion.”

You nodded, a feeble and weak movement that caused your head to ache. Strong hands gripped your head, lifting you carefully to rest against a strong chest that smelled distinctly of sweat, cinnamon, and musk - definitely not a bad smell. “Wh-what…” you started but was unable to string the correct words together.

Gripping a slightly glowing green bottle in his hands, the large man, the same one who had brandished the enormous sword, delicately supported you. “Sh,” he whispered as he tilted the bottle against your lips. “Just drink this and you’ll be fine.”

Unable to protest, you parted your chapped lips and swallowed the pleasant glowing liquid. Gasping, you fumbled with the hemline of your ruined shirt. Another set of hands gently helped you to lift the material from your body. You realized the brunette with glasses was crouched before you, watching intently as the skin slowly began to knit together. “The wound is too deep for the potion to fully remedy it, but a hot meal and a good night’s rest will go a long way.” He offered you a small smile before rising and turning back to a makeshift stove top where a simmering pot waited.

You groaned out a hitched breath as the potion continued to work its magic, the strong giant’s grip never faltering. Finally, after the potion had settled into your system and the worst was over, you forced yourself to sit up.

“Thank you,” you whispered slowly as you studied the wound. It was no longer open and angry. Instead, pink, fresh new skin had knitted together to close a large portion of it. Only a quarter sized hole remained and it didn’t look to be very deep.

Scratching his head, he nodded. “It’s going to leave one wicked scar,” he nodded to your exposed midriff. His amber eyes seemed to linger a moment before they traveled up to yours. “Gladiolus,” he finally said motioning to himself. “Specs over there is Ignis. The other two are - “

“Right here,” an excited voice called from the mouth of the cliff overhang where the campsite had been erected. “Prompto,” the blonde pointed to himself and offered a good grin. He leaned forward to get a better look at your wound. “Looks way better,” he commented.

The darker one sighed and pulled the blonde back by his collar. “I’m Noctis,” he said evenly before shooting the blonde a warning. “Give the girl a little privacy,” he motioned to you.

Your eyes widened and your cheeks burning as you realized your shirt had been pulled up to just below your bust in front of four men you did not know. Horror stricken, you attempted to cover yourself with your arms.

“Here.” You turned in time for Gladiolus to hand you a dry shirt that was definitely going to be more of a dress. He jerked his head behind him to motion towards the tent.

Thanking him, you took the shirt and hurried to change away from their view. You couldn’t help but wince at the blood that caked the outlines of the cloth that had once covered your side. Groaning you threw the shirt into the garbage bag lying just outside the tent. Now that you were covered and not on the verge of death, you crossed your arms across your chest and stared down the four before you. “You took my hunt.”

“You’re welcome for saving your life,” Gladious snickered.

You cocked an eyebrow, all your weight shifting to one leg so that your hip stuck out. “I was fine until I was interrupted by the royalty,” you flashed a look at Noctis who held up his hands in surrender.

All four boys blinked at you, their faces going blank as they realized you actually knew who they were. Who they really were - which was not a group of young hunters. “You’ve realized that quickly,” Ignis broke the silence after several long moments.

You shrugged, not understanding why it was such a big deal. Word had spread that the prince had made it out of the Crown City. “Only the royal family can do what you did,” you waved your hand in reference to Noctis’ warp-strike into battle. “It’s my job to pay attention.” Only smart, watchful hunters survived.

Prompto whistled, the noise echoing around the haven.”Damn. I’m impressed.”

Gladio eyed you carefully, his eyes slowly taking in your toned body. Despite the conditions, he found you to be incredibly beautiful and not a threat to the young prince’s life. He figured if you meant him harm you had already had the chance. “And who exactly are you?” It was his turn to cross his arms across his chest.

Sighing, you told them your name before glancing around and asking for your weapons. You realized your pack was gone as well. Ignis handed you a steaming bowl of mouthwatering behemoth soup before directing your attention to the cave wall where your possessions had been carefully stacked.

Once everyone had been served, you had to really control yourself to stop you from devouring the food instantly. You were starving but you didn’t want to look like a complete savage in front of the surviving Lucian royalty and his posse.

The guys took turns asking you questions as you relaxed around the crackling campfire with your meal. You told them you lived in Lestallum and had come for the hunt and the promise of some fast gil. You avoided their questions as to why you needed the money by turning the attention back to them. You weren’t surprised to learn that Gladio was the prince’s Shield. Apparently, the group had stopped believing you were being outnumbered by your prey and had inadvertently caused your injury.

“Well, I’m not dead and I suppose this will make for an interesting story. The story of how I met the prince and his friends, who accidentally almost got me killed but saved me and then fed me this amazing soup.” Ignis inclined his head to acknowledge your compliment.

You helped Iggy clean and put away the dishes. The guys disappeared into the tent to change and prepare for bed. You pulled your sleeping bag from your things and rolled it out so that you had a perfect view of the clearing night sky and the twinkling stars. You were surprised when someone rolled their sleeping bag out beside your own.

“Not going to leave you out here alone,” Gladio grinned before crawling into his makeshift bed. “The tent can definitely get crowded,” he smiled.

Unsure of how to behave, you crawled into your own. You couldn’t help the small yelp that escaped from you as one of Gladio’s strong, tattoed arms snaked around you and carefully pulled you closer to him. His grip was gentle and comforting so as not to agitate your healing wound. “G-Gladiolus,” you breathed.

“It’ll get chilly when the fire goes out. You’ll practically be all over me then. Natural furnace,” he smirked, pointing at himself and you couldn’t help but giggle. His easy confidence and unabashed behavior was refreshing. You knew this would only be the beginning.