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sunnysidekit · 3 years ago

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Summary: All is fair in love and war. And boxing, too, apparently.

Pairing: Ben ‘Benny’ Miller x F!Reader (no y/n, reader’s boxing nickname is ‘Nyx’)

Warnings: Language, mentions of violence.

Word count: 2.2k

My masterlist

Everyone likes a good mystery. Don’t even try to deny it; whether you like Sherlock Holmes or if you’re more of an Agatha Christie fan, none of us can really escape the allure of a good conundrum every now and again. Some people can stare in the face of their mystery and not recognize it for quite some time, while others can practically smell them from a mile away. Ben Miller is part of, well, both groups.

Personally, he likes mysteries and surprises and such, but his army days have taught him all of those are a bad thing. A mission can collapse after the smallest detail changes, after all. Sometimes those missions are called off; other than the fact that he can’t do his job when that happens, he’s not really bothered by it. But when something catches him and his team by surprise during a mission and they have to get on with it anyway, things tend to… let’s say, not end well for everyone. And that’s gently put, of course.

Which is why when he’s at home between deployments, he likes his simple habits. They provide joy and adrenaline, and boy does he need both to function well. One of those habits is boxing. He likes it because of its simplicity; you punch your opponent, they punch you back, and so on and so forth until one of you stops. He’s good at it, too. Will always says that’s because he practiced a lot on him when they were younger. Ben says he’s the one with the good genes. Their mother was a fighter, too, after all.

The other reason he likes boxing is because your opponents always try to surprise you with a little mystery move. It’s fun for him to figure out how to respond in a split second, and the rush he gets when he does so successfully is almost unparalleled. Today, though, the only real surprise is the sudden appearance of his very own mystery. And, hey, you might know where this one’s going: it appears in the shape of a woman…

Benny whoops when he kicks open the door to his old high school gym’s changing room, but it sounds a bit less enthusiastic than it did after his last match. He knew he should have listened to Will and gone somewhere, anywhere else than back to Red Feather Lakes, but he’s not about to mention it when he can already imagine the smug grin spreading across his brother’s face.

He won, that’s what counts. And it’s not that bad to have done so after what is sure to be America’s easiest boxing match. That just means he’s good at it. The crowd went just as wild as it usually does, even though there were significantly less attendants than two weeks ago. Somehow, none of the arguments he tells himself really convinces him.

“All right!” Catfish says triumphantly from behind him. “Looks like all that training paid off, didn’t it?”

“Yeah…” Benny trails off as his slightly blurry vision comes back into focus. There’s someone sitting on one of the benches, someone he doesn’t know. It’s a woman; her aura tells him she’s all business, but her clothes tell him she also definitely plays. “Who’re you?”

The woman doesn’t respond immediately; only after half a minute of casually typing away on her phone does she look up and meet his eye. “Name’s Val,” she says, her facial expression one he can’t quite place. “And I’m about to ask you something you won’t be able to ignore.”

It’s important to notice that Benny isn’t particularly patient in his post-fight high, something Frankie knows very well. He becomes a bomb of electric energy that, once set off, won’t stop until every single muscle in his body gives out. And he’s about to be set off.

“Val, is it?” Frankie smiles at the woman, swiftly moving his friend to the showers. “Why don’t we talk while he cools down, hm?”

“You’re not the one I want to ask a question,” she says calmly, not taking her eyes off Benny. “You’re a Delta boy, aren’t you? I can see it in the way you fight. It takes regular boxers years to develop such a sensitive, quick response capability.”

“Yeah, and?”

“And that makes me think that oaf out there’s a long way from even thinking of acquiring your skillset. It’s impressive how easily you had him on the mat.”

“Ma’am, if you want an autograph-” Frankie tries, sensing the ticking time-bomb next to him is about to blow, but Val immediately interjects.

“Which is precisely what caught my eye. These men are no challenge for you anymore, but I think I know someone who could be. Should you accept their invitation, that is.”

“Do I know him?” Benny narrows his eyes at her, trying by god to figure out her angle in all of this. She smirks and closes her eyes a few seconds longer than a normal blink would take; touchy subject, maybe? Or perhaps he’s right and he has seen the guy before.

“You might have seen them around, sure. But I doubt you’d remember them.”

“So, what? I say yes and I’ll fight your friend here next week or something?” Benny snatches his towel from his bag and snaps it against the wall in annoyance.

“I’m afraid my friend’s a little more… complex than that, Mr. Miller.”

“Hey, uh, no thanks,” Frankie cuts in, waving his hands as if to dissipate the words in the air. “He doesn’t do illegal fights.”

“He’d have plausible deniability,” Val says with a slight tilt of her head, then turns back to face Benny and hands him a business card. "Anyway, the choice is yours, Mr. Miller, not your friend’s. I don’t need an answer right now. Do take your time to think it over, sleep on it a bit. Once you’re a little more comfortable with the idea, give this number a call. I’ve got a feeling they’d very much like to bruise that pretty face of yours until it looks like a Monet.”

She gets up from the bench and walks out of the changing room without looking back. Benny slips the business card into his jacket pocket, something that catches Frankie’s attention.

“Don’t do it, Ben,” he sighs. “I’m serious. You could get arrested, get your ass thrown in jail. You’ll get kicked out of the army.”

“Stop whining, Fish. I’m not gonna do it anyway.”

Despite explicitly telling Frankie he wouldn’t do it, here he is, standing outside his local gym with his phone in one hand and the curious looking business card in the other. There’s not a lot of info on it, but, hey, what did he expect? That an illegal streetfighter would publish their own name, address and contact info on a bunch of business cards?

There are only two things printed on the grey little card: Nyx, which must be the fighter’s nickname or something, and a phone number. It’s been in his jacket pocket ever since he left his old high school, but it felt like it’s been burning a hole in it the entire time. It’s exactly as Val said it would be. He can’t get her proposition out of his mind, no matter how hard he tries.

She’s right about the competition. They’re no match for him, not the ones here in Red Feather Lakes. And, sure, he could always just sign up for something three towns over, but it wouldn’t matter much. How she found out he’s in the Delta Force is beyond him, though. It’s policy not to broadcast such a position if you want to stay in it. Maybe she has connections in the army…

That’s another thing; his place in the army. It would be gone as soon as he gets caught, and it’s not like he’s got great job prospects waiting for him back home when all he’s done for the past ten years is train to get where he is now. No college degree, no other jobs to list on his resume, no wealthy parents to fall back on… His whole life would go up in smoke.

But it does entice him. He technically does illegal things for his job all the time, and the matches he engages in when he has some down time aren’t really scratching that one particular itch anymore. Let’s face it: one phone call can’t hurt, right? He can still refuse, say no, put his foot down. Maybe even convince this guy to go legit.

He pushes the little green receiver on the screen, then puts his phone to his ear. The dial tone beeps three times before someone picks up. He opens his mouth to say something, but the person on the other side is quicker.

“Ben Miller, I presume?” It’s… a woman. But not Val. “Val told me you’d be giving me a call.”

“And you’re…” he quickly flips over the card just to be sure, “…Nyx, then?”

“Got it in one. I do so hate it when Val forgets to mention my name in the initial interview.”

Benny huffs out a confused laugh. “Interview?”

“You aced it, by the way. Not saying too much is best when talking with my… let’s call her my associate,” the woman says. Her voice is softer than Val’s, and a lot smoother. It sounds like what taking a sip of hot chocolate feels like. “Shall we get on with it and discuss the rules of this little arrangement?”

“I don’t-- rules? I haven’t even given you an answer.”

“Oh, don’t fool yourself into thinking you’ve got any restraint left,” she chuckles. “You want to tell me you called just to say hello to a total stranger?”

“No, but-” Benny splutters, but he doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

“Then your answer, even if you haven’t given it to me yet, is as clear as the Pope’s Holy Water. Now then, the rules. In order to keep you in the warm, sunny, light side of the law, I’ll arrange a time and place. All you have to do is show up.”

He can’t help but grin. She’s clearly on top of this whole cloak and dagger operation, that much he can tell. Who she is, though, he can’t say. Not yet. Maybe he’ll recognize her when he sees her. “What about my gear?”

“Do take it with you, please. I’m not a charity, giving away free gear to any John, Charles or Mary.”

“All right,” he says, clicking his tongue. “Anything else?”

“Val will pick you up and get you back home safely, so don’t worry about the whole transport situation.”

“This doesn’t sound very... safe. I mean, you do realize this sounds a lot like kidnapping, right? Or murder, or something like that?”

The woman laughs. It sounds like the melody to a song he knows but has never heard at the same time. It’s the kind of laugh that makes everyone around laugh as well. “Why would I tell you all this and then still proceed with it if my intent was malicious? You can easily call the cops and have my dear Val arrested for whatever crime you think me capable of, and that wouldn’t be very good for my business.”

“Fair enough.”

“Speaking of Val, she’ll pick you up next Wednesday at nine.”

Benny kicks a piece of gravel onto the street next to him and swallows away the last of his pride and dignity. “All right, I guess I’ll see you then.”

“Good lord, I can’t believe Val forgot to tell you that, too,” she laughs again, then clears her throat and continues a lot more seriously. “I only dance in the dark. Have a good night, Mr. Miller.”

Usually, waiting takes ages, but not this time. For Benny the rest of the week practically flew by him and before he knows it, it’s already Wednesday. He went training with Frankie just like any other week, only this time he accidentally forgot to mention his fight with Nyx. He told himself that the less people know about his, uh, date, the better, but he also knows Frankie would have immediately pulled the plug.

Val arrives at nine o’clock sharp in the front seat of a cab, which is no surprise. The drive that follows doesn’t take very long; he also isn’t blindfolded or anything like they do in the movies. The car stops in front of an old warehouse in the east side of town, and that’s when Val turns around in her seat and very concisely tells him to get his ass out of her cab himself, since she’s not going to hold open the door for him.

Instead of driving off, Val simply pulls the keys from the ignition and tosses them to him, calling it his ‘insurance policy’. Then she waves her hand as if to tell him to hurry up and get inside, which he promptly does.

Well, that whole dancing in the dark reference seems to have been meant literally; as soon as the warehouse door closes behind him, an inky, suffocating darkness envelopes Benny and makes a shiver run up and down his spine. He takes a few tentative steps, holding out his arms and moving them around to make sure he doesn’t hit anything while he walks.

Suddenly, a voice calls out to him from a bit further into the sole, big room this warehouse seems to consist of.

“Good evening, Mr. Miller. Let’s get swinging, shall we?”

A/N: Hey there, you made it to the end! Thanks for reading through the whole thing, I hope you liked it. If you’ve got any suggestions or spotted a mistake or two, don’t hesitate to tell me so that I might fix it. I hope you’ll stick around for round two!

#ben miller x you #ben miller x y/n #ben miller x reader #benny miller #frankie morales #triple frontier #garrett hedlund #garrett hedlund fic #garrett hedlund fanfic #my writing

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wonniexy · 4 years ago

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# MISSING PUZZLE PIECES NEED TO BE FOUND | yang jungwon.

— 8784 HOURS: OUCH, I FELL FOR YOU

words: 2k

pairing: JUNGWON x reader x jay (mentioned)

genre: angst.

spirit!jungwon, fantasy!au, boyfriend!jay

cw/tw: language, mention of death, angst, lost love

notes: I wasn't planning on making this into a angst chapter :((( + it is not proofread! Beware of grammatical errors!

prompt: 70. "Stop visiting me! It's getting pretty annoying..." "Shut up, you love it when you get to see my face."

Sleep.

How beautiful is it to lay your head on the pillow, after a day of those that feel way too though, close your eyes and immediately go on a journey into one of the parallel worlds that your mind can create every time Morpheus takes you in his arms?

It's beautiful, for you. Almost magical.

Except for those nights when the dear son of Ipno and Nyx decides not to turn into a dream, but into something you've started to hate since a few months ago. And the fact that, each time, you manage to wake up but the thing doesn't seem to want to go away, is making you, simply put, freak out. Completely.

Or, at least, that is what you tell yourself.

You sigh heavily as you manage to open your eyes and stare at the figure sitting comfortably cross-legged at the end of your twin bed. He's smiling, the bastard, you think.

"Could you please stop, what do you call it? Visiting me? It's getting pretty annoying."

"Oh, shut up." He replies, with his usual giggle that, though you'd never admit it, always manages to make you smile internally. "You love it when you get to see my face."

"I'd have to argue with that." You say, crinkling your tired eyes. You yawn. "What do you want now, Jungwon? What do I get this time? What did I do?"

"Oh," the boy, or he who, long ago, had been a boy, begins, settling in closer to you and shaking his head so that his thick brown hair becomes more shaggy, "I'm not here by anyone's will but my own. I have the night off." He shrugs.

You look at him, gripped by an innate desire to choke him with your own hands, and clench your hands into fists. "If you have the night off, why the fuck are you here?"

"To talk?"

"At three in the morning?"

"It's the only time I can interact with anyone - you, so yes. At three in the morning."

"Jungwon..."

"Y/n..."

"Fuck you! Go back to wherever you came from and leave me alone!" You yell, grabbing the pillow from behind your back and throwing it in Jungwon's direction.

"You're looking pretty aggressive tonight." Jungwon scoffs, promptly grabbing the pillow before it can even think of having a chance to hit him. "Did something happen?"

You roll your eyes, only to sit up and hit the covers furiously. "Jay." You say. "Jay happened."

"Why am I not surprised at all?" Jungwon laughs a little. "What did he do this time?"

You scoff. "What he does every time: he doesn't listen to me." You close your eyes and sigh, only to bring your hands to your face and scream, or something purportedly similar, all your anger into them.

"He left me, again. Meaning, we broke up. I guess. He says he loves me, then he suddenly doesn't anymore. Then he loves me again. And I... I try to explain everything to him, Jungwon." You look at your friend (the one you tell yourself you can't stand), sitting next to you but still too far away to be touched. You start to cry in frustration and close your eyes again.

"I try. I always try to tell him that whatever happens can be fixed and it can be fixed if we work together."

If only your eyes were open and looking in front of you, you might see Jungwon's face sadden. It's not the first time he's seen you in this condition: desperate, crying, scared. All because of what you call your boyfriend three times a week and four times not.

Jungwon might lie, now. Lie, again. Lie like he has been doing for the past seven month and a half when he visited you every night, without missing one: despite the fact that you were asleep and couldn't feel his presence. Lie like he has done in his previous life, even if this isn't his second one.

This time, though, lying doesn't seem to make sense to him anymore. It's wearing him down. It reminds him of the time when he was alive and telling lies led him to survive one more day, until there were no more days and he couldn't help it anymore.

You don't really cry; you've never really been able to. Not for Jay and your entire relationship (if that'swhat it can be called), at least. You have your hands clenched tightly on the blankets and you open your eyes almost with difficulty, as your slight sobs subside in the warmth of Jungwon's hand on your covered by a faint layer of cloth shoulder.

Never before had you felt his touch.

He told you he couldn't touch you, or he would have had to leave. Forever.

He told you it was one of the rules he had to follow to make himself earn a new life to live to the fullest, this time.

But now his hand is on your shoulder, and you seem to panic, because even though you can't stand his nocturnal visits, you love him. You love him like he was your long lost brother. He listened to you, all this time. You know a lot about him, as well. You hit it off, as he would normally say.

You don't want him to leave.

"Why did you do that?" You ask, your eyes wide and trembling and your gaze leaping from his hand to his face." You had... You said you weren't allowed to...why- are you fucking out of your mind?" Tears threaten to fall down and you try raising one of your hand to grab his arm and move it away from you before it's too late, even if you don't know when too late is.

"Oh, shut up." Jungwon says, almost laughing – his usual, playful laugh, despite the tone of his voice hinting at unspeakable sadness. "I don't have much time, now, so you're going to listen to me, okay?"

You nod, slowly, in rhythm with what you wish were your own beats.

"I have loved in the past. In my only life." Jungwon begins. "Maybe even too much. And I've lost. Not by my own will, but by the will of something that, even if I fought hard against, I could not bring down. I never let go, or threw down the sword of my love, because that person...oh, y/n, that person was my person. The one. The missing piece of my personal puzzle."

His hand burns on your shoulder, and each sounding word pierces your heart. Ij between tears, you begin to wonder if Jay is the missing piece of your puzzle, if you are the one of his own, or if both of you are the missing piece of someone else's puzzle, lost and hidden among a thousand other pieces and a thousand other boxes.

"And it was like that. That person completed the puzzle perfectly. We could have been framed, placed in plain sight on the largest wall of a luxury home, but the whole thing we had got lost. My ultimate puzzle piece was ripped away from me; it was stolen from me, and there was nothing I could do about it. Lying was my job; lying was what I was trained and supposed to do. Lie about who you really love. Marry the one who will help you grow: not growing up, but growing money and success. But I did not want it and, at some point, I messed up. I was no longer able to hide my forbidden love, my real love. I didn't want to. I thought it wasn't fair. And I ended up paying the consequences of my actions. One by one."

Since you've been knowing him, you never saw Jungwon cry: cheerful, carefree, bastard. The spirit, as he called himself (or as you wanted him to call himself), always showed up in your room with mirth etched on his face. You had asked him how his life had ended, he had answered, but it wasn't tragic and it wasn't sadder than any other death.

He just died, peacefully, his children all grown up and his family by his side.

He never talked about his feelings.

This time, however, the story is different and the tears are not only seen: they are felt deep inside. Each of his tears holds sadness, grief, anguish and repentance.

They all flow and flow and flow profusely, without stopping for a single moment and without letting you see Jungwon's languid dark eyes clearly again.

Your tears seem to follow what Jungwon's ones do.

"I come to see you to make sure you don't follow my steps, because we may have a different story, a different way on how we should handle things, but the moral is the same: don't do what can lead you to live unhappily."

Jungwon cries, but he still manages to speak clearly as he always does.

You want to hug him, hold him and apologize for everything, even though you are not to blame. And neither is him.

"You don't have to lie to anyone. You don't have to. Just stop. Stop. Stop." His voice breaks from sobs. "You're only hurting yourself. And I, after tonight, will no longer be here: there will only be a faded memory of me left in your teenage mind, and that memory will fade and fade and fade again, until it becomes a haze. So, do the right thing, okay? For yourself.

I stopped lying, and I lost, because it wasn't what I was meant to do. If you stop lying now, you will win. Because you are free. And you'll be even freer later, and you'll find your missing puzzle piece. You will be able to live with that missing piece, making it into a found one."

Jungwon's presence bothered you, the first few times. Then, it became pleasant, but to him you never admitted it. Now, as you watch his body dressed as a normal 17-year-old in these years (which aren't his, but which he's tried to get used to) slowly fade until it looks like nothing but dust fluttering around your bedroom, you realize you don't want him to leave.

"You're my best friend, Jungwon." You find yourself saying, crying hard and then harder. "You're my best friend, and I hate to tell you this just now. And I want to hug you, tell you that whatever happened in your previous life you didn't deserve it and that I will never forget you. And I'm so fucking sorry, because you're not going to live a second life because you wanted to help me."

He keeps on fading, but his tears don't stop scrolling. Neither do yours.

"I'm going to stop lying, I'm going to listen to you, and I'm not going to forget your eyes, or your deceptive smiles or your laughter and your inappropriate jokes."

You hear him laugh and mutter a few words you could swear by are "I would do this for you again. Give you a chance."

Then, you just know he can't answer you anymore, because he keeps fading, flying, going away, but you hear everything he would like to keep saying to you, and once again, you close your eyes.

This time, to not see him disappear from your life. Forever.

"I will not forget you. I will find my missing piece. I will complete my puzzle. I will always have you as my ally."

"I love you."

What if I told you that Jungwon is smiling, looking at you and hearing your words, wherever he is now?

#enhypenwriters #enhypennetwork #enhypen jungwon #enhypen #jungwon x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen angst

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thewidowsghost · 4 years ago

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Fox - Chapter 14

Previously on Fox:

"I'm going to say good night to my Dad," (Y/n) tells Natasha. "Feel free to use my bathroom if you need to get changed or whatever."

(Y/n) jogs downstairs and to her dad's lab. She finds him slumped over his hot rod, fast asleep. Gently, (Y/n) picks him up and carries him up to his room and sets him on his bed. He sighs and relaxes into his blankets and she pulls them over him. "Good night," (Y/n) murmurs.

(Y/n) runs back downstairs and grabs his plate before walking into the kitchen to wash it. She finishes cleaning up the dishes and goes upstairs to see Natasha asleep on her bed. (Y/n) grabs a blanket and throw it over the redhead, who tenses for a moment, then relaxes. Smiling softly, she grabs a spare pillow and settles down on the floor on the other side of the bed. (Y/n) lies looking at the ceiling for a little while before falling asleep.

3rd Person POV

The next day, (Y/n) wakes up around 5:30 AM. She scribbles a note for Natasha and sets it on the nightstand.

If you need to find me, press the button in the back of my closet. You might be surprised, but I really don't know... I think I'm rambling, but I guess I'll see you soon!

Love, (Y/n)

(Y/n) changes into a pair of workout pants and her Air Force t-shirt, and then she step into the closet and press the button and the closet transforms into an elevator and takes her down to her lab/ gym. (Y/n) presses the button on her lab desk and the closet returns to the closet.

She walks over to her gym part of the room and grabs a water bottle, and walks over and fills it with ice cold water from the small fridge she had placed in the area.

Y/n) sets her water bottle by the bench press. Thinking for a moment, she adds two one hundred pound weights to each side. The bar itself weighted about fifty-five pounds so she is starting off lifting about four hundred fifty-five pounds. (Y/n) lies down on the bench press and grabs the bar. She does about fifty reps before setting it back on the set before getting off and adding another hundred pound weight to each side, raising the total to six hundred fifty-five pounds. (Y/n) settles back down with her back on the bench before doing about forty reps. Sweating slightly, she places the bar back on the set before getting off and pulling off all the weights and placing them in their selective places on the weight rack.

(Y/n) takes a drink of water before walking over to her punching bag area of the gym. She grabs two cloths before wrapping up her hands. She punches the bag, some of her Air Force missions flashing through her mind - Sokovia, and a mission where five of her comrades had died. She slams a fist against the bag and it flies off the chain, hitting the wall about fifteen feet away. Frowning slightly, she walks over, picking up the bag and hanging it back on the chain. She stares at it for a moment before going into her self built locker room and taking a quick shower.

After changing, (Y/n) grabs her water bottle before walking over to her desk in her lab area.

Drumming her fingers on the desk for a moment, she starts thinking about the Arc Reactor at Stark Industries. "(M/n)?" (Y/n) asks her A.I. "Can you pull up the blueprints for the Arc Reactor?"

"Sure, (Y/n)," the A.I. says, in a voice almost identical to her mother's. (Y/n) had had videos recorded on her phone of her mother's voice, and had engineered the system to be able to string together words, phrases, and sentences in her mother's voice.

The blueprints pop up in a holographic screen, and (Y/n) stares at them for a minute before pulling a blank sheet of paper. (Y/n) copies down the size parameters before imagining a way to make it smaller.

"Scale the height down by eighty percent," (Y/n) says, "and the width too, please."

"No problem," the A.I. answers.

"Okay," (Y/n) murmurs, before grabbing a piece of copy paper, and sketching out a smaller design of the Arc Reactor.

"The only thing would be hard about this is transferring that much power in such a small volume," (Y/n) mutters, looking down at the sketch. She stares at the sketch for a while, not noticing that Natasha had woken up, and was standing behind the younger woman. (Y/n) picks up the pencil and scribbles down the new size perimeters.

"What are you up to?" Natasha asks, and (Y/n) flinches, slamming her right knee against the desk as she stands up.

"Nothing," (Y/n) says, her voice slightly higher as she throws the pencil on the desk. She clears her throat before again saying, "Nothing."

"Did you build all this?" Natasha asks, looking around.

"Oh, yeah I did," I say. "I designed it and had some people bring me building materials, and I put everything where I wanted it to go."

(Y/n) walks over and pull out another water bottle before filling it up and handing it to Natasha.

"When did you get up?" she asks.

"5:30ish," (Y/n) tells her and Natasha fixes her brilliant green gaze on her. "If you want to release any pent up energy, there's a training room over there," (Y/n) gestures to the other room.

"Sounds fun," Natasha says, walking over to the other room.

"(M/n), can you scan this sketch, save the blueprints and shut the lights off when I leave?" (Y/n) asks.

"No problem, boss," she says and (Y/n) smiles before following Natasha who was looking around.

"How much do you bench?" Natasha asks, looking at the bench press.

"Normally, or how much I've ever benched?" (Y/n) asks.

"Normally," the redhead answers.

"It depends on the day, but is usually it's between five to seven hundred," (Y/n) tells the former assassin.

Her eyebrows raise slightly before nodding, "Sounds delightfully fun," Natasha says and (Y/n) laughs. "You wanna show me?" she asks and (Y/n) sends her a playful glare.

"You don't believe me, do you?" (Y/n) asks, hiding a smile.

"Naw," Natasha says, smirking.

"Okay, but it's your funeral," (Y/n) says, effortlessly taking a couple hundred pound weights and putting them on the bar, Natasha hiding an impressed expression as (Y/n) puts about seven hundred pounds on the bar. "Okay, you ready?" (Y/n) asks, settling herself below the bar, and glancing at the emerald eyed woman.

"Break a leg," Natasha says and (Y/n) stares at her.

"Yeah," (Y/n) says sarcastically, lifting the bar and suspending it above her, her arms completely straight, "tell the one holding up seven hundred fifty pounds to break a leg."

(Y/n) does a couple of reps before setting the bar back on the set. "Need me to add more?" (Y/n) asks playfully.

"Why not?" Natasha asks and (Y/n) stands up, and puts another hundred pounds on each side, making the weight about nine hundred fifty pounds.

"Right, let's do this," (Y/n) murmurs, placing her hands about two feet apart on the bar before lifting it up, her biceps flexing. "Happy?" (Y/n) smirks at the redhead over the bar as the former assassin stares at her. (Y/n) sets it back on the set and stands up. (Y/n) takes off the weights and set them back onto the weight rack.

(Y/n) smirks at the redhead over her shoulder as she walks out of the gym. (Y/n) laughs a little as the lights come on and the woman settles down at her desk again, pulling the sketch and a pencil back towards her.

Word Count: 1418 words

I know this wasn't a really intense chapter, but I really wanted to write one like this. I really wanted to showcase how smart (Y/n) actually is. Building and designing a whole underground secret lab isn't easy. I don't know if I really gave (Y/n) a lot of credit, but I think the Arc Reactor thing also showcases her intelligence.

Love, Kaitlynn ❤😍

Imma tag peoples now: @confusinggemini612, @gay-disaster826, @thelastavenger-3000, @osugahunnyicedtea, @night-howl199, @minicastle, @happilyeverafterfantasybooks, @billiebanner, @me-and-sweatpants, @scottjudah, @scarlet-raccoon, @whore-for-charlynch, @nyx-aria

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theredhairedmonkey · 5 years ago

Note

Why does Callum fall in love with Rayla?

Aah I should have expected to be asked this! Especially after answering the opposite (why Rayla falls in love with Callum) here.

So, the show does lay out how much Callum admires Rayla’s heroism, to the point that when he explains to Nyx all the ways Rayla is a hero, he ends up basically getting lost in her eyes and kissing her.

Many others have touched on how Callum falls in love with Rayla largely due to her having those heroic qualities—brave, fearless, caring, strong—that Callum admires.

Something I’ll add (before getting to my larger point) is that the reason her heroism is so important to Callum is because these are the qualities he wished he himself had as well.

When we first meet Callum, we see him drawing and vocalizing a picture of him heroically taking down a monster, which gives us the first taste of Callum's sense of inferiority and desire to be someone cool and amazing.

We see him go about his day trying and failing to be good at fighting and heroically protecting the King against Moonshadow assassins. Basically, this first episode and a half lays out just how frustrated he is that he can’t protect those he loves, or in his words:

But when he meets Rayla, she personifies essentially all those things he wished he was: she’s fast, she’s skilled, she’s brave, she’s selfless.

She’s the hero he wants to be. Of course, her character is a lot more complicated than that (and I describe that here). But at first blush, this is what Callum sees.

It’s one of the reasons why, in 2x07, we see him drawing Rayla:

He’s already starting to fall for her, and he’s worried about her safety. And he’s drawing her to give himself some comfort. But another reason why he’s drawing Rayla posing heroically or leaping marvelously into danger to save the day is because he wishes he could be that heroic too.

But all of this only gets us halfway to answering your question. He could, of course, have just seen her as a role model or an inspirational friend. Why does he end up falling for her?

The reason why Callum falls in love with Rayla is because she sees him.

When Callum first opens up to Rayla, he tells her that:

Callum is described as an “awkward fit for a prince.” He’s not good at anything traditionally associated with being a prince, such as sword-fighting, archery, horseback riding, and military strategy. In spite of that, he’s expected to keep grinding at it because, well, it’s expected.

The people of Katolis see him as a prince, and everything else about him is invisible. He can either live up to those expectations or not, but no one actually took the time to see where his talents truly lied. For this reason, it was quite jarring that Callum proved to be this insanely good at magic, yet no one ever noticed or bothered to let him try magic simply because that’s not what’s expected for a prince.

No one, it seems, has taken the time to figure out who Callum is and what he’s good at. He’s a prince, you see, so no one bothers to notice how much he bristles against this mold. The fact that he’s, for instance, a great artist, doesn’t matter to anyone. Nothing more needs to be known about him.

Even King Harrow, who deeply loved Callum, struggled with the fact that he saw him as his stepson, who must be given space to appreciate and love his birth father. Harrow realizes his mistake, but sadly it’s far too late.

Heck, even Callum can’t quite see himself clearly, because he’s spent his entire life trying and failing to live up to the expectations of others. He sees himself as worthless (even though his closest friends do not). For a good part of the story, Callum believes that he can either do magic or he’s essentially nothing.

So, Callum will either excel at being a prince or not, and everything else about him doesn’t matter to anyone.

But then along comes Rayla.

She doesn’t particularly care about this whole prince business (although “sad prince” does have a nice ring to it). But she’s the first person in Callum’s life who doesn’t lay out some skills she expects him to be good at and get disappointed when he doesn’t. She doesn’t expect him to be a good fighter. She doesn’t demean or belittle him for being “bad at everything” the way Soren does.

But all the same, with or without some special skill, she still values him. Rayla is able to see that there’s so much more to Callum than any particular talent he happens to have.

And that’s something that Callum finds to be quite shocking. He sees what Rayla can do, and thinks there’s no way he could measure up to that. Even when he can help out, he doesn’t expect Rayla to think that highly of him.

Except she does.

“I agree, some humans are evil…but not this one. Not Callum. The only reason the Dragon Prince is alive is because of this human. He left his home and his family and he sacrificed everything so Azymondias could be born. He's noble and true. When we met, he could have had me captured or killed. But he didn't, because without knowing me or anything about me, he saw past human hatred and did what he knew was right. He's smart and kind and brave, and he's my friend. My best friend. So, please, allow him to pass into Xadia and help me take the Dragon Prince home. Because I don’t think I can do it without him.”

Just look at Callum’s face below. He’s stunned. He assumed that this amazing, brave, and heroic warrior wouldn’t have thought much of him, even if she valued him as a person.

Yet, as it turns out, she thinks the world of him.

However, while Rayla doesn’t expect Callum to be something he’s not, she’ll still push him when she knows he’s capable. And, because she can see him for who he is, she doesn’t take his “I can’t do anything” statements at face value. She knows that just because he can’t use a sword or ride a horse well doesn’t mean he’s weak, and she quickly catches on that his so-called inferiority is just a problem of motivation.

She pays attention to his abilities during their time together and has essentially decided that he’s perfectly capable of doing the things she can do.

Like climbing a tall tree.

Or climbing up an Ambler.

And the thing is, she’s right. All she does is give him a blade or a hand, along with some faith in him, and he can basically do these things. It will still take years of practice for him to truly excel, but Rayla had definitively proven to him that his feeling of inadequacy was all just in his head.

So, all of this works together. Rayla is heroic, something that Callum admires. She’s inspired him to be heroic as well.

But what made Callum fall in love with her is that she saw him for who he was when no one else did.

And when someone can inspire you, value you, believe in you, and push you to be the best possible version of yourself. When someone doesn’t buy that you’re worthless for a second, can see who you are, and thinks just as highly of you as you do of them. When someone reminds you every day that you’re just as brave and strong as you wish you were.

What else would you think but:

#callum #rayla #rayllum #harrow #soren #zym

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countessofbiscuit · 4 years ago

Note

What are your Bobasoka headcanons? I've already gone through all of the (criminally little) fic on ao3 and I especially loved Smothered and Covered, and I saw the majority of the fics in the tag were gifted to you so I'm assuming you're the OG shipper. Feel free to essay if you like!!

Thanks for the ask and kind words about that fic :3

Oh, Bobasoka … where to begin? It’s a pairing that’s been bumping around in exchange requests for a few years — I figure it’d be easy for anyone invested in Ahsoka’s relationship with the clones to be compelled by the idea. Lledra used to draw Boba and Ahsoka interacting, and it was probably a few panels of their incredible Destinies comic that set my Bobasoka wheels turning. I’m also drawn to them because their journeys traverse so much canon; there’s not just a sandbox to play in, but a whole goddamn stretch of beach, stretching far out into the horizon ... (#AhsokaLives #BobaSurvived :D)

I have to lead with the proviso that almost everything I write/daydream about/headcanon has a groundsheet of Rexsoka. Ahsoka’s interest in Boba, in my head, is intimately tied up with her attraction to and/or relationship with Rex — or, at the bare minimum, her intimate fellowship with the clones. She went through puberty (maybe with heats!) surrounded by a literal army of handsome, roughly college-aged dudes; that must’ve been a heady mix of heaven and hell. If she didn’t quench her thirst before war’s end and her (eventual) separation from Rex, she’d probably be pretty dehydrated when stumbling across Boba. As for Boba’s attraction to Ahsoka, well ... she’s very pretty, she’s potentially useful, she’s not likely to skewer him in his sleep (+2) on account of being a Jedi (-1), and now she’s the one down on her luck; if he falls in bed with anyone, why not this girl who isn’t afraid of him and stares a lot at his lips?

And Boba is like a hot shipping potato — satisfying, hard to fuck up, goes well (read: makes for an intriguing story) with almost everyone. And I think it has everything to do with his liminality, something he shares with Ahsoka and probably recognizes.

Their neither-this-nor-that-ness overlap in such interesting ways, and they each bring their identity issues to the table — Ahsoka as an on-again, off-again Jedi; Boba as a clone who isn’t a Clone™, a Mandalorian by birth and bearing, but not by the book. At different points in their stories, they identify as different things, and that would affect their headspace and color their view of the other. They wrestle with themselves and each other. Force-user and bounty hunter; privileged topsider and orphaned juvenile delinquent fugitive; GAR commander and outcast clone; Jedi and Mandalorian; Disillusioned veteran and disaffected army brat; Rebellion agent and Imperial contractor.

And as much conflict is baked into these dynamics, it also generates a certain magnetism; and I believe they recognize, on some level, their shared trauma and the symmetry in their experiences. Boba and Ahsoka both have happy childhoods with very little to distress or vex them (beyond the art, I do not jive with Age of Republic: Jango Fett, a Disney-canon comic that not only doubles-down on the Jango-wasn’t-Mando nonsense, but shows him being rather cavalier about Boba’s life); Geonosis happens and their adolescent lives are dominated by war (which is how they came to actively threaten each other as space!secondary-schoolers — whaaaaatf!); they are both dubiously (even wrongfully) imprisoned; and they both suffer alienation and incredible personal loss.

Boba was set apart from the clones before he was even pulled him from the jar, othered and elevated from the beginning. He never bonded with brothers, he does not identify as a clone. And while there are examples of clones making overtures to him, canonically his relationship with them is fraught and probably made worse when he gets banged up in Republic Central at the tender age of eleven or twelve — and of course, Ahsoka is an accessory to this, the second chapter in his tragedy at the hands of the Jedi. He needed help (whether he wanted it or not), it was not given by clones or Jedi alike (hamstrung by bureaucracy, sure, but surely some other means of intervention might have been lobbied for?), and Boba becomes a right teenage disaster, well-balanced only in the sense that he has a chip on both shoulders.

(n.b. Putting my RepComm hat on for a second, I can’t help but sniffle-laugh at the idea that the Alphas watched him get thrown in a maximum-security slammer and were like “Ah, there he is, the feral vod’ika. First time, we’ll let the little snot earn his stripes. Second time, we’ll bust him out and send him on a tough love retreat with A’den or Jaing.”)

Ahsoka, meanwhile, is part-and-parcel of the institutions that Boba sets himself against, even after she too has been cast out by circumstances beyond her control. She grows up in a supportive Jedi community and then spends some seriously formative years with a whole slew of brothers — brothers that should have been Boba’s!

Boba, on the other hand, is a great example of the proverb that a child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth. (As he tells Hondo, “Why should I help anybody? I’ve got no one.”)

The resentment that must create! But also, later, the quiet empathy too — maybe when Boba’s having one of his better days and Ahsoka’s obviously not.

And all of the above is interesting enough, without also touching upon the wildcard that is Mandalore.

Boba’s relationship with Mandalore .... well, that’s contested in- and out-of-universe and I won’t allow myself to essay overmuch. I subscribe firmly to a Mandalorian Fetts construction of canon, even though Boba must be someone who struggles mightily with Mandalorian identity. He’s raised by a bona fide Mando, a solicitous, loving father who’d have no reason not to pass on his language and beliefs; but at the same time, it takes that village, and when Boba’s clan of two is shattered, he has no one else. The loss of his dad unmoors him from his only anchor to Mandalorian culture and clan.

If Boba had been close to the Cuy’val Dar, one would think he’d have turned to them rather than fall in with Jango’s criminal acquaintances; or maybe the bounty hunters just scooped him up first, and troubled lil’ Boba was shepherded through bereavement by folks who enabled and encouraged him to externalize his anger in a way that gave him a (false) feeling of agency and strength.

Whatever the reasons, Boba does not repatriate himself to Mandalore (much to Fenn Shysa’s melodramatic dismay). He strikes me as a lapsed Mandalorian; he doesn’t exactly follow the creed besides wearing the armor (scavenged? his dad’s sans helmet? canon is confused on this point, but he doesn’t go Mando until the unfinished arcs at the end of TCW, either for lack of stature, lack of armor, or lack of enthusiasm). I feel like if someone rocked up to Boba in a cantina and had the balls to ask “hey, so you a Mandalorian?” Boba would be like “<ominously slow helmet tilt> who’s asking” and never give you a straight answer.

Meanwhile, Ahsoka gets a crash course on Mandalore from none other than someone who, at one point, belonged to a sect that wanted to expunge Jaster’s legacy from the galaxy — and at the very least, had reason to dislike clones. This isn’t the place to explore my Boba/Bo-Katan feelings, but know that they are fathomless, and I would pay good money to be a fly on the wall of that Kom’rk when Bo-Katan gives Ahsoka Mando History 101 with her own special sauce. Ahsoka is probably more up-to-speed on Mandalore than Boba, and at one point, she may even own more beskar than him! (n.b. After the crash, I think one of the first places Rex and Ahsoka bounce is just inside Mando space, to scope out the Sundari situation and maybe try to scramble a signal to Bo-Katan; she’d have the goodwill to at least get them back on their feet if she can’t help them lay low herself. For a variety of reasons worth maybe ficcing down the line, they aren’t successful.)

I don’t really have a concluding statement except, I just think Bobasoka’s neat :) They hit all my depressed-Millennial buttons.

Headcanon by bullet-point isn’t really my style, but this is tumblr so ... tl;dr:

They recognize a lot in each other, even if they’re slow to admit it, if ever. Boba’s a cagey bastard and Ahsoka doesn’t ever like him enough to be emotionally honest.

They bump into each other during Ahsoka’s walkabout(s) ‘cause Coruscant’s Underworld ain’t big enough for the two of them. Without Slave-1, Boba couchsurfs at Nyx Okami’s garage, but he does his laundry at Rafa’s. He might even borrow the Martez’s new, useful friend for a job or two.

Ahsoka eventually matures enough to be sensitive about her use of the Force on and around clones, and she definitely doesn’t use it around Boba. Definitely not during sex.

Boba is privately weirded out every time Ahsoka uses Mando slang she picked up off the clones or the Nite Owls.

Boba absolutely kills Cad Bane in that shoot-out, keeps the hat, and lets Ahsoka have it. She shoves it out the airlock and uses it for target practice.

So many great smut flavours! Hatesex. Acquaintances with benefits. “You’re traumatized and touch-starved and you look just like him/them, and I know how to be gentle and what to do, so maybe we could … ?” They’re both privately comfortable with their bodies and sexuality, but Boba’s got trust issues a parsec long and Ahsoka’s lost confidence; it’s always an awkward affair, but desperation wins out.

They exchange comm codes every time they run into each other, which is kind of pointless because they both use burners.

Ahsoka hitches a ride on Slave-1 more than once. There really is only one bed, so it’s either sleep upright, sleep in a pokey prisoner hold, or sleep with him.

For a few years, Boba can pass as a last-generation clone — the ones that got sold off in bulk units to slavers before Kamino sunk another three years’ food, board, and training into them. Boba pretends he doesn’t notice, easy to really, since he tells himself his helmet is his face. But occasionally, when Ahsoka can convince him there’s profit in it, he agrees to play sleeper agent and assists in liberating a few here and there.

They don’t talk about Aurra Sing.

When an Imp really crosses him, Boba passes on intel to Ahsoka to ruin their day.

Once, when they’re both super skint, Ahsoka volunteers to get handed in to some relatively minor and out-of-the-way Imperial garrison, so Boba can collect, bust her out, and split the pot with her. It’s the closest she ever comes to telling him “I trust you” — and when he brushes the idea aside, citing something about risk, it’s the closest he ever comes to telling her “I love you.”

Boba sees Inquisitors as muscling in on his game. There are so many lousy Force-users around nowadays, it should be easy pickings, but Inquisitors get privileged information. So he makes sport out of misdirecting them, especially from Ahsoka.

When he pisses her off, Ahsoka fantasizes about Bo-Katan taking Boba down a peg or two while she watches :)))

Boba experienced Ahsoka’s heat once, secondhand through a cabin wall. He thought he was being clever by shooting Rex up with some Nevoota stim pollen, locking him in with Ahsoka, and hijacking their locked ships. Longest three days of his life, limping on broken hyperdrives and shared fuel stores to the nearest waystation to a soundtrack of violent lovemaking : \

Bounty hunters invariably bump into spies and agents because they work in the same areas. The agents pretend to be bounty hunters, eccentric business people, sex workers, or a range of other things. Sometimes each party knows all about the other, but it’s only polite not to mention it. This happens to Ahsoka and Boba A LOT, especially once she becomes Fulcrum; rebel cells and Imperials often want the same people. Occasionally they exchange fire. A couple times Boba gets imprisoned in Ahsoka’s own brig. Once, Boba blows her cover and definitely lives to regret it.

(this essay was originally punctuated with pics, but replies with images won’t show up tumblr tags so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

#bobasoka #boba fett #ahsoka tano #rexsoka #the clone wars

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golbrocklovely · 5 years ago

Text

give your heart a break // colby brock - chapter eight: (not really) the end

A/N: OH MY GOD I CAN’T BELIEVE IT’S THE END :(((( thank you to everyone that stuck around and read this story. the amount of love this got was crazy and unlike any other story i’ve written. i really appreciate all the comments and messages you guys sent to me. thank you all so much :) hope you don’t get too mad at the ending. maybe a sequel will happen??? you’ll have to see ;)

story description

taglist: @azurebrock , @daddydobrock , @colbyf-ingbrock , @cuddlingwithcolby , @absolute-randomness-forever , @lovelycolby , @codename-nyx , @sweetxplr , @absolutelynobodyposts , @colbysmisdemeanour

trigger warning: awkwardness, cursing, cliff hanger

word count: 1290

~~~~~~~~~~

three months later

“Splash me one more fucking time Jake and I’m gonna break up with you!” Tara yelled, glaring at Jake as he splashed her again.

I giggled, rolling my eyes at them.

Kat smirked at me, leaning in and whispering in my ear. “They can’t break up. Who else is gonna know Jake’s SpongeBob references?”

I snorted. “Or hers?”

We both busted out laughing, Tara now turning her attention to us.

“What are you two laughing about? Are you making fun of me?” She pouted.

“Never, Tara. We love you!” I exclaimed.

“Lies!” Tara grabbed a super-soaker from the side of the pool, pointing it directly at us.

Kat and I gasped, jumping out of the pool and running into the house as Jake held Tara back from getting us.

I ran and hid in the kitchen, Katrina running upstairs, most likely to Sam’s room.

It was nice to finally celebrate the boys’ new house. It was a beautiful home, and the fact that Sam and Colby owned it was impressive to say the least.

“What are you doing in here?” Corey’s voice rang from behind me.

I spun around, startled. “Fuck! Corey, you scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry!” He snickered. “What are you doing anyway?”

“I’m hiding from Tara. She was chasing me and Kat with a super-soaker. Kat ran upstairs.” I informed.

“And you’re hiding here? The first place she’ll probably look?” He questioned.

“This is my first time being in this house, Corey.” I deadpanned.

He replied. “Yeah, I know. We’ve been trying to have you come over for a while now.”

I muttered. “I know. I just needed some time away from…”

“Colby.” He answered.

I pursed my lips. “Yeah.”

“Well, I’m happy you’re here now. I gotta go out and get some food, I’ll be back later.” Corey grinned, waving as he walked away.

I smiled back. “Okay. See ya.”

I leaned against the counter, glancing around the kitchen. Suddenly, I could hear someone come in from outside. I ducked down, hiding from Tara.

Maybe I should jump out and scare her…?

I smirked, waiting until I heard footsteps near me. I jumped up, screaming.

Colby clutched his chest, jumping back with wide eyes.

Fuck. Me.

“Shit! Why’d you do that?” He gulped.

“Uhhh. I thought you were Tara. Sorry.” I stuttered.

Colby exhaled. “It’s okay. Just wasn’t expecting that.”

“Yeah, sorry again.” I uttered.

“How long ago did you get here?” He asked.

“Um, about an hour or two ago. I came with Kat.” I admitted.

He nodded his head. “Oh cool.”

An awkward silence fell between us for a moment. Colby gazed up at me.

“It’s nice to see you again.”

~~~

Hours passed. The sun finally beginning to set as we all sat around the tiki bar outside, enjoying the fresh summer air.

Colby and I had fallen back into our old habits. We joked like we used to, making comments only the other one could hear. It was nice. It almost felt like old times.

But then there were moments he would look at me and it felt like I was back in his apartment, our bodies close to one another.

We hadn’t really talked in the three months since we broke up.

If I can even call it that…

It was mostly Kat, Tara, and Sam asking how I was doing and whatnot. It was better that Colby had kept his distance.

I needed time to get over him. And I think I pretty much was.

“Earth to Zoe. Hello?” Tara waved her hand in front of my face.

I shook my head, looking at her. “Sorry. I zoned out again.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” She chuckled. “You didn’t even hear what I asked.”

“No not at all.” I teased, smirking.

“I asked if you have any dates lined up yet.” She responded.

I revealed. “Actually… I kinda do.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Colby glance over at us.

Kat chimed in, scooting closer to us. “Oh my God who?”

I giggled at their enthusiasm. “It’s just some guy I met on Tinder. His name is Jack. He’s really sweet and we’ve been talking for like two weeks now.”

“Is he cute?” Tara queried.

I rolled my eyes jokingly. “Of course.”

“What does he do?” Kat requested, sipping from her solo cup.

“He’s a DJ.” I mentioned.

“I thought your type was influencers.” Tara stated.

“Well, the last one didn’t end well so…” My voice trailed off.

Colby’s head turned away at my words.

“Shit. Sorry.” Tara mumbled.

“It’s okay.” I ran my fingers through my hair nervously. “Um, I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go get some water.”

I got up from my stool, slowly strolling into the house and away from everyone. When I got inside, I took a deep breath.

Why is every conversation about Colby so awkward?

Striding into the kitchen and grabbing another solo cup from the counter, I poured some water, taking a big gulp.

“Zoe?” Colby called, stepping into the kitchen.

I turned to him, placing my cup down. “Yeah?”

“Can we talk for a minute?” He inquired.

I sighed. “About?”

“You know what about.” Colby remarked.

“Sure, I guess.” I huffed.

He cleared his throat. “Um, I wanted to apologize for how things ended.”

“Okay.” I crossed my arms, already annoyed.

“We were together for almost a year and I-” He started.

I groaned. “We weren’t together.”

“What?” He puzzled.

“You made it abundantly clear that we weren’t a couple, Colby. Maybe we should just talk about this later.” I began to leave.

Colby lightly grabbed my arm. “No wait, Zoe. Listen to me.”

“I shouldn't have hurt you like that. I did a lot of terrible things during our relationship. The fact that I couldn't even call it one was one of the biggest problems.” He continued. “I shouldn’t have been so inconsiderate to you or your feelings. I did a lot of things to you that I regret. I really hope you know how truly sorry I am.”

“Alright. Anything else?” I commented.

“I shouldn't have relied on you to make me feel better again. I should have worked through my own problems before getting into any form of a relationship, friends-with-benefits or not. I shouldn't have laid out rules, it was stupid of me to do so.” He conceded.

I interrupted. “Why did you then?”

Colby explained. “Because I thought if I did that, if I set boundaries... we wouldn't fall for each other.”

“Well, that worked out well.” I hissed half-heartedly.

“I should have realized that the whole time I was trying to keep us apart, all it did was make me want you closer.” His eyes trailed over my face as he took a step towards me. “I shouldn't have lied to you, about any other girls or about being okay with you being with someone else. Or about my feelings for you. I thought that lying about how I felt would be better than admitting the truth.”

Heart frozen, I stammered. “W-what do you mean?”

He stared deeply into my eyes, my attention on nothing else but him.

“I love you, Zoe,” He confessed. “And I'm sorry I couldn't admit it when it mattered most.”

My breath caught in my throat. I was unable to speak, my mind moving a million miles a second.

“I hope one day you can forgive me, and we can go back to being friends again. Like we were.” He murmured.

"Colby?! Can you come out here for a second?" Sam hollered into the house.

Colby smiled lightly at me, glanced over me once and walked away.

The moment he stepped outside; I finally began to breathe again.

<< CHAPTER 7 || ...?

#colby brock #give your heart a break #colby brock fic #colby brock fanfic #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock angst #colby brock story #colby brock x oc #corey scherer #sam golbach #tara yummy #katrina stuart

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icariahq · 4 years ago

Photo

It was such a perfect night, the music was pumping, drinks were flowing, everyone was having a grand old time laughing and dancing. Romance swirled around and happiness seemed to finally rule over Icaria -- even if it was just for one night. We should have known better. We should have known that happiness and peace cannot last when your parents are gods who have forsaken the land and the people they once ruled over.

People carried on through the night but something was brewing, had been brewing for five years and it would come to a head in the midst of all this happiness. Some felt the darkness creeping in but they kept smiles on their faces, some knew what was brewing but pretended that this was just another party… another event to distract themselves from the loss of their friends. Hell, some were walking around recording the whole thing in hopes that they could break the case; find the missing and bring them home. Of course, no one, not even those involved in the kidnappings were expecting what was about to come. No one expected tonight to be the spark that lit the world on fire.

The isle hasn’t known peace for five years and it won’t be getting any better tonight despite what some may have hoped. As the night roars on and the party grows older the lights slowly start to dim. Is it time for the announcement of winners? That’s the murmur spreading through the crowd as Ivy takes the stage. She smiles, waves; everyone is clapping and in her hand are envelopes. A small speech of thanks, a remarkable amount of money was donated and raised to help find the missing, more clapping and then she waves the envelopes around and starts to open them one by one.

“The Best Dressed winner is Caroline!” “Best Nice is Lyra!” “Oh looks like Eveleen has been naughty and won an award for it!” “Aww -- Cutest couple is Weston and Viv! How precious!” “And last but certainly not least -- best mask ---” Except we’ll never know the Best Mask, for in that moment a flash of lightning blinds the party goers as a crack of thunder is heard even 100s of miles away. The Greek media off Isle would comment that the latest lightning strike was about 100 miles short of the largest mega strike, but that either way it was well over 300 miles long. Screams and murmurs of I can’t see! and It must be Zeus! Quickly swell through the party as everyone’s eyes adjust. And there -- on the stage, just mere feet from Ivy in all his glory is Zeus king of the gods. More murmurs, hands covering mouths, wide-eyed stares, and questions. So many questions -- but he holds up a hand, the room goes quiet as a stern look spreads over his face. A vengeful god.

“Best mask goes to none other than Weston Bennett.” He claps. The only one to do so.

There are murmurs as Weston steps up. Behind him, his siblings are held back by friends. Whatever is happening... it seems all know better than to step in the middle of this. All who saw would comment later on Weston’s smirk; the smirk of a man who knew what was coming and was unafraid even of the king of gods.

“To what do we owe this honor, King Zeus?” Oh the tone, the snide comment, the smirk. Defiance in every syllable. There was no honor here. Not from a child of Nyx.

“You won best mask my boy. I figured you deserve a reward. You tricked everyone here, save for your siblings, that you were an honorable, kind man who only wanted the best for them” A beat. “Yet you stole their lovers, their friends, their siblings -- and my child.”

Gasps, whispers, turning heads as murmurs grew louder. Zeus seemed to revel in the chaos that his words brought but he held up his hand once more and they all fell silent. Weston could be heard laughing.

“I didn’t know you had just one child!” Static filled the air making hair stand on end, and made every breath or movement pinch the skin. Zeus’ face grew more red. Behind Weston, Deacon stepped forward but a hand rested on his shoulder. And there stood Nyx, she appeared as silently as the darkness rose each night and shook her head, tears in her eyes. There would be no stopping this. The bolt of lightning that shot from Zeus was there and gone in a blink. But its aim was true.

A cry ripped through the air as Vivenne rushed to where Weston laid. Dead but with that defiant smirk still plastered on his lips. She cradled his head and sobbed into his chest.

Nyx stepped forward, the static in the air instantly soothing to nothing. Looking at her felt like looking into a black hole. Darkness swirled at her feet and her fingertips. Her hair itself looked like the night sky, where twinkles of stars danced along with all the answers one could ever want. It seemed that a confrontation was about to happen and that -- well, that drew a crowd. Especially when it was Zeus vs the one person in this universe he actually feared. Gasps echoed around the room as one by one every god, goddess and muse seemed to appear. Nyx stopped at her son’s body, brushing a strand of hair from Viv’s face as she looked up. “Take care of his body for me.” she said before she took to the stage in the blink of an eye. She stepped out of the darkness of Zeus’ own shadow.

“You killed my son.” It was a quiet cold accusation.

“You have more,” He said, tossing his hand towards Deacon, Remi and Ezra who now stood protectively over their brother’s body. “And your son kidnapped my son.”

“While that may be true, your children” she emphasized the word, “are totally safe and quite comfortable. Anything they could ever want is at their fingertips so long as they think it.”

“So you know where they are!” Came a voice from the crowd.

“I orchestrated it.” Nyx said. It was followed by cries of outrage, of relief and gasps. “You’re asking yourself why would Nyx do such a thing?” She turned to face the crowd. “And I turn that question towards Zeus. Why would I do this Zeus?”

The king of the gods stared at her, he did not move, he did not even open his mouth in an attempt to speak.

“What have I been asking for for over half a millennia now Zeus?” She turned to him, “An audience, a moment of your time for you to listen to my ideas.” She said slowly, moving to circle the god. “Yet you refused over and over and over again. You pushed off my request for meetings, you shoved me aside, you let your head get too big and you let us” her back was to the crowd and she threw her hands out to her sides “fade into non belief, into mythology.”

There were murmurs of agreement, of dissent among the gods.

“We are not worshiped, we are not feared. We are a shell of what we once were both in the minds of the humans and in power. We are thought to be myth, legends, stories to amuse human children. We have lost our foothold in the world, Zeus. You have not even allowed the gods to do their work as they saw fit. You allowed us to become memories.” She was still slowly circling him as she spoke. “All you’ve ever cared about is yourself; about going to earth and laying with as many women as you desired despite -- having a wife.” she tossed in glancing at Hera who stood next to her daughter Nelly. “Despite having children” her attention shifted to Noelle and Noel. “Grandchildren and nieces and nephews who looked to you for guidance and leadership. You have failed as a ruler Zeus.”

She then stopped moving and turned to fully face the crowd.

“Your children, your friends, and lovers are safe, they have been well cared for in the meadows and I am more than happy to let them return to you” Nyx said, “I apologize for what has happened, but there was no other way to prove to you,” She glanced first to each god then allowed her eyes to sweep over the crowd. “That Zeus cared so little about anything other than himself that he would allow demi-god children to be taken. That despite all your desperate pleas and prayers he would not answer them, he would not care.” She sighed, shaking her head.

“He had the power to bring them back at any moment. He clearly knew who was doing this since he targeted my son mere days after his own was taken. I’m assuming he would have even done it earlier if this party had been the same day. But he just likes to be overdramatic.” There were a couple of snickers there from other gods while Zeus averted his gaze, “Zeus only focuses on himself and the one child he favored. Damn be the rest.” She frowned, glancing over her shoulder at him.

“You allowed this to happen under your watch, Zeus. What if I had been Erebus or an escaped Titan? Have you even checked on them?” She asked with raised eyebrows. She saw his face pale at the idea that the titans were out of their prison. “The children would most likely be dead, not in a lavish space that gives them their every desire.”

Nyx stepped off of the stage and moved into the crowd, it parted as she walked but she smiled. “Your children are safe. Your friends and lovers are safe.” She repeated locking eyes with each person she came across. “They’re watching this right now.” She said there was a moment of joy in her voice, knowing that they were all safe and watching. “I’m sorry to all of you for doing this but -- Zeus has offered no other choice in gaining his attention and proving to you all that he does not deserve the power and status he has.” She was slowly making her way back to the stage.

“I do not expect forgiveness, I do not even expect you all to understand what has transpired tonight other than the fact that Weston Benett is dead” Her voice cracks “and your friends are returned to you. But, I do ask that over the next few weeks as you hug your loved ones and catch up, that you think about what I’ve said, about what I’ve shown you. I ask that if you have questions to pray to me and I will come to answer them the best I can. I ask for your minds to be open to changing the status quo of the Greek Pantheon. That we turn it on its head and regain our foothold in the world. I want us to work together to form a new pantheon where we come together as gods, as demi-gods… and we change the world for the better. For us, for the humans and for the creatures that have been in hiding for so many centuries.”

“Zeus will not change it. He will not listen. But we can. We are many and we are powerful too. He is not the only one who can influence the world.” She said taking a step into the shadows and appearing back on stage. “Your friends --” she smiled now “They’re back where they were when they were picked up.” All over the town portals of pure darkness opened up setting each demi-god back where they were the moment they were taken. “Again, I’m sorry but I do hope you will all understand and forgive me and my children for what we had to do.” She then turned to Zeus with a small smile on her face.

“Shall we all convene? Or are you going to blow off my request for a meeting once again?” He slowly nodded his head and every god, goddess and muse disappeared in an instant leaving the masquerade party to deal with the fallout. ____________________________________________________________________________ Whether your character was there or not when the truth came out and when Weston died they would still know it happened. Word travels fast on an isle so small. You now know why this all has been going on and what it means. But what will you do? How do you feel? Do you side with Zeus or Nyx? Are you angry with Nyx’s children? We figured we’d end this event with a bang... or well really, a death and introduce choice to you all. Feel free to continue with your masquerade posts or even allow for your character to react of the gruesome event that unfolded at the end of the ball.

#THIS WAS LONG #IM SORRY #icaria: event #icariamasquerade #TW: death #Icaria: Chapter 1

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deathsficbin · 4 years ago

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Here I come sliding into home base on my ass as per usual. This one is different from my usual list of fics and not only because it's not even Star Wars. This one was written for the RvB Valentine's Exchange hosted by @rvbgiftexchange My exchange partner requested something with not only a less popular character but their OC too which is something I've never done before. I'm a stickler for getting everything "right" so having to ask questions and occasionally just go with my gut was hard. But it was a really nice challenge and I really enjoyed stepping out of my comfort zone to get this one done. Hope it's what you were looking for @nyx-the-dreamer

Fandom: Red vs. Blue

Rated: T

He sits quietly, dangling his legs off the side of roof. The sun is warm, he can feel it's heat even through the exposed bits of his bodyglove. He's on watch. What for he doesn't really know but it's loads better than being stuck in the basement listening to Sarge yell at Griff and Simmons. Or in the main room listening to Tucker walk Caboose through the rules for go fish again. Or in the control room listening to Donut spew worse entendres than Cronut ever had. Of the two, Donut is definitely the worst.

He still can't believe he's living under the same roof with these idiots. The time machine ordeal had been... messy. A few confusing months of distorted timelines, all spent in a dark prison cell somewhere on Chorus. Eventually things smoothed out and news that the Reds and Blues and saved the day once again trickled down to his personal hell. Then the bastards had showed up out of nowhere, Carson in tow demanding he be remanded to their care. He still doesn't know why. And frankly he still doesn't like any of them but Carson seems to get along with them and the food is a thousand times better so he followed along and puts up with his new "team".

"Hey."

Speaking of...

He turns to see the familiar form of his actual teammate crawling up onto the roof. Carson has always been a bit of an enigma too him. Kind, smart, and loyal to a fault. At first he had been just another teammate. Another means to the ultimate end of revenge against the freelancers and the UNSC. Now? Now he's a friend. The first he's had since... well, the first in a very long time.

"Hey." He answers. Carson sits next him, back propped against the wall and one knee cocked up while his other leg swings loose. He squints slightly, the afternoon sun shines directly against his face, casting shadows over his scarred eye. He's not sure what the scar is from. Carson doesn't talk much about his past, nor where he came from. He suspects it is the result of some childhood fight with an unfortunately armed opponent, or perhaps an animal attack. The eye itself works. Advanced cybernetics can be thanked for that but the scar is too old and too deep to be repaired. The skin would have to be dug out, replaced and grafted completely to get rid of the gouges and that simply takes too much time and money for the UNSC to afford. And at this point, the scar is a part of him. For better or for worse.

"Watcha doing?" He asks. Temple shrugs.

"Avoiding Sarge." He says. That much is the truth. He's not really keeping watch. Nothing to watch for anyway. Unless one wants to know where Tucker sneaks off too when he thinks no one is watching.

"Better stay out of the basement then. He's got Simmons and Caboose scrubbing the floor." Carson says. He snorts. Sometimes he wonders how these idiots have ever managed to survive much less actually save the whole of humanity.

"What're you up too?" He asks. He's trying. Griff and Tucker had, unfortunately made a good point months ago when they asked him what friends he actually had. At the time the answer had been none. Now, he's trying his best to be able to say he has at least one.

"Just got off Wash duty." Carson says, picking casually at his armor.

"How's he?" He asks. He doesn't really care. Agent Washington is still a freelancer. Still the enemy. He and Carolina both. But Washington is rather... different since they last met. Brain damage caused by cerebral hypoxia has made him almost childish in nature. Someone has to watch him at all times or else he'll get himself into rather avoidable situations. Temple is not allowed too watch him. Tucker and Carolina nearly shot him point blank when someone suggested it so he's been taken off the rotation. And while he's found he's no longer happy to see the freelancer's hurt, at the same time he doesn't particularly care. But everyone else does. And he's gotten good at pretending. Maybe someday he'll be able to trick himself into caring.

"He's managing to stay on one subject." Carson says. "Talks about cats. A lot. Like, fixates on cats. Which is good. That means he can string together thoughts but the fixation can be weird sometimes."

Carson is rambling now. He didn't really want to know all of this but it matters to him so he's trying to listen. Trying to care. It's not going so well. He doesn't really know what to say so he tries for something in between caring and not interested.

"Yeah?" Apparently it's the right thing to say. Carson nods enthusiastically and waves his arms around wildly.

"Yeah. Yesterday it was bullets. He's more confused when when its things like that. I think they remind him too much of the injury." He says. Temple shrugs. Bullets. Brain damage. Washington. He's alive. He should be grateful he and Carolina managed to escape his decidedly genius trap months ago. But no. That's not right. He was in the wrong. Or at least he knows he should think that. He's not sure what he thinks anymore. Thoughts about the freelancers give him a headache and he can't make himself manage more than a shrug.

"But enough about Wash. Let's talk about something else." Carson says. Temple bites back a chuckle.

"Am I that obvious?" He asks. Carson grins. It's a nice smile. Not something he gets to see everyday and he really does enjoy the times he does get to see it.

"You're allowed to not like people. You're just not allowed to try and kill them." He warns. It was meant to be funny. He knows that much but he can't bring himself to do more than smile at it. Carson frowns.

"You ok?" He asks. Temple shrugs.

"I just- I don't know. We live on a base with our enemies. These guys tried to kill us and now we're all baking cookies together and babysitting their pet freelancer like one big happy family. How are you not fucking terrified right now?" He hadn't really meant to say all of that. Carson didn't need to know or deal with his insecurities but now that its out he's curious what his teammate thinks about their situation. Carson snorts and shifts. His forest green armor catches the sunlight.

"Well, compared to the twice a year family get-togethers I've been dodging, living with these guys is pretty damn tame." He says. He shifts again and scratches at his forearm. He does that sometimes, seemingly without thought. Possibly he has an old injury that just aches sometimes. Or possibly tennis elbow from constantly pushing Donut away from the oven before he burns the entire base down.

"Besides. I'm here. So it's not all bad. Right?" He says. Temple shrugs. Yeah. He would still be in a jail cell if not for him, and at least with him around there is a familiar and kind face. At least he has a friend.

"Yeah. Not so bad I guess." He teases. Carson laughs.

"Oh is that all." He says. Temple turns to snap back but halts at the sight. Carson's face is red, an embarrassed flush standing out against his normally pale face. It not was He was expecting and suddenly he wonders if he's missed something. The smiles, undeserved loyalty, and never-ending kindness.

"Are you...? Are you making a pass at me?" He asks. The realization is sudden and jarring. How long has that been happening? Was this recent? Or had this always been the norm? Carson smiles. From below comes an annoyed snort. Temple looks down, unsurprised to see Tucker standing below them. He's leaning against the wall, either getting a breather from being inside with the others or deliberately eavesdropping. Likely both.

"Mind your buisness Tucker." He snaps. The cyan soldier looks up. His helmet is on but Temple can imagine the smirk.

"No way dude. I'm invested. He's only been doing it since for-freaking-ever ago." He snaps. Ok. Ok. So its been happening for a while than. A loose piece of debris flies across his field of vision, smacking against the Blue's head and bouncing to the ground.

"Shut up Tucker." Carson shouts. Tucker grumbles something, too quiet to hear but he turns and steps inside, the door shutting behind him. It's quiet again, the late afternoon sun shines brightly on its way down. Temple doesn't really know what to say at this point so he heaves a deep breath and peers at his companion.

"So...?" He asks. Technically Carson never replied. Never confirmed nor denied so technically he's the one that is supposed to speak next. Instead, his teammate stands, brushes himself off and shoots him a grin.

"Think about it. We'll get there." He says. He doesn't wait for a reply, turning and walking off to the doorway. It shuts behind him and Temple is left by himself.

He sits quietly, dangling his legs off the side of the roof. The sun is sinking low, it's warm touch fading, he can feel the cool air of evening even as his bodyglove's temperature regulation kicks in. He's on watch though he probably should have traded out long ago. What he's watching for he doesn't really know but it doesn't really matter either. It's loads better than being stuck in the main room listening to Tucker tease him about his years of blindness. Or in the basement listening to Griff and Simmons snigger at him. Or, worst of all, in the control room listening to Donut spew horrible entendres than he'll never be able to forget.

No. It's better out here. Out here he can think. He can watch. He can wait.

And out here, he can smile.

#redvsblue #rvb #rvb temple #rvb fic

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houseofhurricane · 4 years ago

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ACOTAR Fic: Bloom & Bone (5/32) | Elain x Tamlin, Lucien x Vassa

Summary: Elain lies about a vision and winds up as the Night Court’s emissary to the Spring Court, trying to prevent the Dread Trove from falling into the wrong hands and wrestling with the gifts the Cauldron imparted when she was Made. Lucien, asked to join her, must contend with secrets about his mating bond. Meanwhile, Tamlin struggles to lead the Spring Court in the aftermath of the war with Hybern. And Vassa, the human queen in their midst, wrestles with the enchantment that turns her into a firebird by day, robbing her of the power of speech and human thought. Looming over all of them is uniquet peace in Prythian and the threat of Koschei, the death-god with unimaginable power. With powers both magical and monstrous, the quartet at the Spring Court will have to wrestle with their own natures and the evil that surrounds them. Will the struggle save their world, or doom it?

A/N: I both love and hate writing Lucien (and Vassa! more of her soon) because he's really smart and perceptive, and honestly it's always easier to write characters who know less than I do. But these are my very favorite characters to read about, so, you know, writing growth? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ You can read early previews of the next chapter every Tuesday by following @house.of.hurricane on Instagram. And as always, you can read all chapters at AO3 if you prefer. You can find all chapters here.

Lucien watches the despair in Elain’s eyes transfigure itself into fear. On reflex, he reaches for the place her hands should be, but his fingers slice through the air. He works his way up her arms, his fingers skittering to find whatever is left of her body, and when he feels her elbow, her upper arm, the curve of her shoulder, his breath rushes into his lungs, pure relief.

“You’re all right,” he says, his palms on her shoulders, a lie he needs her to believe. He’s long suspected that the Cauldron gave Elain some formidable magic and that she has never learned to wield it, and now he thinks that gift is swallowing her up. He does not want her to see his fear, to begin to panic. He takes another deep breath, forces his heart to slow.

“What is so wrong with me?”

She reaches out for him again and he notices that her sleeves do not move as if they’re empty. The fabric moves around a wrist that is no longer present in the world, a magic Lucien knows is beyond his capability to resolve. It lacks the familiar resonance of spells or Fae power, as if whatever has hold of Elain is more tightly woven into the fabric of this world.

“There is nothing wrong with you,” he says, instead. His fingers press against her shoulder blades, his thumbs against her clavicles, the bones that are solid and here. He has heard all the meanings in her question and answers the one he knows will infuriate her most, distract her from the disappearance of her hands. “I didn’t think you’d realize. I didn’t think you even wanted me.”

She sighs, too polite to agree or tell an obvious lie.

“I wanted to want you,” she says, the rage and panic slipping from her voice, a cool despair taking hold. He feels for her elbows and cannot find them, and Lucien realizes, trying to contain his smile, that he’s figured out the rules of this game. Sometimes the world feels as simple as a key in a lock.

“You were always looking elsewhere. How could you imagine I wouldn’t get tired of rejection?”

“Aren’t we all going to live for thousands of years?”

“So you thought I could wait for at least one hundred.”

“I thought you would let me…” He watches her eyes carefully focus on his, trying to hide her thinking as she reaches for the right word. The cover might fool anybody else, but Lucien has been looking for tells since he could walk, trying to survive the Autumn Court.

“I think you are only upset because you feel discarded,” he says, quickly, and feels her elbow against his palm.

“You smell of Vassa. The human queen.”

“You were a human not so long ago.” How quick she is to adopt the High Fae prejudices, sneer when she says the word human. He would be more annoyed if he didn’t feel her arms rematerializing.

“My sister told me how you treated her.” The swerve to this insult is clumsy, a baby’s first steps, but he’s still intrigued by this seeming transfiguration to Elain’s personality. Previously, she has dealt out all her slights with silence, at least where he’s concerned.

“And yet you stay in Tamlin’s home.” He keeps his voice low and silky, which he knows is infuriating.

“I thought he was your friend.” Her cheeks are pink and Lucien wonders if maybe he’ll be spared from this deception sooner than he thought.

Below her sleeves, Elain’s wrists are now visible.

“Our lives are too long for you to remain an ornament,” he says, casting around for an insult strong enough to really rouse her, force her to stay. Somehow Lucien has always been asked to rescue the women who will fall in love with other men, which is probably why Vassa is so eminently capable of saving herself.

“You’ve made me into an ornament!”

And when she swings a hand toward him, he doesn’t mind the ineffectual slap because he feels the tips of her fingers on his cheek. Still, when Elain runs toward the house, her whole body intact, he wonders if she even realizes what happened, its magnitude and implications. Even after all his years of attention and scheming, he cannot quite conjure an explanation.

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Elain cannot stop running one hand over the other, tracing the curve of her fingernail, her knuckle, the tendons at the back of her hands and the bones of her wrists. You’re here, you’re whole, you have all your fingers and all your toes, she whispers to herself, sounding like Feyre fussing over Nyx.

She had still felt her fingers, her arm, connected to her body, but they were distant, prickling, as if she’d slept on them and the blood was reentering each limb. Where had she gone?

Elain does not think much on the argument with Lucien. She’d seen the panic in his eyes, surely a mirror of her own. His words were a frantic spell, a summoning.

Her mind catches, instead, on the look when he’d found her screaming and wailing all her grief. The pity in his eyes. She cannot imagine how this male is supposed to be her mate, her one true love.

Gradually she banishes the image of him from her mind. She replaces him with the surety of her fingers, the line of dirt that never disappears from under her fingernails without magic, the little etchings at each knuckle. All present and near and normal.

She falls asleep without eating her dinner, her hands clutched around each other.

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“That could have gone better,” Vassa says by way of hello, as soon as Lucien walks into her bedroom. There’s no point in distance, now that Elain already knows what’s between them. Still, Lucien hesitates before he kisses Vassa. The lie is relatively easy to maintain when he’s far from Elain, but now they will be close for weeks or months, maybe longer. Now he will have to practice some form of daily pining, particularly for Tamlin, who knows the way the mating bond can wreak havoc on a male.

“She’s more observant than I remembered,” he says, unbuttoning his tunic. The hardest part of all this lying are the words he says to Vassa, which are often so unlike the phrases he wants to bestow on her.

“Is this the way all mates behave?”

“Sometimes our marriages are political. I’ve heard this is a common practice in the human realms.”

Vassa swats him.

“You forget how long I’ve been around your people, now.”

“Hardly any time at all, for us.” He drapes his tunic over her desk, where she’s left pages covered with her blots and scribbles out for anyone to read. Was Vassa always so trusting, or does she simply believe her thoughts are so uninteresting for his people to contemplate? Her handwriting is bad enough that it’s possible she believes no one will bother to decipher it.

“I never knew you to be cruel,” she says, and when he turns to her he sees the hurt in Vassa’s eyes.

“I would never hurt you.”

She sighs from her chest, the sound as deep as a groan.

“A queen is expected to have better judgement.”

“The situation is more complex than it appears.”

“Men often say this in simple situations when they are in the wrong.”

Vassa’s shoulders are thrown back, her arms across her chest. She has told him that queens must show mercy but also embody justice, and Lucien has no doubts about which quality she thinks is vital in this moment.

“Do you know how easy it would be for a High Fae of certain talents to learn all of the secrets in your mind?” He’s begun to work on the buttons of his shirt, hoping he can distract her from an argument, though he knows from experience that at this point, when her eyes are bright and calculating, that any attempt is futile.

“You’ve shown me how to make a mental shield and you’ve told me secrets.”

“This secret endangers the peace between our courts.” He does not tell her a skilled daemati could storm her mental shields in a second. Vassa is rightfully proud of her own strength and cunning, and he has caused her enough hurt tonight.

“And yet you’ve made it obvious to anybody who cares to pay attention.”

“Tell me what you think you know.”

“Elain Archeron is not your mate.”

He keeps his face too still and triumph flashes on her face, transfigured quickly into a more sober expression as her mind whirls into action, her eyes now a brighter blue, her lower lip caught between her teeth, an expression he wants to memorize and study until he can never forget it.

“That would only be a political disaster if you knew her real mate,” she says, moments later. Her voice is hushed but still the words echo. “And why has he or she not challenged you?”

“I’m not sure,” he says, glad that he can tell her this truth, for the wide description that shows that Vassa hasn’t guessed they’re in the grand home of Elain Archeron’s actual mate. “I would have thought--”

“Tell me.” Vassa steps toward him, extends her hand.

“You are safest if I tell you nothing.” He reaches for her hands, twines her fingers in his own. Her skin is so soft, so new. He would not be surprised to learn that the spell remakes her body completely each evening.

She raises her eyebrow, refusing to be drawn in completely. “I am under a curse and bound to a death-lord, Lucien. You think I’m afraid of a little court intrigue?”

“All of our monsters have been awfully good to you.” He presses a kiss to her jaw, her earlobe. He’ll make a map of her, catalogue the way Vassa feels against his lips. He doesn’t want to think of Elain or Tamlin any longer. The only benefit to this evening’s scene should be that he can share a room with Vassa to only moderate approbation.

“Tell me, Lucien.”

“What if I share another revelation?”

“Dazzle me, Lucien Vanserra,” she says, her voice so dry he lets out a bark of laughter in spite of himself. Cauldron boil this woman’s enemies, the ambassadors who will visit Scythia from foreign courts.

“Elain was weeping when I found her.”

“Naturally. Her mate was dallying with another woman.”

“I can’t tell if you’re making sport of me,” he says.

“I feel sorry for the girl.”

“You’re barely older than she is.”

“Some women -- or females, I suppose -- remain girls longer than others. Anyway, she was weeping.”

“The word might not be strong enough. She was screaming loud enough to rouse the village. But when she heard me approach, her hands had disappeared.”

“Surely you’ve seen more impressive magic in your storied centuries.”

He explains the buried quality of the magic, the way the reappearance of Elain’s hands had been so clearly connected to her emotions, her seeming lack of comprehension at all that had happened.

“That seems a useful talent, if she could control it. An invisible woman would make a perfect spy. Do you think that’s why she was sent here?”

“I don’t think Elain is in control of any of her powers.”

“She has others?”

“Rhysand has never said exactly what, but I gather that he and his court have noticed that she has other abilities. But I’d be surprised if this wasn’t the first time this disappearance manifested itself.”

“Perhaps you’re underestimating her. She could be gathering intelligence for the Night Court.”

“If so, Rhysand would never have summoned us.”

“He doesn’t trust our host.”

“I wouldn’t put it past Rhys to contrive a situation where Elain and I were trapped in the same house.”

“The firebird would be included for what, romantic lighting?”

He pulls her close against him, so that the embroidery of her gown lays down its marks on his skin.

“Included for your knowledge of Koschei,” he says, because on the whole it is a relief to tell her the truth, “and also for my great good luck.”

Vassa lifts her cheek from his shoulder to smile at him and despite the evening’s events, he smiles back at her, celebrates the tiny solitary miracle that is the two of them together in her room. No matter the secrets, the lies he has to tell to contain them, Lucien finds himself believing in that moment that everything will be all right.

He’s always found delusion to be a particularly heady emotion.

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

In the morning, before dawn, Lucien is in a rush, fumbling with his clothes and pulling Vassa from her bed before she transforms and singes the mattress. Tamlin’s servants meet them at the door with a wrapped breakfast that he doubts Vassa will have a chance to eat, and sure enough, before they’re halfway across the gardens, Vassa is a firebird, flapping her wings across the lavender sky, the new dawn.

She does not speak in this form but she follows him easily as he makes his way through the trees, looping and diving to get a better idea of the terrain. In this form she is formidable but still very exposed, and since the war, she’s learned to be vigilant.

After an hour of walking, they reach the lake nearest to Tamlin’s estate, and Vassa launches herself at the sparkling water. Around her, the water bubbles, the steam rising from the place where she dove. Lucien settles himself on a boulder and scans the forest, palms his dagger in one hand and his breakfast in the other. When he’s sure that the only sounds are Vassa’s splashing and the other birds awakening, he puts the knife down and eats the bread and eggs and cheese, watching her flames mirrored on the surface of the water.

Tending to Vassa was the work of servants for months before Lucien took it over, well before they’d wound up in their latest arrangement. He enjoys watching the world wake up, loves watching her transformation, imagining the way that she beholds the world in this form. She has trouble describing the experience, only its limitations, but he can see Vassa’s character inside the bird, her watchfulness and unbroken spirit. If he does not keep her sufficiently entertained, she’ll splash him or draw close enough to leave a burn on his sleeve. As a result, Lucien has told her nearly all of his stories, decades of court intrigue and gossip, rivalries and petty jealousies and tendres. At first, he wrapped these stories in fine telling, with voices and dramatic pauses as if she were a paying audience. But gradually, as they grew more familiar, he began to tell her the stories and secrets that stuck inside him, his voice low and sometimes hesitant. He’s told her about Jessaminda, about Tamlin’s kindness and his rage, the way that despite most evidence to the contrary, he still doesn’t fully trust the Night Court. During these stories, Vassa always watches him with her great blue eyes, still as a swan while she circles the lake.

At night, Vassa will tell him her own secrets, the intrigues of her court, and though Lucien had long scorned the human realms, he finds herself drawn in by the tales, asking her questions, trying to better envision her world.

Behind him, a fallen branch cracks under a foot and the birds scatter. Lucien is on his feet in an instant, Vassa a warm fire close behind.

When he sees the golden beast, Lucien takes a breath before returning his dagger to his belt. Tamlin has appeared more in control lately, but he’s witnessed enough of his old friend’s behavior over the past few years that Lucien can’t be sure there won’t be an explosion.

“You’ve found a pretty spot to while away the morning,” Tamlin says. The words would be charming if the fangs of the beast weren’t quite so large and sharp.

“I promised to show Vassa your lands.”

“I gather that you’ve made many promises to Vassa.”

Lucien holds himself still. He wants to reach for his dagger, give Tamlin an idea of the danger he’s courting, but knows the gesture would reveal too much. Just this once, he’s grateful that Vassa is unable to speak in this form.

“Rhys recruited you to play matchmaker?” he says instead, trying for the kind of courtly sneer that comes so easily to Eris.

Tamlin shakes his head, sending leaves spiralling out of his golden fur, and then in a flash of light, he’s High Fae again, tall and golden against the trees. Lucien is sure that all the motion was simply a distraction from his shuddering at the idea of being implicated in one of Rhysand’s schemes, however harmless, but once again he wonders if Tamlin senses the mating bond.

“I came to seek your counsel,” Tamlin says.

“Vassa--”

“We’ll stay nearby. You will have the chance to defend your queen.”

Lucien looks toward Vassa, who bobs her head on its long neck as if to say go on.

From behind, Tamlin looks the way he always has, his warrior’s body always ready to strike as he strikes a relentless pace through the trees, and Lucien can imagine that he and Tamlin are the friends they were before Amarantha, before Feyre and the war with Hybern, before the Archeron sisters wound up in the Cauldron. It startles him to think that this before is now long ago, past the human lifespan.

When Tamlin stops, his face is grim, his mouth bracketed by deep lines that Lucien has never seen before.

“Why did Rhysand send you here?” he asks, the words almost lost in his growl. There are talons, now, where his fingers were seconds ago.

“I haven’t spoken to him in weeks,” Lucien says. He’d been avoiding the entire Night Court, thinking of what they’d report back to Elain, the implications. “You were the one who asked me to come here, remember?”

“I forget nothing.” Tamlin’s eyes make Lucien think of trees after an unexpected ice storm, the leaves a deeper, brighter green within their crystallized prison. He’s thinking of Feyre’s escapes, the way Lucien aided her and fled himself. The memories of the High Fae are too long for comfortable recollection.

“His people were investigating Koschei,” Lucien says when it’s clear that Tamlin will not elaborate on his suspicions. This is common enough knowledge by now. He should have found a way to the Night Court over the past week, but he was too focused on those last nights with Vassa which have turned out, now, not to be so finally over after all. “I’m sure that’s why they asked for Vassa. And if Elain was sent to your court, I think that matchmaking is once again the most likely answer.”

Tamlin snorts. “There will be hell to pay when Rhysand finds out you’ve rejected Elain.”

There’s a rustle in the trees and Lucien whirls toward it, his knives in his hands. Nobody appears. Since Amarantha arrived in Prythian, he’s stopped trusting these woods.

“Who is patrolling your borders?” Lucien asks. He hadn’t spotted anyone when he and Vassa approached yesterday, but Tamlin’s sentries know these forests, would surely have been warned about the firebird.

“I keep my lands safe.” His voice is gruff, tight, the pride and shame braided together.

“The army you raised--”

“The people of these lands feared Hybern more than they hated me. Once peace was assured, they went back to their homes.”

“Perhaps a visit from their High Lord would convince them.”

“A High Lord who could offer them what, exactly?”

All at once, Lucien is exhausted with this self-loathing.

“Your people will not love you overmuch when the Autumn Court storms your lands, or if a force from the continent invades. Without a wall, your lands are exposed for the taking.”

“There are tales of the beast who roams these lands.”

“Everyone knows that beast is you, Tamlin.”

A surge of power in the air around them, sharp-toothed. Far away, Lucien hears the beat of wings on water, knows that Vassa felt it.

As he always has, Lucien holds still until Tamlin’s temper ebbs. He imagines what it must be, to feel you’ve had everything you wanted and then have it pulled away. To have been held, Under the Mountain, the principal subject of Amarantha’s poisoned regard.

But this time, Lucien does not feel his own anger melt away. What happens if Vassa is captured, or Elain? Each would command a hefty ransom. Elain could drive the lands to war; he’s still puzzled by her powers but can only conclude that they are mighty and dangerous, if it’s anything like the magic her sisters command. But it’s the image of Vassa, back in Koschei’s clutches, which tears at Lucien’s heart, drives him forward.

“I would help you raise the troops,” he says, the force in his voice a surprise even to himself. “Elain and Vassa could be trusted to rouse support. Your people will remember their roles in the war with Hybern. With a little kindness and a little pleading and ample compensation, all of which are seemingly too much for you, they could even be persuaded to remember the way you double-crossed the king of Hybern and joined the battle at a crucial moment. They can still be rallied, should the High Lord care enough. But you have given up on these people and these lands. You think that once your enemies have slaughtered you, then it will only be oblivion and peace, and that might be true in your own experience, but you forget the fact that when your lands are overrun, it will be your people who suffer day by day. They know this already even if you refuse to acknowledge reality. And so they will not mourn you when your lands are seized and you yourself are killed prowling your imagined borders. You will not be worth a single tear.”

Tamlin’s eyes are wide, and before the anger can burn in them, Lucien stalks off in the direction of the lake.

Behind him, the forest is silent.

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littlesparklight · 4 years ago

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Zeus’ Necessities

This short fic is a meditation on necessity and fate, kingship, and, also, infidelity, without discounting the personal responsibility of that. I love diving into, like, the metaphysical and supernatural side of worldbuilding, and while it doesn’t seem to come up much in most treatment of Greek myth, it is easily right there for the making of it.

So, this is a conversation between Zeus and Ananke, as much as one can have a conversation with the primordial deity of cosmic necessity.

Sitting up on Olympos' highest mountaintop, Zeus, the king of Olympos, ruler of the sky and thus one-third of the world, closes his eyes and stretches his awareness out. Up, out, in. Beyond. Ananke meets him partway, becoming like a shawl made of stardust around his shoulders, a crown wrought from the core of the Earth on his head, and no imperative of anything specific at all on his tongue.

It's a relief.

But he'd known that, for otherwise he would have known, would have had to, come up here. Today, he'd come up here because he'd wanted, because he had a question, and by Ananke's presence, they are willing to entertain him. Which means the answer doesn't matter anymore, it's over and done with, and he truly was as much at the mercy of Ananke as everyone and everything else.

It feels like betrayal, though that's ridiculous. Ananke can't betray anything, for they are threaded through the cosmos and will only as it may be. They have no care, no interest, no desire beyond what they are. It makes them even less of an individual than some of the other primordial gods are, like Nyx and Erebus, who barely concern themselves with the actual world as it is. It makes Ananke supremely straightforward, though that would be little obvious if one didn't have long awareness of working with them directly.

"Zeus," they greet, his name less a word than it is a feeling, a collection of sensations and phenomena (rain, the charged energy of electricity, driving need, radiant light, the taste-smell of ripe fruit and corn, force and arrogance and dogged determination, and at the edges, traces of cold, Chthonic mist). "What is it?"

They probably already know, since this has to do with them, or rather, what they are and what they have done, which is, in the end, the same thing. But they ask anyway, perhaps because that's how conversations works, perhaps because there is the tiniest of slivers of some individuality underpinning Ananke which means they can ask questions like that because it might amuse them to make him spell it out.

It is probably that. Zeus sneers, then sighs. Capitulates for the inevitable, like he always has to do, though this is a much smaller inevitability than the usual ones he is handed from Ananke.

"There were so many mortal women that caught my interest in such a short time, and then, as we drew back a little, I practically lost complete interest. Why?"

"You ask that, yet you already know, otherwise you wouldn't have asked." There's no obvious depth to his awareness of those words, no clear emotion carrying them, but Zeus can still swear they are shaded both with chiding and teasing.

"I don't like it," he says, mutters, low and reticent. Not quite accusing. "It makes me feel used."

A pause. Then laughter, actual laughter rings around him, echoing like any laughter ought up here on the mountaintop, being immediately snatched away by the wind. It also makes him quake down to the very core, threatening to spill him out over eternity, a far vaster distance of reality than any but the most primordial deities - and most of the time, not even them - could cover.

"Your lust is your own. You would stray with or without external forces. You proved that with the first one," they say, and there's a touch at his shoulders, dizzying and yet weighing more than the whole of the solar system and it keeps him rooted. That's not a lie, either. He would, and they both know it. He does have far more control over himself nowadays, however. "You move both gods and mortals as it will be, because it has to be, oh Father of Gods and Men, but you so often watch and ache for it, separate because you see what will be done and most often have little part in it. Perhaps it was you along with your brother because it was to keep you humble when you finally understood. In the meantime, there was always your wife's disapproval."

There's a kiss to his forehead, all the Earth and outer space in it, and Zeus closes his eyes and exhales. Annoyed, and at peace. No less displeased, honestly, and he feels a little duped when this is certainly a lot more than, say, only Leda for the necessity of Helen's existence in the greater chain of events that ended with the war. But it'd been more than that, hadn't it? And here he was now, understanding how part of his nature had been used against him for whatever the necessity of it was, and he can see why. A woman's (and thus a goddess') contribution to a child's existence is heavier, takes more time, resources and effort. Aphrodite took her turn in this, but that only emphasized the time it took, and if the goddesses should've done as he and Poseidon - and, in smaller contribution, his sons - had done to shoulder some of the responsibility, it would have taken a lot more time. And if the specific span of time was sensitive, it couldn't take a lot of time. In the end they are all related, tied as closely together as there are vast gulfs between them, and one of them joining with a mortal is, functionally for the effect it has on the resultant offspring and their potential effect on the world, the same as another.

So, then, the least amount of time and effort on the divine side of things to make it happen when and where it has to. When it's necessary it do. At least Poseidon had had to do it more than him, but Poseidon is not burdened by any of this knowledge, and even if he was - would he care? Would he actually understand?

Zeus sighs, tipping his head back to stare up at the darkening sky. There are stars peeking out towards east, with a line of disappearing fire still colouring the horizon to the west. It's as beautiful as it was the first time he saw it, looking at the sky as a day-old child. Whatever the need was it be done back then, the effect will keep echoing forward through the blood of humanity even if it is really only the direct offspring of a mortal and a god who will notice the effects of what having a divine parent means.

Ananke hasn't left yet. They are wrapped around him warmly, impressing no greater need on him than companionable silence. Still, it's they who speaks up first, gentling them past a vague question Zeus has never asked but has harboured for a long time.

"It's you because it has to be." That's reassuring, and damning.

"It's me because I marked myself, didn't I?" Zeus can't help the edge of sourness, understanding the chain of events that led to this, that both made him and had him make himself into what he is, and put himself here, one of the direct mediators of Ananke. The Moirai are as well, but they deal more with humans in specific, different ways. It's not the same, but they are both, well. Necessary.

"Few can become dying and rising gods," they whisper, Chthonic chill and life-giving radiance in the feeling of those words. "And doing so young leaves marks, yes. But if you weren't you, it might have been Apollo instead to hear like this."

Zeus knows Apollo almost does even as it is, so closely attuned to Fate and the ephemeral background works of cosmos as he is - what Zeus has to impart to his son by himself, Apollo understands with barely a nudge or two. Zeus is glad it isn't more than that, though. Apollo has enough work, his delightfully radiant son, and this is--- He freezes, frowning.

"Am I here merely bec---"

"Zeus." The ringing proclamation of his name could've shattered him and spread his essence out over the cosmos if Ananke hadn't taken care. "You would not have needed to be one of the rulers to do what you are doing; the power behind the throne can be more total than the throne itself. You are here, as you are and with your brothers, because of you."

"All right."

He sinks back into his seat, relaxing a little. So it wasn't ananke that he be the ruler of Olympos; that was reassuring, maybe childishly so. It was, rather, because it suited him, because he'd wanted it, because he'd thought it necessary and that he was one of the few that could do it. Because he'd thought it his right. So he was here because he'd searched it out, because it'd seemed reasonable to him, Poseidon and Hades that they divide the rule between them. Reasonable and fair, when there were three of them, though Zeus holds a sliver's edge of higher authority. Poseidon hates it like nothing else and always has to test him at every twist and turn.

That's something, at least. But so many things he's had to do were because it was necessary they were done, or made into happening, and no one that didn't know could know that (and if he told, they would most often forget anyway). All of this because it's not, after all, as if there is a plan. Zeus knows that more intimately than anything else, by, well, the necessity of the thing. One event builds on the next, some events get fixed in advance, in shape and form and thrust of them, because of past events, or because of the general flow of everything up until a point, but none of that is predetermined in its entirety. Prophecy for humans are as iron-clad as they might be possibility only, and human choices make or break them; building blocks that might make future necessity and fate, or were made into fate because of something past.

He sits there, watching night spread over this half of the world, and, slowly, smiles.

"It's beautiful."

Maybe he's a little annoyed still, but mostly it's fine. He just hopes there's nothing going on right now that has him acting unknowingly as willed, but if there is, he won't know until later, anyway.

"It is."

Ananke suffuses him, cosmic pleasure at the sight and meaning of it, and then they depart, leaving Zeus alone on the mountaintop.

#greek mythology #greek gods #zeus #ananke #lightart

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raging-violets · 4 years ago

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Harry Potter OC Ask Game: Verity Calvert

No one asked me to do this, but HP has been on my mind lately (when I really should be finishing another chapter I’ve procrastinated on for ages), and I figured this was a chance to think through and organize ideas for my OC. So, here we go!

-Rhuben

PS: This is the OC, btw I’ve given myself too many faceclaim choices for. Kathryn Prescott I chose first, specifically because she’s underused, but I’ve also more recently been looking at Natalia Dyer (but feel like a LOT of people use her), Alexis Bledel, or Emily Rudd. Any opinions would be great.

What is their blood status (pureblood, muggleborn, etc)? What are their thoughts on the concept of blood status?

She would tell you her blood status is Pure-Blood. Blood status was never something she really thought about so much as she’s aware of how her parents keep telling her that it’s important for her to align herself with Pure-Blood families. Being Ministry workers (and overall a well known family - they have a lot of money), they have, just like Madeline’s teacher at Beauxbatons, always informed her about the importance of a good wizarding image and/or being a respectable member of Wizard Society. Funny thing is; she doesn’t realize she’s actually half-blood.

What is their wand wood and core?

Her wand is Beech Wood with a Dragon Heartstring core

Do they bring a pet to Hogwarts with them?

Yes, she brings her Great Hearned Owl, Nyx

What Hogwarts house were they sorted into? Why did the hat put them in that house over the others? Was it a quick sorting or a hatstall? Are they happy with their sorting? What Hogwarts house would they least fit into?

After transferring from Beauxbatons in her third year (despite the fact that most people have no idea where Beauxbatons is exactly, Madeline’s parents feel she’d be safer at Hogwarts under Dumbledore), she’s sorted into Gryffindor.

The decision was quick, but it confuses her as she’s always made top marks, and she believes she should be in Ravenclaw.

She’s not entirely happy with her sorting, and feels like that’s the one she least fits into, as she feels that she doesn’t show brave or courageous qualities as she’s always gone along with whatever her parents and teachers have told her to do. This also contributed to her success with her education as her act of rebellion at her home, whenever her parents would have Ministry co-workers over, was to hide out in the library and read.

What subject is their favorite at Hogwarts? Which is their least favorite? Is their favorite the same as their best subject?

Her favorite subject is Charms, least favorite is Astronomy. Her best subject is Potions. The theory behind magic is something Madeline excels at, but the wandwork behind spells and such, she has a harder time with.

What electives do they chose in third year?

Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy (she chooses to study Alchemy when she gets to her sixth year). She also has been known to spend her free time in the Hospital Wing with Madame Pomfrey, learning all about about the world of magical medicine.

Do they earn more house points or do they lose more?

Both. She earns them through her answering corrections correctly in class and following he rules, but also, as she finds her voice, loses them as she learns to speak up for herself

How do they do on their OWLs? On their NEWTs?

Verity does very well on her OWLS and NEWTs. She always viewed getting good marks as a sign of being well-taught and ready to enter the magical world as a respected member of magical society.

Thoughts on Quidditch? Do they play? And if so what position do they play?

Verity enjoys Quidditch. She’s a reserve member of the Gryffindor team playing Chaser.

What Wizarding treat (bertie botts, chocolate frogs, etc.) is their favorite?

By far, it’s a tie between Sugar Quills and Butterbeer

What is their Patronus? What happy memory do the use to conjure it?

Her patronus is a Dove. Her happy memory when she first successfully conjures it was the day he wand chose her.

What is their Boggart? What happens to it when they cast Riddikulus?

One of Verity’s biggest fears is drowning. Whether that’s actually in the literal sense or metaphorical; for example if she feels like she’s fallen too far behind with her homework and more and more keeps being piled on top of it.

At first, her boggart would be an image of herself drowning, but in air. Essentially she’d watch herself choke to death.

When she casts riddikulus, it turns into a mime. (Which I understand is scary for some people)

What does Amortentia smell like to them?

Lavender, Fresh Bread/Crepes/Pastries, Mountain Air

What spell is their favorite? Which do they use the most?

Her favorite spell is Stupefy. She uses Protego and Impedimenta often. Bombarda is possibly considered her signature spell.

If they needed it, what form would the Room of Requirement take for them?

A place to escape is the shortest answer: over the years, she just wanted to get away from her home and her parents. In her house, that area was the library. Hogwarts has one of those. The Room of Requirement would fill that sort of need for her when everything got to be too much. If at all possible, the room would take on the look of the mountains, much like how one of the first floor classrooms was transformed into a forest for Firenze.

If they trained as an Animagus what form would they take?

Probably some sort of stealthy animal; and her special marking would be a patch in the shape of a bow (because Madeline wears a lot of bows).

What do they do/want to do after Hogwarts?

Growing up, she wanted to be a Healer or a MediWizard; she likes animals and enjoys taking care of not only them, but people. Partly to overcome her feeling that she wasn’t really taken care of growing up, more groomed to look a certain way. It helped during the growing threat of Voldemort’s return, and when searching for Horcruxes with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Later in life, she also gained some notoriety for creating a “field guide” of sorts to help people learn how to create antidotes and the like when away from supplies such as cauldrons.

She would probably go into Magical Law, or, if it’s a thing, Archiving. She’s gone so long in her life with the world forgetting about her, (later on being dubbed, The Girl Who Disappeared), she doesn’t want anyone else to go through it.

Which Unforgivable Curse would they be most likely to use? What would be the reason for it?

Crucio; she has a lot of deep-seated anger in herself. She would never want anyone to die, but to feel even a tiny bit of the pain she’s felt, is something that’s crossed her mind a time or two. Prolonged torture as a whole, however, isn’t something she can wrap her head around.

Which Unforgivable Curse would they hate to have used on them the most?

Impero; because she’s already lived a long life of everyone else telling her what to do, or how to look. She no longer wishes to be under anyone’s control but herself.

Which Deathly Hallow (wand, stone, or cloak) would they want? Why?

The Resurrection Stone; it’d be nice for her to get advice from some of her friends/family that passed on. Or just to get general reassurance.

#by: rhuben #oc game #oc ask game #fd: harry potter #oc: verity calvert #oc talk

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amarabliss · 5 years ago

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Galahdian Dreams - 15 (Nyx Ulric/Reader)

Synopsis: Your father was the king of Insomnia. He was good and just. You never thought you’d meet anyone like him after he was taken from the world. Your Uncle Regis, has taken the throne and followed through on your father’s plans. It was good to see the city in capable hands.

Enter Nyx Ulric, refugee, Glaive, fighter…how is it he can see all your secrets? He knows how to set you off and he’s promised to not let you go…(AU for sure, Regis wasn’t supposed to take the throne, and our lovely Nyx has more of a past then we thought…)

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen Part Fourteen

** Warning there is a Character Death in this chapter**

You pen scratched against the paper as you finished pushing through reports and request from the out-laying towns to the west. You happy to say there were less this week then the weeks prior, it meant something was changing…

You stopped looking out the small window in your office. It wasn’t enough change though…Three weeks had passed since you’d spoke to the council. Help had been sent a week later, yet no one returned.

The reports were mixed messaged. Some said they needed everyone there…others said the assistance was crucial…none said anything about casualties.

You took a deep breath in through your nose before turning back to the work. You still cried…you couldn’t help it after a while. You felt split in two, especially since your last few hours with Nyx.

You were pretty sure you knew what he was going to say that day. You reached up playing with the bead around your neck again. You’d been thinking about it a lot actually and how you wanted to respond…then you’d start feeling guilty cause you were dreaming when he was fighting.

You let out frustrated sigh setting the pen down running a hand over your face. You’d been working since early morning, perhaps it was time for a break.

You walked out locking the door behind you taking in a deep breath as the realization once again settled on you that you were helping your uncle run the country. How strange…you’d accomplished a lot in such a short time.

“There you are…” You cringed hearing the snobbish voice approaching behind you, “I didn’t realize I’d be chasing you down everywhere.”

“Prince Ravus…” You turned looking at him as your jaw clenched noticing he was no longer in his mourning colors. He’d been here for a month with Luna as guest during the occupation of Tenebrae and insisted on hounding you for an audience, “Do you need something?”

“I was hoping to spend the day with you. I have it all planned out. You should go change into to something less suffocating.” Ravus smirked at you as he reached out to take hold of your chin.

You didn’t give him a chance to touch you moving around him, “Your grace, I’m too busy to play your games. Perhaps you can call ahead next time and see if I’m available…”

You felt him try to grab your arm and instantly you became defensive, “Y/N, I demand…”

“Do not touch me!” You hissed at him as you tore your arm away from him finally feeling a breaking point. He always tried to touch without your permission. It was always possessive and demeaning, “We are not friends. We are not companions, and I will not be handled like-like a toy to be played with.”

“Why are you being like this? I’m only trying to help you!” His voice rose as he stepped toward you once again.

“Help me?” You stared up at him as your fist balled up, your voice low in a hushed tone, “You have never once tried to help me…you only want me because of what it will do for your status. Poor little Ravus…just a prince…not an oracle, not the heir to the throne…”

What happened next wasn’t so surprising, though it hurt none the less and the stars you were seeing made you dizzy. However, your delight out-weighed the sting in your check as you lifted your head seeing your cousin throwing Ravus up against the wall the shimmers of his warp disappearing behind him, “Touch my cousin again and see what happens?”

“Noct…” You resisted reaching up to touch your cheek. You didn’t want to give Ravus the satisfaction knowing you were in pain, “he’s not worth it.”

You heard running approaching as the trio caught up to their prince. Noctis stared at Ravus a moment longer before letting him go. Ravus readjusted himself as the others came to a halt, “Someone will hear about this…”

“Funny…I think it will backfire on you.” Noct glared at him, “Evidence points that you’re in the wrong here…”

“You weren’t here…you don’t know what was said…” Ravus threatened glancing over to you, “And you’re to proud to see unrest fall within these walls…”

You stared at him shaking your head before you spoke, “Ravus, I have complete authority of who may stay with in these walls. I asked Luna here, only if she felt comfortable leaving her country…I only have to be friends with Luna to ensure things continue between our country…do you see where you lay on the list of important people I care about? If you don’t, let me point it out to you. It’s exceedingly lower then Niflheim soldiers at the moment…”

Ravus growled and took a step toward you, “You need to learn your place in the world…”

The trio and Noct stepped between him and you, glaring daggers at him. You took a deep breath in, “I know my place Ravus…It’s time you learned yours. Now your welcome to stay here as long as you respect everyone and follow our laws. Is that understood?”

Gladio glared at him before he spoke, “Hey, she asked you a question?”

Ravus snarled before walking away. Noctis made a move to stop him but you caught him just in time shaking your head watching him walk away, “Thank you for that…it could’ve been much worse.”

“I wish you would let me teach him a lesson.” Noctis reached up looking at your face frowning as you winced away, “Come on…we need to get someone to look at that.”

“I’ll be alright…some ice and make up does wonders…” You told him forcing a smile before looking at them all, “What are you all doing here?”

“We came to visit you.” Ignis smiled a little despite the worry in his eyes. He held a basket up full of goodies, “We thought you might need a break.”

You looked at all of them feeling touched, “And I think I know the perfect spot to go…”

A couple hours later and a good lunch in your stomach, you smiled listening to Prompto as he took pictures from the crystal room’s balcony, “This is such an amazing view! You can practically see the whole city!”

“Don’t get to close to the edge…” Ignis chided a little before beginning to walk over to him.

“Stop moving…” Gladio growled at you.

“I don’t need help!” You snapped at him swiping the bag of ice he went and found, “You’re supposed to be pestering Noctis not me…”

“Yeah…well…old habits die hard.” He sighed sitting back on his feet looking over to Noctis and Prompto posing for a selfie, “Believe it or not…I miss you.”

“You do?” You looked surprised as you placed the ice against your cheek.

“Yeah…I didn’t have to worry about fan girls and the public so much.” He smirked at you before it turned into a sincere smile, “But really I just miss my friend.”

“Oh…” You reached over squeezing his arm. You had been neglecting everyone lately. You’d have to change that, “I’m always around if you need me…”

“I know…but just like when you were going to be queen…you always have something planned and going on.” He chuckled, “Don’t get me wrong…I’m happy to see you working again. You’re doing a great job.”

“Thank you…I’m actually hoping to get your help aga-” You stopped as you heard your name being called from the entryway. You looked over seeing Drautos running in. Your heart nearly stopped as you let the ice drop from your hand.

This was a moment you had thought about over and over. It played out two ways…one…was happy, the other, heart wrenching. Either way you had to know the answer to question you were about to ask…

“What’s happened?” You asked him as he stopped in front of you.

He stared down into your eyes before he smiled, “He’s home…they’re all home…”

Your eyes widened as you took off running everyone calling after you as you stepped into the elevator. You pressed the floor you needed making the door shut before anyone else could join you. You leaned against the back of the elevator as tears just started pooling down your cheeks.

You watched the numbers and as soon as the door pinged you rushed out past two soldiers. The yelped as you pushed by, you called back, “Sorry!”

“I…ma’am?” They started following you worry in their eyes, “Is something wrong?”

“No!” You smiled back at them, “Not at all…have a good day!”

You laughed a little as they both stopped looking at each other confused before you ducked into the locker room Nyx had taken you to so long ago. You skidded over to his locker quickly undoing the lock before pulling out clothes you had stashed there after he left.

If Drautos knew you’d been sneaking out once or twice a week you’d be a dead woman for sure…after today your secret was probably done for. It didn’t matter though…you needed to see him. You pulled on Nyx’s ball cap after you zipped up your sweater before shoving your other clothes inside shutting the locker.

You slowly stepped out making sure the coast was clear before heading toward the gate. You could feel the giddiness rising in you the closer you got, but it was quickly dashed when you saw Drautos standing there waiting with a car.

He rolled his eyes as he shook his head opening the car door, “Ma’am…”

You sighed looking at him before you got in, “Can you blame me?”

“Without a doubt, one hundred percent. I would lose two jobs, if anything happens to you.” He told you as you settled into the seat, he shut the door going to the driver’s side, “But for the record…I am excited too…”

You smiled at him as he drove you to the Refugee quarter, it still needed a better name. You wanted to wait for Nyx’s input on the matter. Drautos instructed you to keep the hat on and to stay close to him when he parked.

As you stepped out you could see a large crowd gathering. You looked at Drautos, “Is this normal?”

“I don’t know…I imagine everyone is excited to see everyone?” He told you as you both moved toward the crowd. Everyone was whispering. You glanced at Drautos again seeing his face fall a little as he peered over the crowd, “Oh no…”

You heard a loud wail as everyone bowed their head. Your head snapped back feeling your gut wrench at the noise. You recognized it…you experienced it…loss… You swallowed down your emotions whispering to Drautos, “Who?”

He looked down at you struggling with a well of emotions himself, “…Pelna…”

You shut your eyes bowing your head as you put a hand over you mouth to try and stifle the cry. He’d been so welcoming to you. So, kind, and compassionate. He’d answered all your questions and encouraged you when you needed it.

And Nyx…oh god Nyx…he’d loved him like a brother. Always spoke of how his progress was going and how much he enjoyed seeing Pelna advance. He was going to be a mess…

“What can I do?” You looked at Drautos once you composed yourself, “There has to be something…it’s why no one is doing anything, right?”

“…he needs…a sky burial…” Drautos shut his eyes speaking quietly, “It’s difficult to get in and out of the city…and we can’t burn the body here.”

“Let me handle it…” You told him taking out your phone, “Just tell me when and I’ll get it done…”

“Ma’am…” He put his hand over yours getting your attention.

“I have to do something…Everyone in this city has a right to practice how they wish…this just one more difference. I bury my family in a giant tomb outside the city walls…why should it be hard for your people to practice your beliefs?” Your eyes watered before he nodded slowly allowing you to step away.

It took you several minutes, but you managed to get the west gate open. You walked back over but couldn’t see Drautos anywhere. You frowned as someone looked over to your eyes widening a little. They tapped the next person’s shoulder and it suddenly became a ripple effect as everyone parted to let you through.

This isn’t what you expected but everyone seemed to be urging you forward. When you came to the center you saw a casket in the back of a truck. You paused staring at it for a moment before you saw Nyx standing a few paces away holding onto an older woman as Drautos consoled the man beside her.

You stood there unsure of what to do. You felt like you were intruding…you felt like you had no place here. Your eyes flicked back over to the coffin as a tear fell down your cheek. You looked around seeing all the men and women who had just returned.

All of them looked beaten and weary. Yet, they still stood waiting to bid their comrade a proper farewell. Finally, Drautos saw you waving you over, “Ma’am…This is Mr. Kahara…”

You looked at him seeing where Pelna got his kind eyes. You teared up before taking his outstretched hand, “Sir…I am so sorry for your loss…”

He nodded before letting go of your hand. You could see the pain in his face as he struggled to speak, “Pelna…he always spoke of how kind you were. Then we all got to experience it here in the ward…he died fighting for the future you’re building for us…Please don’t let him down.”

You felt a heavy weight fall into your stomach as he moved to pull his wife from Nyx’s arms. You looked over to him as he let go. His face was blank as he turned to Drautos, “Where do we go?”

Drautos looked to you for the answer. You swallowed before you answered, “The west gate…I figured the cliffs you took me to…I’m sorry if…”

“That’ll be fine…” Nyx moved away from you as he crawled into the back of the truck with the casket putting a hand on it.

“Captain…” You whispered watching Nyx.

“He’ll be alright in time. He was close with Pelna…” Drautos put a hand on your shoulder, “Will you walk with us?”

“Of course…” You nodded as everyone proceeded to follow the truck. The walk was long, but every soldier followed behind it. You hung your head a little as you listened to them start to sing a song. A lament of some kind.

It spoke of traveling far away from home, never turning around, never making any plans. There would be a place at the end of the road where all would be good. Home was with you and good enough, for tomorrow was never guaranteed.

You cried…you cried hard and silently soaking in their pain. Knowing it all to well as Nyx sang those final words before lighting the body on fire with his hand, “This is not a farewell…just a goodbye…”

Drautos asked if you wanted to return with everyone at some point and you couldn’t pull yourself away. The song haunted you, and the way Nyx had just looked past you…you were worried. Drautos sighed understanding remaining with you as well.

Finally, when the embers began to fade away you watched Nyx reach in pouring a bit of the ash into a bag. Every soldier followed suit before turning and heading back to the city, until Nyx was left alone at the pyre.

Drautos stepped away from you walking up to him. They spoke quietly for a long time before they both turned walking back to you.

Nyx stared at you for a moment before he spoke, “I…”

You shook your head reaching out taking his hand in yours, “I’m so sorry…”

He sniffed as he struggled for a moment before he pulled you to him. He hugged you tightly as he started to shake in your arms…soon sobs followed as he buried his face into your neck. You shut your eyes letting your tears fall silently as you rubbed his back in soothing circles.

After some time, he pulled away looking down at you. His eyes were red and face puffy as he spoke, “Thank you…for being here…”

“Of course…” You nodded a little watching him taking in a deep breath, “I’ll do whatever I can.”

“Let’s get you home to rest.” Drautos put a hand on his shoulder as he started for the truck everyone left behind.

“Right…” Nyx whispered as he started to take a few steps before he began to collapse.

“Titus!’ You shouted catching him crumbling under his weight as you fell to the ground, “Nyx…Nyx! Open your eyes…Nyx please…”

“Please…please don’t leave me…”

Nyx’s eyes opened looking at an unfamiliar view. He was supposed to be in a tent…wait…no…that’s wrong…where was he? He sat up grunting a little bit as he threw his feet of the side of the bed he was in. He looked at his wrapped arm before feeling his ribs, also wrapped.

He knew he was hurt he, he just had better things to deal with then medical attention. He looked around seeing clean walls of a bedroom. He stood up slowly as the door opened letting Drautos inside. His mentor gave him a relieved smile, “Oh good…you can walk…”

“Where are we?” Nyx frowned a little.

“Your place.” Drautos told him with a small smile, “Wanted to give you the grand tour the right way, but…situation changed that…”

“M-my place?” Nyx stared at him as everything started to catch up to him, “Right…right…the construction…”

“Far from your mind, I know.” Drautos nodded before sighing, “Kinda like the three broken rips and fractured arm…”

“I had more important things to worry about.” Nyx glared at him a little watching him raise his hands surrendering.

“I know…all the same…you need your rest now.” Drautos told him sighing, “Though you should probably show Y/N, that you’re alright first…”

“She’s here?” Nyx felt a bit of panic fall over him.

“Yeah, she’s sleeping on your couch right now. She didn’t want to leave without knowing you were alright.” Drautos told him before nodding at him to follow.

Nyx carefully hobbled his way down the small hallway passing a kitchenette that led to a small living area. He leaned against the wall when he saw you curled up on the couch sleeping. He made a face finally seeing the bruise on your face, “What happened to her?”

Drautos took in a deep breath, “Apparently there was an altercation…I didn’t have time to press her or anyone for information. When she found out you were back, she rushed to see you…”

Nyx shook his head as he spoke quietly, “She shouldn’t worry about me.”

“But she does…and you’re lucky for it. Just be thankful…” Drautos told him as he moved to the front door, “I’ll be downstairs waiting for her in the car…take your time.”

Nyx waited for him to leave before he walked over taking a seat on the arm of the couch. He watched you for moment taking in deep restful breaths. You had tear stains on your face probably caused by him. He didn’t deserve you, yet here you were…and astrals above he was grateful.

Carefully he reached down pushing your hair behind your ear. In a fluid motion he gently traced your face coaxing you awake slowly. He smiled when your beautiful eyes opened looking up to him as he whispered, “Hi…”

“Hi…” You repeated back to him before reaching up catching his hand as you sat up. You placed it on your face leaning into his touch.

He choked up shaking his head, “I’m sorry…”

“No, Nyx…you don’t have to explain…” You interrupted him, “I can’t…even fathom…”

“You’re too understanding…” He moved off the arm sitting next to you letting his forehead rest against yours as his other hand came up to your face. He wished it wasn’t wrapped, he wanted to feel your skin when he touched you, “It’s okay to be mad at me…I am…”

“I’m not…I’m worried, but I’m not mad…” You shook your head staring into his eyes, “I just…just tell me what you need…”

He shut his eyes before he kissed your forehead pulling you into his chest. He tensed when you fell against his rips, but the pain subsided and he relaxed feeling you against him, “You…I just need you.”

“I can do that.” He could hear the smile in your voice. No doubt that it was small and worried.

He sat there with his eyes shut just feeling you pressed against him. He allowed the weight to push him far away from the thoughts he’d been thinking since packing up from the front. He knew he’d have to deal with them eventually, but for now he just wanted to just be with you.

He took in several breaths until his breathing began to match yours. Your rhythmic rising and falling washing over him like peace.

“Nyx?” He heard you speak quietly. He gave you a squeeze and a soft ‘hm’ to tell you he heard you, “…never mind…”

He cracked his eyes open seeing you staring up at him. It took him by surprise actually, most women just curled up in his embrace, but of course you weren’t most women, “What is it?”

“I’m…” You seemed to be a little bit hesitant to say what you wanted to say, “I’m…happy you’re here…”

He felt his nose tickle understanding then you were trying to be sensitive, “…thank you…I’m happy to…I’m happy to be near you…”

You frowned a little before nodding a little, “You should be laying down…you’re pretty banged up.”

“I am…laying down…sorta…” He smiled a little holding you tightly to make sure you didn’t move reaching up to your cheek frowning, “I’m more concerned about this honestly…”

You sighed leaning into his touch, “It was a misunderstanding between a guest at the Citadel…”

“I hope you responded in kind.” He felt his brow come together.

“Noctis did actually…followed up by his posse…and political threats.” You smirked a little, “Spoiled petty princes don’t scare me.”

“Hey, I resemble that remark…” He smiled as you chuckled a little.

“That’s a lie… You’re a spoiled petty king.” You smiled at him as you leaned up toward him.

His eyes shut as your lips met his. Damn…damn this felt good and it was just a kiss. His arms wrapped around your waist drawing you closer to him as he slipped his arms behind your legs. In one smooth motion he scooped you up laying you back against the couch as he parted looking down your face.

His eyes flicked down to the small chain you wore around your neck, the bead from his hair on it. His picked it up gently before he whispered, “You still have it…”

“Of course…it kept you near me…” You stared up into his eyes as smiling at him before reaching up taking his face in your hands whispering, “I missed you…so much…everyday was…”

He didn’t want to hear it. He lived it while he was away, dreaming of you night after night. Talking with Titus, asking after you…he missed you desperately. His lips locked with yours craving the same exhilaration he’d felt moments ago.

He found it letting his hands settle on your hips, slowly drifting them up. He felt you shiver as his thumbs grazed the skin under the sweater you were wearing. Your fingers laced into his hair tugging gently sending small electric sensations down the back of his neck.

You both froze as an obnoxious ringtone sounded off. He watched you reach into your pocket pulling out your phone as he licked his lips trying to calm down. Your face became serious as you started to sit up.

He helped you slightly as you answered, “Uncle?”

Nyx waited keeping quiet as your hand wiped over your face. You nodded slowly, “I understand…no…I will…attempt to provide him something to…”

You were cut off and your face looked shocked. Nyx felt every nerve in his body go on high alert as you stood up, “I will not…No I refuse…because he attacked me after…No. No! What I do with my time is just that…mine! I will not waste it on some insolent little prick who thinks he can get ahead by bedding me…”

“Fine, I’ll come see you now.” You spat out angrily , “I won’t be bullied…”

Nyx stood up as you listened to the other end. He knew who this ‘prick’ was now, and he didn’t like what he was hearing. Something would have to be done.

“You can’t…you can’t be serious…” You spoke quietly looking up to Nyx horrified, “I won’t do it.”

You listened for a moment longer before the call ended. Nyx frowned having a suspicion of what was going on, “I won’t let him take you from me…”

“Nyx…” You teared up as he pulled you into a tight hug, “why can’t we just be left alone?”

“Don’t worry…” He kissed your forehead as he rubbed your shoulders, “I’ll take care of it…”

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typicalmidnightsoul · 4 years ago

Text

Prythian Valley - Chapter 2

Family first?

A big belief amongst people is that until a body is found a missing victim is still alive. But what if the proof that they are dead is photographs of a lifeless body cruelly shared to haunt the minds of the victims loved ones? The murder of the Beddor’s didn’t start with Clare, it ended with her. In this story Nesta will have to ditch the Ice Queen’s crown and take on the guilt of losing her best friend.

Will one choice of Nesta’s mean death either way?

“Nesta! Nesta!”

Nesta’s eyes opened groggily to see Jonah shaking her awake.

“Hey Jo-Jo what do you need?”

She had come home and fallen asleep on the couch; she looked up at the clock, it read 5:45.

“We’re having a sleepover Nes, you said you’d pick up Nyx!”

She groaned reaching for her heels, “Has Eris dropped Caro off?”

He nodded and a small redhead came in the living room saying,

“Hi Nes,” Caroline smiled; she was Beron’s worst regret, Eris’ most important being and Clarissa Vanserra’s pride.

Nesta grinned at her, “Hey Caro, you settling in?”

She nodded and Nesta turned to Jonah,

“I’ll go pick up Nyx now and Alec should be arriving with Alis any minute so let them in ok?”

He nods ushering her out of the room.

She rolls her eyes and gets into her into her Chevy.

As she pulls up in front of the Narenz villa she sees a pair of excited blue eyes throwing the door open.

“You’re here!”

She ran into Nesta’s arms, as Azriel came out.

“Sorry Az,” she called out, “I fell asleep on the couch.”

He shook his head “it’s fine.” He looked down at Nyx,

“Don’t hassle Nesta too much, ok?” she nodded and Az turned to Nesta, laughing, “How long do you think this sleepover will go for?”

“Well it’s meant to be for 3 days, but considering the last one went on for a week, get ready for Nyx to call you in 3 days’ time begging to stay longer.”

He laughed and kissed Nyx’s cheek, “See you sis.”

Nyx rolled her eyes and got into the passenger seat, “Bye then.”

Nesta chuckled and gave Az a fleeting hug.

As she drove back to her villa she glanced at Nyx,

“So Nyxie, had your first kiss yet?”

“No, I’m just not feeling it with anyone.”

“Good girl,” she said, “First kisses are meant to be important.”

They were silent for a long time, until Nyx said,

“How did you cope?”

Nesta gave her a confused look, “Pardon?”

“When your dad died, and you’re mom went MIA and Feyre had to take care of your family, how did you cope?”

One of the reasons why Nesta loved children was because they were so outspoken, they stated things for how they were, and didn’t mince words. Nesta’s heart broke a bit as she remembered Rhys telling Feyre that he was trying to get Nyx to me their comatose mother in the hospital.

“I didn’t. I broke down completely, shutting out everyone. I wouldn’t have been able to come back if I didn’t have friends and siblings who pulled me out I don’t think I would be driving you today.”

Nesta looked at her, “Can I confide in you?”

Nyx nodded earnestly, “I know what it’s like to look for answers to beg the whole universe for them and never get any. I am grateful for my mom, and I know that I am so lucky to have her but sometimes I get so scared and one of the reasons why I hate Feyre was because she had promised mom she’d take care of us then… she just kind of took her place. And there will never be any-“

“Substitute for mom,” Nyx finished for her.

Nesta smiled despite the words being exchanged,

“My Aunt told me this when I was about your age, and now I’m telling you. The world is in desperate need of people like us. People who feel in extremes, the world needs to be reminded that not all females will put up with men’s bullshit, that we are freshly forged blades able to cut and will at any given chance. I let that die away once Nyxie. Don’t do that.”

She pulled up to Pop’s, Nyx tilted her head, “Um are we-“

“C’mon, I think we both deserve a shake after that.”

As they waited for their order, Nesta playfully tugged one of Nyx’s locks,

“Nyxie?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you go visit your mom? Please? I promise that Rhysand didn’t put me up for this, if anything he probably hates me too much to even talk to me.”

“You don’t know what it’s like to see her like that Nes, she looks like a-“

Nesta could hear the unsaid words, corpse.

Nesta held her hands, “Please, just put a hand on her heart to remember she’s alive, just healing. Talk to her. Let her know you’re there.”

It wasn’t until they were back in the car that Nyx said,

“When I go to visit her I’m going to tell her about you.”

Nesta smiled, when not if.

“Tell her how much I love you and that I can’t wait to meet her.”

----------

Nesta was doing her biology homework when she got a text from Adelaide.

Meet me in my study.

She groaned trudging down the stairs past the giggles and laughs in Jonas’s room.

She walked in going, “Yes mom?”

“Leona called, telling me you were planning to send Jonah to Chicago.”

Nesta inwardly groaned, “Uh, yeah. Forgot about that.”

“It is a good plan Nes, but how in hell are you going to get Jonah to agree to it?”

“He has to.”

“Forcing something like this on him will make him think of himself as a criminal.”

“That’s what the world will see him as if we don’t get him out of the Valley now.”

“Nesta how do we know he will be safe? Will people not think of him with suspiscion if he does leave?”

Nesta crossed her arms at her mother,

“Jonah is going to Chicago with Leo and that’s final. Leo will take care if him, she would never allow anything bad to happen to him.”

Her mother opened her mouth but the study door burst open,

“You can’t take Jonah away from me!” Nyx pleaded at Nesta.

But Jonah held up a hand and stepped toward his older sister.

There was fear, Nesta realized in her 14 year old brother’s silver eyes as he looked up at her and asked,

“Is it because I killed Tomas Mandray?”

Nyx gasped and Caroline who stood in the doorway dropped the phone in her hand.

Nesta looked around at the mess her brother had incited with 7 words. She looked down at him,

“Shush Jonah! You did no such thing!” she shook him slightly.

He moved out of her grip, “I did! My friends will understand if I tell them the truth.”

Caroline moved into the room,

“Tell us. Please.”

Nesta looked at her mother. Adelaide nodded.

Nesta ushered them closer,

“Tomas Mandray is a bad man. He tried to rape me.”

And there it was the motive simple and clear.

“He drugged me and tied me to a bed in a hotel room. Jonah had been looking for me and used the ‘find my friend’ app to track down my phone. Tomas’ gun was on the table and Jonah picked it up and pulled the trigger in order to save me. We had to clean up the scene so a friend of mine, Ronan, he disposed the body. We drove his truck into the river. The same truck that was found 2 days ago.”

Nyx and Caro were sitting in silence on either side of Jonah as he tried to gauge their reaction.

“That bastard deserved it.” Nyx said at last.

Nesta could feel the wave of relief that went through Jonah.

“I need your complete confidence, I know your brothers and Eris is deeply loyal to me,” she turned to Nyx, “As is Azriel. Trust me when I tell you that if explained to them they will not allow you to betray me.”

Caro and Nyx exchanged looks and turned to Nesta and nodded.

“Go finish your slumber party.”

They all sprinted off.

----

Cassian rolled his neck back. 2 hours had flown past as he finished his geography homework. He sensed a small figure behind him,

“Hey Nyx, you need something?”

He expected Nyx to snap at him, but he sure as hell didn’t expect her to say,

“Can Nesta trust you?”

Cassian sat up looking at her, “Nesta? Why-“

“What are you capable of doing for her?”

Nyx’s eyes were red and he answered her question, “I would do anything for her.”

“What I’m about to ask you…you can’t tell anyone.” She stood up straighter, “Or I’ll deny it and say it was for creative writing club.”

He nodded.

“If I told you Nesta was hurt almost hurt badly by a man what would you do?”

Cassian’s eyes took on a feral look, “You wouldn’t like it. He’d be dead by the time I was done.”

Nyx nodded and then said, “And if I told you my best friend did something terrible to protect his sister that is now tearing both siblings up?”

Cassian looked up, “Come sit here and tell me the whole story.”

----

It didn’t take Cassian long to find the wine red 1959 Chevrolet corvette c1that belonged to Nesta parked in front of Pop’s.

She came out in her cape coat and black heels. The air outside was hot and she stopped before her car taking off the cape coat and throwing it with the food in the passenger seat, revealing a short skirt and a tightly clinging white full sleeved shirt with black detailing on the cuffs and down the button line, a black string bow on top.

He silently walked towards her grabbing her figure and hauling her to the back of Pop’s.

“How dare you-“

Hazel eyes bore into hers. The same hazel eyes that lingered in her dreams, oh to say she knew the well would be an understatement. She drowned in them.

“Cassian this is no way-“

“Why didn’t you tell me?” his voice was pained.

Realization dawned on her face, “Nyx told you.”

“Only because Jonah has not been himself at school and she didn’t want to tell you because you’re already handling too much.”

Nesta’s eyes softened, “I…its ok.”

She tried to walk away before Cassian pressed his weight into her.

“Don’t you dare.”

He tilted her chin up, “Baby is this why you were crying?”

Nesta said quietly, “I have to protect Jonah. The way he protected me, the Mandray’s are a huge family if-“

“So are the Archeron’s… and the Narenz’s. We would’ve protected you, and Jonah…”

Nesta’s eyes hardened, “Try telling that to my guidance counsellor in LA who asked me ‘what I was wearing?’ and if I was ‘flirtatious in any way?’ and to ‘let it go, because it’s just sex.’”

Cassian gaped at her. “They- wha… they said that?”

The look on her face confirmed it.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

Nesta’s own arms wrapped around herself trying to keep from breaking.

She slowly pushed Cassian away saying she needed to go. He walked her to her car and then Cassian got a call.

He picked up, “Hey Feyre.”

“Hey, um could you come over? Like now please, Rhysand was here and he’s well… drunk off his ass and now he needs a ride home.”

Cassian rolled his eyes and Nesta snatched the phone from him,

“What happened to you revising for your test tomorrow Fey? You promised Mom that you’d practice tonight.”

Silence until, “CASSIAN HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL ME MY SISTER WAS RIGHT THERE!”

Cassian laughed saying, “You should go revise Feyre. I’m on my way.”

He cut the call glancing at Nesta, “Seems like I’ll be following you.”

Nesta shook her head and slid in the seat.

--------

As Cassian (not so delicately) shoved Rhys into the passenger seat, Feyre slightly shoved Nesta.

“Ask him!”

“No.”

“Please!!!” Feyre pouted.

“No!!”

“If you don’t I’ll tell Helion and that man is a devil so you have no idea what he might do.”

Nesta gaped at her little sister.

Cassian strode up to them, “You two ok?”

Feyre raised a brow and then said brightly, “Cassian! Nesta needs to ask you for a favour! I’ll go check on Rhys.”

Nesta tried to stifle her groan.

Cassian gave her a questioning look, “What do you need?”

“Helion forced me and my friends to join the school newspaper, and the article Luna and I were working on is contributing to Women’s day, so Feyre mentioned that you are sponsoring a shelter for Illyrian women, I was just wondering if you could maybe get us an interview with some of them?”

Cassian looked taken aback, “Um, yeah sure.”

Nesta gave him a tight smile, “Great! See you at the office first thing in the morning.”

She turned hoping that some vengeful bird shits on Feyre’s shoulder in the morning.

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

Cassian knocked on the office door.

“Come in!”

He walked in, looking around. There were 4 desks in the middle joined so it looked like 3 sides of a rectangle.

Nesta was at the longer side talking to a guy who sat the side desk.

He sat in front of her, “Nice office.”

Nesta waved him off, “Credit goes to Helion. Anyway, Cassian meet Andras, Lucien’s boyfriend.”

Andras shook his hand, “Just call me Andy.”

“Andras is working on the Hero’s day article. He’ll be going around and talking to local heroes.”

Andras turned his chair to Cassian, “Captain I was thinking of trying out for the football team, and since you’re the jury…”

Cassian looked him up and down, “You have the physique, now it’s just about your performance.”

“So being Nesta’s friend won’t give me an easier path in?”

Cassian laughed as Nesta rolled her eyes, “No, but it’ll probably prevent me from kicking you out.”

At that minute Audrey stepped in,

“Nes, Principal Smith needs a word about the school drama.”

Nesta nodded, "Play nice boys.” She said as she stepped out.

The school was quiet, its occupants still not arrived considering the early hour. As Cassian leaned back Andras said,

“So… you and Nesta, huh?”

“I wish.” He mumbled.

“Any advice for try-outs?”

As Cassian gave him advice the caretaker stepped in wedging in a big envelope in the office’s postal rack. He left wordlessly.

Nesta came back in Audrey in tow. As she passed the rack she asked,

“Did this just come?”

“Uh…yeah,” Andras said.

“Nesta Archeron, Blue and Silver office.” She read out the front, ripping it open.

She took out an odd looking letter made from cut up magazine headlines and Newspaper letters. It said:

You once told me you hate repeating yourself.

You managed to save your sister once. Let’s see if you can repeat yourself and save her again. She’s in my clutches…

I will avenge my loved ones… My vengeance started when Clare came to meet me on the River banks. Blood flowed then and it will now.

The real question is will you, Nesta Archeron put

Family first?

Nesta put a hand over her mouth. Audrey’s hand came around her.

Andras and Cassian’s faces were etched with horror.

Andras pointed a shaky finger at the envelope where a bump was.

Nesta took the envelope, turned it over and shook it.

As Metal clanged on the table Nesta took a step back and let out a breathless sound.

Clare Beddor’s Locket given to her by Nesta on her Sweet sixteenth, where on one side was their friends and the other side a family portrait now lay on the table, blood coating it. A locket that came from a body which was never found. Only photos sent to Clare’s guardian, her aunt were the only evidence that Clare was dead.

But now… the locket meant…

It meant that this letter was sent by Clare’s killer.

Coming up next:

As they were in chemistry the sheriff, Thesan’s dad came in.

“Miss Archeron you’ll need to come with us.”

Beside her Thesan stood up.

“Why dad? You’re gonna take one of my best friends away like a criminal?”

Nesta held up a hand , “It’s fine Thesan I know why.”

“Why Nesta?” Luna asked as Audrey stood up.

“Because I’m guilty.”

Tags:: @skychild29 @aesthetics-11 @perseusannabeth @awesomelena555

#nessian fanfic #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian

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bgn846 · 4 years ago

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Satum Novum Chapter 4: Breathing Room FFXV Gladnis

<Previous Chapter 3 All rational thought left Prompto’s brain as he ran away. His heart was pounding and he was scared. He’d almost been to the bottom of the stairs when he’d seen the man. He was dressed in the same uniform as the other traitor. Prompto had no choice but to run back the way he’d come when the guy saw him. This was so bad.

The fear and adrenaline kept his legs moving, Prompto didn’t want to die. Gladio had a hard enough time fighting the other soldier, which meant he stood no chance against this guy. Finally reaching the top of the stairs again Prompto shouted for Gladio. He could at least warn his friend of the impending danger.

He watched the big guy stand up and draw his knife, ready to defend what was out of sight on the other side of the knoll. Then he heard the crackle of magic, the same sound the traitor made as he’d bounced Gladio around the alleyway in Altissia.

Two arms were around his waist a second later, and Prompto fell to the ground hard. Another crackle of magic caught his attention, and before he could move there was a dagger at his throat.

“Please – please don’t kill me!” Prompto sputtered as he remained still.

Gladio’s booming voice echoed out a moment later. “Let the kid go, he didn’t do anything to you.”

The glaive adjusted his position and put more weight on Prompto’s back, pinning him place. The dagger was still inches from the blond’s throat. “What are you doing here?” The soldier questioned gruffly.

“Nuthin’ but taking a break. You saw our boat, we’re just fisherman.” Gladio shouted from across the open field. He’d not moved since Prompto got tackled.

The traitor didn’t say anything more and seemed to be considering his next move. It was almost like he was waiting on someone. Then it hit Prompto, the guy wasn’t alone, he had to have backup.

“Please let me go.” Prompto tried again. “Don’t kill me I didn’t do anything wrong.” He pleaded.

The last statement seemed to make the man flinch slightly. “I’m not planning on killing you, unless you make the first move.”

Prompto went to say more when another man showed up at the top of the stairs. Astrals, this one was even scarier looking than the man sitting on him. He had a long sword by his hip and he was tall, but it was his scowl that was truly terrifying. However, when he looked across the field to Gladio he relaxed slightly.

“You can let the kid up.” He said to the first man who’d tackled Prompto.

“Wha? He ran away the second he saw me.”

“And he’s friends with Clarus’ son Gladiolus.” The tall angry man gestured towards Gladio. “I have a feeling he’s not a threat.”

The glaive huffed and slowly got up, finally removing the sharp dagger from Prompto’s neck. “Try not to run away next time.” He offered.

“I had to though; you’re the traitors aren’t you?” Prompto asked confused, from where he was sitting on the ground trying to collect his wits.

“Why are you both here?” the angry man asked ignoring the question.

Prompto turned to look at Gladio who’d not budged at all. His big knife was still out and he looked pissed.

“I come here with my buddy to take a fucking break and your glaive tries to kill us. Why are you here?” He demanded.

The second man smirked. “Like father like son. We are checking on a lead, but I don’t think you were taking a break either. Your blond friend here mentioned something about traitors.”

“How did you know to come here?” Gladio asked again. “Was it because you were already here yesterday?”

“Hey! I could ask the same question of you, buddy.” The glaive huffed.

“We overheard a coded communication regarding a fish, if you must know.” The tall man answered.

“How do I know you weren’t the one that sent it in the first place?” Gladio inquired still stone faced.

“You’d be dead.”

Gladio’s face morphed from one of pure anger to a child being scolded. “Gee thanks Cor!” he huffed putting his knife away. “I’m not that bad, I do practice. I beat that little twit Tredd a few days ago, that should stand for something.”

“I told you Tredd was an asshole.” The glaive cut in. “Wish I could have seen that.”

Cor sighed suddenly and frowned. “We are on a tight deadline, and though I would like to know how you managed to get involved Gladio, I must save it for another day. Nyx do a quick search in the tomb for any clues and then we must continue our mission.”

Prompto looked at Gladio to see if he’d tell them they’d found the prince already. His friend stayed silent and waited. A hand was suddenly thrust in his face; Nyx was offering him a hand up. He hesitated a moment and then accepted the help.

“Sorry if I hurt you, I had to be sure you were one of the good guys.”

“By almost slicing me open?” Prompto questioned with wide eyes.

“I wasn’t going to. I needed your buddy over there to listen to me, he seemed like he was about to go off the rails.”

The blond didn’t answer as they all walked over to Gladio. He’d not moved during the whole confrontation. Once he was close enough, the big guy threw an arm around his shoulders and squeezed.

“You ok blondie?”

Prompto nodded and leaned into his friend. “Yeah, that was scary though.”

“Be careful not to wake them.” Gladio offered cryptically as he watched Nyx and Cor walk ahead towards the tomb entrance.

“So you did find the prince!” Cor exclaimed turning around to face him fully. “Thank the six, is he inside?”

“Other side of that knoll.” Gladio indicated with a nod of his head.

Prompto watched as Nyx ran over first to investigate. “Shiva’s tits, Cor come look at this.” The glaive breathed with relief.

Cor walked over and his face changed completely when he cleared the knoll. “I thought you’d slipped up when you said they were sleeping. We’d been told that Ignis had died. Was he here with Noctis?” He asked bewildered.

“We actually picked him up in the middle of the sea, he’d been shoved overboard.”

Cor winced and shook his head. Does either of them need immediate medical attention?” The marshal asked concerned.

“Ignis needs to go to sleep for more than two hours and the prince needs the same. Potions have already been administered.” Gladio replied.

“I guess you do remember some of your training Gladio.” Cor admitted with a smile. “I wondered why you wouldn’t move earlier, you were standing guard.”

“Yeah, well I can’t protect them if warpy mcwarpy pants here can close the gap in a blink of an eye.” Gladio offered as they reached the knoll.

Nyx snorted at the comment and kneeled down to check Noct’s pulse. “He’s stable.” He announced a minute later.

Prompto sank into the grass with a heavy sigh, he was glad the encounter was over. The man with the sword, Cor, seemed relieved by the new development and crouched down to check Ignis’ pulse as well.

At the touch, Ignis groaned and rolled his head to the side, while struggling to open his eyes. “Gladio?” He mumbled.

The big guy was there a second later kneeling next to him. “Hey, take it easy. Some of your friends showed up.” Gladio offered as he reached out and squeezed Ignis’ shoulder. However, to Prompto it looked like Gladio was trying to keep Ignis from sitting up.

“Huh?” The advisor queried as he worked to see clearly. “Cor? What on Eos are you doing here?” He finally asked.

“Trying to rescue prince charming but you beat us to it.”

At the mention of the prince, Ignis’ eyes truly opened and he tried to sit up. Gladio’s hand on his shoulder prevented that. “I’m serious; you need to take it easy. Sleeping beauty isn’t going anywhere at the moment.”

Ignis relented and relaxed once more. “How long have I been out?”

“About two hours.”

“Hmmm I see.” Ignis closed his eyes again, and Prompto wasn’t sure if he’d fallen asleep once more.

“You two should go check the tomb for any clues, we were only focused on helping Noct when we arrived.”

Cor nodded and stood. “Kid, what’s your name?” He asked of Prompto.

The blond startled for a moment after realizing he was being spoken to. “Um -- Prompto.”

“Think you could show us how you found the prince?”

“Yeah sure!” He enthused. Prompto liked being useful and his initial fear of the two men had died down. He wanted to prove he was the good guy. Cor motioned for him to lead the way and Prompto took off for the entrance. He’d been so focused on untying the prince he’d not looked at the space.

The wooden crate was upturned and close to where the spot where Noct had been. “He was standing on that box and had his arms out like this.” Prompto explained as he held his own arms out to the side to demonstrate.

“Was he suspended?” Nyx asked worried.

“No that’s what the box was there for – he was chained up by his wrists and the box kept his weight off them.”

“I’m curious if that was planned or improvised. Someone could have easily caused him great pain by leaving him hanging.” Cor pondered.

“I’ve got standard issue glaive boot prints over by the door marshal.” Nyx announced sullenly. “Two pair.”

“Well that answers that.” Cor frowned. “We must head out.”

“Uh -- are you all going to leave together?” Prompto asked quickly.

“Yes, we must. We need to regroup and go after the traitors.”

“Oh.” Prompto mumbled. He didn’t want them all to leave, he wanted to continue helping. “Can I come with you and help?” He asked.

Cor paused and stared at him hard. “Why, you know it’s dangerous. What could you possibly do to aid in this fight Prompto?”

“I’m good with electronics! I got the magic collar thing off of Noct’s neck when we rescued him. Um – I’m good at--.”

“What collar?” Cor inquired seriously, cutting him off.

“This one.” Prompto replied as dug in his messenger bag to retrieve it. “It was blocking his magic.”

“That’s niff tech.” Nyx muttered from across the room. “That means our bad guy is working to get into that network.”

The tall man looked at Prompto once more. “So you would leave your friend to come with us?”

“I was sorta thinking I could convince him to come with me.” Prompto replied softly. “I don’t want to leave Gladio and I don’t want you all to go.”

“What if we make it seem like we didn’t find him?” Nyx interrupted. “We could have Iggy and Noct stay with blondie and Gladio on their boat. We all go to Altissia but not at the same time.”

“What good would it do?” Cor asked.

“We might be able to catch more of the traitors together, if they think their scam is still going. Noct knows who kidnapped him, and if we find him then of course he’ll tell all.”

Prompto couldn’t help but get excited; this meant he might get to help. Instead of blurting out his thoughts he forced his brain to wait. His patience paid off.

“I think that’s a good idea. Let’s go make sure Gladio is willing to go along with it. Though we might have an issue, your boat engine is down.”

“Did you sabotage our boat?” Prompto exclaimed worriedly.

“NO!” Nyx huffed. “The thing wouldn’t start, we boarded to check for signs of the prince, and your boat was down for the count.”

“Oh, Gladio and I have the boat rigged so if we remove a small part it won’t start. It’s harder to steal a boat if you have to tow it.”

Cor pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Why am I not surprised. Guess Gladio paid more attention to his training then I realized.”

“Were you the one who trained him?”

“Yes, he’d asked me to give him lessons in private, in case he took up the family business. For a while there I thought it had been for naught, but it seems like he’s using what he learned.”

“Whoa! Someone actually convinced you to give them private lessons! I have enough trouble getting you to spar with me let alone get a private freaking lesson.” Nyx ranted with wide eyes.

“Gladio’s a good kid, I wanted to help.”

Nyx rolled his eyes and dropped the topic. They all made to leave the tomb and rejoin the others outside.

Ignis drifted into consciousness again, it took a second to remember that Cor and Nyx had joined them. Noct was safe they only had to find Drautos and arrest him. The advisor figured this task was going to be difficult, but he was thankful they were safe at the moment.

Slowly opening his eyes revealed Gladio seated by his side. The man appeared relaxed and was looking at the entrance of the tomb. “Did they go inside?” Ignis asked quietly.

“Hmmm – Yeah, Cor wanted to see if there were any clues in there. We were kinda goal oriented during our visit, so looking around at shit wasn’t an option.”

“True. So what will you do next?” Ignis pondered aloud. He wasn’t looking forward to saying goodbye. He enjoyed Gladio and Prompto’s company but this wasn’t their fight.

“Dunno – I might see if Cor needs any help with anything. Otherwise it’s back to fishing for me.” Gladio offered glumly.

“How do you know Cor?”

“Oh, he trained me when I was teenager. There was a time when I had seriously considered following my father’s wishes, to become shield to the prince. I got my tattoo and asked Cor to help me train, but I never told my dad. I figured if took the shield’s oath he’d be happy, but If I didn’t go through with it he would have been devastated. I didn’t want to give him false hope, so I didn’t tell him what I was doing.”

Ignis listened and couldn’t help but feel sympathy. He’d been slated to be a royal advisor from a young age. He loved Noct and wouldn’t change anything in his life, but the ability to choose was an interesting notion. “Have you not seen Clarus since you got your tattoo?” He asked curiously. That was a hard thing to hide; the ink covered most of Gladio’s upper body and his arms.

“Not really, the last time I saw him was two years ago, I’d had it completed by then but I wore a dark long sleeved shirt to hide it. Now though, I can’t help but wonder how this situation would have been different if I’d taken up the oath. He could have died if we didn’t get to him in time.” Gladio somberly replied as he looked over to the sleeping prince.

“You can’t hold yourself responsible for something of that nature. We thought we among friends, it was a sneak attack.”

“Still, I need to reconsider my life choices. What good am I doing as a fisherman? I could be serving a greater good.”

“Uh – feeding the masses with yummy fish is a greater good.” Ignis blurted.

The dark haired man snorted and smiled. “Not what I meant, but I’ll take it for now.”

“Can you help me sit up? I’d like to get my bearings before we leave.”

Gladio nodded and assisted Ignis. He only felt marginally dizzy, which was an improvement over earlier in the day. Leaning back into Gladio’s arm Ignis acclimated to being upright. Now that Noct was safe maybe he could convince his brain to take a break and let him rest. A loud rumble erupted from his stomach a moment later. Astrals, he needed food and more sleep.

“We need to get you something to eat, and then will you take a nap that’s longer than two hours?” The big guy inquired.

Ignis nodded and opened his mouth to add more, but a movement near the tomb entrance caught his eye. Cor, Nyx, and Prompto were coming back. Time was running out, he would have to leave Gladio and he wasn’t happy about that prospect.

Cor approached first. “Gladio if you have a minute.”

Gladio first checked to make Ignis would stay upright after he removed his arm, and then follow Cor out of earshot. Prompto and Nyx were chatting away like they’d known each other for years. The blond was very friendly and seemed happy to share any and all details of his life thus far. Noct was sleeping like a brick to his left. Ignis could only hope when he awoke that he’d be pain free.

Heavy footsteps caused him to turn back around to the group. Gladio and Cor were rejoining them and Gladio seemed happy about something.

Cor announced their new plans. Noct and he were to stay with Gladio and Prompto, until they’d flushed out the bad guys. Ignis had to work hard to hide his smile.

Attempting to stand resulted in Ignis nearly falling sideways. Gladio was there in a flash tugging Ignis’ arm over his shoulder. The advisor didn’t even argue he knew he wouldn’t win. Nyx gathered Noct up in his arms and they all started for the pathway. He could hear Cor muttering something to Nyx behind him. Ignis could only catch bits and pieces, but it sounded as if the marshal was shocked by Ignis’ willingness to accept aid.

Granted he never liked to burden other people, this seemed different somehow. Gladio had been so willing to help, even from the minute they’d laid eyes on each other. The trek back to the boat was short. The first thing Gladio did once they boarded was lead them all to a cabin. It was one with two bunks.

“I figured you’d rest better if you were in the same room together.” Gladio offered as he eased Ignis into the bunk.

“You assumed correctly.” Ignis replied. However, he immediately missed the warmth from Gladio’s arm around his waist.

“I’m gonna go scrounge up some food, I’ll be back.” Gladio disappeared, and Nyx came in to place the prince on the free bunk. Cor followed but stayed in the doorway.

“I still can’t believe, of all the people you could have run into, it was Gladiolus.” Cor breathed.

“He chalked it up to the astrals wanting me to find Noct. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.” Ignis admitted quietly.

A soft groan interrupted Cor before he could respond, Noct was waking up. Nyx addressed him first. “Hey sleepyhead, how ya feeling?”

The dark haired youth mumbled something unintelligible, and went quiet again. Then a full thirty seconds later he shot straight up and nearly knocked heads with Nyx. “What happened?! Where’s Iggy?” He yelled.

“Whoa, calm down there buddy, Ignis is right over there.” Nyx answered as he pointed to the advisor. “You’re on Gladio’s boat, remember Clarus’ only son.”

Noct made a high pitched noise as if in disbelief and then slowly lay back down. “Yeah I remember, Iris’ brother. He held me up when the box busted. He’s really tall.” Noct uttered as his eyes slipped closed once more.

Another minute passed and round two commenced. Noct again sprang up in the bed and looked truly panicked. “Its Drautos and Lazarus! They are the traitors. Did they get away yet, can I punch Lazarus if you find him?” The prince rambled before he collapsed again.

“Are you done?” Nyx asked kindly. “We are still chasing them but I’ll be sure to let you have a go at Lazarus if we find him.”

“Ok.” Noct whispered. “I’m hungry.” He added with pained look.

Ignis had to force himself to remain seated; he was in no shape to take care of his prince at the moment. “I believe Gladio is making us something right now.” He offered instead.

“Awesome, I don’t ever want to go through that again, that sucked.”

Ignis could hear the scuffle of boots on the metal floor approaching. Gladio appeared soon after with a tray full of food. Taking a deep breath Ignis savored the smells and felt his mouth watering.

“Okay I know it’s not super nutritious or fancy, but it’s fast and easy going down.” Gladio announced as he placed the tray down. He’d cut up fresh fruit and made two cup o noodles.

“Highness, can you sit up to eat?” Ignis asked.

Noct didn’t answer but rolled onto his side and reached out for the soup. “I’m skilled, I got this.” He offered as he held out his hands for the steaming soup. “Mmm fruit too, gods I’m so hungry.”

The prince didn’t make any more announcements and focused on eating. He looked exhausted but Ignis suspected he looked much the same.

“I’ve got some items on our boat for Noct. Gladio, care to join me?” Cor asked.

“Sure thing, I’ll be back.” Gladio smiled as he left with Cor.

Ignis really needed to figure out why he felt different around Gladio. Was it some odd familiarity since he knew Clarus so well? Perhaps it was something else but the advisor couldn’t put a name to it yet. The feeling of fingers tapping his hand brought him back to reality, apparently he’d zoned out thinking about Gladio.

Nyx was crouched down looking directly at him. “Hey gimme the empty cup.”

After handing the styrofoam item over, Ignis was overcome with the need for sleep. His body was done putting on a show and he needed to rest. “I need to help Noct.” He admitted, though he wasn’t sure how since he was so tired himself.

“I got it, take care of yourself.”

Humming in agreeance Ignis toed out his own shoes and untucked his shirt. The memories of the soft t-shirt Gladio had lent him came flooding back. That idea sounded wonderful to his muddled brain, but he was too nervous to ask Nyx. Instead he continued and started unbuttoning his shirt.

Peering over at the prince revealed he was asleep again. Nyx had only just finished removing the youth’s boots. “What about his jacket? Should I try and get that off?” Nyx asked with a perplexed look.

“Does he smell?” Ignis asked coolly.

Nyx tried to stifle his laugh but failed miserably. “No.” He giggled.

“Well then leave him in it.”

Nyx smiled and pulled the blanket up over the prince. “Think he’ll be alright? He seemed okay --.”

“I believe so, he had a traumatic experience but I think he’ll pull through.” Ignis mused.

Cor’s voice echoed down the hall a second later and he appeared again with a travel bag. “You’re lucky I’m a sentimental old fool, Ignis. I grabbed an overnight bag for Noct, in case we found him and I threw some items in for you as well. I just couldn’t wrap my head around you being gone.”

“I’m thankful you felt that way marshal.”

Cor dropped the bag on the floor near to Ignis and smiled. “I’m so grateful you both are alright, now onto Altissia to catch Drautos. Gladio and I plotted a course already, so unless you need Nyx or me for anything more, we’ll get going.”

“Very good marshal. Will we be able to communicate via radio?”

“We’ve made up a new code so we can talk about basic things, but I must insist that neither you nor Noctis use the radio. Drautos could recognize your voices.”

“Understood.”

Nyx and Cor both said goodbye and left the cabin. Ignis reached over and began rummaging through the bag Cor had brought. It had essentials like a sundry kit and a change of clothes, but no sleepwear.

As if prompted by the gods themselves Gladio appeared a few minutes later. “Hey I wasn’t sure if you might need to borrow some clothes.” He asked leaning against the door frame.

“Um—if you have what I wore to bed earlier that would be nice.”

Gladio smiled and nodded. He turned away quickly and Ignis could hear him going down the hall to his cabin. The door opened and closed and a moment later he was back, holding the worn t-shirt and oversized sweatpants. “I’m assuming you don’t need any help this time?” He added giving the items to Ignis.

“No I should be alright. Though would it be possible to get some water?”

“Yeah sure, be right back.”

Ignis managed to get changed without standing, and maneuvered the covers back so he could slide his long legs in. He was looking forward to truly passing out. Now that Noct was safe he could rest easier.

Gladio returned with two glasses of water and set them on the end table. “In case Noct wakes up and needs some.”

“Excellent thank you.” Ignis offered as he reached for the glass and nursed its contents, while propping himself up on his elbow.

“Anytime, I’ll be up on the bridge with Prompto, just use the PA there on the wall if you need either of us.” Gladio replied pointing to the intercom.

Reaching out to put the glass down, Gladio intercepted him and put it on the table. “Thank you for your help, I couldn’t have done all this without you.” Ignis added as he leaned back into the bedding.

“Don’t mention it; I’m relieved we made it in time.” Gladio offered as he crouched down to get eye level with Ignis. “He seems like a good kid, I’m glad I was able to do something for him.”

“It’s not too late to reconsider your oath. I know it would make my job easier.”

“I’ll think about it.” Gladio replied with a small smile.

Ignis took a calming deep breath. “Very well then, until tomorrow?”

“Definitely.” Gladio agreed as he carefully reached out, tucking some of Ignis’ hair behind his ear.

The feeling of Gladio’s calloused fingers across his scalp made Ignis’ skin tingle. That was an unexpected move. However, his body decided this was the exact catalyst it needed to sleep, and immediately began shutting down. Ignis was dimly aware of a Gladio continuing to run his fingers through his hair, until sleep claimed his tired body once more.

>Next Chapter 5

#ffxv #fanfic #gladnis #gladio #ignis

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