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matrixaffiliate · 6 years ago

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Patient

NEW STORY!

(This is the story I previewed here.) I’m so excited for this story! I’m still in the middle of writing it, but don’t worry - I never abandon a story. I’ll try and get chapters done at least every other week. Enjoy!

FFN and AO3

Ginny never wanted to end up a wedding coordinator, especially when at 35 she hasn’t had her own wedding. But when she loses her big corporate event planning position, she’s more or less forced into the job. It’s not all bad though, Ginny gets to plan Victoire’s wedding, and she’s rather taken with the fiance’s godfather.

Patient

Ginny slid her keys into her bag as she walked into work. She’d just pulled off her biggest event yet, a conference of 5000 people and she had coordinated it all: the expo-center, the hotels, the food, the speakers, the free stuff, all of it. And it had gone off without a hitch. She was looking forward to simply writing up her final review and then getting started on the next event, a much smaller in-house event for the company management.

“Ms. Weasley,” a deadly sweet voice called out as she sat down at her desk. Ginny turned to find a squatted toad in a pink dress suit.

Dolores Umbridge stood directly to her left with what looked like excitement across her normally sour face. “I need a word, in my office.”

She looked at Ginny expectantly as Ginny cautiously stood from her chair; then the toad turned on her heels and practically marched down the hall.

Ginny knew this couldn’t be good, but she couldn’t figure out what it could be about. The conference had gone off perfectly, she’d even come in exactly on budget - no small feat. It hit her when she walked into Dolores’ office and saw the HR representative sitting at the desk.

“You’re firing me?” Ginny could feel her eyes bulging out of their sockets.

“Ginny, it’s nice to see you,” the HR rep that had hired her, Richard if she remembered correctly, stood and held out his hand. Ginny didn’t take it, she just stood, rooted to carpet.

“You’re firing me?” She turned to Dolores who smiled.

“Oh no, but we are dissolving the position of event coordinator. We’ll be moving all of your responsibilities to each department’s secretary.” Dolores practically beamed as she settled in her seat, “Please, sit down.”

Ginny wearily took the empty seat, “What about the corporate wide events?”

“The secretaries will work as a team and split the work,” Richard chimed in.

Ginny almost laughed. That was ridiculous. You couldn’t make these events happen without a main face, someone who all the vendors could come to and know they’d get a direct answer. Event planning wasn’t committee material.

“And,” Dolores pushed a small stack of papers across the desk to Ginny, “we’d like to offer you the opportunity to be the marketing department’s new secretary.”

Ginny glanced at the offer letter and this time she did laugh out loud. “That’s a 30% pay cut.”

“But it’s continued employment,” Richard added hastily.

Ginny took a deep breath and counted to ten, slowly, before speaking. “I’d like be considered a layoff and have my severance package instead.”

The look in Dolores’ eyes told Ginny she’d played right into their hand. Whatever. Fine. It didn’t matter.

“Richard has that paperwork,” Dolores turned to him. “After you sign it all he will escort you to your desk and then out of the building.”

Ginny wasn’t listening. She was focusing on not screaming. She wasn’t going to give the pink toad the satisfaction. She was going to walk out of this damn building with her head held high.

The next ten minutes felt like an out of body experience. Ginny went through the paperwork, signed everything, collected her belongings, and nodded politely to Richard as she handed over her badge. She slid into her car, shut the door, took a deep breath, and then screamed at the top of her lungs.

They’d fired her!

After pulling off the kind of events she was for this stupid company they fired her!

Ginny had been mad before, but this was a whole new level of furious. She needed to get home. She needed to call Luna. And she needed to scream a bit more.

Twenty minutes later, Ginny sat on her sofa, still in her power suit, a carton of ice cream in her hand and Luna offering some comfort on the other side of the sofa.

“I’m so sorry, Ginny.” Luna repeated for the millionth time.

“Thanks,” Ginny sighed and took another bite of ice cream before grabbing her laptop off the table. “I guess I should go update my resume and start applying for a new position.”

“Is event coordinator something most companies hire?” Luna asked as she moved closer to Ginny.

“Depends,” Ginny shrugged. “If they’re big enough and they do events outside the company then usually.”

Luna looked worried as she took in that information, but Ginny tried not to notice. She was going to believe that there was a job out there right now just for her.

It turned out that she should have shared Luna’s concern. Ginny had spent a full month applying and interviewing for corporate event coordinator positions to no avail.

“I don’t know what to do,” Ginny groaned as she sat across from her dad. He’d invited her out to lunch and she ignored how readily she’d agreed to a paid meal, along with the tinge of embarrassment she felt when he handed her two cooler bags full of food her mum had prepared.

“Maybe you need to broaden your search,” her dad furrowed his brow. “Be willing to relocate or switch fields.”

Ginny grimaced at the thought of switching fields. The only other thing that existed for event coordinators outside of corporate was wedding planning.

No, thank you.

Ginny didn’t have anything against weddings, aside from the fact that they were ridiculous and overdone and overpriced and she couldn’t put on the show that every bride was getting her happily ever after day in and day out. Nevermind that Ginny was convinced that she wasn’t going to be getting a wedding of her own. As her mother so frequently put it, “you’re nearly 36, don’t you think it’s time you settled down?” Which translated in Ginny’s mind as “you’re nearly past your prime, find someone before you expire.” But Ginny had no prospects, and no real desire to play the dating game again. She’d played it all through her twenties, and she was tired of it. So Ginny had accepted that she was probably just going to be single and put a lot of effort into being a good aunt and daughter and friend and person.

“I know you don’t like the idea of moving,” Arthur patted her hand, “but sometimes we have to roll with the punches. Life has a way of leading us in the right direction if we’re doing our best to be decent human beings.”

The conversation moved on from there but Ginny couldn’t keep from fretting. She was starting to dig into her savings. Her severance was one week of pay for every year she’d worked at the company. Her four years of working there gave her one month’s pay and even with cutting back on her expenses, she knew that her savings wouldn’t last forever.

Ginny walked to her car after bidding her dad goodbye and felt trapped in her situation. She was overqualified for any store attendant position and specialized enough that standard marketing positions preferred other applicants over her. She was running out of options almost as fast as she was running out of money. Ginny was pulled from her melancholy thoughts by her phone buzzing. It was an email from someone who found her on LinkedIn asking if she’d be willing to interview with Wedding Composition to be their newest wedding coordinator.

Ginny stared at the email. She really didn’t want to do this, but she couldn’t see an alternative. Her savings would run out, and that money had originally been for something entirely different than sustaining her through unemployment. She could always interview with them, take the job if offered, and then keep looking for something in corporate. It would at least pay the bills and make it so she wouldn’t need to scrimp after every penny. She would simply jump ship the minute something in corporate came along. Weddings would be easy. No one ever had weddings that compared to the scale of some of the corporate events she pulled off. She would have plenty of time to interview elsewhere. The more she thought about it, the more Ginny thought it was a great idea.

Ginny selected the contact number on her phone and hit the dial option.

Emily McCarthy was exactly what Ginny pictured when she thought of a wedding coordinator. She was bubbly and excited and exuded an optimism that bordered on insanity. But she loved Ginny and was positive that Ginny would love wedding planning so much she’d give up on finding a corporate event coordinator position and stay on forever with her and the rest of the team.

The rest of the team included Josh and Lyndi, both had years of experience in wedding planning. They also were in love with their work and thought they were creating dreams. They echoed Emily’s sentiments that Ginny would lose all desire to work anywhere else after she’d experienced wedding planning. But Ginny really didn’t care, she just was happy to have a job again and a paycheck coming in.

“Congratulations!” Molly beamed at her daughter that Sunday. Bill had complained that the family hadn’t gathered in a few months and Molly had risen to the occasion, inviting everyone home for a full family dinner. Ginny took note that Bill and his family had yet to show up.

“Thanks, Mum,” Ginny smiled, “it’s nice to have a job again.”

“You found a position?” Hermione gave Ginny a hug and shifted baby Rose to one side.

“I found something to get me by for now,” Ginny tickled Rose’s tummy before sighing. “I’m the newest wedding coordinator for Wedding Composition.”

Hermione’s face scrunched in confusion. She knew how much Ginny looked down on wedding planning. But Ginny was saved from having to explain by Bill and his brood filing through the door along with a young man with turquoise blue hair.

“Way to show up, slacker.”

“Be nice,” Molly chided Ginny as she ushered everyone in.

“Excuse me, everyone,” Bill raised his voice, “I’d like to introduce the man who wants to steal my daughter. Ted Lupin, meet the rest of your future family.”

Ginny’s mind quickly processed the words her brother spoke and looked down at her niece’s hand. Sure enough, an engagement ring sparkled in the light. Then the room erupted with cheers and questions and a lot of tears on Molly’s part.

Ginny knew her niece was old enough on paper to get married. She even knew Vic had been dating the same boy for the last three years. But Ginny couldn’t wrap her brain around it. Little Vicky was getting married at just 18? It felt absurd.

But then, it felt nauseating, because her little niece would be married, and Ginny was not. Ginny thought she had come to terms with the idea that she probably wouldn’t marry, but that was before the next generation started marrying. That was before 35 suddenly felt like 70. Ginny was about to excuse herself when her mother added to the anxiety.

“Oh this is perfect! Ginny just took a position as the newest wedding coordinator at Wedding Composition!” Molly turned to Ginny with an excitement in her eyes that Ginny was sure she’d only seen when weddings and babies were being discussed. “Ginny you have to plan Victoire and Ted’s wedding! It would be perfect!”

Ginny forced the panic down and put on a smile, hoping it didn’t look like a grimace. “I’d love to, you’ll be my first clients!”

Bill put his arm around Ginny, “Great, let’s talk budget before Vic gives you her wish list, and Ted can get you in touch with his godfather. He’s offered to help pay for the photographer and the flowers and suits.”

“Godfather?” Ginny repeated, surprised that it wasn’t his parents offering to help pay.

Ted shrugged, “He’s the only family I’ve got.”

The next day was Ginny’s official first day at work, but it really was just going to be a continuation of the previous evening. After laying out the budget with Bill she had spent the following three hours trying to go over wedding details with Vic. It was useless though because every female family member had to have her say about what would make the wedding perfect. Ginny had figured out pretty quick she wasn’t going to get very far and just let everyone talk at Vic and Ted. This morning she was going to be able to actually begin planning things out with her niece and soon to be nephew, along with the godfather who was coming to give her his budget figures.

She sighed as she opened her calendar on her tablet, so much for being able to jump ship the minute she found another job. Now she was stuck coordinating weddings until Vic was married. The next ten months were going to be very long months. Oh well. She pulled out the white binder with gold lace applique printed on it and Vic and Ted’s names printed on a sticker and placed on the binding. Emily had handed it to Ginny when she told Emily that her first client would be Vic. Emily had been ecstatic at the news and insisted that Ginny give Vic and Ted the family discount, something Bill was very happy about when Ginny called to tell him. Ginny flipped through the binder making sure she had filled in everything that she already knew the answers to. It wasn’t too different from her corporate event planning. Instead of branding it was wedding colors. Instead of the presentation it was the wedding ceremony. But the venue was still there and the catering and the lodging. There was just the addition of things like wedding dress shopping, and suits, and bridesmaid dresses, and flower bouquets, and photographers that she hadn’t done before.

“Aunt Ginny?”

Ginny looked up to find Vic and Ted standing at the entrance to her office.

“Thanks again for doing this, Ginny, Vic is so excited I think she’s going to explode.” Ted put a comfortable arm around Vic’s waist and kissed her temple. Ginny smiled, Vic had found a good one.

“Come on in and have a seat,” Ginny rose and gave Vic a hug. It still seemed surreal that little Vicky was old enough to be getting married. They were so young. Ginny was in her mid-thirties and she still felt clueless half the time. Yet here were these babies asking her to help them have the wedding of their dreams.

“I thought your godfather was going to be here,” Ginny turned to Ted as they all sat down.

“He’s on his way,” Ted nodded, “he got a little hung up.”

“No matter,” Ginny waved it away. “Let’s start with the important stuff, and contrary to what everyone at the Burrow told you, that is not the colors or the dress or any of that. I first need to know the number of people you’re going to have at the wedding ceremony and the reception.”

“Oh,” Vic’s cheeks blushed and she looked down at her hand intertwined with Ted’s. “I hadn’t thought about that part actually.”

Ginny sighed. Obviously brides weren’t nearly as organized as most of her previous managers.

“As practical as that is,” a voice sounded from the door, “doesn’t that take some of the fun out of the first meeting with your wedding coordinator?”

Ginny looked up at her door to see a very attractive man with dark hair that fell in every direction and green, green eyes behind a pair of dark framed glasses.

“Harry!” Ted jumped up and gave the man a hug.

“Sorry I’m late, Teddy,” Harry shook his head as he pulled away.

“It’s fine, really, we understand.” Ted turned to Ginny, “Harry, this is Vic’s aunt and our wedding coordinator, Ginny Weasley. Ginny, this is my godfather, Harry Potter.”

“Pleasure,” Harry shook her proffered hand, and Ginny had to pull every trick in the book to maintain her cool. Harry’s eyes bore into her and his smile was captivating. But she didn’t particularly like being called out on her growing pains when it came to transitioning from corporate events to weddings.

“We don’t want to take up too much of your time, Mr. Potter, so let’s go ahead and talk about what you would like to add to the couple’s budget and then you can head back to work.”

“Harry, please,” he pulled a chair up next to Ted. “And I’ve taken the rest of the day off to help with this and everything else Teddy has planned today.”

“Right,” Ginny took a deep breath. She had dealt with Umbridge every day for four years, surely she could handle a sassy, good looking man with minimal issue.

Harry gave her the number and as she wrote it down in the binder he cleared his throat.

“There’s one thing though, I’m sure Teddy would have brought it up when you came to it, but we want to make it clear that there will be no alcohol at the reception.”

Ginny looked up confused. “What?”

Harry looked at her intently. “There will be no alcohol served or available or smuggled in.”

Ginny turned to look at the couple who nodded at her solemnly.

“Er, alright,” she grabbed her red pen and made a note on the catering page. She wasn’t sure what the aversion to alcohol was all about, but obviously the couple agreed which was all that mattered really. “Any other unusual requests?”

Harry flashed her a grin, “Not at the moment.”

Ginny shook her head and tried to hide the smile that was pulling on her lips. This man was ridiculous.

With a little help from Harry and herself, they were able to nail down a good estimate for the number of people to be at the ceremony and the reception. Next Ginny brought up the venue and she watched as Vic heaved a sigh. Ginny felt bad, really she did, but this was the right way to plan out an event. They’d get to colors and dresses and cakes when the big priced items were taken care of and they knew how much money was left after that.

“You know,” Harry stretched, “I could really do with a tea or something. How about we move this little meeting to the cafe down the street?”

“We have a little reception room down the hall that has a kitchenette with tea and water and sodas.” Ginny shook her head. Emily had told her to use the formal reception room for Vic, but Ginny found the room to be over the top. She had decided her office was a much more practical place to meet with her clients.

“Lead on, Ms. Weasley,” Harry stood and gestured out the door.

Ginny grabbed her tablet and the binder and her pens and everything else she thought she’d need before leading her little group into the formal reception room.

The room had cream colored couches and chairs with antique white coffee and side tables. The counter for the kitchenette was white marble and the faucet and handles for the cabinets were gold colored and polished to shine. The walls had large blown up images of smiling brides in beautiful wedding dresses surrounded by flowers and delicate decor. Ginny felt like it was trying to hard. But as she led the little group into the room, she heard Vic gasp and turned to see her niece gripping Ted’s arm with the biggest smile she’d seen on her face since the big family dinner the night before.

“This is beautiful!”

Ginny stared at Vic. Apparently being a French woman’s daughter gave you a severe romantic streak? She turned when she heard water running as Harry filled the electric kettle. He winked at her before he began rummaging through the cabinets looking for tea. Then he opened the mini-fridge and scowled before shaking his head. He reached in and pulled out a Diet Coke.

“Here Teddy,” he handed it over to Ted who grinned and thanked him.

Ginny joined Harry in rummaging through the cabinets for cups and tea and biscuits. As the kettle clicked, Harry leaned closer to her to whisper.

“I’m not about to tell you how to do your job, but your poor niece is looking like you just took her childhood dream and made it a conference room training. So maybe let her have some of the fairytale back.” He poured the cream into Vic’s tea before turning to carry it to her.

Ginny stared at the space he’d just vacated. Who the hell did this guy think he was? She turned her head to glare at him, but she caught a glimpse of Vic and paused. Vic was smiling like the whole world was right. She looked excited and like she couldn’t wait for the day she’d become Mrs. Edward Lupin. Ginny sighed. She absolutely hated being wrong. But she loved Vic. Vic was the little girl who made her an aunt. Vic was the little girl that she took to parks and played tea party with. She was who Vic stayed with when Fleur went into labor with Dominique. Vic was something special and Ginny grudgingly admitted that Harry was right, she deserved the fairytale.

“Now then,” Ginny sat down across from Victoire, “why don’t you tell me what you want your wedding to look like?”

Vic’s eyes lit up like Ginny had just offered her chocolate cake. She proceeded into a monologue of everything she’d dreamed her wedding would be. She wanted the main color to be the same color turquoise as Ted’s hair, accented with silver and white and black. She wanted it to be elegant. She wanted a roses and orchids. She wanted a proper tea instead of a cocktail hour while photographs of the family were being taken after the ceremony. She went on about her dress and the bridesmaids dresses and the way she wanted the venue decorated, how the cake would look, what food they’d have, the music that would play.

And as Vic shared her dreams for her wedding, Ginny just sat and listened. She remembered being young and in love. She remembered what she’d imagined a wedding for herself would have been like. She remembered it had never included the logistics. And finally it hit her. A wedding coordinator existed to keep the magic of the wedding alive, while making sure the logistics went smoothly. An event coordinator had to prove that they had the logistics under control, keep them out in front for their manager to see it was going exactly how they expected it would and was within budget. Ginny realized she’d been trying to be an event coordinator with Vic’s wedding, and she’d been killing the magic.

Ginny glanced at Harry as Vic continued, and found him watching her intently. He nodded once when she caught his eye, and Ginny felt like he could see right through her. She didn’t particularly care for that feeling, but she pushed it away and turned back to Vic as the girl seemed to be winding down on her monologue.

“What do you think?” Vic looked at Ginny with hopeful eyes as she nervously pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

Ginny moved quickly to wrap her niece in her arms. “It sounds perfect, Vicky.”

They spent the next half hour filling in exactly what the first page of the binder Emily gave Ginny said to decide: date, colors, aesthetic, theme if any, flowers, ceremony desires, location desires, and number of guests. The bottom of that page had a space for the next appointment to be filled in. Ginny stared at it a moment before deciding to trust it. She set up their next meeting and walked the trio back to the front of the little shop.

“Thank you, Aunt Ginny!” Vic hugged her tight. “I’m so excited!”

Ginny held this precious girl in her arms for a long moment and smiled at Ted and Harry. “I’m going to make sure this is as perfect as I can make it for you, Vic.”

Harry winked at her as he pulled the engaged couple out the door. “We’ll see you at the next meeting.”

It wasn’t until she stepped back into her office that Ginny realized what he’d said. Did Harry really think it necessary to come to every meeting? There must have been a miscommunication somewhere along the line because for the most part she would only need Vic and Ted. Wedding dress shopping would of course include more people, as would the selection of suits, but that was it. It wasn’t worth fretting over though, because Ginny had a lot of research to do. Vic wanted her dream wedding, and Ginny was going to make sure that all the money Bill and Harry were putting towards it would stretch as far as she could make it.

She was deep in her figuring of numbers to determine how much the kind of dress Vic wanted would cost in comparison to venues and flowers and cake and catering when Emily knocked on her door.

“Wow,” Emily looked at the spreadsheets across Ginny’s monitors and the number of browser tabs open both on her computer and the one she could see on the tablet. Ginny’s notebook was open as well, notes scribbled across both pages. “I knew you were good, but this is incredibly thorough, Ginny.”

Ginny smiled, “She is my niece after all.”

Emily slid into a chair on the other side of Ginny’s desk. “What exactly are you doing?”

“I’m making sure she can have everything she wants,” Ginny pasted another link into her spreadsheet and entered in another price point, watching the figures update.

“We have the vendors that we normally work with,” Emily reminded her.

“Of course,” Ginny nodded, “and I have all of their information in my spreadsheets as well, but I want to make sure that her budget stretches as far as I can make it. My brother and her fiance’s godfather are both putting money in but it’s still a limited budget.”

“His parents aren’t contributing?” Emily asked with a furrowed brow.

“He told me his godfather was the only family he had.”

Emily’s eyes immediately filled with tears. “Well thank goodness that he has someone!”

Ginny smiled. Harry Potter was a sassy and pretentious someone, but yes, he was someone.

“Well, I wanted to tell you that I have another couple that I’ll be assigning to you. I’ve scheduled their first meeting to be a week from today. We like to do those introductory meetings on Mondays here whenever possible.” Emily handed her another binder, just like the one she had for Vic and Ted. This time, however, Emily had filled in the names and phone numbers.

“Do they have a budget?” Ginny asked, noticing that space was left blank.

Emily chuckled. “Kathleen Hawthorne’s father is quite wealthy. He’s planning on simply selling off a property to pay for his daughter’s wedding.”

Ginny’s mouth dropped. “You’re giving me a rich client?”

“Of course, you’re my most thorough coordinator and I actually think that is going to make Mr. Hawthorne much more likely to broadcast around to his friends that Wedding Composition is the best place for even the aristocracy to bring their daughters.”

“That’s a pretty tall order,” Ginny smiled, “but I’ll do my best.”

“I know you will. Let me know if you need anything.” Emily stood up to leave before turning. “Oh, how did your niece like the reception room?”

Ginny smiled, “It took her breath away.”

“That’s the goal,” she chuckled, “before you leave today, remember to restock what you used. I noticed you already put the cups and saucers in the dishwasher, thank you for that.”

Ginny nodded as Emily walked out to prepare for her next meeting.

Ginny spent the entire day doing research for Vic’s wedding, determined to find the best prices on everything. It felt good to be working and it felt good to be doing the part of her job she liked best. Sorting through all her vendor options, pitting their best prices against each other and sweet talking her way into deals. She loved seeing an event go off perfectly, but she lived for putting it all together so that she could be confident that nothing could go so wrong at the event that it couldn’t be saved.

Before heading home for the day, Ginny pulled a Diet Coke from the stock room and walked it into the reception room. She slid it into the fridge but stopped a moment when she saw what was sitting next to the assortment of sodas. Bottles of champagne sat ready to open and serve to the clients. She’d need to remember that for when Kathleen Hawthorne and Travis Schultz came in next week. That would probably be exactly what big money like that would want. Ginny put a note in her phone to pick up some fruit and scones on her way in that day as well.

But before she could meet her expensive taste clients, she had to find Vic a venue to get married in.

“I have five places to look at today, but if you don’t feel like any of them are right we can look at a few more. These are just the ones I think you’ll fall in love with.” Ginny smiled at Vic who sat in the front seat of her car with her, nearly bouncing with excitement. Ted and Harry sat in the back. She’d have to remember to tell Harry that he didn’t need to keep taking work off for this, she’d let Ted know if he needed to be there or not. Ginny glanced back in the rearview mirror and accidentally caught Harry’s eye. He winked at her before looking back out his window.

Ginny tried to ignore the way the blood rushed to her ears.

Thankfully she was pulling up to the first reception hall.

The place was very modern. Clean lines everywhere and gold and silver finishes. The floors were polished black granite and every table had a white marble top. Ginny heard Vic’s breath catch as they walked in and she grinned. But as they went through the tour, Ginny could see that while this had the elegance Vic had wanted, it was a bit too much for her.

“We have the exact date of your wedding open as well,” the host spoke to Vic as she continued to tell her how they could make this facility into her dream.

“Vic,” Ginny stepped between the host and her niece, “remember I have four other facilities for you to look at. You don’t have to pick right now.”

Vic smiled in relief, “Let’s go look at the other places, I want to know what all my options are.” The poor girl grabbed Teddy’s hand and practically bolted for the door. Ginny chuckled before thanking the host and arranging to bring her next clients through as well. This hall looked like the kind of thing they might just eat up.

“Remember, Vic,” Ginny said as she drove the to the next hall, “you aren’t required to give them an answer at all. I can call them and get everything set up after you’re back at home. We’ll have meetings to make sure it’s exactly what you want, so don’t let them pressure you into making decisions before you’re ready.”

“It’s your day,” Harry added, “and we’re all just here to make sure you love it.”

Ginny looked at Harry in her rearview mirror and he winked at her again. Ginny immediately looked back at the road. Why did this man have to be so, so, so, whatever, it didn’t matter. She’d let him know he didn’t need to be around for these things and then she wouldn’t see him again aside from suits and the wedding day.

Vic went through the next two venues with a bit more confidence, but the fourth venue had her staring out the window while everyone else filed out of the car.

“It looks even better out of the car, love.” Ted opened her door and offered his hand. Vic took it and slowly stepped out.

“Oh my,” she breathed.

The venue was an old converted manor house that had a very French chateaux feel. The gardens were the definition of a fairytale, even with it being late August. Roses, lilies, and freesias of every color were slowly fading but covered the beds around the house with sweet peas intermixed throughout. Greenery and trees brought an elegant balance to the whimsical colors. The entire picture was everything that Vic had described and Ginny had been the beyond excited to show it to her.

“Wait till you see inside,” Ginny beckoned Vic forward.

Ted gave her a gentle tug and Vic walked slowly, looking for all the world like she’d just walked through the gateway into Narnia.

Sara, the owner of the manor house turned chateaux reception hall, met them at the door. She showed them around the hall then the gardens. Sara painted the picture of a garden ceremony as the sun began to set. She showed where the tea would be held in the smaller hall on one end of the home, and how the reception could be either out in the gardens or in the larger hall off the main entrance. Sara even knew where the perfect place to take photographs would be and offered to speak with the photographer before the wedding so Vic would have the perfect pictures of her amazing day.

Ginny let a smug smile touch her lips as she watched her niece. This was the place, and Sara had just sealed the deal by inviting Vic and Ted to take some time to walk around and picture it for themselves.

“Why did you save this one for last?”

Ginny jumped as she realized that Harry had snuck up next to her.

“It isn’t last,” Ginny chuckled, “there’s still one more. We hit them in the order of closest to the office first.”

“But you knew she’d pick this one,” Harry stepped closer to her and Ginny felt her heart rate increase.

“I suspected she would, but I didn’t know.”

Harry gave a quiet laugh that was more of a rumble in his chest and that did things to Ginny that she hadn’t experienced in ages. “What did you do before becoming a wedding coordinator?”

“How do you know I haven’t always been a wedding coordinator?” Ginny was suddenly weary of where he was pulling that kind of personal information on her.

Harry stared at her a moment before gesturing to the engaged couple walking the gardens hand in hand. “I’m Teddy’s godfather, amazingly enough, and I do tend to talk to him. Vic talks a lot about you too when she’s at ours.”

Ginny felt her neck grow hot and a tinge of embarrassment gripped her stomach. She kept forgetting that Harry was the equivalent of Bill. He certainly didn’t look much older than her, but some people just aged well, and Harry was probably one of them. Ted was a year older than Vic, and so Ginny assumed that Harry must be closer to Bill’s age.

“I suppose that puts us on uneven footing. I know nothing about you, and you already know that this is the first time I’ve coordinated a wedding.”

Harry took another step closer to her, leaving a breath’s distance between them. “I’d be happy to put us on even footing, if that would put you at ease.”

Ginny felt her breath stop. Was he…flirting with her?

It’d been so long since she’d put herself out there that she wasn’t even sure how to respond as Harry stared down at her with those green eyes and messy hair that her fingers itched to touch.

“Aunt Ginny,” Vic apparently decided Ginny didn’t need to respond, and for the briefest moment, Ginny wished her niece would go snog her fiance for the next two or three hours and leave her be.

“Aunt Ginny, this is it!” Vic exclaimed. “This is exactly what I want! I love it, and so does Ted! Can we get it reserved right now?”

Ginny gave herself a mental shake and smiled at Vic, “Absolutely! Let’s go get Sara and we’ll get everything reserved and set for your big day.”

She led them back into the manor house and tried to shake the feeling that Harry was watching her. Instead she discreetly texted Luna and asked if she could stop by after work. She really needed someone to put her head back on straight.

Luna, thankfully, was free and Ginny dropped her crew off at the office where they’d all met up before grabbing takeaway and heading to her best friend.

“I brought your favorite,” Ginny handed the bags over to Luna when she opened her door.

Luna chuckled as she ushered Ginny in, “So what’s the emergency?”

Ginny threw herself onto Luna’s sofa and sighed, “How did you know Rolf was interested in you before you started dating?”

Luna started unloading the food, “He told me he wanted to date me.”

Ginny sighed, why couldn’t everyone be just a bit eccentric like Luna and Rolf? They were relationship goals. So straightforward and to the point with each other, and even with Rolf and Luna going separate expeditions all the time they were probably the tightest couple Ginny had ever laid eyes on.

“Who are you hoping is interested?”

Ginny shook her head, “I don’t know if I even want him to be interested. I haven’t dated since Dean and that was nearly five years ago. I’m just…confused?”

“Confused,” Luna echoed her.

“I guess,” Ginny took a bite of food to buy her some time to think.

“He isn’t a groom, is he?”

Ginny stared at her friend, almost sure she was taking the Mickey.

“He’s Ted’s godfather.”

Luna smiled and Ginny was sure now that she was being teased. Luna loved to tease in her own quiet way, especially if it meant she could tease Ginny. They’d been friends for nearly there decades and the friendly teasing seemed to pull the rug out from Ginny’s anxiety.

“I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I?”

“Only mildly,” Luna assured her with a quiet laugh. Ginny couldn’t help but join in on the laughter, and pretty soon the two friends were in a right fit of giggles on the sofa. It took several minutes before either was able to gain control of themselves.

“Now then,” Luna chuckled as she took hold of her water glass, “why don’t you fill me in on what’s going on like a sane person.”

Ginny stuck her tongue out at Luna. “I told you about Ted’s godfather, Harry, remember? Well he showed up to the venue tours today and he offered to tell me as much about himself as Vic and Ted had told him about me.”

Luna wriggled her eyebrows, “Oooh that sounds so romantic.”

“Luna, please,” Ginny groaned, “I’m trying to figure out what to do!”

“Let the man,” Luna shrugged, “you could do with a night out.”

“He didn’t ask me out for a pint,” Ginny huffed. “I don’t know what he was implying.”

“Stop being thirteen,” Luna stood and started clearing her food. “If you’re interested in the man then let him know. If you’re not, then be professional and don’t pursue him.”

“That’s the problem, I don’t know if I’m interested,” Ginny joined her in clearing their takeaway.

“I can’t help you there,” Luna put a comforting hand on Ginny’s shoulder, “you’re going to need to figure that out for yourself.”

“And that’s the hard part,” Ginny sighed.

Ginny didn’t know what she wanted. She was happy with her life, wasn’t she? She was comfortable being single, at least she thought so. Things didn’t end well with Dean and Ginny had decided she was done playing the field. She didn’t want to try and convince some guy she was worth the time of day. But what did she want? Did she really want to keep coming home to an empty flat? Did she really want to spend the rest of her life single? Or did she really just want to avoid getting burned again?

When Ginny fell into bed that night, she still didn’t know.

After meeting with Kathleen and Travis that Monday, which seemed to go off without a hitch, Ginny decided to see if Vic had time to look at the photographers portfolios with her. They would need to get engagement pictures done just as quickly as possible so they could decide on the invitations.

Vic responded to her text with a phone call.

“Hi Vicky.”

“Hi Aunt Ginny, I got your text and I’m at Ted’s. What do you think of coming over and after we pick a photographer you can stay for dinner?”

Ginny sighed, little Vicky was old enough to be the hostess now, when did that happen?

“That sounds lovely, thank you! Send me the address and I’ll leave here in fifteen minutes.”

Ginny had expected a flat. Ted was nineteen, only a year older than Vic, and she expected him to be living like a nineteen year old, in a flat, in a cheap part of town, with little food on hand. So when the GPS led Ginny out to the suburbs and a small home with a lovely little wrought iron fence and a slightly overgrown front garden, Ginny immediately checked that the addresses were the same. Everything looked to be right, so with a bit of trepidation and a lot of confusion, Ginny approached the front door and rang the bell. Her heart almost stopped when the door opened.

Harry Potter stood looking at her with those stupid green eyes and a sassy grin on his face.

“Oh good, you found it,” He stepped off to the side and motioned for Ginny to come in.

“Er, yes, the GPS led me straight to it.” Ginny’s brain was quickly catching up with what was happening. Ted obviously lived with his godfather. Ginny was going to be having dinner with Vic and Ted…and Harry.

She was pulled from her musings by a soft hand on the small of her back as Harry led her down the hall. The spot on her back where his hand was touching seemed to burn and Ginny tried not to let her labored breathing show. The home was well kept and the smells coming from the kitchen were amazing. She was just about to ask Harry for clarification on what was going on when she heard her name.

“Aunt Ginny!” Vic jumped up from the sofa as Harry led them further into the house.

“You ready to pick out your photographer?” Ginny smiled as she wrapped Vic in a hug. Work, she needed to focus on the wedding and she would be fine. Ginny could have a professional work dinner with her clients. It would be fine.

“I’m so excited!” Vic pulled her down to the sofa.

Yes. Ginny was going to focus on work, and stop imagining that Harry was watching her, because he wasn’t, she was sure he wasn’t.

Ginny pulled her tablet out of her bag along with a couple printed portfolios from photographers that the shop kept on hand. “Ok, let’s start with looking at the photos and then we can talk about which package would be right for you. No sense in paying to have a photographer all day if the wedding and reception will only be a few hours.”

Vic picked up the first portfolio with excitement and put it across her lap and Ted’s. “Wow, do you think I’ll look like that?” Vic pointed to the first image of a bride surrounded by roses.

“You’ll look more beautiful than every single picture here,” Ted kissed her cheek and Ginny smiled as Vic’s cheeks tinged pink.

“You are a flatterer, Edward.”

“And you love it,” Ted chuckled, “besides, I never say anything that isn’t true.”

Ginny remembered a time when she would have scoffed at that sort of exchange between her brothers and their wives. Even as recently as Luna and Rolf had Ginny rolled her eyes at what she considered sappy attempts to be romantic. But something about it being the next generation was different. It was heartwarming to see Vic growing up, to see her find someone who looked at her like she was his whole world, and Ginny couldn’t bring herself to be cynical of any of it.

They sorted through photographers before deciding on the one that Vic liked best and had the best rate. Ginny excused herself to what Harry called his office in order to call and make the arrangements. She was just finishing up, consultation, engagement shoot, and wedding day booked and planned, when Harry stepped in the room.

“Just checking something,” he smiled at her as he slid into his computer chair and began clicking around on his computer.

She should have left; she was already standing, she was finished with the call, she had no reason to still be in his office. But for some reason, Ginny pulled out her tablet out and looked with unseeing eyes at her calendar, alone in a room with Harry Potter.

“Were you able to get the dates for Vic and Teddy?” He slid up next to her and looked over her shoulder at the calendar.

“Yeah,” Ginny bit her lip.

Harry was close, close like he had been when he offered to tell her as much about himself as he knew about her. She chanced to look up at him and found him smiling at her. Ginny felt like she needed to say something, she needed to break this spell he’d cast over her that had somehow rendered her trapped under his gaze. But she couldn’t seem to gain control over her voice or manage to look away. His green eyes held hers and Ginny was rooted to the floor staring up at him with no idea of how to escape, and if she was honest, she didn’t want to escape.

Suddenly, Ginny felt the nearly five years since she’d been this close to a man as keenly as she would have felt five years without ice cream. Had it really been almost five years since she’d kissed anyone? Had she really gone nearly sixty months since she’d been held? How had she managed these roughly seventeen hundred days without really touching another person? There was a part of Ginny’s mind that reminded her that she was happy. She lived a fulfilling life and had wonderful friends and a loving family. But that part of her brain was being drowned out by the part of her that had sprung to life like a phoenix rising from the ashes, the part of her that wanted this, that wanted Harry.

“Do,” Ginny whispered, “do you want to come to the consultation, with the photographer?”

Harry’s grin tilted just a bit higher and he glanced down at the screen, “I think I can be there for it, probably smart too, since I’m paying the man and all.”

Ginny felt the smile pulling on her lips and she gave into it. “Yeah, got to make sure this bloke isn’t going to take your money and run.”

Harry laughed and moved closer, placing his hand on the small of her back again, “As long as he isn’t also running off with the wedding coordinator.”

Ginny stopped breathing. She honest to goodness forgot how to make her lungs pull breath in and expel it out.

“Harry,” Ted’s voice sounded down the hall. “The stove timer is going off, which dish is it for?”

Ginny saw annoyance flash in Harry’s eyes as his hand fell from her back. The lack of contact brought her breath back, but Ginny would have almost rather passed out from lack of oxygen than have him not touching her. Harry moved toward the door and Ginny watched him in slow motion as Luna’s advice rang through her ears.

“Harry,” she barely heard her own voice but Harry stopped dead in his tracks and turned towards her.

“The,” she bit her lip and took a deep breath, “the wedding coordinator is more interested in the godfather than the photographer.”

Harry’s smile bloomed on his face like a morning flower, “That’s very good news.” He winked at her before disappearing down the hallway.

Ginny felt her breath leave with him.

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hazyheel · 6 years ago

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Best of the Super Juniors 2019 Day 6 Review

First up was Rocky Romero vs. Ren Narita, both at 0 points. The two started with some standard grappling. Narita was definitely holding his own in this match, but Rocky then introduced strikes into the mix. Rocky worked over Narita’s arm during the match, softening him up for the armbar. Interestingly enough, Rocky was not working the injured arm, showing that he is still avoiding the sneaky style. There was one roleup in particular that was really close, where Narita countered Rocky’s roleup and nearly got the win. Once again, Narita was only able to get a release belly to belly suplex rather than the bridge that normally gets him a win, so Rocky kicked out. Rocky was eventually able to get the full extension on the armbar, and Narita had to submit. Romero: 2, Narita: 0.

After the match, Rocky pulled Narita to his feet by the hair and slapped him, because of the disrespect that Narita showed him during the preview tag match. He offered his hand for a handshake, but Narita again slapped it away.

Grade: B-. Fine match, good showing for Narita. I think they worked really well together, and in the future they could have a good match. I think that they could have a much better match when Narita really develops his own style. Happy to see Rocky finally get on the board.

Then we had Bandido vs. DOUKi, which has some history. Apparently the two know each other, as Bandido helped Douki get settled in Mexico when he first got to the country. Adds an extra dimension. Douki tried to start before the bell, but Bandido intercepted him by throwing his jacket at him and nailed a kick to the face followed by a crazy suicide dive. Douki was trash talking the entire time, but it was in either Spanish or Japanese so I don’t know what he was saying. The match really picked up when Bandido was in control, gaining a much faster pace. Bandido knew every move that Douki would make before he did it, and they really tore into each other with stiff Lucha offense. Douki nearly got the win with a necktie choke, but Bandido was able to get to the ropes. Bandido locked in a submission of his own, a crossarmbar with a head trap. It looked super cool, but Douki was able to fight out. At one point, Douki went for the suplex de la luna, but Bandido reversed into a almost a spike rollup for a near fall. Bandido then hit a go to sleep, followed by the 21 plex to get his first win of the tournament. Bandido: 2, Douki: 2.

Grade: B+. I think this was both guys best match yet. Finally Bandido was allowed to go fast, and that he did. The two understood each other’s moves, and they really went to town on each other. I don’t know if it will end as their best, especially for Bandido, but I really enjoyed this. And Bandido finally won!

Into a BULLET CLUB civil war, Robbie Eagles took on El Phantasmo in a match I was definitely looking forward to. The two gave each other a handshake to start it out, which is cool to see. They went to too sweet, but Phantasmo broke it up by attacking his teammate. Eagles had the speed advantage while Phantasmo had the strength. Phantasmo even went for Kevin Kelly, and when Eagles tried to convince him to bring it back in the ring, Phantasmo shoved him into the ringpost. When the two actually went into the ring, they wrestled really well, floating from one high flying move to the next. During Phantasmo’s spot where he stomps on the crotch on his opponent in the tree of woe, Eagles was able to deliver a german off the top rope. Love spots like that. The two went back and forth with high octane moves and counters, with one of my favorites being Eagles avoiding a moonsault, and then hitting a reverse rana for a near fall. The finish came when Phantasmo pulled Eagles’ bandana over his eyes, and then he nailed him with a superkick and greetings from chasewood park for the win. Phantasmo: 6, Eagles: 4.

After the match, Eagles yelled at his teammate, but they hit the too sweet and moved on. Phantasmo is much more of a heel.

Grade: B. Good match, not quite as dramatic as I thought it would be. It was kinda jokey in the beginning, but I think it really developed Phantasmo’s character. Phantasmo was kinda outclassed by Eagles, as shown in the beginning, so he cheated. He wants to win more than anything, and he is fine with being a total dick about it. They had a lot of good intereactions, but focused a little too much on talking during the match. I still liked it, and it was a good build to the match against Ospreay on Wednesday.

And another conflict in a faction, Will Ospreay took on YOH for Chaos supremacy. They shook hands in the beginning, and the crowd was actually pretty split between the two, which delighted them. Ospreay showed his strength advantage early on. Yoh had to target the legs because of the large size advantage from Ospreay. This, of course, meant that Yoh locked in the figure four, a classic way to assault the knee. At one point, Ospreay went for his classic backflip off of the opponent, but he collapsed when he landed, allowing Yoh to lock in a calf crusher. Yoh went for a superplex, but Ospreay slipped out and hit cheeky nandos. He then went to the top rope for a shooting star press, but Yoh rolled away. Ospreay landed on his feet and just collapsed, allowing for Yoh to lock in the calf crusher once again for a tense sequence that really felt like Ospreay would tap. Yoh continued to work Ospreay’s knee, and at one point went for a dragon screw leg whip, but Ospreay blocked it and hit a double stomp. Yoh was able to hit the dragon suplex, but he released it to send Ospreay into the turnbuckle. He then went for the move proper, but Ospreay flipped out of it, and hit a roundhouse and superkick, Yoh hit a knee lift, and then Ospreay hit a spanish fly for a near fall. He then picked Yoh up for a Stormbreaker. Ospreay: 6, Yoh: 2.

Grade: A-. Phenomenal. I loved these guys going at it. They have only improved since last year. I loved the knee work throughout the match and how much Ospreay had to work through it. Yoh seemed like he would win several times, and really went blow for blow with the much bigger star. This was great, and I think Yoh has big things in his future. Match of the night.

And in the main event, Ryusuke Taguchi vs. BUSHI. Taguchi started out with his goofy gimmick, and it was quite funny to finally get that out of a Taguchi match. At one point, he was Irish Whipped into the ropes, and he ran for probably a minute because Bushi just didn’t do anything. Eventually he hit a drop toehold and a dropkick on a slow moving Taguchi. Taguchi fought back and was able to hit a Kokeshi, but then Bushi started to work the ass, starting with several chair shots. That was a central focus during the match, as well as an odd “T” chant that Taguchi encouraged. Bushi worked hard to be able to hit his spike DDT on the apron, which Taguchi was desperately trying to avoid. At one point when Bushi went for his rewind kick, Taguchi just grabbed the ankle and locked in an ankle lock, for a sequence that ended in a ref bump. Bushi faked the mist and Taguchi ducked, so he got him on the way up, as well as a rewind kick. Taguchi still managed to avoid the MX though, then hitting a jumping ensiguri. Bushi went for a dropkick and Taguchi picked the ankle for a quick ankle lock, a dodon for a near fall, and then more agony in the ankle lock for the submission victory. Taguchi: 6, Bushi: 0.

Grade: B+. Good match with a lot of good comedy, and a fun closing stretch. Bushi worked really well with Taguchi, playing a no fun heel, while also holding his own in pure wrestling. This was a really good blend of comedy and action, with each understanding how the other’s style works. This was a very good main event. While not the best on the card, it was certainly a good way to send us home happy.

Overall Grade: B+

Pros: Bandido vs. Douki; Eagles vs. Phantasmo; Ospreay vs. Yoh; main event

Cons: poor Kevin Kelly got attacked

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laurengattos-blog · 6 years ago

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Chapter 2, Part 3

{Previous Part}

That afternoon, Lilith unpacked what was left in her trunk. The desk in her room had locks on two of its drawers, so Lilith tucked away her father’s compositions in the first. She was trying to use them to help fill the holes in her next, unfinished opera, which went in the second drawer. Knowing the bloodied dress from the day before was in the bottom of the dresser, Lilith folded and put away the rest of her clothing in the upper drawers, which didn’t take long. Then she spread her rouge and powder boxes, hairpins, brushes, and perfume bottles across the top of the dresser.

At seven o’clock, she stood in front of the mirror in her camisole and petticoat, pinning the last of her curls into place with a rhinestoned hair pin, finishing a final scale in preparation for her brief performance. Her silver locket dropped heavily against her breast bone as she shut its clasp around her neck. She was rubbing her chest against the shock when Mme. Giry knocked at her door and brought in the bustle. As she expanded the collapsible metal frame, Giry told Lilith that two sets of hands were needed to put the bustle on. When Giry fixed the last button around Lilith’s hips, Lilith thanked her, and again after she helped button the side of the massive violet skirt, and then again after she buttoned the back of the bodice. “Really, thank you, Mme. Giry,” she said as Giry stepped back to see if everything was straight.

“It wasn’t much of a sacrifice. I have the time right now, and frankly, Mademoiselle, you had trouble bending before you were attached to a metal cage.”

“I must insist that you call me Lilith.”

“Fine…Lilith,” Giry said, picking a stray thread off of the skirt. “I’m glad someone’s getting use out of the bustle. I’ve only worn it once, and that was almost three years ago.”

“It wasn’t a gift from the opera ghost, was it?” Lilith chuckled.

“Ah,” Giry shook her head in contempt. “I heard you found out about all that. Don’t let the idiots around here fool you. It’s a publicity stunt the managers have been milking for far too long. Every once in a while the ‘ghost’ does something that gets him in the papers—and the argument could be made that the superstition keeps divas in line, although I suspect that won’t be the case with you.”

“You’ve got that right.”

Giry looked into the mirror and smoothed back her own hair. “I suppose if I must call you Lilith, you should call me Alianore—but not around my students.”

“Alianore. That’s a lovely name.” Lilith smiled, and then touched her velvet-clad wound for reassurance. As Giry headed to the door, she told Lilith that Rebecca would be in the dancer’s foyer after the show, if she needed her.

Lilith left a few minutes later, heading to the grand foyer to meet the managers. However, in the hall of dressing rooms, she turned the corner and ran into a frazzled woman in dark work clothes, carrying a black, grommet-speckled gown. The skirt spilled out of the woman’s arms, but Lilith caught it before it dropped out of reach. “Oh, do forgive me. I wasn’t looking,” Lilith said, pretending that she was brushing something off her bodice as she stroked her waist. The woman told her it was perfectly all right, no harm was done, and continued down the hall. Going the same way, Lilith asked, “Is this Leonora’s costume?”

“Yes, from Act IV. Carlotta decided we had altered it without telling her and demanded that we let out the waist—for the very last performance, mind you.”

“That’s a rather wild assumption.”

“Actually there was a pool going to see when she’d notice. One of my girls was hoping for an emotional breakdown onstage—not that I encouraged any of it.” The costumer looked Lilith over and asked, “Are you the new singer?” Lilith affirmed that she was. “Then I hope I didn’t frighten you, because we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other. I’m Emeline Amory. I’ll be yours after this production.”

“You aren’t Carlotta’s?”

“No, you see, there is a God. Because of this alteration debacle, I’ve been reassigned.” As Mme. Amory stopped at the end of the hall at the largest dressing room, she seemed to leer at Lilith’s dress. “Are you singing tonight?”

“Yes, I am,” said Lilith, glancing down to see what she was scrutinizing.

“I guess that explains it. But please tell the managers to ask before they take things from our storage again.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“That’s Métella’s costume from last season’s La Vie Parisienne.” As the last word left Amory’s lips, the door opened behind her and a puffing, middle-aged dresser pulled her inside. Before Lilith could form an articulate thought, Rémy took her arm, telling her the managers had changed their plans and asked him to take her to their box instead. As they climbed the staircase to the manager’s tier, Lilith realized for the first time that the opera ghost could be trying to sabotage her. She felt a flicker of panic at the thought that there was no way out now. If the plan was for her to be embarrassed by wearing the recognizable costume of a trollop, he’d won. However, when she voiced her concerns to the managers, Richard’s stark honesty soothed her: “For God’s sake, it’s just a dress.”

“Wasn’t there a card with it, Mademoiselle?” Moncharmin asked, guiding her into her seat. She told them it wasn’t signed, and Moncharmin stared at his partner meaningfully.

Richard rolled his eyes. “Sorry, I must have forgotten to sign it.”

Lilith raised her eyebrows doubtfully. “I beg your pardon, are you now saying you sent me this dress?”

“Can you blame me for not taking the credit after your reaction?” he asked, taking his seat. “I feared you might need one for tonight. Please forgive my forwardness. I simply didn’t want you to be unprepared.”

“M. Richard,” said Moncharmin, as he lowered himself into the seat between them, “You should have let me know. I nearly misled the poor girl this morning.”

Richard glared at him and growled, “Forgive me, Armand, it escaped me.”

The gilded, scarlet-felted auditorium was soon completely filled with finely dressed patrons, gems and silks glittering even in the upper balconies. But Lilith noticed the box across the theatre from the managers’ remained dark and empty. When she asked if some important party had canceled, Richard muttered. “No, that’s another one of the opera ghost’s demands.”

“Of course. Have you paid him yet?” Lilith mocked.

“We did not,” said Moncharmin, less spirited than usual. “Our investigators have insisted that we do not indulge him. But we have locked up the anvils in a closet, until they are needed.”

“You don’t sound very hopeful, Monsieur,” Lilith said.

“Moncharmin is just nervous,” Richard sneered contemptuously. “He thinks we’re dealing with some sort of wizard.”

Moncharmin huffed at Richard before defending himself to Lilith: “The ghost has a way of getting what he wants.”

Lilith hummed a laugh and whispered to Moncharmin, “Perhaps he’s one of your richer patrons, someone with too much time on his hands.” Moncharmin smiled, but then her words prompted a thought, and he started advising her on the patrons she would meet after the show.

Soon, the opera started, and Act I came and went without a hitch. Then towards the end of Act II, the baritone playing the Count Di Luna neared the aria the phantom mentioned in his letter.

“What bold and raging love, and aggravated pride

My rival dropped every obstacle, it seemed, to my desire…”as the baritone sang, Lilith watched Moncharmin’s knuckles whiten, gripping the armrest between them. Then the baritone uttered the anticipated phrase, “The light of her smile eclipses the beam of a star—” Immediately, a clang resounded in the theatre, but the baritone went on, “The splendor of her face brings me new strength, new courage.” The clanging continued as more anvils joined in.

The managers jumped to their feet and fled backstage in barely enough time for Moncharmin to beg her pardon. Not about to be left alone, Lilith hurried down the staircase after them. At the backstage entrance, Mercier handed Moncharmin a new letter and ran a hand through his graying hair. He told them he stood when the anvils started going, and when he turned around, the letter was on his chair. Joining the managers, Lilith spotted Rebecca across the stage in her lone, coral evening dress, waving to her and mouthing what’s going on? Moncharmin read the letter, and then handed it to Richard, who scoffed and passed it to Lilith. It read: The anvils seem disturbed. You should pacify them with Samar’s seraphic voice, which you so selfishly wished to keep to a select few.

Lilith let out peeved groan. Richard asked if she would do it. She sighed, “Why not.” Moncharmin thanked her, and sent Mercier to cut off the struggling conductor and have the curtains closed for the moment. Moncharmin went out first and apologized to the audience for the mechanical failures they were experiencing. He shouted over the lessening ring of anvils that while they sorted everything out, their guest for the season, Mlle. Lilith Samar, would preview an aria from her upcoming opera.

As soon as Lilith stepped out through the curtains, the anvils stopped. She curtseyed to the audience’s vexed but polite applause and waited for Balás to settle in at the piano, while the orchestra’s pianist rubbed his face in irritation. The familiar first notes sounded from the pit, and for some reason gave her a chill. But she smiled, and sang the aria strong and true, the love she had for that song overcoming everything else. She managed not to break any stitches, although her side was very sore. When she finished, applause overwhelmed the house. Lilith graciously curtseyed again, flashing a smile at Balás in the pit. Clapping himself, he blushed and looked down at his music.

In the singer’s foyer, a very proud Moncharmin guided Lilith around and discretely pointed out the most important sponsors. He gave the names of the Duc and Duchesse who were laughing with Carlotta and Orelio. Lilith noticed Orelio stroking the Duchesse’s arm, and couldn’t suppress a look of repugnance.

“Look out. The Comte is coming,” Richard mumbled to his partner.

“Ah yes.” Moncharmin nodded toward a middle-aged man with coiffed blonde hair, who directed a dimpled grin Lilith’s way. “This is Comte Philippe de Chagny,” he said, extending an arm to the Comte as he introduced Lilith.

The Comte bowed to kiss the back of her hand, and lingered. She felt her eyes flicker involuntarily, but she plastered a kind expression to her face and curtseyed. “You’re very talented, Mlle. Samar,” said the Comte. She thanked him, gently removing her hand from his grasp. Over his shoulder, she saw the doorway fill with frothy white costumes as Sorelli and Minna and other older dancers scanned the room, corps de ballet girls filling the space around them.

“We told you about Mlle. Samar’s opera, didn’t we?” asked Richard.

“Yes, you were quite enthusiastic about it. Now I see why,” he grinned again at Lilith. She bit her venomous tongue and grinned back. “I’ve actually been meaning to catch up with you on the season. Are the three of you available for supper tonight? I have a private room at the Café Tortoni.” Moncharmin merrily accepted for the three of them. Lilith caught sight of Sorelli, whose jaw dropped dramatically as she glared at the Comte. Then she whirled around and left, Minna at her heels. Rebecca, Meg, and the others chirped excitedly. “Shall we go?” asked the Comte.

“Oh, just a moment,” Lilith gestured to the dancers. “I need to speak to my ward.” Moncharmin explained Lilith’s apprentice to the Comte with glowing admiration as Lilith left to meet Rebecca.

Rebecca lifted her chin at Lilith’s approach, and teased, “Aren’t you too famous to speak with us?”

“How’d you like the supernatural assistance I received?” Lilith asked.

“Oooo,” said Clarisse, swooping into their conversation, “You’ve done it now.”

“Sorelli can’t believe you stole her suitor,” Jammes added gleefully.

“How absurd. Who?” Lilith asked. Jammes nodded toward the Comte. Lilith groaned, “Ugh. Yes, we’re going to supper tonight. Will you be ok?” she asked Rebecca.

“I’ll be fine,” Rebecca mocked her concern. “They do feed the ballet. Now tell us about this Comte.”

Lilith shrugged. “He’s just a patron.”

“Come on, we saw you making eyes at him,” said Clarisse.

“I was not—Oh, this is ridiculous,” Lilith said emphatically. “Just tell Sorelli she can have him back. I’m off. Good night, ladies.” Lilith returned to the managers, reluctantly taking the Comte’s arm as he led them out of the theatre.

Just after two o’clock in the morning, Lilith leaned into Richard as he escorted her to the street entrance of the ballet dormitory. A combination of grief and blood loss had let her become so tipsy that he wouldn’t allow her to walk in alone. He diligently unlocked the front door and locked it behind them, and led her across the courtyard, through the salon to the stairwell. “You’re too kind, Monsieur,” she said, shaking herself out of his overcoat and returning it to him.

“Well, I can’t take the risk that my wife will be awake when I get home.”

“Really, M. Richard,” Lilith slurred, “This isn’t like me at all.”

“I believe you. You have shockingly low tolerance for an actress.”

“I’m used to being the sober one. This was the first night in a long time that I haven’t had to watch Rebecca.”

“I understand. Our housekeeper did the same when my youngest left for Somerville Hall.” Richard opened the stairwell door with one hand. “Can you make it upstairs?”

“I’m sure I can,” she nodded and patted his shoulder, but wobbled on her third step away. He groaned and hooked his arm under hers. When they had climbed the flight and made it to her door, he leaned her against the stairwell doorway and asked if she had her key. She retrieved it from her pocket and said, “Yes, thank you.” She unlocked it, bid him goodnight, and closed the door between them. Cautiously lifting her hands every few paces, Lilith eventually made it into her room, and then to the matches and candle on her nightstand. After picking at the buttons for a while, she got out of her bodice, and then started on her skirt. In the distance, she could have sworn she heard music playing. She drew the skirt up over her head and threw the mass of it over her desk chair. She thought her side should ache, but she couldn’t tell.

It was a violin playing.

Lilith unfastened the bustle and collapsed it enough for her to climb out. Some poor violinist must have been begging on the streets, on such a cold night too. A deep sob swelled in her chest. How it reminded her of Thomas.

Lilith snatched up her dressing gown and went to the bathroom. The music stopped. She turned up the gas lights on either side of the broad mirror. Numbly, she stared into the dark eyes of her reflection. All she saw was her brother. As she pulled the pins out of her hair and set them on a short white cabinet, she thought of a similar cold night in Baltimore or Washington D.C. when she was eleven, and they hadn’t made enough money, so they slept in the street.

At some point, the violin had returned. She swayed to it a little as she plugged the drain in the bathtub and turned on its faucets. Peeling off her camisole and her petticoat, she thought the song was familiar. Sitting on the side lip of the tub, Lilith unhooked her stockings and garter belt and pulled them out through her pantaloons. She threw them into the pile with the rest of her clothing, and then stood. She pulled up her chemise and felt the cotton dressing that bound her waist. It was too tight. It bothered her. Unwrapping it strip by strip, she threw each one into the pile of clothing. She stared at the stitches in the mirror, a strip of gnarled pink flesh crossed with black scratches. Tears streamed down her cheeks although her face remained hard. She was shot fleeing. She left him with their enemies, without trying to save him, without even knowing his condition. She just fled with Rebecca. Well, she knew his condition. That’s why she left. She knew there was nothing to be done.

Lilith plunged herself into the water and shut off the faucets. She drew her knees in, and wrapping her arms around her chest, she wept herself blind. Under her choking sobs, she didn’t notice that the music had grown louder. Suddenly, the violin ebbed, and there was a whisper, “Dear child, why are you crying?”

She looked up at nothing, bleary-eyed and answered, “‘Child,’ sir? You can’t be talking to me.” After a moment, the violin returned with a remorseful melody. Lilith laid her head on the rim of the tub, her cheek grazing the water.

The whisper asked again, “Queen of sorrows, what makes you so unhappy?”

Annoyed with this hallucination, Lilith growled, “None of your damn business.” The whisper didn’t answer, but the music began to soften and the song came to an end. Closing her eyes, Lilith sighed, “Don’t stop playing.” A new song started, entrancing and soulful, and tears fell more slowly from her dark lashes as she listened. Her chest rose and fell with even breaths, but then her body shifted and she sank below the water. The violin screeched and movement rumbled behind the wall.

{Next Part}

#poto #poto fic #poto fanfiction #dark fiction #women in horror

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serenefreakgeekao3 · 7 years ago

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Care for Me (Part2)

Tag List: @xx-thedarklord-xx @drarry0394

“You’re so daft!” Pansy screeched at him in one of Hogwarts halls, and Draco sped his movements. If he was lucky, he could be getting yelled at outside of the building, instead of inside where her voice bounces and carries. He was just able to step outside when nails began to dig into his shoulder.

“Ah, Pansy, what the hell?” Draco yelled out, yanking his shoulder away and rubbing at the soon-to-be bruises. He glared at her, weakly, before feeling his phone vibrating in his pocket. He studied Pansy’s face, taking in her furious look, and figured now was probably not the time to look at it. “What?” He asked roughly, turning and beginning his walk again, knowing that Pansy was following closely behind.

“Don’t ‘what’ me! You know exactly what!” Pansy yelled once more, and Draco sighed, eyeing the other students as they watched the two making a scene.

“Let’s do this somewhere else.” Draco whispered furiously, shooting a real glare over to her this time, and she just shook her head, standing in place and crossing her arms.

“No. We’re doing this right here.” She said defiantly, an arrogant gleam in her eyes. Draco just laughed in response, turning and waving.

“You do this right here, I’m heading over there.” His walk was met with an infurious sigh, though Pansy eventually caught up to him and followed him silently. It wasn’t until he was placing his bookbag onto the bench under their usual tree that Pansy finally spoke up.

“You said you don’t see anyone caring for you. But when someone tries to, you push him away.” He glances over at her, carefully trying to hide his shock, and studies her determined posture. He finally glances away, studying the book bag in front of him as his hand skirts over the phone in his pocket. Is it him?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Draco ground out, shaking his head. It had only been two weeks since the cafe incident, and sure Harry and he had been texting back and forth pretty often, getting to know one another. And sure, Harry had messaged that he hoped Draco would be there to support him for his home football game. But, for some reason, he felt that no one else knew of their silent conversations.

“You know who I’m talking about Draco, don’t deny it.” Pansy whispers furiously toward Draco, crossing her arms and walking over in front of the table, glaring as Draco sat on the bench. “Luna has been telling me that all Harry can talk to her about now is you. ‘Does Draco go to this class,’ and ‘What do you think Draco is doing right now?’ It’s bloody annoying having my girlfriend constantly asking me questions about you! Just talk to Harry!” She huffs again, and humour begins to fill in Draco’s eyes. Ah, that’s what this is about. Draco is getting in between her relationship with her girlfriend.

“I’m sorry your pretty little moon is more interested in me than she is with you.” Draco mumbles out playfully, though jumps when Pansy slams her hands into the table, glancing up and meeting her eyes. She softens slightly, realizing he was only playing.

“Oh, she is plenty interested in me, darling.” Pansy slurs out, grinning and taking the seat opposite of Draco.

Draco bites his lip, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing his phone, turning it on to see the preview text: [Hey I was wondering if you wan…] was displayed along the screen, only showing the first thirty characters and the contact name ‘Harry’ above it, and Draco felt his pulse quicken slightly. “That better be you getting out your phone to text him, Draco.” He glanced to Pansy, shrugging and reluctantly sliding his phone back into his pocket.

“I had gotten a text.” He spoke shortly, opening the zipper of his bag and rummaging through it.

“From him? I know he’s a brave sort, hopefully he will finally text first since Merlin knows you won’t.” Pansy sputtered out, causing Draco to pause slightly. Alright, so she doesn’t know of their texts. That’s good, right?

“I doubt he’d ever text me first.” He whispered, knowing the opposite had happened, but also feeling slightly unsure of the situation at hand. It was hard to tell if someone was flirting with you through text, and though Draco doubted the man was gay, he had invited him to the soccer game. Draco was still considering whether to go or not at the end of the week.

“Damn it, Draco, you’re a catch.” Pansy crossed her arms and huffed, and Draco felt a vibration in his pocket again. Without thinking it through he immediately reached for it, unlocking the phone to read the messages.

[Hey I was wondering if you wanted to hang out today? Just the two of us?]

[I mean, if you want others around that’s fine. I just wanted to get to know you a bit better.]

Draco smiled slowly at the insecure second text, eyeing the words carefully. He quickly sent a reply, sliding the phone into his pocket and rezipping his backpack. Pansy began to eye him carefully, and Draco decided it was time to just get it out and over with. What’s the worse that could happen, right?

“He wants to hang out. Right now. Since you’re so keen on me giving him a chance, I said yes, so, I’ll see you later then.” He mumbled out, standing and slinging his backpack over his shoulder, keeping his head down to hide the slight flush that had taken residence in his cheeks. He heard a suggestive whistle behind him and rolled his eyes, continuing his walk and withdrawing his phone to get the place they were to meet.

=====

“What the fuck are you doing here, Malfoy?” Draco dropped his head against the table in front of him, groaning lightly. Going to this specific cafe had Draco worried, for this exact reason. The cafe was located on the college grounds, and as such had the jocks and cheerleaders crawling all over the place. He already had trouble getting bullied just walking between classes, but now he was in their territory. They were bloody adults, they should act like it.

“Just meeting up with someone here.” Draco mumbled out, not bothering to lift his head. He heard the Weasel growl behind him and Draco rolled his eyes, lifting his head and sliding from his chair. “I’ll just be going though.”

“Oh, perfect little Malfoy, with his perfect grades and perfect hair.” A sneer was called out, and Draco turned and rested his eyes upon the Weaslette, rolling them once he noticed her expression was one of disgust.

“Oh, didn’t know you fancied me so.” Draco drawled out, moving to sidestep Ron and leave when Ron moved to block his path, the big brute.

“In your dreams,” Ginny growled back, and Draco let his eyes wander back and forth between the two of them.

“Technically, it’d be your male counterpart here in my dreams, if I preferred red headed brutes.” He clarified, thoughtlessly might he add, before he was pushed and stumbled into the table behind him.

“Fuck off Malfoy.” Ron grumbled out, taking a few steps closer to Draco.

“I’m trying to, but you won’t let me.” Draco growled out, righting himself and staring at the floor. Don’t provoke them further. Maybe you can get out of here with just a black eye. And almost as if he read his mind, just like that, Ron seething angry, reared back and let loose across his face.

“Ron!” He heard the shout across the room, and once the brute in front of him was distracted, Draco made to skirt around the two but ended up bumping into a wall he hadn’t realized was so close. He was trapped.

“Mate, what the fuck?” His mysterious saviour called out, and Draco rolled his eyes, wishing he could grab his phone and act like he was nonchalant about the whole thing, but knowing that last time he did Ron had broke his phone beyond repair.

“Oh, Harry, awesome. This is that Malfoy freak I was talking about.” Ron sneered, turning a wicked grin toward Draco. Draco didn’t take much in after that, the pain on the left side of his face not gaining his attention anymore, standing stock still. Did Harry lure him here to get bullied? Were their late night texts and well wishes all just a plot?

“What?” He heard Harry say, before shoving Ron to the side hard and taking the redhead’s place. Draco lifted his eyes toward Harry’s, knowing that he must see the betrayal he felt on the inside, before Draco schooled his features and threw his shield up. Of course he did. He’s a jock, this is exactly why Draco had walked away that first time in the cafe. “Draco?”

The utterance of his first name had the two Weasleys confused, and Draco lowered his eyes, shaking his head. His eyes watered from the stinging pain on his cheek and left eye, and he didn’t want any of them to see his weakness. “Will you let me through, unlike him?” Draco mumbled, though not making a move to actually go, too afraid of a backlash from Harry that would tear him apart more emotionally than it would physically.

“What?” Harry said again, and Draco rolled his eyes. The boy sure was slow to grasp the situation. A gentle hand suddenly traced his cheek, and Draco flinched, squeezing his eyes shut. No, don’t flinch. Don’t show weakness. “Bloody hell Ron, what did you do that for?”

It was now Draco’s turn to be confused, opening his eyes and studying the fierce anger portrayed on Harry’s face. Draco glanced over, noticing Ron’s expression, and was silently glad he wasn’t the only one taken by surprise.

“What?” Ron supplied unhelpfully, and Harry growled, shoving Ron hard and causing him to hit the wall.

“Why the fuck did you punch my date?”

#fanfiction #writing #drabble #writing:care for me #drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #modern au #college

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deliverydefresas · 7 years ago

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masters of the scene

I know I’m late, but honestly I was (still am) very not over Coco and couldn’t function correctly. Shout out to cupcake and muffin for helping me when I was ready to keep procrastinating and i needed advice ilyvm

here’s part 1 in case you missed it/wanna read again/don’t even know what this is about xD

AU: Matteo Balsano is a famous singer who has been crushing on this one girl he saw every day behind a window many years ago, back when he first started recording his debut album and inspired his first big hit, “Princesa”. Luna Valente, professional Olympic skater turned actress is at a local (and very popular) talk show to promote her breakout movie. This is where it all starts.

“Well, that wasn’t weird at all.”

“I think it was sweet. Maybe even romantic.” Nina commented, following her step out of the dressing room, where they had fled out as soon as one of Jazmín Gorjesi-Carbajal’s team went in to call her on the studio; using the opportunity to escape the awkward moment and go back into her own dressing room for a last touch-up.

Luna didn’t answer her until her door was closed. “Nina, if a guy you’ve never met comes to you and just says ��it’s you’ in this very, very freaky voice it’s creepy. Not sweet, and definitely not romantic. Just freaking creepy.”

“Who knows? Maybe he recognized you as the talented skater you are and was so star-struck he could barely form a sentence!” Her friend’s excited words were flattering, but she knew better than to believe them. Realistically speaking, the chances of that happening were very little, if not inexistent.

“Yes, right, because Matteo Balsano is just oh-so-obviously a skating fan; especially of someone from another country he probably doesn’t even care about to keep track in the Olympics.”

She paced back and forth along the room, being careful to ignore her brain telling her to act on her nerves and touch her hair or poke her nails. Yam had left already to finish up Jim’s hair and make-up, and delaying her work (alongside the interview if she damaged her look enough) so she had to stick to walking, and hoping her clumsiness wouldn’t kick in and make her trip on thin air.

“Luna, we don’t know what that guy likes, or what his interests are or who he’s fan of; we don’t know anything about him, sweetheart.” Nina’s tone was as sweet as ever, but the reprimand was as clear as water to her; “also, even if he’s not a fan, I’m sure he’s heard of you. You’ve won two Olympic medals, eight world championships and you won your crystal skate at only 17; stop selling you so short when your accomplishments are anything but small.” Luna smiled at the praise, reaching out to squeeze her hand in thanks. Nina winked before adding, “plus, he’s one of Ámbar’s friends. I’m sure she’s talked about you with him.”

“You’re right, it’s probably pre-show jitters.” She sighed, moving to sit and retouch her powder and lipstick. “It’s just such a weird concept. Isn’t he a legend of his own around here? I mean, Simón collaborated with him last year, and he said it was one the fastest number one’s he’d gotten!”

On the mirror, she could see how Nina’s lips twitched up, her eyes sparkling in a devious way she knew so well, “sounds like someone’s got a crush.” She sing-sang, waving her eyebrows in a suggestive manner. Luna threw one of her make-up brushes at her.

“I so don’t!”

So, maybe she thought he was cute. Pretty. Handsome. And that his accent was very attractive. And his songs were very catchy and his voice a lullaby to her ears, truly angelic, sending her heart and mind into places she never knew they could exist when it came to music. There was something about his song that just called to her.

But she didn’t know him, had never even seen him before tonight, so definitely, surely, it wasn’t a crush.

At all.

But then again celebrity crushes did exist so maybe it was only that. A sort-of-platonic-celebrity crush that would eventually go away. She was probably star-struck, anyway; maybe she didn’t like him at all, and was just shocked (also flattered) he’d react that way when he saw her. That sounded very, very reasonable, if you asked her.

“Luna?” her friend called. “They’re calling for you.”

Inhale; butterflies erupted again in her belly. Exhale. “Let’s do this.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I know.”

“No, for real. That was the most stupid, idiotic, creepiest – yet hilariously amusing-, thing I’ve ever seen you do.”

“I know.”

“The girl couldn’t have run fast enough away from you. And her face, sweet baby Jesus; she looked so freaked out! I’ll be very surprised if she doesn’t put a restraining order against your ass.”

“I know, Gastón. Cut the crap already.”

His best friend surrendered, “okay, okay, I will.” The ‘for now’ was unspoken, but Matteo knew it was there nonetheless. “Are we gonna stay here for the interview?”

“Unless you want to get mobbed, yes.”

“Could be fun.” Matteo glared at him. “Or maybe not.”

He sighed, shaking his head as he flopped down on the couch the show provided. They had already interviewed him, the camera and microphone shoved on his face as soon as he had stepped into the lot, leaving him free to watch the rest of the show (and interviews) without worrying about his clothes, or make up, or watch what he said. Ámbar had left two minutes after Luna – or Sol, as the skating community and media knew her- had, still laughing at his dumbstruck face with Jazmín, who had to go back on set for her monologue; so now he was alone with Gastón and his commentary.

Ámbar and her cast would be on very soon, just after the Rollerband performed their song from the movie’s soundtrack. Matteo made a mental note to ask Simón why he never told him who Luna was exactly, and to murder Ámbar for not saying anything sooner. The wicked witch had been keeping it quiet for a year, and never uttered a word about who her co-protagonists were, or the sort-of impact she knew it’d have on him; then again, his ex-girlfriend liked seeing him squirm and putting him in awkward situations, so to expect anything different would be like expecting a flying horse.

Gastón flopped down beside him when the commercials ended, and Jazmín’s beaming face was on, her chirpy voice welcoming her audience back; first announcing a short preview of the trailer. Which, honestly, looked very good.

He almost didn’t recognize Ámbar, whom had died her hair brown and cut off almost all of it for the role, and who he had never seen do so many spins and tricks on skates before. A guy with black hair and a ginger girl were there too, offering dramatic one-liners and stunts that screamed talent. The clip, however, was eclipsed by Luna. Her spins and steps put to shame everyone else’s – which if he was correct, was the point-, and while he wasn’t the best at criticizing acting, he could see that the passion her character portrayed when on the rink was nothing but real.

“Wow.” Gastón’s awed whisper came along his own when she did this specific trick – a triple axel, according to the person who acted as the commentator.

Then the clip was gone, and Jazmín called her guests on stage. The ginger girl was first, and she was all smiles and hand waves, followed by the black-haired dude, a cocky smile was his only greeting. Ámbar was next, and as confidently as ever, strolled to her chair like she owned the place, and everyone owed her their attention, an attitude she had mastered since years ago. Lastly, Jazmín called Luna - or as he’d learnt, her ‘stage name’- Sol Benson.

At first, Jazmín kept it cool and standard. She asked them all what the movie was about, how it felt to transition from skaters to actors and vice-versa, how they got the role, if they felt identified in any way, shape or form; and prompted the pre-scheduled question about an experience on set. As soon as the guy – who he had learned his name was Ramiro- finished his tale about a particular step and a fall, Jazmín did the best she knew to do.

Gossip.

“So, guys, tell me the truth; who’s banging whom?” Blunt, very blunt gossip.

No wonder Ja Jazmín was so popular; she could be as blunt as a high on sugar kid, but somehow Jazmín had something that made you like her. Right now, was the exaggerated winks that she was sending on Luna’s direction.

“Well, I’m single.” She giggled, although it sounded very nervous to him. Jazmín’s grin could rival the Cheshire’s cat one.

“Oh, really?”

“I’m single too.” Ginger – Jim- said too. Dark dude merely shrugged, saying he was engaged. Ámbar kept quiet, but if her smirk was any indication, she was up to something.

“So, the rumors of you dating Simón Álvarez are a lie?” Jazmín dogged for an answer, ignoring the others’ answer epically. Matteo was, unsurprisingly, as eager to hear the answer as she was. He knew that back then, Simón and she weren’t anything but platonic, but that had been almost seven years ago; a lot could happen in that time frame.

Luna frowned slightly, but it melted as soon as she offered her answer, “he’s my best friend, has been for over two decades. He’s a brother to me.”

“So, if hypothetically speaking I knew someone who, hypothetically was Matteo Balsano, and I hypothetically knew he like, like-liked you; would you hypothetically go out with him? Like, hypothetically.”

“Holy shitballs.” His best friend whistled beside him, biting his chocolate bar as he stared blatantly at the T.V. Matteo was mortified.

He didn’t like her! But now, the poor girl was probably going to leave tonight thinking not only that he was a creep, but that he was a pining creep. Possibly a pervert too. He so was going to murder Ámbar and Jazmín after this.

“What?” she was equally mortified, if her squeak meant something.

“Hypothetically, would you go out with Matteo Balsano?”

Luna’s eyes widened, “listen, if this is about what happened in Ámbar’s dressing room-”

Well, fuck. Wrong answer. He could see the exact moment Luna realized her slip; poor girl looked more than mortified.

Jazmín’s grin got impossibly bigger, “please tell, what happened there?” By now, Matteo was praying to the universe that the producers called for a break. Chances were slim, but it could happen.

“Matteo made a fool of himself when Luna came in; he was so star-struck it was hilarious, that’s what happened.” Ámbar butted in, the slight warning to Jazmín was as clear as water to his ears as it was for Jazmín, who pouted immediately, but asked Ámbar to specify after. They chatted for a minute more or so, before Matteo’s prayers were answered.

Luna’s tense posture relaxed only when the host announced commercials. Matteo turned off the T.V.

“You have to admit that could’ve gone way worse.” His friend offered, “Ámbar could’ve told your very creepy stalking story.”

Gastón was magically hit with the remote.

IS SOL BENSON BALSANO’S NEW PRINCESS?

AFTER LAST NIGHT’S JA JAZMIN INTERVIEW WITH THE CAST OF MARISSA MINT’S MOVIE, SHATTERED WINGS, RUMORS WENT FLYING WITH THE POSSIBLE NEW ROMANCE BETWEEN THE POP PRINCE AND THE SKATING PRINCESS. SOURCES AFFIRM TO HAVE SEEN THE COUPLE LOOKING VERY COZY AFTER THE SHOW, AND FANS ARE ALREADY ESPECULATING BENSON IS THE ‘DARK HAIRED BEAUTY’ BALSANO WAS SEEN WITH TWO NIGHTS AGO AT A POPULAR CLUB.

IS THIS THE BEGINNING OF SOLTTEO? READ MORE ON PAGE 11!

“Soltteo, huh?” Simón commented, dropping the newspaper on the limo’s trashcan. She groaned, hiding her face with her hands. “Hey, it’s not half bad. Mattsol, Bensano or Balson sound way worse.”

“Focus, Simón, people think we’re dating and the guy probably has a girlfriend or something!”

“I think you’re exaggerating just a tiny little bit, Luna. You knew crazy rumors could come your way when you accepted this role, the only thing you can do now is ignore it. Someone else will be photographed later and this will be yesterday’s news.”

Nina, sitting opposite to her, nodded, “Simón is right, L. Just let this blow over on its own.”

“You’re right.” And she knew they were. Simón had warned her since day one that the media – and fans- would write an exaggerated truth, or a ridiculous lie if it meant money and attention would come their way. Still, there was something about them twisting her reality that she didn’t like, and would never accept. “Is Matteo coming tonight?” she wondered, anxiously picking on her nails.

She didn’t miss the amused glances her best friends shared. “I think he’s Ámbar’s date.” Nina answered, carefully watching her reaction. Luna didn’t know what she was expecting of her; she didn’t know the guy, and the news woke absolutely nothing on her. She just felt bad about the whole deal, and wanted to apologize to him; since it was practically her fault they were in the news to begin with.

The rest of the ride to the theater were the premiere was to be held at, was spent in silence. Simón was constantly on his phone, answering incoming text at an impressive speed; while Nina revised the last draft for her upcoming book, occasionally humming in approval of a specific picture she’d taken.

The closer they got to the destination, the bigger her nerves got as well. She had to stop herself from playing with her hands more times than she could count, because Yam wasn’t available to fix her that night either; Ramiro was walking the carpet with her, so Yam had her own appearance to worry about instead of babysitting her and Jim in case of a wardrobe malfunction.

Once they were out of the car, Luna and Simón were shoved to a line of people waiting to walk the carpet too. Simón kissed her cheek quickly before going to his bandmates, who he was going to be photographed with; Nina just stood behind her, arranging the back of her lilac dress, just like Yam had advised her to.

“You sure you don’t want to walk with me, N?”

Her best friend shook her head, just like she’d expected her to. Nina didn’t even let her publisher put her picture on her books, the chances of her wanting to walk the carpet and photographing her face were slime to none. Still, it was worth the question.

“You’re going to be great, Luna. Just smile, and try to look to as many cameras as you can.” Nina held her hand and squeezed slightly, like she always did when she knew she needed the courage.

Luna smiled, mouthed a ‘thanks’, and sighed before looking around the place; noticing Jim, Ramiro and Yam already on the carpet, and Juliana giving interviews a couple meters away from them, beside more of her co-stars, Benicio and Emilia. She, however, couldn’t see her blonde co-protagonist and her date anywhere.

Before she knew it, Nina squeezed her hand one last time as she was urged to walk ahead. Flashes almost blinded her, but she did her best to glue the smile on her face, changing her pose when prompted by the photographers. She just prayed she didn’t end up looking as awkward as she felt.

What felt like an eternity, but must have been like ten minutes, passed; and she was lead to the interviews part of the carpet. That’s when she saw the ones she had been looking for. Ámbar’s white dress was so shiny it was almost impossible to miss, and Matteo’s burgundy suit contrasted against everyone else’s black ones. They demanded to be seen, and didn’t disappoint.

“Lunita, hi!” the blonde greeted as soon as she was within earshot, tugging Matteo’s arm when he fell behind her step. If you asked her, he seemed to feel as awkward as she did.

“Ámbar, hi. You look stunning.” She complimented, knowing already that Ámbar lived for those. As normal, the other girl raised her chin proudly, satisfied with herself.

“Thank you, sweetie. You look-” she paused, taking a second to take in her lilac gown, “- amazing. Lilac suits you.” She sounded honest, so Luna didn’t mind it took her a moment to acknowledge what she was wearing. “Anyway, I wanted to introduce you to Matteo. I know last night was… well, what it was; but Matteo and I feel really bad about it, don’t we, Matteo?” Ámbar nudged, almost like a mother would do to their misbehaved child. Matteo ignored it, and instead flashed her a smile.

“I’m really sorry about that, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. You just-” he shut up before he could finish his sentence. Her curiosity was piqued, even more when Ámbar elbowed him to continue.

Or so she thought.

Matteo shook his head and subtly pointed to the camera of one of the media there interviewing, recording their exchange.

#soy luna #lutteo #matteo balsano #luna valente #sl ff #lutteo ff #my sl ff #my lutteo ff #soy luna au #i feel meh about it but i hope you dont xD #also not proofread as usuaaal

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dreamsheartstory · 7 years ago

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For @morethanfaqs by request | Space Prompts

Event Horizon Raven/Anya/Clarke

*whispers* this is also a preview of the new au/chapter fic I’ve got in the works

Darkness clings to the edges of the circle. Beyond the reach of the firelight lays sand and beach grass and the ocean. Fifteen minutes of hiking over hills to the south lays town. It’s as if there’s nothing for miles, even though if you hit up the highway and drive north it doesn’t take but ten minutes to get to the next town over.

Right then though, in that moment the entire world has shrunk down to a small piece of the circle, no more than three feet across, just enough for three people to sit side by side, not quite touching, but nearly.

Clarke bounces up from her spot between Anya and Raven. Her fingertips brush Raven’s hair behind their ear, and curl under the lobe as she brushes by. With her other hand she gently lifts Anya’s chin and brushes her thumb across it. Both of them watch her walk out into the darkness to find a dune and some grass to piss behind.

They both watch her go, soft fuzzy expressions filled with awe and wonder at how a girl like Clarke wandered into their town. It’s as unlikely as it is wonderful. It’s a perfect bubble just waiting to burst and Clarke to leave taking with her the good weather and the ease that Raven and Anya have found.

Raven shifts how their leaning, wishing they weren’t so stubborn and they’d bother with a small little chair to sit in so their back didn’t ache. It’s one of the reasons they stopped coming to the bonfires. They stretch out their fingers in the sand, fingertips just pressing against something solid and warm in the cold. Raven tips their head back and looks up at the sky not thinking much of it.

The rest of the group is loud and laughing and it kills them how much they’ve missed this. The fire and their friends. The beers and the laughter. Stumbling home across the dunes and back into town. Sometimes just across The Cove to Luna’s because it’s the only house they can get to that doesn’t involve risking tripping in a gravel lot or on hard concrete when they’re all too drunk to stand up straight.

Raven jolts as she feels the warm press of fingers on top of hers. It’s just a couple of knuckles overlapping. Long fingers, warm despite the cooling sand and the colder night air. They blink to refocus as they shift their gaze to Anya.

With Clarke around things have been almost right again between them. Back is the soft ease and the banter. Raven would say the attraction but that never left.

Anya tilts her head, her eyes flicking down to her hand and Raven’s then back up to Raven’s gaze. She breathes in and hopes Raven gets the message. It’s been forever since they touched when it used to be a daily occurrence. Morning coffee and flirting and climbing the lifeguard tower, every day that’s what Anya did, and every morning Raven was there.

They had almost been something once, before the freak storm, before Tris died, before Raven quit surfing. After, everything fell apart. Anya melts as a smile curls at the corner of Raven’s mouth. She could lean over and kiss her before Clarke comes back, but their friends are there, and Clarke is coming back and that makes everything complicated.

Raven curls her fingers around Anya’s and Anya tears her gaze away even as she squeezes back.

That’s how Clarke finds them several minutes later, both looking in opposite directions, hands half buried in the sand on the edge of the firelight.

Clarke smiles to herself and picks up three beers from the cooler as she crosses back around the bonfire to where she had been sitting before she’d been so rudely interrupted by a full bladder and a need to sort out what she wanted in her head. The answer was clear and simple and highly complicated, though it seemed at least that everyone was on the same complicated page.

Kneeling down Clarke opens and passes a beer to Raven and to Anya, making a point to glance down at their hands. She touches Anya’s shoulder as she sees Anya start to pull back and shakes her head slightly.

“I leave you two alone for three minutes.” Clarke winks as she settles back in between the two of them, leaning into Raven and pinching at Anya’s leg to pull her closer.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Anya replies flatly even as she scoots closer to Clarke and interlaces her fingers with Raven’s.

Clarke sips at her beer and lets her back press against their arms, “Is that so?”

She downs half the beer. This is it, that moment that they’ve been tumbling toward for the past several weeks. At first it was a slow slide over the edge of strangers to friends, gathering momentum as they slipped over the horizon and into the unknown. When she got up there had still been a moment where they could all turn back. Where it wouldn’t matter so much if Clarke bounced out of town as had been her plan. It wouldn’t matter so much if things were casual, but something had sucked them past the point of no return.

The thought of leaving, even though her legs are itchy and this place has become achingly familiar, cracks at her heart and Clarke doesn’t know if she could find the strength to leave. Sitting here between Raven and Anya, gently touching though nothing yet has happened, Clarke knows that everything has changed from the moment she sat back down.

The fire roars in front of them, their friends rackus still, and for the most part, oblivious, behind her Clarke can hear the ocean crashing against the shore.

“I think Anya’s right, we have no idea what you’re talking about.” Raven dips her chin and nearly whispers the words against Clarke’s cheek.

Clarke lets her head fall back and lets out a full throaty laugh. It’s impossible, the situation they’re in, but that doesn’t mean she’s not going to enjoy every moment of it.

#space prompts #anya x clarke x raven #princess mechanic #clanya #ranya

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jayenator565 · 7 years ago

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Tag Game: WIPs

Rules: List all the things you’re currently working on in as much or little detail as you’d like, maybe even a preview, then tag some friends to see what they’re working on: writing, art, gifsets, whatever.

Tagged by: @gillytweed

Why you gotta expose me and Mac like this cuz, damn ok here we go I have to check ao3 for some of these because their titles in my GDrive are not the same as on the website

1. The Wedding Date - Maggie Sawyer needs a fake girlfriend to go with her to her sister’s wedding. Where basically me and @lyook try and envision the Maggie and Sanvers and the super fam the way we wish the show would have. Haha now to give you guys a snippet or to not give you all a snippet that is the question...

When she turned around to find the nearest exit, she was faced with her mother.

“Duckling, where are you going with so much food?”

“Mhruwhg huretog heirhtu.” Angie crossed her arms and tapped her foot annoyed while she waited for Maggie to act like a civilized adult and chew her food. “We are gonna...ummm...Alex and I...her foot...pain.” She smiled big, hoping her mother would release her.

“I need you to take your Aunt Mable to Callie’s house. She’s going to help with setting things up but she can’t drive by herself.”

“Why can’t Gabs do it?”

“Because I asked you to.”

“Come on...there are a dozen other people that could do it. John. James. Matthew. We’ve literally got all the apostles here.”

2. Top Shelf D-ealer - Um well you see the entire concept is basically Lexa the dildo dealer and yes that does mean exactly what you think it does. Based on a wonderful true story XD I’ll include a snippet just for you @jealousclarkeauthorities

Clarke didn’t know who this gorgeous specimen of woman was but, attractive or not, something about her didn’t quite sit right with her and it had nothing to do with the way Luna casually slung her arm over the back of Lexa’s chair with the kind of nonchalance that could only be born with familiarity.

Nope, definitely wasn’t that at all.

3. When You Feel My Heat Look Into My Eyes - a demon!Clarke fic where me and @mac-ahroni try and put a spin on a modern college au featuring classical mythology and of course Lexa being hella gay.

4. Supergirl Clexa au - So Clarke as Supergirl, Lexa as Batgirl because @bananat-panda and @mac-ahroni were literally spamming me with their lexa batgirl manips and clarke supergirl fanart and headcanons for days until I gave in >.> There’s 4 chapters written but I’m trying not to post this one until it’s at least a bit more done.

5. My Love's Like a Star (you can't always see it, but know that it's always there) - A Clexa actress au and also a Lexark au. Basically Clarke and Lexa star in the hit spinoff of FTWD...Queer The Walking Dead. I like to think we try and balance the lexark and clexa scenes as best we can.

6. Call Me Maybe? - Clexa groupchat au that documents most of the craziness that happens in one of our clexa groupchats.

7. You're Too Sexy Beautiful (And Everybody Wants a Taste) - Basically a jealous Clarke, childhood friends to lovers, modern au.

8. I Spy Through Her Blue Eyes - A clexa spy au that got wildly out of hand where Clarke and Lexa are both trained from birth to carry on their parent’s legacy at the Ark a large coalition of spy agencies working to stop terrorist acts before they happen (Person of interest feels anyone). Things get a bit bumpy when Clarke finds out that, not only did the Ark have her father killed, her mother was also in on it. With the Ark agent files stolen and the senior registered agents being picked off one by one the younger generation has to step up sooner than planned to take down the Mountain Men group that stole their intel. This fic is the sequel to that but I don’t wanna spoil it for anyone so if you feel so inclined to start from the beginning: I Spy with my Little Eyes

9. Joking Around (Or Raven Did What!?) - A sequel to one of my first Ao3 fics, Princess Did What? Really just a light hearted, canon set, crack fic

10. Heda Klark kom Trikru - A switcheroo type canon fic that I seriously need to go back and revise at some point and like plan out (After I finish the above fics of course)

11. I Want You On My Mind, In My Dreams, Behind These Eyes - sequel canon fic set after Season 2 that’s probably my most angsty(?) fic. Not that I write a lot of angst. Fair warning I tried (and failed) to write smut

12. Pitch Perfect 2 ish au - Doesn’t have a title yet but basically Lexa has been crushing on Clarke Griffin since Freshman year of college, unfortunately she has a duty to the Bellas and refuses to break the Bella code which demands she not get with anyone on the rival acapella teams. Mac and I just wanted to write Lexa being a gay mess with singing and then a certain song battle that happened while I was working over at @clexarikleimt really helped influence the rest.

This list doesn’t include everything on my google drive like my one shot prompts (and ok maybe I missed a few WIPs that I haven’t looked at in a while, a while being a few months now) Kind of daunting to really look at everything I’ve worked on but also kinda fun.

Tagging: @chuckleshan @lyook @seasinkarnadine @ur-the-puppy @shadow-wolf-92 @luxitrikrugriffin @copper-coyote @commander-fuzzy-wolf @shownkindness @immochiball @aud8 @secret-diary-of-a-queer @cahlac and anyone else that wants to.

#did i use this as an excuse to do a wedding date preview?#ppfffttt of course not #wedding date au #sanvers #clexa #tag game #about me #personal

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spacs · 8 years ago

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staring through

Archive of Our Own Link Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Major Character Death Fandoms: Final Fantasy XV Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia Language: English

Summary: Ignis had accepted his loss of sight a long time ago. It had been over ten years, and he’d grown used to the darkness. But he had never hated it more than when Noctis returned.

Notes: This turned into a monster that I was utterly not expecting. This is the product of about three days of writing and multiple previews posted. This is the longest thing I've written in years. @thekingmagic's kind words kept me writing it because I got stuck multiple times. So here it is. My first big step into this FFXV fanfiction hell. Glad to be here.

Ignis had accepted his loss of sight a long time ago. It had been over ten years, and he’d grown used to the darkness. He could find his way around almost without help now. He’d taken up cooking again, and his fighting skills had returned with practice. He hunted daemons, made meals, and took care of himself just like he used to. He was used to being blind now.

But he had never hated it more than when Noctis returned.

He couldn’t see Noctis with his own eyes. He didn’t get to have a moment where he turned around and there was his king. Noctis had to announce himself and Ignis had to trust his ears to hear his voice. But he didn’t get to see.

Prompto tugged on his arm and Ignis smiled, glancing at him, but his attention was immediately diverted to the direction of Noctis’ short greeting. His chest felt tight and his stomach lurched at the sound of Noctis’ voice. It was deeper, raspy like he’d just woken up. Noctis was older, just like they were. Ten years had passed and Ignis would never get to see how Noct had grown. “You kept us waiting,” he replied. It wasn’t sufficient.

There was a long pause and Ignis wondered briefly if he’d said something upsetting. Then a hand landed on his shoulder. He started for a moment, then turned to the direction of the presence beside him. “Not like I wanted to,” Noct’s voice sounded softly and clear. There was a sad smile in his voice and Ignis wanted to reach out to him. He felt grounded with that hand on his shoulder. It felt like Noctis was really here, instead of one of the floating voices around him. He had never forgotten the face of his king. His own face, Gladio’s face, Prompto, Cindy, Iris… all faded and blurred memories. Noctis’ face he could remember with clarity. It haunted his dreams and his waking hours for ten years. He suspected it would haunt him for the rest of his life.

All he could picture now was a twenty year old Noct standing next to him – not quite carefree, but less burdened. The hand, however, felt heavy. Noctis squeezed his shoulder briefly before dropping it and Ignis knew from the touch alone that the king was no longer the same twenty year old. He carried something far heavier, the weight of a man, no longer a boy, who had a destiny fast approaching.

They took time at Hammerhead to sit together and talk. Ignis placed himself next to Noctis as Gladio and Prompto told him about the last ten years. He chimed in every now and then to add or correct something, but otherwise remained quiet. With his sight gone, his other senses were heightened and he was more aware of Noct’s presence beside him than ever. It was sadly unfamiliar to him, unlike Gladio or Prompto, and that fact made his heart ache. Had he changed so much that he and Noct might never be the same? Had Noct changed too much?

When they made camp the next night – if it could be called that given the constant darkness – Noctis revealed the gods’ plan for him and Ignis realized he wouldn’t have the time to become familiar with Noct’s presence again.

Ignis stayed by the fire while the others went off to bed. He stared into the flames, the only thing he could even remotely see. He never lost the ability to sense light, not that it mattered much in the world they lived in right now. The sounds of the fire crackling and the wind blowing softly around the camp soothed him and he momentarily forgot about the impending grief the next day would bring. Gladio’s snores sounded from within the tent and with his lids shut he could almost pretend like he was ten years younger. They’d made camp for the night on their way down to Galdin Quay after a long day of hunts. Prompto was rifling through his pictures while Gladio slept beside him, choosing his favorites and discarding the ones that didn’t turn out properly. Noctis would already be asleep, quiet and peaceful, even though he’d taken an hour long nap in the Regalia just a short while ago. He was outside of the tent, putting away dinner plates and planning the meal for the morning before joining his friends in rest.

But when his eyelids opened he was still surrounded by darkness.

He sighed deeply and put his head in his hands, removing his glasses. Tomorrow he would lose Noctis – for good this time. The world would be saved, but his world would always remain dark. His world would be gone.

“Can’t sleep?”

Immediately Ignis sat up, self-consciously wiping at his eyes despite the lack of tears. He put his glasses back on, and turned his head opposite from Noctis’ voice. “Haven’t tried yet,” he admitted.

The chair next to him moved as Noctis sat down, scratching on the rock beneath it as it was moved closer to him. “Ignis,” Noctis murmured.

He didn’t have to say anything else. Ignis knew what he was looking for. “I’ll be fine, Noct,” he replied, trying his best to sound reassuring. He turned his head towards Noctis now, hoping he didn’t look as disheveled as he feels. “Thank you for your concern.”

Silence. Ignis could feel Noctis’ eyes on him and suddenly felt embarrassed. He wasn’t sure how presentable he was right now and could now feel the press of his clothing against his skin, the awkward way his glasses sat on the bridge of his nose. Were they askew? Was his shirt too tight? Prompto always reassured him that he looked good, but he could only take another’s word for it. He pushed a hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s impolite to stare,” he said.

“Sorry,” Noct replied and Ignis could hear in his voice that he was startled to be caught. “I just… I’ve never really looked at the scars before.”

Ignis winced, reaching up to scratch his cheek. “Ah,” he hummed quietly. “I’ve never seen them myself. I once asked Prompto to describe them to me. I gather they’re rather ghastly.”

Noctis didn’t reply. Ignis heard the chair moved closer to him until Noct’s knees brushed against his so they were sitting directly in front of each other. “I’m sorry,” Noctis said firmly.

That was surprising. “Noct?” Ignis raised an eyebrow, moving his head towards Noctis’ voice.

“This is ten years too late but I’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice steadfast. “I put my own pain and grief before you and that wasn’t fair. I wasn’t there for you.”

“That’s hardly your fault,” he replied gently. “You were taken by the Crystal. You didn’t have the choice—”

“Before that,” Noctis interrupted. He felt closer than before, but Ignis couldn’t be sure. Instinctively he sat back, trying to put distance between them should there be a need. “Before the Crystal. After Altissia. You were in pain and all I could focus on was myself. I’m sorry, Ignis.” He sounded desperate and there was a slight break in his voice.

“You needn’t apologize, Noct,” Ignis told him. “Lady Lunafreya had just passed. Grief takes time. I don’t blame you nor am I angry with you.”

“You should be. I had weeks to mourn Luna, but you were right there. You were hurt but you were still there for me.” Noctis put a hand on his knee and Ignis shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “After everything you’ve done for me, I treated you terribly and I’m sorry.”

Ignis swallowed. “There is nothing to forgive,” he said lowly. “I grieved with you. Then after, I grieved for you. And I will grieve for you again soon.” He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out. His hand made contact with Noctis’ arm, and he put his hand securely around it. “I am here because of you – I am here for you, Noct. Don’t waste the time we have left ten years in the past.” He wanted to add something but the simple words of I missed you didn’t seem to cover all that he was feeling.

Noctis removed his hand from Ignis’ knee and for a breath, he thought he’d said the wrong thing. But then fingers brushed his cheek, then moved to the skin beneath his spectacles. Without a word, Noct hesitantly nudged at the glasses, a silent question in the gesture. When Ignis did not object, he felt Noctis put his fingers around the stems and pulled them from his face. He closed his eyes, tilting his head down.

He could hear Noctis breathing, a quiet, sharp intake of breath. “Ignis…” was all that was whispered. Noct brought his hand under Ignis’ chin, lifting his face carefully to get a better look at him. When he did not object, Ignis felt fingers lightly brush underneath his eye where Prompto told him the largest scar was. Noctis delicately ran his fingers across the marred skin, tracing the pattern of the scar along the edges. Ignis couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped his lips.

“It’s impolite to stare,” he breathed his earlier words so quietly he was unsure if Noctis would even hear him.

There was no reply this time. The hands on his face, much to his disappointment, were removed. He started to follow up his statement to show that his intent was not to get Noctis to stop, but was interrupted by hands on his own. He let his arms go loose and he followed where Noctis guided his hands. The skin he felt against his palm was rough and scratchy with hair. It took a moment for him to realize that this was Noctis’ cheek. “Highness?” he questioned, his hands unmoving.

“This is the only way you can see me.”

Ignis’ breath caught in his throat, any response he had dying on his tongue. He leaned forward, readjusting his position to allow himself both hands. Noct’s hands rested on his forearm, a comfortable, grounding weight. He ran his fingers slowly along his king’s face, establishing the hair as the makings of a beard, and smiled sadly. “You didn’t think to shave?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light but could feel his throat closing. His nose tingled and he blinked rapidly, willing away any tears that threatened to form.

A choked laugh sounded from Noctis. Ignis could listen to his laughter forever. “Figured it would make me look older, maybe more kingly.”

“Indeed,” Ignis agreed quietly, an image of King Regis forming in his head from a memory long lost. “I’m sure you’re looking more like your father with each day.”

He moved his hands again, trailing his fingers over Noct’s jaw and chin. His jaw was set, determined and focused. Leaving one hand cupping the lower half of Noctis’ cheek, he moved the other up, carefully brushing his eyes and over his nose. Hair brushed against the back of Ignis hand and, curiously, he pushed his fingers through black hair, hearing a content sigh from Noctis. He moved slowly, all the way down the length. “Your hair is quite long now,” he observed, running his hand through once more.

“Haven’t had my uptight advisor around to cut it for me,” Noct joked, and they both ignored the heavy undercurrent of his words.

Ignis returned the joke with one of his own, “I’m not sure I would be able to cut it for you anymore. At least not in a way fit for a king.”

“Prompto said he liked it this way.”

Ignis hummed in response, letting his hands wander over Noct’s face again. He could feel how the king’s brow was drawn in, and he ran his fingers along those lines, relaxing the muscles. “Don’t worry about me,” he said firmly, feeling bold as he held Noctis’ face gently in his hands. This didn’t feel real. It felt like he would wake up any second and he would be far away from Noctis. He wanted to seize this moment as it presented itself. There was so little time left for them and he didn’t want to waste a single second.

“Can you still sense light?” Noctis blurted out, louder than what he probably intended.

Ignis paused, taken aback. “To a degree… yes.”

“So when dawn breaks you’ll know it?” A whisper this time and hands were placed on both his shoulders.

He didn’t want to reply this time. Maybe if he didn’t reply, Noctis wouldn’t go through with this. Maybe he would stay right here with him and never let go. He pulled Noctis in so their foreheads pressed together and squeezed his eyes shut so he was incapable of letting any tears escape. Even without sight, this was a moment he would always remember. It would be burned into his memories for all his years to come, it would be in his dreams and his thoughts as a constant for the rest of his life. And maybe if he didn’t answer, the moment would never end.

“I should.”

“Good to know.”

Ignis was unsure of how much time passed as they sat there holding each other. He cursed himself for answering and even more for allowing this. In all his years working for the crown, he knew his feelings were improper. Nothing would come from them except pain and heartbreak, but at a certain point he’d fallen too far to ever climb back out. Noctis was his king. And he loved him. His control of the situation was always well contained and he never slipped up. Every touch, every smile, every laugh would always cause a skip of his heart or a lurch of his stomach, but it never showed. Gladio accused him of being too soft on Noctis, but Ignis knew it was only that all he desired was to see his prince, now his king, happy.

Instead, even after all his work, Noctis was going to sacrifice his happiness and his life for the dawn. It wasn’t fair. Ignis gripped Noctis tighter. He wanted to hold him here and guard him from all of the pain that was going to follow them tomorrow. He wanted to give his life instead. He was far less important than the king. Why did it have to be Noctis? The gods were cruel and he hated them for it. After everything Noct has been through, why did they have to take him away?

“I love you,” Ignis breathed. His voice was quiet but steady, unwavering in his resolve to seize this final moment. Impropriety mattered little now for soon he would be an advisor to no one.

Noctis didn’t say a word. Ignis kept his eyelids closed and his hands unmoved from Noct’s face. The king shifted and Ignis thought he was going to pull away. Then there was a brush of lips against his own and, startled, he was the one to pull back. His hands fell and he straightened, his eyes opening out of habit but his world stayed black. He stared into nothing, just the direction where Noctis sat.

“Ignis,” he whispered, his hand moving slowly to Ignis’ cheek. Ignis felt him pull slightly and it felt like everything around them fell away as he leaned back in, feeling no control over his actions and just Noct’s magnetic presence in front of him.

Their lips brushed against one another, hesitant at first. Noctis’ lips were surprisingly soft, but still chapped along the edges. Once again Ignis felt like he was in a dream and he would wake up without this having happened. But Noctis pushed his hand through his hair to the back of his head and brought them closer together, reminding him this was real.

It was Ignis that deepened the kiss, parting his lips as he desperately held onto Noctis. Hands slipped down from his cheeks to wrap around his shoulders. In his head he pictured Noct halfway out of the chair as he pressed himself as close to Ignis as he could. He tried to adjust the image he had of his king – older now with a slowly growing beard and longer hair. In his life, he tried to have as little regrets as he could manage; but here now in Noctis’ arms, he couldn’t remember why he waited so long.

They sat together, kissing and holding each other, for several long minutes. Ignis was content with this until one of Noctis’ hands moved from his shoulder to tug at his shirt. He moaned into Ignis’ mouth as his fingers fisted in the fabric, pulling up so the night air brushed against the skin of Ignis’ stomach. “Noct?” Ignis breathed, disconnecting their lips. Noctis didn’t seem to notice as he dropped his mouth to kiss along Ignis’ jaw and down his neck. Ignis couldn’t stop his own, quiet moan as he felt teeth brush lightly against the sensitive skin of his collarbone. Unable to help himself, he let his head fall back to allow Noct full access.

He wasn’t sure when it happened but suddenly Noctis was out of his own chair, straddling Ignis’ hips. Their lips were reconnected with an urgency that was absent before. The king’s hands dropped to the hem of Ignis’ shirt and started to pull. Ignis interrupted the action, darting down quickly to grasp Noctis’ wrists. His long built self-control caused his hesitation – a small voice in the back of his mind whispering about betrothals and duty. “Noct,” he started, breathless and flustered. His voice sounded broken and he wasn’t sure if he would be able to speak. He cleared his throat and tried again, “Noct.”

“You said not to waste our time together,” Noctis stated, his voice clear and resolute. “I don’t intend to.”

Ignis pursed his lips, his grip on Noctis’ wrists loosening as he willed silence upon the voice in his head. That seemed to be enough as the hands moved again, bringing Ignis’ shirt up over his head. He allowed the fabric to be removed, his own hands settling on Noctis’ hips. There was a pause as he felt eyes on him, wandering over his chest and no doubt the scars from his hunting endeavors. He didn’t mention anything about staring this time, instead sitting under Noct’s gaze and pretending not to be self-conscious. Noctis grazed his fingers along Ignis’ abdomen to his hips. “What happened?” he asked quietly.

Ignis took Noct’s hand, lacing their fingers together before lifting it to his lips to place a chaste kiss against the other man’s skin. “I had to relearn how to fight,” he answered.

“You shouldn’t have kept fighting,” Noct chastised him. That was a first. He let his fingers wander up Noctis’ arm absentmindedly, enjoying the feeling of his cool skin. “What would I have done if I’d come back and you weren’t here?”

He couldn’t help the smile that came to his lips. “Certainly not this,” he murmured, leaning forward to connect his mouth with Noctis’ jaw. He felt the king lift his head, allowing him access, and he kissed down to his collar, his tongue darting out to taste the skin.

“I’m serious, Ignis,” Noctis tried to press. “I don’t want you to get hurt. No one else gets to die for me – especially not you.”

Ignis frowned, pulling back and lifting his head. He looked in Noct’s direction, hoping that it felt like his eyes were connected directly to Noctis. “I would die for you,” he replied earnestly. “Were it possible, I would take your place in front of the wrath of the gods.”

He felt Noctis grab his face, bringing him forward to rest their foreheads together once more. “I wouldn’t let you.”

His lids fell closed at the intensity of Noctis’ voice. It struck him to his very core and he gripped Noct’s wrist, hanging on to him like he would float away. “Instead I’ll lose you again,” he managed.

Noctis lifted his head to press his lips to Ignis’ forehead. “Not yet,” he whispered, dropping back down to kiss Ignis again.

It was slower this time, like they could waste time kissing lazily and pretending to be blissful together. It was sweet and full of all the words that went unspoken between them. Noct opened his mouth and the pace sped up, Ignis grabbing Noct’s waist, pulling them tightly together. He grabbed at the bottom of Noct’s shirt in a silent request that was obliged. Their mouths disconnected as Noct lifted his own shirt over his head. Ignis immediately put his hands on the skin of his king’s chest, running his hands over muscles that had become more defined over ten years. The light trail of his fingers caused a quiet, breathy moan from Noct and Ignis felt warm. He slid his hands up, slowly, and pulled Noctis in by his neck, trusting him to correct the path should he have aimed incorrectly. Their lips met again, intense and desperate this time. Ignis was unsure how far this would go, only that he wanted to hear all the pleased sounds from Noctis that he could manage.

“Perhaps we should—” he was interrupted by a kiss, allowing his words to be swept away by Noctis’ tongue against his own. He stifled a groan when Noctis rolled his hips down, fisting his hand in long black hair as he tried to restrain himself. “Move,” he finished his suggestion when they parted briefly for air. Noctis either didn’t hear him, or pretended not to, as he moved his lips down Ignis’ neck. “Noct,” Ignis tried to sound firm but it came out as more of a plea.

Noctis’ lips pulled up into a smile and he trailed his hand after the kisses he left along Ignis’ skin, running his fingers into the hair at the base of his neck. “Move where?” he asked against Ignis’ mouth, his smiling shining through his words. “I don’t think Gladio and Prompto would appreciate it if we moved to the tent.”

The tips of Noctis’ fingers danced through the hair on the back of Ignis’ head. It was distracting, his mind already feeling foggy. Noctis was the only clarity for him right now, the only thing that was keeping him from spinning out of control with the thoughts of what morning would bring. He detangled his own fingers from Noct’s hair, running them down the length of the other’s body to grasp his hips. “That would be quite an… interesting conversation,” he mused, grinning as he nested his nose underneath Noctis’ jaw, breathing him in.

Noctis hummed, leaning his cheek against Ignis’ temple, fingers still absentmindedly running through his hair. “Let’s stay here,” he murmured, his breath warming Ignis’ skin.

I wish you would stay, is what Ignis wanted to say. “Whatever you desire,” he whispered instead, tilting his head up to capture Noctis’ lips in another searing kiss.

“You,” Noctis replied into his mouth, pulling Ignis by the back of his head, hair laced between his fingers.

Ignis moaned, a short and breathy, at Noctis’ response. He grasped tightly to his king’s hips, sliding him forward so their bare chests pressed together. “I am yours,” Ignis told him. “I have always been yours.”

Noctis slid off Ignis’ lap, pulling him into a standing position. Ignis didn’t miss a beat this time – he wasn’t going to miss a single moment – and held onto Noctis by his waist as he stood, reconnecting their lips as the chairs were shoved out of the way. He loved the feeling of stooping to kiss Noctis. It felt natural and right to be able to hold the other man close, Ignis’ head bent down and Noct’s tilted up. Noctis’ arms were draped over Ignis’ shoulder, holding him down as if Ignis would ever move away.

It’s Noctis that pulls back, but doesn’t quite let go. “Blankets,” he says breathlessly. He leans back up and places a lingering kiss to Ignis’ lips before reluctantly detaching himself to disappear into the tent. Ignis stood in the darkness, turning to find the dying light of the campfire.

On nights where Ignis was feeling particularly out of control, he’d allowed himself time to imagine what being with Noctis would feel like. He had to admit that he never pictured the back drop would be next to a fire, a tent with their two best friends, and end of the world glaring over their shoulders. All of his brief fantasies had been indulgences and nothing more. Moments of weakness that he’d given to himself on lonely nights when he couldn’t find the room in his mind for sleep. But this was more. This was more than anything Ignis had ever dared to dream. Everything he had ever imagined had left him feeling shame and disgust at his own weakness. This, however, this was real and it wasn’t something that he would have been able to replicate alone because Noctis was one of a kind. One that would be taken too soon.

He heard Noctis’ footsteps. There was a whoosh as the blanket was spread across the ground, then he felt arms wrap around his waist from behind. Noct’s lips kissed the back of his neck, burying his face between Ignis’ shoulder blades. “Don’t think about it,” he murmured, holding tighter as Ignis put his hands over Noctis’. “Stay here,” Noct continued, pulling Ignis back before his thoughts darkened. Stay here in this moment. Stay here for now. Live now.

“I’m here,” he replied lowly. He turned in Noctis’ arms, reaching for his face and cupping his cheek.

Ignis let Noctis move backwards, guiding him down towards the blanket. The air around them was pleasant, the wind brushing their skin and cooling wet marks left by tongues. Noct laid on his back and Ignis settled on top of him, worshipping his neck then trailing his mouth down to his chest. The king’s breath shortened, quiet groans escaping his lips every so often and Ignis pictured him with his eyes shut, teeth closed over his bottom lip.

“I wish I could see you,” he breathed honestly against Noctis’ skin. A hand reached down to pull him up by his chin, which he obeyed, allowing their lips to reconnect in an apology that Noctis did not have a chance to put into words. “I’m sure you’re beautiful,” he whispered, his mouth ghosting over Noct’s as he ran his hands over the other’s face again. He liked the feeling of the beard beneath his fingers and the strong jaw that had developed as Noctis aged. He put a finger over Noctis’ lips as they opened then swallowed the second attempt at an apology with his lips, silencing the words before they had a chance to fill the space between them.

Ignis felt Noctis’ hands grip his shoulders. He followed the way he was pushed, Noctis switching their positions so that he hovered over Ignis instead. His own hands twisted in dark hair as Noct’s lips found a sensitive spot underneath his ear and he choked back a moan, his hips involuntarily arching up. The rational part of his mind had a moment of panic about the appropriateness of his actions, but he could feel Noctis through their clothes and any qualms he had vanished.

Noctis trailed down Ignis’ body with his mouth, his hands descending faster to toy with the buckle of Ignis’ pants. His breath hitched and he lifted his hips into the touch. He had nothing to look at except the darkness and could do nothing but feel as Noctis kissed and licked the scars on his abdomen. One hand fisted in the blanket underneath them to find something to ground him, the other sliding into the long, black hair of the man over top of him.

“Noct,” he whispered in an attempt to claim the other’s attention. It worked and Noctis paused and Ignis felt his head look up from underneath his hold. “Do you… have you ever done this before?” he asked cautiously.

There was a beat of silence. “No,” Noctis admitted, his voice sheepish. He ducked his head, burying it into Ignis’ thigh. “Have you?”

Ignis sighed, feeling warmth course through his veins at the weight on his thigh. “Ten years is a long time,” he replied noncommittally.

“Anyone I know?” Noctis asked, hearing the answer in the avoidance.

Ignis shook his head. “They were few and far between. No one of note.” Other lonely souls that he connected with on the road between Hammerhead and Lestallum. Other hunters that went with him on particularly large jobs that warranted more than one blind fighter. All men. All far inferior to the one that Ignis truly wanted. “We don’t have to do this,” he supplied, reaching down to hold Noctis’ face again.

“I want to,” Noctis assured him. “I want you,” he clarified.

“You have me. Always,” he replied with an intensity that made his eyes sting. Always would end too soon.

Inexperienced hands fumbled with Ignis’ belt, Noctis’ breathing erratic and Ignis dropped his head back onto the blanket. He sighed, comfortable underneath the other man, humming when Noctis grazed him through the fabric of his pants. He lifted his hips so Noct could pull the clothes from his legs. He heard the breath Noct sucked in at the sight of him, picking his head back up to reach out for his king. Fingers laced in his own and he squeezed. “Don’t look at the scars,” he whispered. Though he hadn’t seen his own body in a long time, he’d felt the pain of the marks that were surely there. He brought Noctis closer, their hands going above their heads. With his free hand, he stroked a finger down the other man’s cheek with as much tenderness as he could muster.

“I wanted to be here,” Noctis said against his mouth, hovering over him. His face was showered in kisses and it made him want to cry. Everything he ever wanted was right here in his arms and would be taken away before he ever had a chance to truly appreciate it.

Ignis threw his arms around Noctis’ back, burying his face in the king’s shoulder. Noctis adjusted, scattering short kisses along Ignis’ neck and shoulder, letting himself be held. I wanted you here, Ignis thought desperately. I don’t ever want you to leave.

“I missed you.”

He laid here, completely naked – emotionally, physically – opening himself, heart, body and soul, to Noctis entirely. He could feel an apology welling up inside of Noctis’ chest and he drew his head back to connect their lips. It was frantic and fast, like they were both afraid the other was going to disappear right this very moment. It was open mouthed, tongue on tongue, teeth clacking together – but it was perfect.

Ignis slid his hands carefully over Noctis’ back. He knew where the scar was without his sight and he brushed his fingers close to the edge of the sensitive skin, never touching it. His thumbs slid under the hem of Noctis’ pants, pushing them down slightly. Noctis sat up on his knees, Ignis following. He ran his palms along the skin of the other’s hips to find the belt and buttons. He could feel the king’s eyes on him as he slowly worked, drawing the fabric down. Noctis cooperated, stepping out of the pants and settling back down between Ignis’ legs.

His hands found Noctis’ chest again, running over the skin and back up to his neck. “I don’t have… That is to say…” He trailed off. He hadn’t exactly prepared for an intimate night. Ignis wanted this to be nothing short of perfect but he wouldn’t compromise the mission just to feel every part of Noctis that he could.

“It’s okay,” Noct replied softly, touching Ignis’ cheek.

That brought them back together, falling back onto the blanket as they pulled themselves as close as possible. Ignis didn’t think he had ever held on to something as tightly as he clung to Noctis. Perhaps if he held fast enough, this could last forever. Noctis’ name fell freely from his lips, quiet and wanton, and he made sounds he never thought himself capable of when fingers wrapped around his length. Even though the fingers stroking him were inexperienced, it felt better than anyone else Ignis had ever had, slowly and deliberately unraveling his composure. It felt good and right and unlike anything he could have ever imagined because this was real and it meant more than just a lonely night in the back of a breaking down car on the side of the road with a stranger; more than lying in bed by himself, plagued by improper thoughts of the prince who he was supposed to serve, protect and advise.

When Noctis’ lips brushed along the sensitive skin of Ignis’ inner thigh he choked back a moan, reaching down to grab the other man and pull him back up. Noctis let him lead as he switched back their positions. Tentatively, Ignis let his memory guide him as he ran his lips and tongue down Noct’s body. He kissed the crook between thigh and groin, sliding his tongue up Noctis’ length. The sound that fell from his king’s lips spurred him forward as a desperate hand fisted in the hair on the back of his head. Noctis legs scrambled, hooking around Ignis as he worked. He reached up, lacing his fingers together with Noct’s free hand.

“Ignis,” Noctis moaned, the name rolling from his mouth hotly as he fell apart under the care of his advisor. Ignis groaned around him, reveling in the way his name sounded off Noct’s tongue. He wanted to draw out every ounce of pleasure as he could so that this night might be enough.

Noctis lead him back up, grasping at his shoulders and digging his fingers into Ignis’ skin. They leaned into each other, hips rolling together and skin grinding against skin. Ignis buried his face into the crook of Noctis neck, stifling the sounds that passed through his lips and Noctis had his arms thrown around Ignis’ shoulders, holding onto him like an anchor. They moaned the other’s name in staccato as lengths rutted against one another, hot and aching.

Noctis’ moans were broken, verging on sobs, as he reached completion first. His hips rose off the ground, pushing shamelessly into Ignis, fingers scrambling for purchase on Ignis’ back. He choked out Ignis’ name, burying his head into the blanket as he slid his body against the one over him. Ignis obeyed Noct’s pleas and held him through the aftershocks as his release settled through his entire body. He groaned against Noctis’ skin, aching to follow Noct to his own relief.

As if in response to an unspoken request, Noctis’ hand slid between them, grasping Ignis with confidence that was previously absent. He whispered words into Ignis’ ear that he couldn’t quite register, lost in the hot air being blown on his skin and the way Noctis somehow moved his fingers exactly right over him. He leaned his forehead against Noctis’, holding his face in his hands – the feeling of the beard underneath his palm and a dampness on his fingertips below his king’s eyes. He gasped, his own tears threatening to spring forth and he squeeze his eyes shut. Ignis let Noctis’ name slip past his lips as he hit his own release.

Ignis collapsed against Noctis, trying to ignore the stickiness between their chests. His head on Noctis’ shoulder, hiding underneath the king’s chin. Noctis ran a hand through his hair and it’s the most relaxed Ignis has felt in years. His eyes are closed and his breathing is evening out as he absentmindedly traces his finger over the skin of Noctis’ hip. His lips are pulled up into a small smile that he can barely contain and he sighs, for just a moment forgetting that it’s the end of the world and in a matter of hours the man beneath him would be gone.

One of Noctis’ hands is gliding over his back, rubbing comforting circles over his shoulder blades. He hears a shuddering breath and is about to ask when he feels a teardrop fall onto his forehead. He picks his head up, reaching to cup Noct’s face in his palm. They don’t need words this time, both leaning in for a kiss. And it’s miserable. The kiss is sad and closed-mouthed, just skin to skin contact to reassure each other that they are still here. Both of their hands find the way to the other’s face, pulling and breathing deeply through their noses, and Ignis manages to fight off his tears. Noctis doesn’t manage the same and he can feel them falling and taste them between their lips.

“Stay here,” he whispered Noct’s words from earlier. “It isn’t time, yet.”

He can hear Noctis fighting off a choked breath, but it shakes his entire body with an unvoiced sob. A hand runs along Ignis’ cheek and into his hair. “Thank you,” Noctis says, his voice thick.

Ignis purses his lips into a frown, unable to help himself. “Whatever you need,” he murmurs. “You will have it.”

They laid there, side by side, until Noctis regained control, his tears drying. He never once let go of Ignis. Eventually Ignis stood them up, cleaning their chests with care, brushing his fingers across Noct’s cheek, and pretending he felt stronger than he did. Noctis had to find his clothes for him and he made an insincere joke about how they weren’t folded that neither one of them laughed at. In a moment of domesticity they helped each other back into their shirts and pants. Ignis buttoned up Noctis’ pants while Noctis flattened the wrinkles on Ignis’ shirt, their bodies close enough together that they could stay warm from each other’s heat. Noctis stepped away for a moment, coming back to stand in front of Ignis. Wordlessly, Ignis ran his hand over Noct’s arm down to what he was holding. Ignis’ glasses. They stood there, Ignis’ fingers sitting on Noctis’ wrists, both looking down at the spectacles. It was the last piece of the puzzle to put themselves back together, officially ending what they’d had.

Noctis moved first, slowly lifting his arms. Ignis latched onto his wrist, holding but not hindering, as Noct reached up to slide Ignis’ glasses back into place. His fingers lingered, once again delicately dancing over the skin of the largest scar. Ignis kept his hand in place, moving his free one to wrap around Noctis’ waist. “I can’t help but stare,” Noctis admitted, his voice barely audible. “I don’t ever want to forget.”

Ignis didn’t reply this time, just let himself sit under Noct’s gaze. He tried to memorize the way those fingers traced the scars on his face, feeling, for the first time, that someone could see him underneath the blemishes on his cheeks. He had so many questions he wanted to ask. What did this mean? Had Noctis thought about him the way Ignis always had? Why now? But he didn’t think they mattered anymore. Perhaps if they had ventured down this path ten years ago, he would have. But now, older and at the end of destiny, the questions seemed archaic and futile. Because this didn’t and couldn’t mean anything. Even if Ignis had been in Noctis’ thoughts, it still would have been inappropriate and forbidden. And now because Ignis had decided to indulge himself at the end and leave nothing unsaid.

“We should rest,” Ignis finally said, popping the bubble that they had found themselves in. “You need your sleep.” He ran a finger across Noctis’ cheek, thumbing underneath his eye as if to highlight the dark circles that he was sure were there.

He felt Noctis nod, a hand reaching up to grasp his, and he let the king lead the way to the tent. Ignis thought this would be where they would finally part ways, but Noctis kept their hands joined. He pulled Ignis down to lie next to him, wrapping his arms around Ignis’ waist and settling against his side. Unable to deny him anything, Ignis adjusted and made himself comfortable. He draped his arms around Noctis, bending down to press a firm kiss to the top of his head. Noctis responded by lifting his face to connect their lips once more.

Ignis fell asleep, feeling Noctis’ eyes studying his face.

Gladio and Prompto didn’t say anything about finding them wrapped in each other’s arms when they woke. Before they left the tent to eat breakfast, Noctis placed a final, private kiss on Ignis’ lips, but throughout the meal and on the way to the citadel, they stayed close to each other. There were brief, fleeting touches – lingering hands grasping onto shoulders, nudges as they walked that were just long enough to mean something more than a playful tousle.

Ignis managed a form of acceptance between the night and the battles that followed. He mustered the courage to accept that Noctis’ death was now part of reality and there was nothing anyone could do to change it. They had their moment together and Ignis would cherish it for all the years to come, but that moment had passed. It was easy because Noct was still here. They fought side by side, just as in synch as they had been ten years ago - as though the confessions from the previous night had fixed the unfamiliarity that had lingered between them.

But when Ignis awoke on the floor of the throne room and Noctis was decidedly absent, he scrambled to his feet, following his instincts outside and praying to all the gods that they hadn’t taken him away yet. Not without saying goodbye. Prompto and Gladio were just behind him as he burst out the door, relying on Noctis to call to him if he were still alive.

It was Gladio that saw him first, however. “There,” he called, putting a hand on Ignis’ shoulder and helping him down the stairs toward their king.

Ignis wanted to collide with Noctis and hold him but he knew he wouldn’t let go this time so he let Noct move to him. He rested a hand on Ignis’ shoulder and gave a comforting squeeze. Ignis forced his lips up into something that might be taken for a smile to acknowledge him, not trusting his hands to touch Noctis without spilling his heart.

“It’s time,” was all Noctis supplied before the hand on his arm was gone, leaving him feeling empty and alone. Ignis followed the footsteps to the base of the stairs.

“Prompto, Gladio, Ignis… I leave it to you. Walk tall, my friends.”

He heard Noctis turn around, moving further away. That couldn’t be it. He wouldn’t let that be it. All of his careful acceptance flew from his mind as he felt the distance grow. He is not selfish - his entire life has been dedicated to the man that was about to walk out of his life forever. This man that he loved more than he could ever love himself. But Noctis was getting further away from him and it felt like sand slipping through his fingers. He was going to lose Noctis if he let him go back inside.

“Noct,” he called, his voice catching and the volume at which he said it surprised even himself.

It worked and he heard the footsteps pause.

Boldly he continued, “Don’t do this.” He took the first three steps up, careful and trying to remain composed. But his voice was thick and his nose itched and he wasn’t sure he would be able to stop any tears that were threatening to fall. “I beg of you, don’t leave me.”

Gladio and Prompto shifted behind him and he could see their faces in his head for the first time in years. Prompto awkwardly bouncing on the balls of his feet, looking down at the ground. Gladio rubbing the back of his neck and looking to the sky for answers that wouldn’t be found. Ignis found himself wishing for it to be ten years ago, not for the first time in the last few days.

“I do not ask for much,” he pressed, taking more steps toward Noct. “But I am asking now. Do not go back in there. Stay here.” At their words of reassurance from the night before, his voice caught and the tears he had tried so hard to keep at bay spilled over but he still continued up. “Let me find another way. There must be another way. Please, Noct.”

The deep sigh that he heard from the king was closer now, and he moved forward. He reached out, feeling Noct’s presence and his hand connected with the other man’s back. Ignis stopped moving up the stairs, fisting his finger in the fabric of Noctis’ jacket, unable to stop the choked breath that leapt from his throat. He could feel the tears trailing down his cheeks, mixing with the rain. “Stay here,” he whispered. “My world has been dark for ten years. Then you returned and I felt as if I could fully breathe again.” He trailed off.

The rational side of his mind knew there was no choice in this. Noctis had no choice, this was the will of the gods. This was what had to happened to bring back the dawn – this was what Noctis was chosen to do. And Ignis couldn’t stop the swell of absolute hatred he had for the gods and for destiny, for Ardyn and the imperials. What had his life been for, if not to protect his king from all danger and to find alternate routes to victory should the path before them prove too perilous? His entire life had been based around protect and serve, and that was being denied to him. He was being asked to stand on the sidelines while his king is sacrificed. Noctis was born for more than to be a sheep to slaughter.

“Let me find another way, Noct,” he pleaded again. “Don’t leave me to the darkness without you.”

There was a breath, and Noctis turned. Ignis let his hand fall away, and he looked down towards the ground, ashamed. He knew it was not his place to stand between gods and kings but for Noctis he would try to safeguard him from anything that meant to do him harm. A tender hand cupped Ignis’ cheek, urging him to look up. Unable to face him yet, Ignis turned his face into Noctis’ hand, kissing his palm. He let out a shattered sigh against the skin and he never wanted to leave. Noctis urged him up again, and this time he obliged. He couldn’t see his king, but he stared at him regardless recalling his image inside his own mind. Ignis reached forward, grasping the front Noctis’ jacket for support. He felt like his legs would give out from under him and he knew that if Noctis ran from him, he would be powerless to follow.

“I can’t, Ignis,” Noct said softly, but he took a step down the stairs so that he could rest his forehead to Ignis’.

He knew that. He knew the answer. And he realized that he had never accepted this as part of his reality at all. He’d convinced himself for a moment that he was ready to let go, but he had already let go – ten years ago, he’d let go. He spent ten years of his life trying to move on and live in a world without Noctis. But every time he would summon his weapon he would breathe a sigh of relief that somewhere Noct was still alive. And then the king had come riding back into his life and everything Ignis thought he had relinquished rushed back. Now the gods wanted to take him away again, for good this time. Ignis wanted to scream.

“Let me go with you,” he begged, taking Noctis’ face in his hands and he knew that this would be the last time.

Noctis let out a breath and Ignis thought he was pulling away. But he felt lips against his own and a short sob escaped into Noctis’ mouth. He knew this was it, but he latched onto it like a lifeline. He opened his mouth for Noct’s tongue, tangling his finger in dark, wet hair. Noctis’ hands held his own face, pushing them so close together Ignis felt his glasses move up, sitting lopsided on his nose between them. Ignis could feel the fear building in his stomach that this meant it was the end and he held tighter still. If he didn’t let go, Noctis would have to take him and he could die by his king’s side, by the side of the man that he loved, just as he’d always wanted.

The kiss was too short, but it left them both breathless. Noctis held on to him, seemingly just as reluctant to go as Ignis was to let him. They breathed each other’s air, grasping desperately at the other’s face. Noctis leaned in and placed one firm, resolute, definitive kiss to Ignis’ lips and breathed, “I love you.”

And just like that he was gone. He disconnected from Ignis’ embrace and Ignis felt his entire world collapse. He reached out and felt nothing but air, hearing the echoes of Noctis’ all too quick steps back inside. His legs no longer supported him and he crashed to his knees, his fingers curling over the steps beneath him as he cried into the stone.

Gladio and Prompto were both at his side moments after he heard the thundering close of the door into the citadel. He could hear them telling him to stand and that it was time to fight. Daemons seemed meaningless now, but with the tears still in his eyes and a fire gut, he turned with his friends to face the new threat. He summoned his weapons into his hands and tried not to think about how he wouldn’t be able to put them back.

He fought with a renewed fury. All of his anger and frustrations – gods, destiny, the Empire, Ardyn, his loss, his blindness, Noctis – he took it all and threw it into his defense of the citadel. Nothing was going to get inside.

The hordes of daemons began dwindling and retreating back into the darkness. None of them celebrated. They finished off the last remaining monsters then stood. All three of them, shoulder to shoulder, among the battlefield. They were covered from head to toe in blood, out of breath and exhausted, but they didn’t move.

Ignis lifted his dagger and willed it away, but it didn’t leave his grasp.

“There,” Prompto said quietly, putting a hand on Ignis’ shoulder so he could see where he meant.

In the midst of the blackness of his vision, Ignis could see at the bottom there was a sliver of light. Still, they did not rejoice, remaining silent.

The sun was rising.

It was dawn at last.

title inspiration Waiting by Alice Boman

#ignoct #final fantasy #ffxv #noctis lucis caelum #ignis scientia #ff: ffxv #p: my writing #otp #i am in emotional distress because of my own writing #i'm going to go now goodbye forever

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