#the red strings of fate tie them together and it's honestly really nice to see just how much they care for one another

[authorized-trash]

To Tie A Knot: Chapter Two: Fate's Folly

Trigger Warnings:

Sympathetic Deceit, Self Hate, Anxiety Disorder, Minor Death, Sickness, Unconsciousness, Mentions of Hospitals, mild language, if I missed any tell me!

Chapter Summary:

Fate made one very welcome mistake when it brought these four together. (Aka- Roman is a stuttering mess, and Logan is a smart cookie)

Word Count: 2,200+

Note: Wow I actually wrote this, good job me! I didn't plan on the next chapter coming out so fast, but hey, I didn't want to forget the good ideas I had for it. Thank you all, so, so much for the support. It really just means the entire world to me, honestly.

---

Logan had known he was different for a very long time.

Everything about him was strange. The way he spoke, the way he never slouched, the way he could do incredibly large problems in his head with ease. Even the way he interacted with others was weird.

You would think most people would find him strange for those reasons, but no. Actually, they pointed out something different entirely.

While a fatestring could not be seen by anyone other than the two connected by it, they did infact cast a shadow. It was the oddest thing, no one could explain it, but they did.

So when people would go to shake the young man's hand and saw the three strings that traveled with his hand through shadow, they were taken aback. It was unnatural. Wrong.

They'd rush away without much else to say, or force a smile and slowly back off.

Logan knew he was strange, he knew that the three strings did nothing to help that, but he couldn't find anything in him to care.

He couldn't change anything if he wanted to anyway.

~

Roman was... Extra, to say the least. He was a loud young man with an eye for theater. He was an actor, set on becoming a Broadway or Hollywood star.

He never minded the looks people gave him, the way his three fatestrings brought attention to him. He loved the attention, basked in it. Loved it like a snake loves the sun.

"Why of course I have three! The universe would never stick someone like me with only one person, it'd be overwhelming! Poor thing would faint," he had announced one day, his voice dramatic. The others just snickered, what a weirdo.

Roman would spend his evenings singing Disney songs while he tidied his room, or gently tapping rythms to Baby Blue, one of the strings. You see, he had given them all nicknames based on color. Baby Blue, Navy, and Violet. He loved them all dearly, despite not knowing much about any of them.

He did know this.

Navy tapped rhythmically, slow and steady. They seemed collected. Evidence for that? Eh, not much, but Roman could just feel it. Baby Blue was bubbly, and would tap songs along with the actor. Baby Blue seemed nice and happy, bubbly.

Violet didn't talk much. He'd get a tug from his side every once in awhile, but other than that, nothing. It'd tremor sometimes though, as if V was trembling. Roman was quick to act, running a finger along the string to send vibrations. He hoped the others were doing something similar.

~

Patton was an exciting ball of pure joy. The soft male would wear skirts whenever he damn well pleased, tied his ashy hair in pony tails, spun in circles until he fell down in the park, made flower crowns, and fed ducks grain because he knew bread was bad for them.

He was just an amazing person overall.

His eyes were a soft blue behind thick rimmed glasses, his face covered in freckles. He always seemed to smile, showing off the small gap in his front teeth.

He helped his mother in a small bakery, near the towns college. They got good enough business, and one day Patton was supposed to inherit the place.

The steady income was promising, so the twenty-one year old didn't have to worry about college. They weren't poor, but they also couldn't afford something like that.

Oh well, he'd just have to continue living life to it's fullest, and looking for his three soulmates.

Yep, three! He was so proud of them, despite not knowing much about them. He knew NB was calm, R was anything but, and V was different.

Patton was sure he'd love them unconditionally, he only hoped they'd show him the same.

~

Virgil hated everything about this damn place. From the cold walls to the high windows, this whole place was just genuinely unwelcoming and scary.

Virgil had an anxiety disorder, so everything had him on edge. He had to wait in a lecture hall before leaving so the halls would be clear, and then sneak out.

Anyone who didn't know him would say he was emo. Anyone who did know him could confirm that.

He had a very dark wardrobe, the only colors other than dark blacks were variations of purple. His trademark jacket he's had for years, he made it himself, was black with purple patchwork.

He wore minimal makeup, normally just going out in eyeshadow and eyeliner. He didn't like color, made him stick out too much.

School was Hell. All that occurred was bullying and anxiety. The students of the college didn't take too kindly to someone as different as him, someone with three soulmates.

Virgil used to think he was alone, even if he did have soulmates out there somewhere, who could love him? He honestly thought that they would probably never even attempt to like him, they probably hated the fact they had more than on soulmate.

Actually, now that he thought about it, did they even share soulmates? Was Virgil just doomed to be attached to three people who had no connections to eachother? How would this even begin to work, how would he ever be able to deal with it?

Thoughts like this tormented him everyday, all the way until he met his first soulmate, Red.

~

>Two years prior<

It had been a decently normal day, the sky bright and full of fluffy, white clouds. Virgil leaned against a large oaktree somewhere at the edge of the college campus, nodding his head along to some music discreetly. He messed around on Tumblr for a bit, before sighing and looking up at the students that walked around.

At first he didn't pay much mind to the string that stretched out towards crowd, he was used to his fatestrings moving and stretching out. They never caught on anything, it was impossible.

But then he noticed how it moved. The red string was moving quickly across the field, so either his soulmate was moving extremely fast, or they were... Right there.

A male ran through the crowd, going opposite Virgil, obviously not seeing the string, which was very obviously connected to them both.

Virgil's heart skipped, and he stood up, shoving his phone in his pocket and pulling his headphones to his neck. He took off, running for the soulmate that was connected to him through the red string.

Virgil ran, all anxiety forgotten, the pull of a soulmate too strong to ignore. He ran, his converse loud against the asphalt path.

"Hey! Wait!" He shouted, shoving past people who began to move to the side. The other must be in a rush, for he didn't stop or wait.

He had a red sports jacket on, and white pants. An odd choice of clothing, but he was most likely a prep of some sort. Either way, Virgil just had to catch up.

"Stop!" Virgil shouted, losing Red in the crowd. He continued running, but slowed down a bit. There was just no way-

No, you know what-

Virgil yanked, as hard and as fast as he could on the red string. He felt it tug, the distance now so small there was no slack. He saw Red now, who had stumbled back and dropped his papers.

Red looked down at his string, following it with his eyes until-

They made eye contact. Red's eyes widened and Virgil suddenly felt his anxiety pooling back through him, an illness that refused to be forgotten.

He pushed it back, walking forward to pick of Red's papers. He stacked them nicely together, before standing up and coming face to face with the soulmate, who was still in shock.

He gently placed the papers in Red's hands,

"You'll need these. Don't be late to your rehearsal," Virgil muttered, noting that the papers were scripts.

"I- well uh-" Red stuttered, looking from the papers to Virgil, who just laughed.

"It's Virgil," He said, giving the actor a dumb smile. He got an idea suddenly, picking out a pen from his pocket. Normally he'd be embarrassed that he just whipped out a glitter pen, but honestly, he was an artist and it was a useful tool. Besides, no time to dwell now.

Virgil scribbled down his number on Red's hand, his touch feather-light, ghosting on his tan skin.

×××-×××-××××

~ Virgil

He smiled at Red, before running off, disappearing. Red was left to stand there, staring at the number written in glittery ink. Oh God- wow okay- he- oof.

~

Patton loved his soulmates, he really did, but holy shit was this beginning to annoy the pastel young man.

Navy had been tapping for hours nonstop, constantly. The same pattern, over and over and over. Patton couldn't take it, he had to study, he had to, but how would he ever with this nonstop tap tap tap tap tap-

Wait, Navy never did this, he only tapped when Patton tapped first, or sometimes at night, probably by accident. Maybe there was something wrong, maybe Patton should try to help.

So he sat down at his desk, and tapped three times back. Navy seemed to stop, before starting again, this time harder with more vigor.

Tap tap tap tap... Tap... Tap hold tap tap...

And some more was added to the sequence, before it starting over. Patton furrowed his brow, he'd heard of something like this, maybe-

'Oh my goodness,' Patton thought as realization hit him like a truck, 'It's Morse code.'

He rushed to grab a pencil, knocking over a vase of flowers in the process. He didn't even look for paper, just waited for the next sequence and scribbled down what he heard.

.... . .-.. .-.. --- / .. .----. -.. / .-.. .. -.- . / - --- / ..-. .. -. -.. / -.-- --- ..-

He tapped back happily, but he didn't think Navy understood that he knew, as the soulmate just started tapping ferociously, as if frustrated.

Patton ran to grab a laptop, haphazardly throwing it onto the bed and jumping up beside it. He looked up a Morse code translator and typed it in.

"Hello, I'd like to find you."

His heart stopped beating for a moment. Patton didn't know what to think, but he did know what to do.

He typed in a message in English, and tapped back,

.. / .-- .- -. - / - --- / -- . . - / .-- .... . .-. . / .- .-. . / -.-- --- ..-

"I want to meet where are you?"

Simple and not super well thought out, but hey, it worked. Navy stopped tapping, realizing what was happening. They gave a small yank, and Patton repeated himself.

They tapped back and forth for a few more hours, simple messages. They'd meet in the park, it turned out that they both lived close.

Oh, he couldn't wait!

~

Roman felt like screaming, he met his soulmate, got his number, and was going to meet him! They'd be going to the park together for a little first date, to discuss the other two strings.

He was so excited, he just couldn't help it. Oh how fate had blessed him, Violet, or Virgil it turned out, was just stunning! Messy brown hair died purple at the ends, a jacket that seemed to be fluffy and comfortable, oh, how Roman wanted to just hold the smaller male, oh how he'd-

'Woah there Roman, you're making your own gaydar go off,' He thought to himself as he stared up at the ceiling. He had twirled until he couldn't no more, falling backwards onto his nice red blankets fit for a king.

Oh, but what a day it would be!

•••

>Present Day<

Remy didn't know what he'd expected, but it wasn't this.

When Damian didn't return his calls, he expected to find the male asleep, or out somewhere to eat. Perhaps with a lost phone.

But no, instead, he and Emile had stumbled upon something even worse.

Damian's small body was shrunk in on itself, knees tightly to his chest. He was curled in a corner by his TV and wall, a small bit of dried blood on his cheek where he had hit his head, the blood dripping down his face.

The circles under his eyes were dark, his skin sallow. His hair was a mess, and he was sweating slightly, as if he were feverish.

His eyes were open slightly, but he didn't seem to be very conscious. His eyes lazily followed the two soulmates as they rushed over to him.

"Dee, babe, are you alright? What happened?" Remy asked, putting the back of his hand to Damian's forehead. It was practically steaming.

"I'll- I'll go get an ambulance," Emile said as he stood up, running into another room to look for a phone, he'd left his at Remy's place.

Remy looked Damian over, he didn't seem to be very hurt, only sick. What could have caused this? What-

He saw Damian's arm convulse a bit, and the boy whimpered, curling further in on himself. Remy's eyes softened in pity, and he went to help Dee up.

The smaller of the two gladly leaned into Remy's cooler touch, thankful to get out of that corner. He was picked up into a princess' carry, his head falling weakly onto Remy's shoulder.

Emile came back in, stating an ambulance was on it's way and to get him outside where it was easy to collect him and take him to the hospital. Remy nodded,

"Turn on the lamp, I can't see," He said softly, as if loud noises would scare the half-conscious young man in his arms.

Emile didn't hesitate to turn it on, but the moment he did, he gasped in horror. His gaze fell onto the wall behind Remy.

Remy turned slowly, and he had to hold on to Dee a little tighter so not to drop him.

The shadow- his fatestring- was-

It was dangling uselessly from his hand, severed.

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More tags in the reblog, I've spent an hour redoing these because they keep messing up lol-

[alltheworldsinmyhead]

    OUR FUTURE WILL BE A BRIGHT ONE: CHAPTER SIX

                      eremika soulmates through time modern au

  ( chapter one/chapter two/ chapter three/chapter four/ chapter five/ff.net/ ao3)

APRICITY

ENGLISH; THE WARMTH OF THE SUN IN WINTER

“someday, someone will love every inch of you – the sunset behind your eyes, the moonlight still dancing through your hair, the sadness still hanging the creases of your palms. They’re going to kiss them and tell you how beautiful it all is. All the parts you keep tucked away,

Someday, someone is going to say ‘I love all of you, not just the parts that make sense, not just the parts you have shown me. I love what I don’t understand, what weights on your shoulders when I steal glances at you in silence. “

tyler kent white

warning: contains non-descriptive mature content

She’s not a loud person by nature and it’s no different in bed, but whenever she feels really good, she makes the most wonderful sounds -  deep, breathy gasps, all contentment, and pleasure.

And he has come to learn how to make her feel like that; has learned how to play her the way she plays her beloved violin - which string to pull to hear her moan his name, which key to push to coat her skin with a thin layer of sweat. And he does that all, as often as he can, with all the enthusiasm and devotion he holds inside of him.

Because whenever he holds her in his arms, buried to the hilt in her, he looks at her and it sends his mind into overdrive. Ever-fucking-single time. Grey eyes misted with pleasure, cheeks flushed, muscles twitching underneath his touch, those tiny hiccups of gasps that escape from her lips when she’s close to the edge… Dear god, he could never get enough of that.

Her bed is a tangled mess of sheets, when they both finish; there are purple blemishes already blooming on her dark skin and he dreads the moment she’ll notice them and punch him on the shoulder for marking her like that. But for now she’s satisfied and sleepy, eyes bleary, dark hair sticking to her neck as she cuddles against him.

It’s all stolen moments, brief seconds of happiness, that’s all he ever gets. In a few hours, the sun will be up and she will reluctantly escape from his arms to get back to work, to pin her mistress’ hair in place, tie the laces of her dress and bring her croissants and chamomile tea on the silver tray. She’ll raise up, stretch and the quiet sound of her joints popping in place will wake him up and he’ll open his mouth to protest, to invent some words to make her stay just for five minutes more, but she’ll silence him with a kiss.

She’ll put on her petticoat and her dress; will tie her hair in a neat bun and pull on her shoes and she’ll leave, swift and quiet. And a moment later he’ll raise up too, close the doors of their little lovers’ nest behind him. Make his way through the city, grabbing a newspaper on his way, reaching home just in time for a good morning kiss from his wife.

They have a routine of some sort, but it’s all stolen, borrowed, bartered. It’s not forever, not with the contrast between shades of their skins and the number of pennies in their pockets. However, the sign of her lying naked beside him, the warmth of her deep, even breaths… it’s all just enough to make the wait for the next time bearable.

***

He starts telling her the story of his parents that night.

Hoists her up from the bathroom floor and carries her to the bedroom, her heels digging into his lower back; sits down cross-legged on her bed and refuses to let go of her. She’s still trembling, reaching up now and then to touch the uneven ends of her hair until he gently swats her hand away.

“Mum met dad on her second semester in uni, you know?“ he says quietly and she wants to pull away to see his face, surprised, but his arms held her in place. “ She caught a cold or something and he was an intern in the hospital nearby. They locked eyes and – well, you know how it is.”

“Your parents are soulmates?” she asks and he hums in confirmation, leaning his chin on the crown of her head.

“It was the same old story, the lightning, the thrill, the flashbacks…. But it was not until they were married that she actually started to remember enough to put those past lives together,“ he chuckles and it’s an ugly sound; strained and strangely bitter, very un-Eren-like.

“Not that it took them long to tie the knot. Six months, and done, and no one even said a word against it. “

Which, Mikasa thought to herself, wasn’t that surprising. It happened. Why should we wait, many people reasoned, why, if it’s meant to be?

“They moved away after the wedding, crossed country because dad was given this grand offer. Mum finished studies somewhere else and then they had me. And after some time – couple of years, mum couldn’t get rid of this feeling, like something’s not okay. She kept on seeing this woman; she was watching her, following her to the work and back home. And she just had a feeling that she had known her before, but couldn’t place her anywhere. Di- eh, this woman kinda rubbed her the wrong way, so she started to nag dad about it. ”

He pauses for a moment and takes a deep breath.

Dina’s cornflower blue eyes and yellow, chin-length hair; her mouth spread wide in this creepy smile as she reached for him in that alley.

“And dad was like,  You must be overworked, Carla, you’re seeing things that are not there. Denied everything she said and she trusted him because- “

“You’re supposed to trust your soulmate unconditionally,” Mikasa finishes his sentence, lips moving against the bare skin of his shoulder, sending shivers down his spine. “Who was she? That woman?”

Eren stays quiet for a moment. In the moonlight, Mikasa’s hair looks almost violet; the new length exposes the paleness of the nape of her neck. Honest. Vulnerable. So open that she almost seemed scraped raw. He has never understood his mother as well as now, with Mikasa’s heart on her sleeve, ready for his taking. He has never hated his dad so much, thinking how he saw all that trust and took advantage of that.

He tightens his arms around her and vows one more time to be better.

The sun’s shining so brightly that one could go blind from looking at the sky; Armin’s hand is clammy with sweat in his as they make their way to the river bank, in search of some shadow and cool breeze. They’re already too old to hold hands at this point and it earns them names and bruises but they do it anyway, because it feels nice and who are others to measure the distance between them with the school ruler and proclaim if it’s acceptable or not?                                                                                                              

His parents are standing in front of the house, waving, and his mother is laughing at something his father has just said; hair in that side-ponytail of hers, a dimple in her left cheek, dad’s arm looped around her waist. She’s in her uniform, getting ready for an afternoon shift and she’s already late but stopped to warn them to come back before sunset anyway.

That’s how he sees it, how he’s always going to mark this moment; the last second of normalcy, the last chapter of a suburban dream with his parents’ smiling faces illuminated by the yellow noon light, the greenery of their garden and Armin’s cheerful whistling;  the mundane beauty of it all.

“And what did she do?” Mikasa breaks the silence with her question, her voice tinted with hesitance and curiosity; she reaches her hand up to comb through his hair.

He wants to say broke my family apart, has this sentence forming on his tongue but he stops himself before he can utter the phrase. Once upon a time he really did believe that, once, he would give anything to turn back time and go back before that sunny May afternoon happened, but now he can’t really bring himself to state that.

Because it’s not true, no matter how badly he wants it to be.  There’s no one that can be blamed for this situation, besides the twisted fate itself and one, specific person that should shoulder the responsibility of handling it all so poorly and it’s, admittedly, not Dina.

“She- uh,  I was coming home late with Armin and she was waiting for me in some alley.” He gulps, trying to push away the wave of nausea. “Grabbed me by the arm and –“

The cold metal of a gun against the back of his head; his mom pouncing on Dina like a wild cat, the echo of a gunshot still ringing in his ears a week later;

“Eren.”

He blinks; Mikasa’s face is swimming in front of his eyes and he realizes he’s started to cry.

“Eren,” she says his name again, voice as soft as the warm winter sweater. “It’s okay, you don’t need to tell me all of that.“ She wipes the tears from his face with the sleeves of her blouse,  her moves steady and gentle and the irony twists his guts; he was supposed to comfort her, to make her think about something else than past lives and long-forgotten horrors, not the other way around.

We comfort each other. Take care of each other. She whispers without words and honestly, he’s not even surprised that she’s in his head; after all, she’s all he can think about.

There’s an unspoken reassurance in her touch; she kisses his cheek softly, lips lingering on his skin for a little longer than the act requires.  Warmth spreads through his body as she settles on his lap again, wraps herself around him, the already-familiar weight of her against him instantly calming him down.

We are not your parents, Eren. Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid of the past we shared, please.                                      

There’s a red string between them, tied in a bow and binding them together, no matter what; she’s half of his soul. There’s no turning back anyway, so why should he try to retreat in fear?

No matter what the past holds, what we have will never change, her eyes say and it’s a lie, he knows that. But a lie beautiful enough that he decides to believe in it.

“No, I want to tell you. I do.” It sounds weak, even in his own ears, but he pulls himself together and does it.

After he finishes, the silence hangs in the air, heavy on his shoulders and then he chuckles, surprising himself most of all.

“Jesus, I don’t know why I’ve just dumped it all on you when you’re shaken enough on your own. I’m sorry. I guess I just- I don’t want to keep any secrets from you, Mikasa. Ever.”

Before he can say anything else, she looks his straight into eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks, a forest fire of feeling raging inside her so violently, that it echoes in his bones.

“Thank you,” she says, gasping for breath through hiccups. She raises her arms and pulls him towards her, her body shaking again with sobs, but this time she’s crying for him and this breaks his heart into pieces. “Thank you for telling me this. Thank you for experiencing all of that and still – still being brave enough to trust me.”

Hopeless, that’s what he is for her right now. Hopeless, when her feelings for him flow freely like a current through his body, when he can see clear as day how much it’s bubbling under that poised demeanor of hers.

How could I not love you, Mikasa? He thinks desperately, fisting her blouse in his hands, forehead resting on her sternum. How could I ever not do that?  It has nothing to do with bravery.

“I promise, I’m going to deserve that.”  She kisses the top of his head, her tears making his hair damp.

You already do.

The morning colors the sky rose and finds them like that; Eren in Mikasa’s embrace, her arms around him, his ear pressed to her chest, the steady beating of their hearts lulling them both into sleep, guarding them against nightmares.

***

Mikasa takes a deep breath and opens the bathroom door; she knows that Eren woke up before her and cleaned up the whole mess, but it’s still so eerie in here.

There’s no trace of her black hair on the cold tiles and yet she keeps looking for it. Maybe it would be better if he left it the way it was, maybe it would seem more real somehow if she saw it in the daylight. But the bathroom is pristine clean as always and the only sign that anything even happened is the feeling of tips of her hair brushing her neck and Eren’s voice still echoing in her head.

She locks his story tightly shut in her heart, guarded by her ribcage. Some tales are the ones that shouldn’t be mentioned after dawn. Some things are reserved for 3 a.m. dark thoughts. Like the one of a man who kept on building his life with somebody else before meeting his soulmate and of a woman scorned over and over again and spiraling down into insanity each time. Sad and tragic and inevitable, through the centuries.

There’s emptiness in her mind, blank space when, once again, she tries to remember waking up in the middle of the night and going to the bathroom to cut her hair. Not a trace of recollection, not a single glimpse of memory. Why did she do that? What pushed her to get rid of this braid that she’s been grooming since middle school? A waterfall of black hair, just like her mother’s; she’s not a vain person and she doesn’t really care that much about other’s people’s opinions about her, but she’d be lying if she said that it didn’t hurt her pride, didn’t make her feel self-conscious. And confused. And a little bit afraid.

Is it how it’s gonna look like, getting her memories back? Messy and weird and almost scary sometimes?

She can’t help but come back to Grisha and Carla Jager’s story, which could be as well a cautionary tale for all the little kids with gleaming eyes, wishing for a soulmate.

(With her hand holding his, Eren tells her how Dina grabbed his arm and pulled him towards her, how she pressed her little gun against his head and called his mum, each of her words punctuated with those bursts of strange giggling. How Carla came running and straight-up jumped on her, no thinking, no hesitation, how Dina pulled the trigger and how it all might’ve ended differently if Armin didn’t run and brought a police officer with him.

And then he tells her about his father, stuck in repeating himself in being too quick to fall, not patient enough to wait.

“Dina kept on- hurting mom, each and every time” what he wants to say is’ killing’, she just knows that,  but it gets stuck in his throat – she feels that too, choking her in the fear which is not her own but might as well be. “And he would make the same mistake, always. No escaping from this circle. “

“But she’s okay, right? Your mom?” she tries as hard as she can for her voice to remain calm, unwavering, but she knows well that her heart betrays her, trashing with concern in her chest.

And for a moment she sees the answer, rather than hears it; sees it through his very own eyes, his darkest memories that he never even thinks about but decided to share with her, because he just couldn’t hide it anymore.

Gunshot. Scream – they were all screaming, him and Carla and Armin, and the surprise on Dina’s face; her face twisting almost comically at the blood running down her own sleeve.

“Yes, Dina- I suppose, in all this struggling, she accidentally pulled the trigger and shot herself. But we both ended up whole. And then dad moved away, so, uhm, there was only the two of us left.”  )

Broken hearts and broken trust and broken family… define ‘whole’.

She sighs, hands gripping the edges of the sink, gathering all her courage before raising her head sharply; it’s a strange feeling, seeing her own face in the mirror and not quite recognizing it.

Her eyes trace the uneven strands, the jagged ends massacred by dull scissors and she hesitates for a moment – just a moment- before she opens the drawer, looking for the sharper pair and tries to fix the mess on her head the best she can.

He moves so quietly that it takes her a moment to realize he’s leaning on the doorframe, quietly watching her with his arms laced on his chest. He’s worried – there’s this weird buzz under her skin and she knows this feeling so well. Concern, fear, nervousness. All concealed by this mask he turned his face into, but even if they didn’t have that bond, his eyes would give him away anyway.

She delicately sets the scissors on the countertop; runs her fingers through her hair, surprised by the swell of satisfaction blooming in her chest as she eyes her reflection.

“It’ll be more difficult to put it in a bun during competitions, but-“ she sends him a shy glance, her chin low and eyes shining. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

Is she even serious? He wonders.

He wishes she could see herself through his eyes; would see what she looks like. The piercing light of the sun falls through the window, bathing her in warm white, making her almost ethereal, almost translucent.   Long-sleeved cream blouse and sleep shorts exposing her gorgeous legs, graceful line of her neck and this angel halo of dark framing her face. She’s so freaking pretty, so lovely, even more lovely now after her own mind and body betrayed her and still, she’s spent the rest of the night holding him, sharing his burden of unspoken fear without a word of protest, even though he worried her even more, instead of bringing her comfort.

You are exquisite, Mikasa. Stunning.

Her cheeks turn cherry and she tears her gaze away from him, a small smile blooming on her lips.

Am I that obvious?

“You really think that?“ she asks quietly, eyes still locked on the white porcelain of the sink, one strand of silky black hair in-between the fingers, his admiration of her filling the room like a delicious smell of fresh-cut flowers.

“What, that you’re beautiful?” There’s lightness in his voice, and, to his delight, she bites on her lower lip, and there it is; her slight embarrassment and affection for him, sweet and thick as honey.

He takes a few steps inside the bathroom to stand right next to her and take her hands in his; is rewarded with a small gasp and a tingle of electricity as he presses a small kiss to her knuckles.

“You know how I feel, Mika. You know I could never fake that.”

***

Because it’s December, it’s already twilight when they close her apartment doors behind them; their long, shadowy silhouettes melt into one and Mikasa wonders what they must look like to people passing them by- how drunk they must seem, steeping every few meters to caress other’s frostbitten cheek or steal a peck or two under the lamppost, bursting into laughter randomly.  Were they to meet any of her friends, would they even recognize her? This giddy, happy girl with a borrowed scarf around her neck, holding the hand of a strange boy, clinging to him with all she’s got?

She suspects they wouldn’t. She can hardly recognize herself.

Mikasa’s hand feels so good in his. On the busy street, with inky sky and snow sparkling like in a Christmas Wonderland, they make their way just like they did the night before. Not much is different and yet everything is.

God Eren, if Ymir or Jean heard you talking sappy shit like that, they would never let that go.

Oh, fuck it, who cares about them, who cares about anything, definitely not him.

She leans her head on his shoulder, a contented sigh escaping her lips when their closeness warms them both from inside out.  Their boots make scratching sound as they step on the freshly fallen snow, so frozen that almost dry and still more flakes swirl gracefully, stark against the dark sky. And Mikasa in all of that, laughing, the tip of her nose pink, hair dusted with white and lips chapped from cold temperature and yet tasting so sweet,  looking somehow both dignified and joyful, this impossible girl holding entire galaxies inside her.

They take a shortcut and a few minutes later the hustle and bustle of a busy main street die down and he leads her down the pavement where he played as a kid.  She looks around curiously and it’s a very strange feeling that her presence here evokes in him; she fits so well in this picture.

You should’ve been here right from the beginning.

He can almost see it; nine-year-old Mikasa, all wide-eyed and precious in a baby pink dress, swinging on the swings next to him, listening to Armin’s excited babble about black holes and Mariana Trench, stuffing her face with his mom’s freshly baked Apfelstrudel, blushing at the medical diagram’s in his father’s study, playing hide-and-seek with him in the park and feeding the ducks with uneaten peanut butter jelly sandwiches from lunch.

Holding his hand in hers through all this time, just like she does right now.

The house is so nice. Small, yes, but nice nevertheless, with window frames painted white and a Christmas wreath hanging on the doors. There’s a wooden porch in the front and smoke coming out of the chimney and Mikasa can’t help but feel a little bit of nostalgia for her own childhood house, the one she has left behind years ago. Eren’s home looks like a picture-perfect family home, all it lacks is a white picket fence at the front and 1.2 kids more.

There’s something so incredibly home-y about it, so much, that she instantly feels warmer, stepping on the freshly-shoveled cobblestone path leading to the entrance. Home-y enough that this little twist in her gut eases up just a little bit, making it easier for her to breathe.

Eren puts one hand on the small of her back as if he was afraid she’ll bolt and run away, so she sends him a reassuring smile to say don’t worry, I’m in. As he raises his fist up to knock on the doors, she reminds herself that there is no way that this woman is more intimidating than her uncle Levi and that she has all the rights to be here by her son’s side.

All of that mental self-brainwashing doesn’t help her at all, when the door swings open- fast enough to send the wreath swinging dangerously – and she’s suddenly face to face with Eren’s mom.

The first thing that crosses her mind is that it is, definitely, Eren’s mom, no doubts about it. She looks so much like him; the shape of her eyes and her lips, and the shade of her skin, and the way she’s standing tall and sure of herself.  A spitting image, a mirror reflection. All of those tiny things that make Eren Eren… they are all inherited from her.

She silently eyes the both of them, her scrutinizing gaze turning sharper at the sign of their laced fingers and for a moment Mikasa’s almost afraid that this woman is going to pull Eren inside and close the doors, leaving her out in the cold. But then something gleams in Carla’s eyes as if someone lit a candle inside her; her mouth curves into the smile, a dimple appearing in one of her cheeks.

“Oh, look how lovely you are, sweetheart,” she says, sounding surprisingly teary.  She takes a step outside, reaches out her arms and pulls Mikasa against her chest, knocking the breath out of her.

“Mom!” Eren whines, sighing deeply. “Leave her alone.”

“Nope,” comes the reply, the word muffed by Mikasa’s borrowed red scarf. She’s simply standing and letting Carla hug her, too stunned to react.

“Mom, she doesn’t like that.”

Carla smells like a snickerdoodle fresh out of oven and peppermint shampoo; she’s so motherly warm, so caring in the way she wraps Mikasa in her own heat against the harshness of the elements. Just like Eren, but where he is dancing flames, all livid and passionate, his mother is the sun in the middle of the winter, blinding with its intensity, making any load a little bit easier to bear. And Mikasa thinks about this woman’s history, how well she knows that a soulmate may not be a blessing for her son, but something else entirely, and still welcomes her with open arms. Somehow still gifts her with all the love she possesses and gives away so freely. Still strong enough to be caring, when the world wants her bitter and broken.

So she moves on instinct; raises her hands to rest her on Carla’s shoulder blades and hugs her as fiercely, the act so foreign and new and thrilling that it makes her ridiculously giddy.

“Actually, Eren,“ she says, savoring every drop of their shared happiness. “I do enjoy hugging very much. “

***

It’s been a long, frantic day and all Grisha wants is to just fuck it all, go home, take a long, hot shower, kiss Dina goodnight and fall asleep. But there’s still a couple of hours of his shift left and unfortunately, the patients simply don’t care that his son is currently teething and didn’t let him close his eyes even for a second the night before.

He’s tapping his fingers to the rhythm of The Police’s Every Breath You Take playing on the radio, halfway through the pile of paperwork when the nurse- poor thing, even more, tired than him, with purple shadows underneath her eyes stark even against her cinnamon skin – calls for him and asks if  he could please take care of the next patient of Dr. Holland, since she’s been needed on Intensive Care?

And of course, he says yes, cause he’s a martyr like that.

He’s thinking about Zeke as he makes his way through the corridor, passing irritated patients and busy nurses. He’s thinking about his son’s chubby cheeks and the unruly tuft of light hair and how he shrieks with delight whenever he’s thrown up in the air.

He’s thinking about his and Dina’s son, the dearest thing in his life, as Carla Schmidt quietly enters Dr. Holland’s room, politely closing the door behind her, “Good night” dying on her lips as his eyes meet hers and Grisha’s body bursts into flames.

Memories flood him altogether, leaving him unable to breathe; blue and green, gold and brown and this undeniable truth that it’s all going to end in tragedy and he can do nothing about it.

He takes Carla’s hand in his, leaving papers scattered on the floor, what was supposed to be the happiest moment in his life turning bitter and rotten, blind panic overtaking his body. And against all his wishes, all his wit and reason, all priorities and prayers, there is nothing he can do but fall.

[hopeymchope]

Naegiri Fanfic Prompt - If You Knew

From @dialogue-prompts​:

“If you knew this was going to happen, that you’d find yourself in this situation, would you live your life differently?”

Neither of them would ever forget the day that Makoto got that phone call. Kyoko could tell how bad the news was when she first caught sight of Makoto on the other side of the the division’s central command room, all of the color drained out of his face as he listened numbly to his phone. Her first instinct was to immediately rush to his side, but instead she forced herself to calmly and carefully walk across the room, only catching the tail end of his conversation as she stepped up beside him.

“I understand,” Makoto had said weakly. “Thanks… for letting me know.”

She could see him trembling as he lowered his cell phone and pressed the “End Call” button on the phone’s display. She’d asked him gently who the caller was, and when he had hoarsely said it was Naka from the sixth branch, Kyoko rapidly filled in the rest of the blanks herself.

Naka was overseeing the ongoing search through the major buildings in Towa City, hunting down unidentified victims of Monaca Towa’s recent incident as well as any materials the Future Foundation could use. Given what Komaru had told the Future Foundation about her battle against Monaca Towa and the things that the young girl had shown her, the conclusion was obvious: the sixth division had located Naegi’s parents.

At least, whatever was left of them.

Four days later, Makoto was seated in the chair on the other side of her Kyoko’s desk in her office aboard the 14th branch’s primary ship. He claimed he was ready for an assignment.

“You must be looking forward to seeing Komaru again,” Kyoko responded. “Video calls are nice, but they can’t compare with a physical reunion. It’s too bad that the circumstances of said reunion aren’t better, of course.”

Makoto looked confused. “Uh, did you hear me? I said that I want to get back to work,” he repeated.

“I heard you,” she explained as she leaned back in her chair. “I’m mulling it over.”

“You can’t force me to extend my leave,” Makoto continued defiantly. “I need to save that time off for when we reach Towa City, anyway.”

“This isn’t a corporation, Naegi,” Kyoko said with a smirk. “Leave can be as long or as short as is logical based upon my personal discretion, and I don’t have to answer to some human resources department. Besides, it’s not like I’m going I’m going to dock your pay for attending to your needs. We want your wits about you when you’re representing the Future Foundation, after all. As such, you should take as much time as is necessary to get back to 100%.”

“You know me,” Makoto insisted. “You know I can move forward through anything and keep my chin up. So if I only need to take what’s necessary, then I’ve already taken enough.

“Perhaps,” Kyoko conceded. “But you don’t have to power through this like you did with the tragedies we endured at Hope’s Peak. So perhaps you’re just trying to avoid thinking about your loss. Take it from someone with experience: Avoidance or powering through something by force is no substitute for facing your grief head-on.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” Makoto admitted. “I do want to get my mind off of things. But isn’t that natural? Healthy, even?” He sighed heavily before adding, “I don’t want to dwell on regrets all the time.”

Kyoko frowned, but managed to keep her reaction to only that. The idea of Makoto sitting and wallowing in a combination of grief and regret made her feel sick inside, but she was able to mask the sympathetic pains she felt. “Regrets?” she inquired in an even tone. “Are they anything you’re comfortable talking about?”

Makoto looked away and stared at the nearby wall. After a pause, he said, “Oh, you know. I wish I’d gotten to speak to them one more time, so I could remind them how much… how much I loved them. Or I wish I could remember any of the times we spoke while I was at Hope’s Peak.” He smiled ruefully and glanced downward before he continued in a soft tone, “The truth is, I feel pretty guilty about it.”

“About not remembering?” Kyoko asked.

“Not that,” Makoto clarified, turning back to face her. “I just mean about them getting wrapped up in this — about this whole damn thing. If my luck hadn’t gotten me into Hope’s Peak, they never would’ve become a target for Enoshima. They never would’ve been captured, tortured… they’re dead now because of my ‘lucky’ invite.”

Makoto leaned his head back and stretched out his neck as he stared up towards the ceilling. “Some luck it turned out to be, huh? Jeez… sometimes I wish I’d ripped up that letter from Hope’s Peak.”

Kyoko flinched slightly after he said that, and her eyes narrowed instinctively in reaction to the pain she felt in her stomach. The longer she’d known him, the harder it was for her to see Makoto depressed and beating himself up. It wasn’t merely upsetting to see him acting in a way that was so unlike his usual optimistic nature, however. It was more that his sadness naturally transmitted to her because of how deeply she cared about his well-being. It was something she’d found herself increasingly unable to avoid: seeing him happy filled her with joy, and seeing him miserable filled her with despair.

Kyoko put her hands together over her desk and steepled her fingers. “I’m a firm believer that whatever happens to us happens in the only way that it can,” she stated.

Makoto looked at her askance. “You mean you believe in fate?” he asked.

“Not exactly,” she countered. “I simply don’t believe in a branching multiverse, whether you get there via string theory or black holes or whatever you like. But let’s ignore for the moment that there’s no use in wishing to change the past. If you could alter the past, I hope you understand that if you hadn’t come to Hope’s Peak, you could very well be dead,” she told him. “There’s no guarantee that your entire family wouldn’t have been killed as the tragedy engulfed the world — yourself and Komaru included. In addition, all of our class would’ve likely died in Enoshima’s mutual killing game if you weren’t there to inspire us and push us forward. ”

Makoto lifted his head and furrowed his brow, considering her words.

“Taking those facts into account, please reconsider your perspective,” Kyoko continued. “If you could go back in time, and you knew this was going to happen — that you’d find yourself in this exact situation — would you live your life differently? Would you really tear up your letter from Hope’s Peak as you suggested, and stay home to protect your family?

She saw a spark of inspiration glinting in Makoto’s eyes. He turned and stared, locking eyes with her, and a small smile crept across his face. Kyoko was unable to stop herself: She reflexively smiled back at him despite not knowing why.

With renewed determination, Makoto said, “Actually, Kiri… you’re right. I’m taking it back; the answer is ‘no’. I definitely wouldn’t change my life, even if I could.”

Kyoko felt instant relief from the pain in her stomach. “I’m glad to hear it,” she said as her smile grew, “Because that means you understand how your current life has already made a positive difference for a lot of people — myself included.”

“Well, to tell you the truth, I didn’t change my mind because of what you said about my impact on others,” Makoto said, glancing down shyly. “I mean, I kind of wish that was why, but honestly? It was a much more selfish reason than that.”

Kyoko tilted her head a little. “Why the change of heart, then?” she inquired.

He glanced back at Kyoko, his cheeks turning slightly pink as he answered, “Because of you. If I never came to Hope’s Peak, I never would’ve met you. And, honestly… there’s nothing and no one anyone could ever give me that would be worth losing you from my life. That’s not to diminish how much my family means to me, of course. But it’s just… I mean… you’re… you’re priceless, somehow.”

Kyoko’s jaw fell slightly open as though she was about to say something, but no words came out.

Makoto closed his eyes, smiling confidently. “Thanks again, Kiri. You’ve been a huge help to me while I’m dealing with this.”

“You’re… welcome… ?” she responded, suddenly feeling lost. Her cheeks turned bright pink.

Makoto stood up from the chair and adjusted his tie. “You let me know when you want me to work. I can take it or leave it, I suppose.” He stepped over towards her door while adding, “Whatever you think is best is fine. I trust your judgment.”

“Makoto… “ Kyoko murmured quietly.

He turned around to see Kyoko looking up at him, smiling joyfully even as he cheeks practically glowed red.

“I wouldn’t trade you for anything, either,” she said quietly. “Not even if I could. No matter what.”

[chocobroobsession]

The Red String - Chapter 20: The End

Author’s note: Last chapter in my soulmate AU based on the red string of fate story, featuring Ignis x fem!OC. This chapter is more about how I think the guys got closure with Noctis before the final battle. Plus I always figured they made it out alive without him anyway. I went ahead and just tagged the epilogue onto this chapter since it was so short. Word count: 2232.

I just want to say thanks to anyone who has read my series. I know it wasn’t seen by many, but that’s okay by me. I’m just proud of myself for putting myself out there and trying something new. We’ll see what the future holds for my writing because I honestly don’t know where I plan on going with it. It should be fun though!

Chapter Masterlist

Approximately Eight and a Half Years Later

The guys could all feel it. Noctis was coming back. They were elated at the thought of finally reuniting with their king and best friend, but the moment was bittersweet. They suspected he wouldn’t be back for long. They had all gathered in Hammerhead, waiting on Talcott to deliver him to them. Chandra stroked Ignis’s thigh as she leaned up against him in the booth in Takka’s Pit Stop.

“Don’t shake so much. It will be okay, my love,” she soothed.

“I know,” he responded as he rested his head against hers. “There are just too many conflicting emotions in my head right now. I’m happy to see Noct, but I know this will be the last time. I’m not sure what the future holds right now. I also do not wish to leave you.”

“I know,” Chandra sighed. “I don’t want you to leave either, but he needs you. This is important. The fate of Eos rests in his hands, and he can’t do this without you and Prompto and Gladio.” They sat in silence, sipping on tea as they waited for the rest of the group to show up. Shortly thereafter, Prompto and Jade entered with Gladio in tow. Greetings and hugs were exchanged as they all settled down into the booth to await Noctis’s arrival.

“Are you two sure you’re going to be okay?” Prompto looked to his wife and then to Chandra.

“Of course, Prom. We’re tougher than we look. We have to be to run with you guys,” Jade laughed as she ruffled his hair. He playfully glared at her and blew a raspberry onto her cheek, causing her to squeal.

The group laughed and reminisced of previous adventures, getting caught up in the past. It was nice to sit around like old times and not think about the uncertain future.

Suddenly, Ignis perked up. “I can hear someone coming!”

Gladio shook his head. “Man, your hearing is supernatural. I can’t hear a thing besides the A/C in this place.”

“Well if you’d clean your ears more and not listen to your music on high volume, maybe you’d be able to hear as much as a normal person,” Ignis smirked.

“Still as sarcastic as ever, I see,” Gladio chuckled.

The group made their way outside and over to Cid’s garage. Cid and Cindy were sitting outside chatting and waved the group over.

“It’s really happening, isn’t it,” Cindy asked.

“It is,” Ignis answered.

Headlights suddenly came into view as Talcott pulled into the lot. He got out of his truck and ambled over to the group. They all stood in silence and watched as an older, hairier Noctis slowly stepped down and shut the door. He looked tired, but his face lit up the moment he spied his three best friends.

The women stood back and allowed the men to catch up with their friend and king. Time and daemon hunting had taken its toll on all of them. They had seen so much for people still so young. They had all been looking rather weary, but seeing Noctis made them all look like young men again, barely into their twenties. Chandra smiled, happy that Ignis was happy, even though she didn’t know what fate had in store for them in the coming days. She was snapped out of her thoughts when she heard part of the conversation that addressed her and Jade.

“And who are the lovely ladies?” Noctis glanced towards the women and then back at his friends.

Prompto quickly walked over and scooped the blonde up and carried her bridal style to Noctis. “This is my wife, Jade.”

She blushed and held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, King Noctis. I would bow, but someone has to be weird!” She giggled as she bopped Prompto on the nose.

Noctis laughed. “It’s nice to meet you, Jade. And please, just call me Noctis. And Prompto has always been weird, so I hope you didn’t enter this marriage thinking that it would normalize him.”

“Believe me, I wouldn’t have him any other way,” she said as she smiled at her love.

Ignis walked over to Chandra, lacing his fingers with hers, and led her over to Noctis.

“Noct, this is my wife, Chandra.” He seemed to swell with pride as he introduced her, and it made her heart flutter.

Noctis’s eyes widened before a large smile spread across his lips. “Chandra, it’s so nice to meet you. You have no idea how happy I am that Ignis has found someone to call his own.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you too, Noctis. Ignis is the best thing that’s happened to me. Thank you for being in his life and taking him on your journeys. Without you, I may have never met him in the first place.” She gave Ignis’s hand a squeeze and he lifted hers to his lips for a tender kiss.

Noctis looked between his friends, overjoyed that they had people in their lives to live for and had each other. It made him feel a little less guilty about leaving them so soon.

At the campsite, Noctis begged his friends to tell him all about the last ten years. They made Ignis go first and explain about the pull he had for Chandra, his surgeon wife, and how they ended up together, got married soon after, and had their now four-year-old daughter, Gabriella. Then Prompto had to go on and explain how he met Jade, who was Chandra’s friend and also a nurse who worked with her in the surgery suite at the hospital. They had only been married for three years, but were eager to start a large family. Gladio then went on to tell Noctis about how he was planning to propose to his girlfriend, Saffron, whom he met when she came to Lestallum to visit her cousin, Jade.

“It’s funny how we’re all connected now, huh?” Gladio laughed.

“So it is…” Noctis mused.

After speaking of the past, the men had to face the future. Noctis explained what had to be done and he thanked his friends for being there for him. It was an emotional end to the night. Though none of them were sure how the next day would end, they all knew they were in it together.  Prompto and Gladio had already gone into the tent to prepare for bed while Ignis finished up the dishes. He had cooked one final meal for the group, and was packing up as much as he could so that they could get an early start in the morning. Noctis walked over and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Ignis?”

“Yes, Noct?”

“I think you had the story wrong.”

Ignis raised an eyebrow above his protective shades. “Come again?”

“You had the story wrong! The story of the red string of fate!”

He was confused. “What do you mean?”

Noctis patted him on the back. “You said that each person had a red string of fate tied around their pinky finger and that the other end was tied to the pinky finger of their soulmate.”

Ignis nodded. “Yes, that was the story I was told.”

Noctis smiled. “Yes, and you told me that you didn’t believe it and that fate was something saved for those with a greater purpose in life, like me.”

“I do recall saying so. I have since then slightly changed my stance on the matter, but I still don’t see what you’re getting at.”

“The red string doesn’t just tie some lucky soulmates together. It’s a web. It forms the tapestry of life. None of us can exist without each other in our lives, even if we only make a small appearance. If Chandra hadn’t appeared to you in Altissia, you would have probably died, and honestly, I don’t know if we would have made it to Gralea without you, Specs. And if you hadn’t found Chandra in the snow, she probably would have died out there.”

“Then think about it. If you and Chandra hadn’t gotten together, Prompto may not have overcome his feelings of inadequacy. Chandra has been not only a good friend to you, but to Prompto as well. Without her, he probably wouldn’t have met Jade.”

“And without Jade, Gladio probably wouldn’t have met Saffron,” Ignis continued. “I get it. The red string of fate not only connects soulmates, but friends as well. You, Prompto, Gladio, and I are connected like brothers.”

“Exactly. I don’t think I could have gone on this journey without you guys. As I’ve said before, you guys are the best. Without you, I may not have been able to fulfill my duty. I could still fail tomorrow, but somehow, I don’t think I will. I have a good feeling about this,” Noctis smiled sadly, tears prickling his eyes for the second time that night.

Ignis placed a hand on Noctis’s shoulder. “I’m really glad we’re friends, Noct. Come now, let’s go to bed.”

And with that, the two of them headed into the tent to restlessly sleep until the final battle.

Epilogue

As the sun rose for the first time in ten years over Eos, multitudes of people rejoiced. Daemons disintegrated in the sunlight and the world finally saw a glimmer of hope. Chandra and Jade had spent the night in Cindy’s apartment over the garage, and both woke to the rays of light hitting their faces.

“They did it,” Chandra whispered as tears streamed down her face.

“Yes, but did they make it?” Jade whimpered.

Chandra was unsure. She had barely slept, tossing and turning, worrying about her daughter and her husband. They had left Gabriella with Jade’s mother, who was like a surrogate grandmother to the little girl. Ignis hadn’t wanted Gabriella to deal with the immediate aftermath of his death, should that be his fate that day. What will I tell her if he doesn’t come back? She wished she could feel Ignis—to truly know that he was okay. At that moment though, she felt numb. Was he gone, or was she just too preoccupied to feel him? As the women sat there, worrying about their men, Cindy walked in carrying two cups of Ebony.

“The sunlight is glorious, ain’t it,” she attempted to lighten the mood. She looked between the two women and sighed. “Well don’t just sit there and worry and put more wrinkles in your pretty little faces. Drink some coffee! I’m sure those fellows will be back in no time!”

They sat in silence, barely sipping their Ebony, when suddenly Chandra felt a familiar tug in her chest. She nearly sloshed coffee down her front as she slammed the cup down on the floor next to her bedroll. “Ignis!”

Jade nearly spit out her Ebony. “What? Where?”

“Don’t you feel that? That tug?” Chandra jumped up and scrambled to put on a hoodie and jeans.

“What? Chandra, you know the pull I feel for Prompto isn’t nearly as strong as the one you feel for Ignis.  No one else I know can feel the pull the way you two can. It’s unnatural.” Jade jumped up to change clothes as well. “You two appear to each other in spirit too. Prompto and I can only share each other’s happiness, and right now I feel nothing because obviously this isn’t a joyous occasion for him!”

The women burst out the door and hurried down the steps, Chandra taking the lead. She ran out across the parking lot and into the road. Just over the furthest hill, she could make out three figures slowly trudging towards Hammerhead. It took everything in her not to take off sprinting towards them. She knew they would be hurting, physically and emotionally, so she wanted to give them space.

As the figures came into view, Jade grabbed Chandra’s hand and started crying. “They’re alive. They’re actually alive! Except for…”

“Except for Noctis,” Chandra whispered. The guys had told them beforehand that Noctis would likely not return, but they still had hoped he would all the same.

When the men were within a hundred yards, Jade lost her composure and sprinted forward to Prompto. She practically tackled him and they sat down on the pavement, holding each other, the two of them sobbing. Gladio reached Chandra first. Tears pricked her eyes as she looked up into his bloodshot amber orbs. She reached out to him and he squeezed her hand in return. “Gladio. I’m so sorry. I’m really glad to see you though.”

He attempted to smile but it fell flat. The King’s Shield had just lost the only thing he had sworn to protect and he felt numb. “Yeah, thanks. I’m going to go call Saffron. She’s going to kill me for not letting her come here with me in the first place.”

Chandra turned and watched as Ignis limped towards her. She closed the distance between them and slammed into his chest. She slid her arms around his waist, the waterworks coming on full force. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his head on hers, tears streaming into her hair.

“You’re alive,” she sobbed. “You came back.”

He pulled away and grabbed her chin, pulling her face up to his to kiss her salty, tear-stained lips. “No,” he corrected. “I came home.”  

The End