#thumbs down. insomnia warrior

[windupaidoneus]

stupid fuckass migraine!!! goot bye

[hwaightme]

Burning

(masterlist) (taglist)

🔥 pairing: best friend!mingi x gn!reader 🔥 genre: fluff, healing, friends to lovers, slice of life 🔥 summary: down winding roads, through the golden fields and into the shimmering night, you and mingi embark on a journey to live and love once again 🔥 wordcount: 5.5k 🔥 warnings/tags: editing??, language, indie film style, loosely inspired by murakami's 'barn burning' + youth mv, injuries/scabs, band aids/treatment, escapism, restarts, running away, love through hardship, healing, implied trauma, food/eating, reflecting on the past, mingi would do anything for you, arson 🔥 taglist: at the bottom of the fic 🔥 a/n: happy birthday to @byuntrash101!! my most wonderful cat, i love you, thank you for every moment and here is to many more <3 hugs to everyone, all reblogs, notes and comments appreciated! 🔥 playlist: the last stop of our pain - hanroro, the setting sun - the poles, bye - car the garden, summer night - jeon jinhee, 14:30 - damons year, silence - sunwoojunga, so life goes on - heo hoy kyung, dear my all - mingginyu

You looked down at your hands, spreading the fingers out and relaxing them again, watching the movement of every line and wrinkle. Band aids bent and took on the shape you commanded; the one in an off-white shade after having taken on the brunt of the physical burdens, - a ring that was wrapped around the middle finger of your right hand was frayed at the edge, having had to through the test of the elements and of haphazard lugging of items in and out of the white car on which you were sitting. The other, skin toned, sturdy and strictly not letting anything dare infect you, hugged the side of the same hand and spread a little to your palm. The markings of a person who ‘could’, and a person who ‘did’. 

Gaze travelling downwards led you to a leather bracelet with a silver charm - a simple accessory, but one that held years of history, meaning and memories that tied you to the original owner. You were never one for big celebrations, having gotten used to treating every day the same as the rest - a uniform, dark reality where you were nothing but a little cog. The only mission you had ever had before this moment was to keep on turning. This bracelet was a promise, and a hope for a new beginning. 

Golden fields and a warm grey sky blending into a hazy blend of yellowish green and burnt sienna. A tired breeze that had long lost its fight reminded you that you could still feel, running through your hair, dancing across your skin. The sweater you had borrowed was much too loose at the shoulders, and thus offered little to no protection from the elements. Nonetheless, the comfort it offered, along with the aroma that had permanently intertwined with the threads of the cotton fabric brought more than enough warmth to your heart, and caused a blush to rise on your cheeks. It was a considerable contrast to your still slightly tear-stained, exhausted eyes around which the signs of last night’s terrors were still remaining. But even then, the despair that had come with the sensation had been washed away by a caring thumb, a loving hand, a single impression that solidified that you were never going to be alone.

You moved to run a finger across the plasters, curious as to how the cuts beneath were healing. Little scars of a warrior. You had fought for your way and for your life and for your right to smile and breathe and enjoy the earthly wonders. The last days before your final decision to escape were somewhat of a whirlwind, tainted by persistent insomnia, demons that haunted you day and night and the yelling of far too many people, projects and parasitic ponderings. Even the things that had been under your control grew minds of their own and searched for ways to destroy you, be it in hiding a mistake in a word, an error in a table or a fiendish administrative problem. Those days were a countdown, until in one last effort to survive, you cried out for salvation and admitted that it was all too much. And in that chaotic flood that was threatening to swallow you whole, one person had been waiting, and before you knew it, you were safe, had someone cheering for you, sharing your anguish.

“Hey don’t do that. We don’t have any band aids left and I’m not about to go Rambo mode and go picking grass to wrap you up,” you turned to follow the sounds of the low, raspy voice, smiling softly as you met your friend’s mildly concerned expression. Black hair, softly tousled; you barely could restrain yourself from reaching out and ruffling those locks. Beauty marks like stars on that wonderful, charming face. Slightly parted lips that appeared to be holding back sagas and everlasting tales. Lips that you could watch move forever.

“It’s fine, Mingi, I was just checking.”

“That was some intense checking you’re doing, refrain from it,” he retorted and crossed his arms while pinching the sleeves of his black knit sweater so as to not let them slide up.

“Says the person who keeps picking at their face like no tomorrow. Without bandages, mind you. At this rate-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ll sort myself out, alright?” Mingi winced as his tongue darted to the scabbed over gash on the side of his mouth, making you exhale sharply, bemused. You could sense him taking his words back with a shake of the head. One step back, another, and in a quiet mumble he added: “...at the next rest stop we’ll fuel up the truck, fuel ourselves and maybe get a proper first aid kit.”

“Sounds good.”

Turning one of the many rings on his fingers, your friend could not hold your gaze and resorted to studying the ornate silver patterns and precious embedded stones. It had been the same when he had first offered this way out for you. A man, supposedly tall and impressive in physique, but appearing so small as he stumbled over his words, one idea pouring and drowning another out until they connected like a puzzle and formulated a vision that was somewhat concrete. Though, even if there was no final agreement in his mind, you would have agreed anyway. All that mattered was that each sentence carried a ‘we’. And with that, you were more than happy.

Was it long ago that you had met him? It felt like eternity. You could not imagine any other life, at least not one where you had a chance at happiness. Sure, you had your fights and squabbles. It would be a big lie if you were to say everything was sunshine and rainbows. Both snappy and hot headed at times, you had each said a fair share of things you did not want to say. But it was the awareness and growing from mistakes that had led you to where you were now. You had both walked through some dark times, and ended up in the golden hour, surrounded by an equally glowing expanse of flora, reaping what you two had sowed.

“What are you looking at me like that for?”

“Hm?”

“I don’t get it, I know I have the thing on my cheek but… hate to break it to you, you don’t have healing powers,” ever so logical, Mingi was, once again, trying to establish a chain of thought. You had gotten better at explaining your thinking out loud, as did he, but in times where you were particularly wistful, words escaped you.

“I don’t know…”

“As if I do. Are you hungry?”

“I’m not a cat-”

“Then why?” he chuckled, lips automatically stretching into a toothy grin as you chuckled.

“‘Cause I can.”

“Okay then,” a breath escaped you as you stared at his hand, suddenly falling to meet the car’s surface and looked up to see him leaning over, staring intently at you. Through you. Like he could read you. Any courage you had disappeared, and you shook your head in defeat.

“Fine, fine,” how could someone put into words the feeling of wanting to picture an individual in everything and everyone? 

How could you say that even in the grass that surrounded you, in the long winding roads, in the cloudy skies you were glad to be able to see Mingi. It had been a lifetime indeed. A lifetime of seeing him without realising it, a lifetime of looking forward to being together with him and falling apart when you weren’t, and now, when you were side by side with only the sun, moon and empty fields to bear witness, you were scared to blink. Like all this time would disappear. Priceless seconds. Mingi was merciful enough to note a tinge of nervousness, and backed away. It was obvious enough that he did not quite let your reaction go, but neither you nor him were ever ones to push further than necessary and beyond the other’s personal limits. 

“Right, time to get going if we want to make it to the barn by midnight.”

“Okay.”

“Want to ride in the back or-”

“With you,” you did not mean to sound so ambiguous, but thankfully as Mingi was busy opening the door to the driver’s seat, he did not catch on, or courteously did not pry.

“Ah, you’re right. It’ll be getting cold pretty quickly, won’t it?” 

As if you were not wrapped up and huddled in the bunch of blankets, backpacks and crocheted pillows just last night when you were parked at the last rest stop, silently accepting your friend’s reassurance as you mourned a past you were not going to miss. He knew what you were going through, and so he stuck beside you instead of heading for those plasters when he technically could have. 

“A few hours won’t change these little cuts, but they can change you, and I’d rather be here so you’re not alone.”

The phrase resonated in your heart as you took your place beside Mingi, staring out at the windshield. With a quick glance to your left you could just catch his reflection in the glass, and with another tilt, the man himself. His plush lips, the beautiful curve of his nose, how the black-framed glasses that he had fished out of the cupholder between you suited him so well. Focused, he turned the key until a satisfying rumble consumed the vehicle, signifying its awakening. On instinct, Mingi’s arms flew to their respective positions, and he drove out of the improvised parking spot back out to the infinite line of cement - the one sign of civilization that had the ability to assure you that you were indeed going in the right direction. Since Mingi was familiar with this part of the country, however, you would not have minded even a sudden, more wild change in the scenery. 

Choosing to not surf the radio stations in search of something remotely tolerable, you drove to the sound of your musings and let the last of the grey haze wash over you before the sun that was concealed by the thick cloud would inevitably fall into a slumber. For the first time in a while, you could enjoy the quiet without it being interrupted by a cacophony of inner qualms and disturbing rage. You could catch the occasional note from Mingi’s humming - a habit of his that you had grown to love. Every time, it was something unexpected. Be it a tune he was making up on the spot or one that you were familiar with, you never tired of how his thoughts travelled, and were delighted by the soundtrack which he was subconsciously crafting for the life you just so happened to share. Serendipity, writing a future that Mingi was taking you towards.

The idea he had proposed might have been radical, but it was the only one that made sense. Besides, it was not going to cause any harm. At the end of the day, the property belonged to a distant relative, said relative had no use for it, so… the conclusion and final decision basically made itself. The act to mark an entry into being your new self had to be grand, a lot more grand than what you had already done, and Mingi, being a creative mind, of course could be trusted to invent a performance of the century. Just for you.

A dreamlike day turned into an equally surreal evening as you halted at the gas station attached to the last rest stop of your adventure, with Mingi’s call dragging you out of your thoughts. You confirmed to him that you were fine with a quick smile and followed him out of the trusty Dodge. Patiently, you idled about as Mingi unscrewed the opening to the fuel tank and reached for one of the nozzles, rolling a stray piece of gravel under your shoes. Crickets, a myriad of crickets hidden under the cover of nighttime launched into a crescendo of their trill song, so much so that the buzz of the fluorescent lamp that illuminated the lonely station was almost completely drowned out. A light touch on your upper arm alerted you that Mingi was done, and you promptly followed him to the convenience store.

As though by newly found habit, he gravitated towards the bright red canisters lined up by the register, while you gave him a wary glance before ambling towards the ready to eat meals. Soon enough, Mingi joined you, satisfied by his quick perusal, and with a basket in his hand. Without a word, he picked up your favourite snack and was about to toss it in:

“This one, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

It never failed to be amusing how, despite the innumerable occasions when you two had eaten together, Mingi still liked to check with you that your favourite foods were, in fact, still your favourite foods. You had to admit that it was very endearing and comforting to you. Without even considering it, he always gave you room for change, in every way you could imagine. Or maybe you were exaggerating and letting your fantasies speak for themselves. You could not help but dart your eyes at Mingi when he turned his back to you, spotting the two beaded necklaces you had made for him some time ago still being a part of his usual outfit. And so, you wondered, how large was the room for transformation? What could this brand new future of yours include?

“Ah… wait… band aids… should we get that… What was it? Antiseptic-”

“You said a whole kit.”

“Right. Let’s go try and find it… wait what if they don’t stock one?” eyebrows weighed down with doubt, Mingi looked at you like he was about to apologise. You sighed, moving to run a hand down his back. The gesture startled Mingi, but he did not stop you, instead choosing to wait it out and see your intentions. You noticed him lightly biting his lower lip as he stared back at you, perplexed.

“We’ll find the essentials then. It’s not like we are disappearing from society for the rest of time, yeah?”

“Yeah…” had he continued, you swore he would have expressed his wish for what you had joked about to be the case. Luckily, you were pleasantly surprised by the wide selection of items to pick from, and left confident in the remainder of your trip.

In the fluorescence of the small store, and then inside of the parked car as you devoured your pre-made dinner, you were suspended in pure bliss. To your right was your partner in everything, friend or however your silly racing heart wanted to call him. Above you, the stars - a vista worth driving further out from the rest stop for. Propped up on the cushions, this was your definition of heavenly and healing. Colours had regained their vibrancy, and finally, you were no longer too fatigued to notice the intricacy of things that had previously passed you by. Who could have guessed that the packaging of the sandwiches you used to buy before work to throw in the office fridge had changed? And apparently a bit of time ago, too? What else have you been missing? For certain, you had been missing out on times like this, where you could hold a comfortable pause with Mingi, simply enjoying each other’s company while digging into your meals. It was astonishing to think how many breakfasts, lunches and dinners that you could have had with the one person who always believed in you were ripped away from you by obligation and unwanted routine. Not for longer. 

“Mingi.”

“Hm?” he hummed while chewing, eyes widened as he turned towards you. Quickly enough, he swallowed the bite, and waited for you to continue.

“I’m glad… that we can be here like this.”

“Oh… I…” at a loss for words, he let himself swim in your spontaneous confession.

“I am just… happy. Very happy. Thank you. Thank you for being the one who I can trust, thank you for sticking with me through complete and utter chaos, thank you for being you,” the words came naturally, buried under layers of hurt that needed time to evaporate. But now, the ritualistic expedition was wondrous in combating your inner demons, and in turn, let you speak for yourself, for your own feelings rather than those of illusory authority that had previously spoken for and was in charge of your every action, whether you were aware of it or not.

“No biggie. Things get in the way sometimes, but we’re here now, aren’t we?”

“Yes, that we are.”

“It’s going to get even easier soon, just you wait.”

A hand in midair, waiting for you to lift yours and meet it. Confused, you did so automatically, yelping when Mingi moved it closer to himself, and in a swift motion planted a soft, almost shy kiss on the back. He was careful to not put any pressure on the cuts which he had just re-cleaned and covered, along with the miniature wounds that only found themselves under the stinging alcohol solution, but kept on holding onto you, debating whether you would let him stay like this to his heart’s content, or if you would pull away. The tips of his digits reached the bracelet, and you could imagine a thrum of kindred energy reconnecting the item and the man. Shock prevented you from acting rashly, and so you simply read the fire in Mingi’s sparkling eyes, your favourite blaze that helped you out of a chasm, one that you would protect with your entire being until the world collapsed on you. And even then, you would stand up and try again.

Relief was evident in his features, from the curling of his lips to the relaxing of his shoulders. Clearly, an unfathomable pressure was lifted from his exhausted body. Every mile travelled, you were making revelations, it seemed. Venturing into the unknown, you were not quite sure who you were looking at anymore. Of course, you were confident in his name, in his presence, in his significance, but the many roles which he played in your years on this tiny planet left you struggling for words. Who was Mingi to you? Who were you to Mingi? Long gone were the days where you two had been moderately content with a distant and rapidly cooling friendship separated by glass and busy schedules. You were close. So close, that if the recklessness of acting on instinct caught up with you, you would get burned. 

Burning, like your hand despite Mingi having let it float in solitude some time ago to stand up and hop out of the back of the pickup truck. Set ablaze like your heart and soul that were feverishly awaiting a shining dawn. Your tired eyes could only watch your one wish turn the key in the ignition again, determined to help you start over. Could he be your sun? If you were to say anything more than a hollow whisper to the moon, would you fall away and lose him? You were about to bring the fingers of your left hand to run over the other, but you stopped, remembering Mingi’s comedically stern words. Instead, you imagined him pressing his lips against it again, heat rising to your cheeks upon recollection. A quick glance to the driver’s seat, and you could swear you caught the ghost of a smirk dancing across your so-called friend’s face, but chose not to comment so as to not spark a conversation you knew you would not be able to continue. 

“We’ll be there soon. There’s a neat shortcut we can take so it shouldn’t take us more than an hour.”

You nodded, trusting his judgement. Your thoughts were elsewhere, anyways and could not offer many suggestions in terms of the journey. These parts were foreign to you, and your decision-making here was as good as whenever you had a professional point to prove or a dream to follow; both flew out of your hands to be smited. At least in the case of the meandering roads, you had Mingi to shield you, letting you wander in your own mindscape for as long as you needed. The mind was a mysterious place, traversing memories both from years ago and ones that documented your most recent escapades much the same, though, maybe now they were all in brighter hues. The last of what was tying you down was packed and stashed right behind you and Mingi, both in the tiny space between the seats and the back of the cabin as well as in the exposed trunk outside. The monochrome madness stuffed into rucksacks, swaddled in sheets like a crying infant manifesting your prayers for the noise of a prior existence to cease demanding your attention. You were ready to let it all turn to ash, and be reborn.

It was fascinating how quick Mingi was to jump into action. Part of you wondered whether it was due to the times you had helped him, and he wished to somehow repay you. Or was this a genuine devotion? As the road turned into an unruly dirt path, you were certain it was the latter.

‘It’s our journey. I might not know everything that’s going on behind your forehead, and you would not know that about me, but the least we can do is stick through the worst storms.’

The grumbling of the engine turned into a roar as Mingi’s heavy combat boot pushed down even stronger on the accelerator. When people spent enough time together, they were bound to become more and more similar; such was the case with you and him. Parts had been exchanged, parts blended, and it was hard to think of a picture where there was a lack of the other’s presence in some form. Be it in behaviour or in little bits of jewellery. Mingi was driving selfishly, because he was driving for you and for the few breaths of air you had remaining in your lungs after holding up boulders of others’ opportunities at the cost of your own passions. There was experience, there was development, but there was also a need for self-preservation and a necessity to stop for the sake of health and mental clarity, and Mingi was not about to lose you. 

“D’ya want to roll the window down? You…” used to do that when you and him were teens. He did not have to say it. No matter the weather, even if for a few seconds, you wanted to be one with the air, a flightless bird that finally got a chance to glide with the wind, pleasantly lost in the elements. Maybe one day you could return to that same carefree nature. You shook your head.

“It’s a little cold outside.”

“How about this…” while slowing down a little to not lose control of the car, Mingi reached around and behind his seat, fishing for something. Finally, having found what he was looking for, he flashed a triumphant grin and produced his dark grey denim jacket, letting it land on your lap.

You raised an eyebrow, unsure of what your friend was implying. But as soon as the first hint of a breeze hit you and you saw the window start its slow descent under Mingi’s command, a chuckle escaped you. So it was not a question after all, but an encouragement, perhaps even a challenge. Giving in, you pulled the jacket over yourself like a blanket, and stared at the all-knowing constellations that decorated the cosmic expanse - the best reminder of just how small you really were, and to what priceless insignificance your troubles amounted to. In the grand scheme of things, nothing really mattered, and so, you did not see anything as ‘too out of pocket’ anymore. Might as well enjoy life instead of letting it race past you for once.

It was a mystery to you when you fell asleep; you could only recall the ghostly pale silver and ashen blue that spread over the wheat fields and another serene, barely audible serenade hummed by Mingi. But just as quickly as you had drifted into a dreamless slumber, you jolted awake at the sound of your name being repeated once, twice by your best friend. Momentarily lost, you waited for your vision to focus before following the sounds of the truck door clicking shut and of rubber soles hitting gravel by fumbling for the handle. As soon as you opened the salon, you were embraced in full by the omnipresent hum of wildlife and distant rustle of leaves and tall grass, the field at which you stopped having been long abandoned and left barren, with only dirt to present as a fruit of labour.

Stepping onto the soft earth, you could feel the cool dampness beneath your shoes, a tactile reminder of the quiet countryside that surrounded you as far as the eye could see. Mingi, his presence like a comforting shield in the stillness of the night, paused in his search for the tools he had packed. A profound hush settled over the landscape, prompting you to tilt your head and look on further, to spot the target barely a couple hundred metres away. So this was it. The promised sacrifice. The place where the past could finally quit holding on to you and tearing you apart. The abandoned barn loomed ahead like a relic from another universe and a time long gone.

The moonlight painted the barn in ethereal shades, casting a melancholic beauty upon its worn facade. Mingi's eyes held the weight of a thousand untold stories and observations, and in the quiet exchange of glances, you detected a shared understanding – a recognition that you had the right, and more than deserved to forgive yourself, and throw away the hurt you had accumulated over the years with a light heart. He stood beside you, holding onto the sacks that you had stuffed full of items that haunted you, mutely berated you and induced agonising ruminations. Papers, trinkets, utter garbage that you had never been able to throw out on your own, all collected like nightmare capsules and you were more than elated to bid them farewell.

He had not yet taken off his glasses, eager to move onwards and upwards. One of these days you might muster up the courage to tell Mingi just how handsome he was in whatever style he chose, but that was a mission for a more courageous you. From tonight into the myriad of tomorrows. Your partner in self-revolution stretched his arms towards you, gingerly passing the hefty items over and waiting for you to get a better grip. To think that there were clouds of buzzing paranoia and dread attached to either one - suffocating, persistent.

While regarding Mingi’s tranquil resolve, you discovered a sliver of a near-boyish excitement, so characteristic of him before growing pains had changed your relationship and all that came with it, that your heart ached, and a prickly sensation made itself known on the back of your hand where he had left a solitary peck. And yet, he still was not giving up on you. From the pocket of his jeans - appearing to take on the shade of a washed out chrome under the shining skies, Mingi produced a box of matches, and upon leaning closer to the truck, grasped the handle of a stick protruding from a miniature canister. More than enough to carry out the impending transformation. Mingi’s stunning orbs met yours, and without words, he conveyed a mixture of determination and sorrow, a silent promise and cheer for the grand finale.

"Here’s to letting go, and to holding on to the things that make us right," he uttered, his voice carrying the power of a truth that echoed in the night air.

“Then… I’ll be right back.”

“I will be here. Cousin said everything’s unlocked. Put things in places where the fire’ll reach.”

One step. Another. Walk turning into run, you chased after who you wished to become and propelled yourself with unprecedented pride. You could do this. With one quick push the door to the barn creaked open, and you made haste in lining the walls with who you used to be. You could taste ash on your tongue and see the fire in your pupils even though you were consumed by pitch black; here, you had the final say. Upon throwing the sacks into whatever direction, you felt your way back out, and returned to Mingi who, apparently, had the time to reposition the car a little to have the back be facing the barn. With a mischievous grin he greeted you, and pulled you into a quick embrace before giving you a matchstick and the box and leading the two of you to the structure one last time.

This had been an agreement between you - you were the one to light the first flame, and he was the one to do the rest. Though this was a journey of healing, he did not wish for you to delude yourself into a guilt-ridden state. Mingi could bear the brunt of that for you and wear it like a badge of honour. As though patrolling the grounds, he went in a circle around the barn, leaving behind the acrid stench of splattered gasoline. Suddenly, the act felt more and more real. A yelp caught in your throat as Mingi shoved the empty canister inside through a loose wooden board, now only holding onto the unlit torch. Gazed at you, awaiting the monumental execution. 

Trembling just a little, on the third try you managed to light the match, and stepped to the building full of your painful memories. the flames danced in the blackness like whispers of farewell. As you approached the ancient barn with Mingi in toe, the match's glow illuminated the grains of wood that had weathered countless storms. The night seemed to draw its breath, as though it sensed the profound act about to unfold. Outstretching the judgement between your fingers, you hesitated for a fleeting moment. The gravity of the act hung heavy – the acknowledgment that setting fire to the past was a painful necessity for new beginnings. Nevertheless, you were certain. The barn, with its history that you will never learn, became a symbol of surrender, resilience and perseverance. Holding your breath, you dropped the match, but when the result did not satisfy you, you sensed a wave of rage. You wanted more, you needed it all gone from sight and experience. 

“Mingi.”

“Hm?”

“The torch, please.”

“Oh?”

“Please.”

With a silent understanding, Mingi raised the torch, the flames licking eagerly at its edges, and passed it to you. The blade that would slash through it all. The full stop at the end of this turbulent chapter. As you touched the fire to the barn, a crackling symphony echoed through the night. The dry wood, with the base generously coated in gasoline caught quickly, and soon the barn was ablaze, a kaleidoscope of oranges, reds, and yellows against the backdrop of the moonlit fields.

The flames danced with an insatiable hunger, consuming the old wood with a fervour that mirrored the intensity of emotions in the hearts of the witnesses. Shadows flickered and danced on the ground, casting ephemeral images of what once was, each crackle of the fire a poignant reminder of the release happening before your eyes. Mingi turned to you, his eyes reflecting the blaze that mirrored the intensity of his and your emotions. In that poignant moment, the warmth of the fire contrasted with the chill in the night air, echoing the bittersweet nature of letting go.

"We are making room for something new," he whispered before pulling you into a long-awaited kiss, as searing and filled with longing as the soaring flames that illuminated your bodies. The crackling fire served as a cathartic release, and in its glow, you saw promise. As soon as you parted, the two of you rushed to the truck, climbing to take the front seats to admire the masterpiece, not daring to sit apart, holding onto each other through it all.

As the fire continued its dance, the night bore witness to the act of relinquishing the old, a solemn ritual that paved the way to more and more. Together, you and Mingi stood amidst the mesmerising spectacle, your hearts intertwined with the rhythm of the burning, ready to step into the unknown and shape a destiny yet to unfold.

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[keicordelle]

A Map of Memories

Fandom: FFXIV Rating: E Pairing: Estimeric Word Count: 4k Tags: Established Relationship, Scars, Body Worship, Vulnerability, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Consent, Gentle Sex, Anal Fingering, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, POV First Person, POV Aymeric de Borel

Summary: Every warrior bears reminders of their mortality on their body, and Estinien has walked with death more often than most. From ragged masses and twisted valleys to slim lines of silver faded with age, his skin is littered with scars, and Aymeric is grateful for each and every one, for each scar is another time Halone could have called her champion home. He follows the map they make with the reverence they are due, charting the course of Estinien's life inscribed permanently over his body with gentle fingers and soft lips, and no force in the world could make him see them as blemishes; they are beautiful, and he's more than happy to remind Estinien of it any chance he gets.

-

Silken skin gave way to ragged scar tissue beneath my fingers, the puckered line as familiar as every other plane of Estinien's body as I traced along its length. The moonlight streaming in through the window turned it silver, the marks of where stitches had held his flesh together splattered unevenly around the old wound like shining drops of blood. Like so many others, it had healed poorly, no magics to soothe the burden of memory slashing across his arm. It was far from the most fearsome of the scars scattered across his skin like constellations in the night sky, but the pain buried in its shining lines was no lesser for it, and even the heavens could not bear the weight of the wounds that gilded Estinien's body.

He sighed in his sleep as my fingers danced along his flesh, insomnia almost kind as it offered the perfect opportunity to gaze upon him uninterrupted. I traced lower, down the tanned muscles of his arm turned colorless in the dimness, across scars so small they were like freckles more than wounds, faded by time until they'd all but vanished from this map of memories carved into flesh. Scratches that seemed no worse than the slip of a razor belied the slices of much larger blades, almost lost in the fine white hair that covered his forearms. Silver shone in the creases of his muscles and across his veins, highlighting the texture of his arm even as it was relaxed in sleep. I brushed feather light fingers across its surface, hair shifting beneath my touch until it became an erratic swirl patterned off his scars and I smoothed it down, relishing the feeling of his skin under my palm. He was so warm, an affront to the snow that drifted in soft banks outside like the spill of his hair over his pillow, his body alone enough to fend off the chill that curled through the air. For all his surly nature and gruff reticence he had always been the warmest person I knew, until it seeped into my soul like sunshine over the horizon.

The loose curl of his fingers invited me to lace them through my own, to feel the roughness of his callouses against my palm and the bite of his knuckles against my own. I could stroke my thumb across the back of his hand, mapping the way his veins stood out against his bones and tracing the little scar I knew graced the side of his thumb from the time he caught his hand on the horn of his own helm. His fingers twitched in his sleep, almost as if he knew what I was thinking, and I let my fingertips slide against his palm and up the length of those strong, talented digits, only fear of rousing him keeping me from clasping them.

-

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[subbing-for-clones]

The New Apprentice Part 5

Maul x sith!reader 

Word Count: 3135  

WARNINGS: Mentions of blood, remnants of a battle field and dead bodies, pining, fluff

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       When your transport touched down on Malachor you didn't feel the urge to run in exploration like you had exhibited with Corellia or Dathomir. You absolutely felt that familiar pull from the force, you were in the right place but you were still hesitant. When the door opened and the ramp hissed out you turned to your master for instruction.

"I cannot guide you here apprentice. You felt the call and now, you must answer it. I will follow but you must lead the way." He extended his arm out towards the horizon.

    Before continuing you reached down and removed your shoes wearing only the wrap from kicking the golden Zabrack’s horn. You took a deep breath and walked off of the ship with your eyes closed. A quiet gasp escaped your lips the second you felt the blackened rock underfoot. It was colder than you had expected. So much colder that it sent a chill up your spine and tapped into your anxiety. It was snuffed out when you felt a gentle pinging tug, deeper inside your belly than when you had felt it on Dathomir.

    You knew your eyes would be worthless and possibly even get in the way of this endeavor so you tore at the hem of your pants and fashioned a blindfold. As he said he would, Maul simply watched you, knowing your journey here would be much different than his own. Despite the fact he didn't really understand why you needed to be barefooted and blind.

    You led the way across the barren landscape only interrupted by the occasional black spire. Wind whipped around you. A vast crevice ripped through the rock in front of you and your master almost reached out to stop you from falling into it but you had come to a halt. Curling your toes around the edge. You felt the call come from the depths of this haunted place. Once you sensed it you gracefully leapt into the hellscape below followed by Maul.

      The air was stagnant, completely void of life. You felt like you had interrupted a deadly pantomime with the slightest twitch of your finger. Although you could not see the bodies that lay out before you, specks of residue that once were life force signatures permeated your senses. Light and dark.

"They're here master."

"You can feel them." It wasn't a question so much as an acknowledgement.

    You avoided the rougher terrain and the thousands of bodies expertly. In a way you could see them but it wasn't outlines so much as it was wavering hues.

"Were they Jedi?"

"Some of them, yes. Many of them, no. Malachor was a battlefield in the war between the Sith and the jedi, while our numbers were expansive."

    You felt the pulse of what you searched for nearby so you removed your blindfold to mourn all the lives had been lost or thrown away. Seeing now for the first time the true extent of the carnage. Many forms stood in what seemed like mid war cries or attack stances. Your brow furled in confusion.

"Many of them didn't fall to the saber or the attack of an opponent?"

"You are correct. The Sith hold a powerful weapon at the apex of our temple. One that has the ability to rob a vicinity of every ounce of life."

"So, no one won this battle.."

"Not this battle, everyone lost greatly. But it was our numbers that were permanently decimated before the rule of two was put into place." You nodded at his explanation. Staring into the ashen eyes of a Sith warrior frozen in battle with a jedi in front of you. You reached out and brushed a knuckle across his cheek. Your vision all but blacked while stars danced in front of them, your skin tingling. The pulse you felt stronger than ever.

"I WON’T LEAVE HER HERE!"....... your master's voice screamed. "Brother you must trust her. We have to leave … NOW." Savage surged forward trying to pull Maul along with him. They were missing limbs, dust kicking up underfoot.

Your eyes snapped open and fell upon the lord that stood before you.

"What did you see?" Maul asked from behind you.

"I... I don't know."

    The form of the man you had touched shifted in front of you as if life sprung from his soul once again. He reached to his side and took his second saber in his free hand. Dropping to his knee with ridged movements he held the two weapons out to you. You bowed your head to the warrior and accepted the gifts he offered to you.

    They felt light in your hands, much lighter than the one that hung from your belt. Their hum synced with your heartbeat.

"You must... extinguish...the fear.." his voice was wavering with a slight echo, growling almost as if it hurt to speak. You ignited the new blades, one stretching long and slim, the other half of its length and ever so slightly thicker. A wave of power washed over you, you were on the right path.

"The shadow.. cannot exist... without the light..." the warrior fell, his ashen body crumbling and drifted away in a wind that didn't blow as well as the remains of the jedi he was frozen in time with. Their dust intermingling in the air before falling to the bedrock. You removed the saber you had stollen and corrupted and let it fall to the earth.

    Your master sat in awe at what had played out before you both as you turned to face him. The ground started to shake unevenly, pebbles dancing across the land.

"We have to leave." He whispered harshly. "Now!" Maul pulled you out of your state, dragging you away until your feet caught up with your racing pulse. The two of you pounded your feet along the path you had come here on until the sky opened up above you. Maul jumped to the top before you could, shouting for you to follow. The opening shifted and started to close, panic in your master's eyes. You hadn’t exuded enough to make it to the opening and clung to a shelf just out of his grasp both of your arms reaching to one another.

"Master, I'm slipping I can't hold on." His eyes calmed.

"Darling let go. I've got you." You closed your eyes and released your grip trusting your master. You felt warmth from his force energy envelop your body as he lifted you out of the hole just as the crevasse closed behind you. Falling into his physical arms he held you tightly, protectively. You felt his relief ripple out of him and mix with your own.

    Heat flickered across your skin and you took a step back as he released you.

"What... what was that down there?" You stuttered. Maul pinched his chin with his finger and thumb, eyes down, in silence for a time.

"I honestly don't know. Nothing like that happened to me during my times in this place or on Korriban. Nor have I witnessed anything in its like. What I do know is that you got what you came for and were then in a way told to leave. I believe we must follow that last instruction and get back to Dathomir." You nodded in an apprehensive agreement and made your way back towards the ship just as the planet started to tremor again.

    You turned and took in the sight of Malachor one last time before your master closed the hatch and hurried to take off.

 ~~~~~

      It's like he was waiting for her. Like they weren't his blades, he was simply holding them for her. Extinguish the fear... what could that possibly mean. What will she bring down in this universe? Once the ship was positioned correctly, he made the jump to hyperspace. They had traveled two rotations to Corellia and another to get to Malachor. Three rotations.. what did she see in her vision when she first touched the fallen Sith?

    Maul stood and left the cockpit behind him wanting to give you some kind of guidance but he needed more information. He found you with your legs crossed sitting in the middle of the common area. Your eyes closed, feet still bare and your sabers resting in front of you.

    He sat behind you, his back lightly contacting yours. He relaxed and tried to extend his consciousness to meld with your own, this time purposeful. Maybe you could show him what you saw there. He couldn't reach you though, your mind was shut to everything around you. The only exception being a pinhole allowing the force itself inside but nothing else. He wouldn't force his way in. He could but he didn’t.

    Maul spent his time reading through the Holo-net News, limited strength training and occasionally trying to reach you to no avail. He tried to rest but found he couldn't. Insomnia back in full force without you. The restless sleep he was able to find was riddled with nightmares of Lotho Minor. He didn't realize exactly how strongly he had subconsciously come to rely on your presence. He growled in frustration both on what would be his third night without so much as an hour of uninterrupted rest and his attachment to you. He had never been attached to anything before. You had taken hold of him rather quickly.

    The familiar sound of the nav system indicating their arrival proved a comforting distraction as he guided the ship back to their camp. His apprentice's rancor Angel stomped out of the woods and finally your eyes opened.

"We're here already?"

"You've been meditating for the equivalency of three days now. We're you able to expand on your vision at all?"

"Not much but... well.. it's better that I show you."

    Maul watched as you stood and strode over to him. You took his hands and held them to your cheeks, taking another step towards him until your bodies were a breath apart. You felt the heat from his breath when you held him the same way you had directed him. Slowly drawing yourself forward and pressing your foreheads together, lips almost brushing. He trembled at the intimacy before figures danced in his mind.

    He saw what you had seen on Malachor. Him screaming for you and Savage denying access while you stood, arms raised holding something unseen back with the force. Savage made him leave you there. The two of them ran as well as they could to a destination he couldn't fathom until he no longer felt your force signature.

 ~~~~~

      When the shared experience ended you pulled your head away slightly and opened your eyes. His stare met your own and you could see a sadness in them. A regret of an action that hadn't yet come to pass.

"To predict one's own death is..." you cut him off.

"We don't know that that's what I saw. You know better than I that the future is not set in stone, we don't know what it means or what comes after."

    You released him and turned to the cooler to fetch some water. Finally feeling the effects of going three rotations in a deep meditative state.

"You are my Master and I your apprentice. I have already mentally prepared to give my life if it means you would live or if I should fail. Should that be what I saw."

    Maul tensed at your words, unwilling to accept this, he made his way for you.

"This... this is more than a master and his apprentice." He tenderly held the outside of your hip. "It has been since I took Savage to the nightsisters. You know it. I know it. I do not know what this is or what it will become but it's much more complicated than what you say."

    You laced your fingers with his and leaned back into him. Reaching your other hand up and tracing light touches around the base of his horns that sprouted from the back of his head. He gripped you tighter and nestled his face into the crook of your neck, his chest gently vibrating. "I will always keep you safe." He murmured.

    His usual mental armor had fallen away and although you didn't probe, it felt as if his thoughts pushed their way into your mind.

    Slowly...   gently... do not... devour her....

    Heat pooled in your lower abdomen and you whimpered. Turning into his hold you looked up into his glowing eyes, his pupils just starting to dilate. Cupping the nape of his neck you pulled his lips into yours. Lightly gliding them across his until you took hold in a passionate kiss. Maul groaned, had he ever felt this before? He couldn't remember if there ever was a time where he had.

    His hands and his lips acted in stark differences. His fingers held your hips hard enough you were sure their print would remain after his touch left. But his lips, his tongue; they danced gracefully almost meekly with your own. Your pulses hammered in your chests, faces flushed and nerves on fire.

    Not.. not yet...

    He delicately broke the connection between your mouths but your grasps remained. Struggling to catch your breath, he traced your jawline with his nail, gazing into you with adoration. "Patience." He whispered. "You haven't eaten in days." You chuckled and turned away to satisfy one of your hungers; cheeks still heated.

"Once you've satiated yourself bring your new sabers outside and we will verify that your blockage was in fact the jedi's weapon."

"Alright master." You replied, generously slathering butter on bread.

    He left you to it and exited the ship to stretch his legs. The kiss already feeling like it had only been a dream. He knew it was real though. Proven by a new found confidence in the air around you when you met him outside. New weapons in hand you ignited them. Maul did the same and took his ready position.

    Your forms were a night and day comparison to what they had been a few days previously. You dodged his attacks with intricate acrobatics and strong parries. Maul still got the better of you more than a few times but the difference was adamant.

"Well done. Much better. Still, lots of room for improvement but the simple switch in your weaponry has made an obvious change for the better." You bowed your head.

"Thank you master. I'm sure my abilities will be honed under your instruction."

"I have no doubt of that little one,” a mischievous glimmer twinkled in his eyes.

    You lifted your head to smile at him but something pricked at the back of your neck causing your hair to stand on end.

"Savage..." Maul whispered. "He's in pain."

    You wasted no time and made your way over to Angel, whispering something. He took off running towards the nightsister's encampment.

"I'm on it master. Its time he come home to us." You sat and closed your lids, taking over the mind of your beast and seeing clearly through his eyes.

"We will be in over our heads if we go to them directly and I personally don’t wish for the wrath of witches... if I can cause a large enough distraction for him to get to us..."

~~~~~

     The nightsister's camp was being ransacked by an enraged beast. Savage, covered in deep scratches and bloody bite marks could sense the familiarity as he stumbled out of the rocky fortress towards the barren clearing. "Angel?" The nightsisters had passed him without thought as they retreated into their temple to regroup. While they were out of sight Savage trusted his instincts and jumped onto the back of the beast, allowing it to whisk him away.

~~~~~

     When you could see they were almost to camp you opened your eyes and stood. Maul watched you closely but gave the both of you some space when Savage entered the camp on the back of Angel. He slid down the monster and made his way over to you. His body language gave off an air of awkwardness and his eyes were filled with regret.

"Young one... I'm so, so sor-."

    You launched yourself up into his arms, tightly wrapping your arms around his neck. Your feet dangled off the ground just below his knees. It took him a moment to get over his shock before he returned your embrace fervently, scrunching up his eyes.

"Please just... shut up. It's alright. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm alright." He set you down tenderly on the ground.

"I'm glad your back, YOU think I'm funny." You shot a playful glare over at your master who responded by coming up to your side and possessively running a finger down your spine before settling his palm across your lower back.

    Savage just glanced back and forth between the two of you, computing what had happened in the week he had been away.

"You two.. uh." Maul cut him off by turning on his heel with his hands behind his back looking at him over his shoulder.

"Some things have changed others have not Savage. What hasn't changed is that we will need an army to take our revenge and bring down the jedi. If my memory serves me correctly there are Weekquay pirates who can be paid to become loyal to our cause. Our next move is to acquire their services. We have much headway to cover. Your sister apprentice has made enough headway in her fighting skills to be battle ready.”

    Maul made his way back to the transport leaving Savage to blink at you slowly pointing at his brother's back with a confused look on his face. You giggled in response and linked your arm in his, waving goodbye to Angel possibly for the last time before boarding.

    It wasn't a long trip to the Sertar sector. It gave you enough time to excitedly fill in Savage on your experiences on Corellia and Malachor. Of course, he tried to ask about you and Maul under hushed breath but you only waggled your eyebrows at him. Eliciting a both a breathy chuckle followed by a slightly disgusted groan.

    Your master stayed in the cockpit most of the journey in thought. Thanking the Maker that you were on good terms with his brother, although he did have to fight occasional jealous pangs at your closeness. It was better that you two were friendly. When the planet Florrum came into view he readied the three of you for the next step of your adventure.

[themilky-way]

like water {din djarin}

gif credit: no-droids

pairing: the mandalorian/din djarin x fem!reader

summary: when the one person he cares about is threatened, he lets himself indulge in the aftermath of defending them. 

warnings: some violence in the beginning, choking (not in the fun way), depictions of scratches, punches, and minor abrasions; the reader is hurt basically. oh and mando’s gun bc yeah❤️umm that’s it i think? nothing too horrible tho but if this thing triggers you, please don’t read !!

author’s note: not to be conceited or anything (is that even the right word for it lol?) but im super proud of how this turned out! requests are open btw for anyone who wishes to submit anything (if unsure, just ask which fandoms)!

----------

cyar’ika-> darling, sweetheart

nothing in that exact moment had made much sense. one minute the most precious thing to ever exist to him was snatched away, and the next his hands were gripping the treasure beneath his holster. his knuckles were lily-white at this point, holding the gun as hard as his body would allow him to without crushing underneath him, and the urge to cock it made him visibly shake. he’d been given a command, and out of all the merciless men in the filthy galaxy, he needed to follow it, so his weapon of preference stayed where it needed to. 

the meager specks of emotion that still lived within him betrayed his prominent composure, the view in front of him blocked by the sudden glaze of his eyes. the small drops of saltwater puddled together in his now hazy orbs, holding on until it was nearly impossible to stay put and then rivered down his cheeks. the cause? well, you.

you were filling up the mandalorian’s line of vision, his eyes darting between you and the bounty that had gone wrong. an alienated hand was wrapped around your innocent throat, your feeble hands wrapped around its wrist in a dumb attempt to break free. the ground you were roaming on before appeared to be never ending, and in the same way, the darkened sky absorbed you whole. vertigo was now in full effect; any quick movement caused you to shut your eyes tightly and hope to the maker you’d get through it. it took a few seconds for you to regain your balance, a sharp pain pinging around your neck forcing you to find it. you half expected to be back on the mud again, to have the man you had spent the past year flying around with pulling you to safety. instead, you found din frozen in place, an instinctive action rooted in the steel handle of his pistol. he wasn’t moving, too scared to blink as if you’d disappear if he did. 

perhaps you were; someone like you seemed too good to be true. in all actuality, it may be that you were a fever dream, a celestial that had come down from the sanctity of your home to finally rescue him from his burdens. amidst his frantic glances, he reminisced every second he’d spent with you since your unforeseen arrival, and that somehow worked for him. the gears in his brain started to turn again, and with every ounce of his strength, he pounced on the quarry and did what he should’ve done the instant you were taken from him. anger took over his worry, the effects illustrating themselves in a collage of mitted fists and blood. the pistol residing on din’s waist was useless compared to his hits; the softened position of his jawbone was locked firmly as a result of his gritted teeth and he was going to need more than your delicate hand on his shoulders to ground his senses. 

the mandalorian never expected to succumb to anyone, nor to feel remotely joyful upon hearing someone’s laugh. the idea of kindling a relationship was ludicrous, utterly impossible if only he weren’t bound to the chains of his creed. oftentimes, he wondered if someone would one day traverse his path and make him question every moral he’d been taught. din had dismissed the thought, as any other member of his intricate society would have, but the wondrous insight depicting a different lifestyle always lingered faintly in his mind. 

today, the very same visions behind his recurrent insomnia framed themselves in a frail art piece. din’s focus laid directly ahead, the fingers navigating the center controls as tight as they’d been on his gun. his eyes deserved to rest, perhaps take in the splashes of color nature was offering him, but he landed them on the same lovely sculpture adorning his cockpit. 

you were seated in the chair adjacent from the pilot’s, with your knees closely tucked to your chest. one large scrape designed itself on your leg-a dull reminder of the ordeal you were involved in hours earlier-with flakes of arid blood protecting the wound. bouncing off the skin of your throat were shades of red and purple, now properly mixing into a deeper complexion that’d require you to hide it for some time. besides the scattered nicks living on your face, and the other couple dozen on your arms and legs, the outcome wasn’t as terrible as the one your attacker received. it was a rule of thumb to not mess with a mandalorian, much less with the pretty little lady clutching his arm as if it were second nature. the foolest of fools wouldn’t even have done such a foul thing, and this particular creature came to know the punishment for harming what wasn’t rightfully his. 

it truly amazed him; the way you seemed to be so unphased by a traumatic circumstance. the woman beside him-the same one who couldn’t sleep unless a window was open-had endured pain, and the marks on her skin proved themselves in jagged indications of it. through the darkened screen of his visor, din could make out your hands neatly intertwined around your folded knees, your chin simultaneously resting on top. you’d been as observant as you always were, hardly missing his actions as he navigated his newfound family to a safe stop. sure, you were unaware of the loving term he considered of you and the baby, but it didn’t hurt to keep it a secret, right?

“hey.” it came out more hoarse than he intended it to, but the emotion behind it flowed out nonetheless. “you okay?”

not really. i don’t feel good. it was easy to say exactly that, to speak the truth, but it was even easier to lie. for the sake of his own worry, at most. your eyes were still glued to his armor, taking in the rough outline of where you imagined his skin would be underneath, or moreso the abstract idea of feeling it with your hands. reflections of your yearning came and went like the mandalorian’s missions, almost impulsively at times, and the curious, teasing tilts his helmet would bid you only encouraged that craving. much like now; the black “T” of his expressionless face leaned to the side, asking you to earnestly respond. “mm, yeah. ‘m kinda tired, though,” you mumbled.

you threw him a lie and he caught it. “don’t lie to me.” din swiveled his chair to accordingly match the peripheral of yours, his elbows coming to rest on top of his beskar-clad legs. “can you look at me?” he inquired softly. then, his intent fell on the slow shift of your head and how it turned to face him, your cheek settling on your unscathed knee. a breath fell from his lips at the doting admiration swimming in your stare. “there she is,” he confirmed with an upward curl of his lips. “is there anything i can do?” it was sincere; a genuine concern to accompany his question. you hummed in response, fearful to accidentally voice the confessions you hid from him. you blinked once, twice, until his question became a plea. “please, cyar’ika.”

reasonably, you were too busy exploring the shape of his helmet, permitting your creative imagination to paint images of the man next to you; so when your ears perceived his sudden name of endearment, there was nothing amongst the stars that you could’ve possibly denied him from. “you’ve never called me that before,” you smiled, all big and brilliant. 

“i’ve wanted to,” the man replied. what resembled ages of pent up stress released with a few curated words. his muscles relaxed, something he never believed to be attainable given his vigorous profession. “god, i’ve wanted to.” 

he followed it with a humble laugh. a sound so familiar and warm, so genuine that it empowered your grin to spread higher. “by all means, keep saying it.” now it was your turn to nervously giggle, and him who embraced the noise with everything he could. a mutual infatuation, so wonderfully obvious, yet it was refused acknowledgment. “i think there is something you can do, though.” silence advised you to continue, “can i sleep with you tonight?” 

the misguided pieces of your minds’, maybe even your souls’, reattached themselves that very same night. as the both of you slept, hands, calloused and smooth, intimately merged against the cushions of the warrior’s bed. tender kisses planted to your forehead left electricity in their wake, and the dark ambiance of his dwelling favored the entanglement of your tired bodies. 

“i wish i could see you, din,” you sighed. the manner in which it was expressed, full of sleep and everything akin, urged him to lift your weightless wrist to his lips. 

“you’ll get to one day, cyar’ika. for now just let me hold you, yeah?”

[secret-engima]

Title ask (from the one song cryptid sent you): Forged in fury, tempered in ice

An OC-reincarnated-as-Fem!Regis fic. Specifically, because my brain is weird, an OC from another fandom like Fairy Tail (Demon Slayer from pre-Fairy Tail Earthland maybe), Avatar:TLA (former Avatar? Former companion of an Avatar?), Katekyo Hitman Reborn (ohhh maybe fem!Xanxus), Naruto, or maayyyybe that new Demon Slayer anime I keep stumbling across here on Tumblr that looks cool and angsty. OC, whatever universe she came from, was raised and lived in War. Forged in the fury of the battlefield and the Hunt, powerful in her own right through Will and strategy and weapons, who died only from either sickness or a combo of old age and overwhelming numbers.

Anyway, OC is More Than A Little Paranoid about Astrals and prophecies and really starts digging into that stuff, figures out that the prophecy will require the death of the Chosen King. This is just sort-of-disturbing-but-not-relevant news (because she is a Queen not a King and not the Chosen) until she somehow finds out way early (probably from Shiva, who totally meddles when she figures out this soul is a Twice-Born and Powerful) that she is destined to have a son and that son is going to be the Chosen King. OC once had a Reputation for screwing up prophecies/big grandiose plans in her past life so she immediately at like- age 16 or something, decides that stuff ain’t happening and sets off to yeet destiny on behalf of her unborn son. Shiva, who is totally down for the yeeting of prophecy and amused by this strange Twice-Born warrior queen, grants OC her Blessing (different from the summoning covenant, won’t get into that here) and OC spends the next 8 or so years haring all over the world, driving poor Clarus, Weskham, and Cid bonkers, ruining Niflheim’s stuff, picking up and adopting Murder Bby (ie a very confused Cor who doesn’t know how this pampered princess can so thoroughly kick him around the training fields), and plotting how to cure the Starscourge WITHOUT martyring her own child.

Frees Ardyn somewhere in the process and gets him on board with the Save The World and Snub Bahamut plan. Stumbles on an uninfected Ifrit and proceeds to kick HIS butt with Ardyn’s help until he yields and becomes her Summon. Ifrit gives her his Blessing for the Sole and Only Reason of thumbing his nose at Bahamut (OC begins to sense a trend in her alliances) and OC realizes that Holy Fire is way more effective in purging Starscourge/daemons than just stabbing them (Clarus clutches his drink and awaits the end of the world in fire and snowflakes and cackling).

OC picks up Titus, who is just as snarky and Fury-Forged as she is and decides she Likes Him, promptly proposes to him because he looks like he’d make a good Dad to her unborn son. Titus, who only met this terrifying (but beautiful) woman five (5) minutes ago turns her down, but does end up accompanying the group on their mad quest (which is fine with OC, that just means she gets to Properly Court this Potential Husband and Dad of Child).

OC and her extremely misfit band successfully figure out some kind of non-martyr cure to the Starscourge (possibly overthrow Niflheim in the process), Bahamut finally checks in with Eos and realizes someone has neatly and utterly destroyed his prophecy and comes down to protest only to get tag-teamed by Shiva, Ifrit, Ardyn, and OC. Bahamut grudgingly agrees to let OC do things her way in the curing of Starscourge, Ardyn is the first to get the scourge cure and is freed. OC finally gets Titus to marry her and is very smug over the look on King Mors face when she finally pops back into Insomnia with her misfit crew and new husband. Happy endings all around, Noctis is born several years later and is raised by the Weirdest collection of parents, godparents, uncles, and aunts ever.

[crystalsexarch]

Muster - E

Perhaps it would help him remember. He was ashamed to recognize what remembering was doing to his body already. Making him hot. Making him hard.

-

Explicit. Specific male WoL. Bas'ir Bahani. The Crystal Exarch appears in a dream so realistic, the Warrior of Darkness swears he can taste it...or perhaps he can. Pre-reveal tomfoolery with mild angst.

Also on AO3.

Part of the 2020 FFXIV Writing Challenge

Bas'ir had fallen asleep with his prosthetic on, and now he couldn't discern reality from dreams. Wide eyed, he stared at the ceiling of his gifted room at the Pendants and tried to force himself to count (something, anything, knots or cracks or decorative carvings) instead of recount.

He clenched his sheets with both hands. He had fallen asleep with his prosthetic, despite how much it always troubled him by means of aches or awakeness. He had slept easily. Truly. Through the night. Whatever he dreamt of didn't have a clear color, if he had dreamt at all. But that was part of the problem. Had he dreamt? Or was it real, what had happened?

He had fallen asleep with his prosthetic. Usually this behavior invited insomnia or nightmares. What he had experienced was neither. Could it have been...the truth?

With a deep breath out, he ran his hand of flesh across his neck and felt the dancing blood of his body. It remembered the night just as well as he. Cautiously, he trailed his tongue across his fangs, half expecting to taste what he was certain he had tasted—that hand, that sweat, that man.

The Crystal Exarch.

Bas'ir gulped. Last night, he had hobbled his way up to his room with a pain in his body and a blistering brain. The burning light inside muted his perception of time, but if he had the right of it, he had dozed for perhaps half a bell. And then came the knock. I can answer, he had thought, wilting left and right on his way to the door. I can make it. But he couldn't. After he collapsed, he saw the wood part and give way to hurried sandals, helping hands. But he couldn't keep his eyes open for long.

The Exarch must have carried him to bed. An amusing notion, but one that made a certain degree of sense. The parts Bas'ir was having trouble swallowing came later.

The Warrior rolled around in bed and squeezed his left arm—what remained of it—and weighed whether to disconnect his mechanical parts now that he was awake. Perhaps it would help him remember. He was ashamed to recognize what remembering was doing to his body already. Making him hot. Making him hard.

If it wasn't real, what did that say about his feelings for the man who had summoned him? A man he wanted to despise?

With a huff, he sat up and leaned against the wall. This is how he'd risen in the early morning hours, wearing exactly as little as he wore now: a long white tunic and modest smallclothes. Even through bleary eyes, he had spotted the Exarch slumped over the table with his hands clasped together. A great burden seemed to pull the man closer to the ground. "Exarch," Bas'ir had called, voice hoarse. "...Exarch."

The second time, he stirred and looked both ways before settling on the Warrior. He stood and smoothed his robes with a stiff sweep of his arms, then ambled over. "Forgive me," he said, reaching the bed. One hand reached out as though he meant to smooth the covers and sit by the Keeper’s side, but he recoiled. Too close to a fire. "I couldn't bring myself to leave you. When I heard you fall, I—"

"Why," Bas'ir said, "were you here?" He felt like he had run a hundred malms in his slumber.

Hood or no, the Exarch looked guilty with his fingers coiled together. "Your fellow Scions led me to believe...the light had compromised your health. My intentions were only to—"

Bas'ir coughed into his lap, then into his elbow. "Water," he said with a half-hearted gesture to the kitchenette. The Exarch dutifully followed. Flowing liquid made the Warrior’s ears prick to the side, but he kept his head down, brought a knee up and leaned on it. He didn’t really feel pain anymore. Just exhaustion. He wasn’t sure he could hold a glass on his own, despite the fact that that’s exactly what he was going to have to do.

“Here.”

A leader’s voice bade him raise his head. He managed to raise his eyelids.

The Exarch was a silhouette, figuratively and literally. Something shrouded in shadow. “Do you...require assistance?”

“No.” Bas’ir scrunched his nose and reached for the glass with his right arm. Bringing it to his chest was hard enough, so he enlisted his left to hold it steady. Gods the water was good. Cool and brimming with vitality and streaming down his chin and onto his chest and—

“Ah—”

The Exarch clasped his hands around Bas’ir’s, around the glass. Crystal on metal, flesh on flesh. Perhaps hoping to catch some of what the Warrior had already spilled—surely that was the intent—a stray finger landed at the corner of the Keeper’s lips and lingered.

“My…” Apologies should have come from the Exarch’s mouth next, but it didn’t. “Bas’ir.”

A breathy sound caught in the Warrior’s throat. At this point he started wondering about dreams and wakefulness and hallucinations, about light and love and loss. The glass’s gradual motion away from his lips felt as natural as the Exarch’s left hand exploring his face with strange commitment. Of course the glass ended up snugly between his thighs. Of course the Exarch’s thumb was cheating at his teeth. Of course he opened his mouth wider to let the stranger in.

Neither man said anything. But Bas’ir wanted to. He wanted, in those hazy moments, for the Exarch to do more than trace his fangs and test his tongue. He wanted lots of things—answers, firstly, but he wouldn’t have complained if the Exarch slipped that crystal arm beneath the hem of his shirt and tested something there as well. He wanted to know how hot the Exarch’s body was under those robes, and more than anything he wanted to know the face that glared beneath. To know if it tasted the same as it used to or if someone else had tainted it.

Or maybe he didn’t want to know.

Regardless, he was hard and red-faced. Vulnerable in a way he hadn’t been in ages. Nothing bound him, but he may as well have had his hands tied. Was he a fool for reading this as sexual? Was there some other explanation for the Exarch’s willingness to wet his fingers? Bas’ir would have to rely on his powers of observation. Determined, he peered up at the shadow-man, fighting his lusty eyelids. He saw no smile, no flush, no hints whatsoever—not until the Exarch’s lips parted.

“Do you…” he said, softly, “...bite?”

If it really were a dream, Bas’ir would need to thank his subconscious later. Those lusty lids came down now, along with his teeth. He rolled his head in time with the bite, sliding the fangs he’d once hated against fingers he wanted to hate. The Exarch gasped, then groaned, then leaned closer...spilling the water onto the Warrior’s lap.

“Ah!”

“Shhhhite!”

They separated without thinking about it. Bas’ir, still reeling from the rush of coolness soaking his bed, squinted and wondered if they’d ever again come together.

“I can retrieve fresh sheets,” the Exarch said.

“No...no matter.” Bas’ir edged away from the puddle. “There’s room enough for several men my size to sleep here, dodging damp spots…”

He set his jaw. “I’m sure there’s a full set of linens on hand.”

“Exarch.” He was hunched over like some territorial beast all of a sudden. “I would really rather lie down this very moment.”

The Tower’s Keeper swayed left and right, like each side represented his fight to suppress a caretaker’s instincts. But eventually he clasped his hands together and bowed his head. “Very well.”

As soon as he was gone, Bas’ir curled up and deflated. Yes, he wanted to touch himself. He could admit that much. But that activity, he decided, was best left for the morning when he could better read reality. And so he found himself with his back flat against the wall, neck craning, right hand drawing forth that long delayed orgasm. He could feel it in his toes, in his tail. It hadn't taken long. The fantasy was too powerful, too particular. He came harder than he had in moons, and had to stop himself from giving it another go before rising for the day in earnest. All from a memory, or a dream.

As for which had borne his inspiration, he could not be certain. Not without asking. Whether it would take strength or weakness to work up the will, he wasn't sure. So far the only thing he’d mustered was lust.

Later that morning, he and the Scions gathered in the Ocular to assess their latest strategies. The Exarch behaved exactly as he always had. No signs of indiscretion or embarrassment. The truth, then, bored Bas’ir, and though he was invested in his fight for the First, he couldn’t help but pace the room with crossed arms and knitted brows. It was coincidence that he happened to glance at the Exarch, gesturing mid-sentence. Bas'ir could have sworn he saw a tiny pink slit on the man’s left index finger. But perhaps it was a trick of the light, or a trick of the light.

[nevergiveupneverrun]

Bodyguard - Chapter Forty-Four “The Request of The Heart”

Hello everybody, how are you? Here is chapter Forty-Four of my Story Bodyguard. I’m sorry it takes me so long to translate this chapter and I had a lot of work in college. But I hope you will like this chapter.

I’m sorry in advance for the mistakes… English isn’t my first language and I do my best. Here is the link to the previous chapter: Click Here.

I hope you will enjoy this chapter :) 💛

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The red alarm clock numbers in my room seem to flicker a little deeper every minute… every quarter of an hour… every hour that passes.

As if this time that goes by was fun to taunt me.

Half-past two in the morning and I still don’t sleep.

And the worst part is that I don’t even know why I cannot sleep.

Of course, it was my first night in this new apartment but I’m not someone who becomes attached to the places. I spent my life moving out, sleeping in Berlin one day, then in Cairo the next day, do the missions one after the other and the impersonal and tasteless hideouts. I had learned to rest anywhere… anytime… at a time of my life, finding rest a few minutes our hours was inseparable from my survival.

But maybe having left my childhood chalet finally touches me a little bit more than I realize. To prevent me from accessing this bubble of serenity and the gentle rest of the warrior.

Yet the evening had been pleasant: with this surprise of different supporters close to Amelia. Their presence had given a hint of warmth and humanity to a necessarily scary place… because… new… unknown.

I turn again in the bed and then find the ceiling of the glance while sighing. 

Tired of this completely irrational insomnia, I uncover the light sheet against me, getting ready to go down to the kitchen when squeaks reach my ears.

My senses are immediately fixed on this unexpected noise and I identify in a few seconds the distinct sound that rises. The wooden floor awakens in the footsteps of a person.

A person who approaches my room while the squeaks resonate a little louder.

I slide my right hand under my pillow and retrieve the gun that I had hidden there.

I stretch my arm slightly in front of me, the gun firmly in my hand, a precise gesture of my thumb removing the safety catch: I was ready to fire in the face of this intruder.

The door of my room that I had not closed, then crumbles under the pressure of an arm that I distinguish. I intensely scrutinize the silhouette that cautiously enters the room. 

It is detached from a dark light, created by the skylight that bathes in the living room, under the influence of the full moon. My forefinger slightly presses the trigger then shifts immediately when I recognize the reflection of a hair… of her sparkling hair.

- It’s me, Owen, she announces with her arms raised, a little panicked in front of my attitude, gun in hand.

- Amelia, I could have shot you… you should knock… I said, placing my gun on the bedside table to my right, still destabilized by my mistake. 

She remains in the opening of the door and seems to hesitate…maybe disturbed by my reaction and my tone of reproach… but towards myself and not against her.

- Something is wrong? What’s happening? I asked in a voice as sweet as possible, not to scare her and encourage her to confide… tell me why she was there… in my room.

She takes a few more steps in the room and I distinguish her more precisely: her face is worried me away, it is closed almost worried. Then it’s her face that I notice. She is indeed wearing my t-shirt that she used at the chalet, and not the cotton nightie that April had given her during the evening. 

I look at her patiently, trying to cheer her on as she stands in front of me a few steps.

- It’s not enough, she finally blew by pulling lightly on my t-shirt.

I observe her without a word, but I know that my eyes betray me and reflect my incomprehension and confusion after this remark clearly mysterious to me.

- Your t-shirt is not enough to appease me… to reassure me… they come back… she says, looking down and breaking our connection.

- Who, what, Amelia?

She twists the bottom of the t-shirt with her fingers: the young woman in front of me looks almost frightened suddenly. She finally answers me but without finding my eyes, face down to this hand that betrays her nervousness and her pain.

- The flashes of the accident… the sorrow… the emptiness…

Her voice trembles when she finally answers me. Tremors that immediately break my heart. 

I extend my right hand towards her and put my fingers against hers, clenched on my t-shirt. I slowly loosen her hold on the fabric and slide my hand against her, pulling her slightly toward me, and urging her to sit by my side, on my left.

I take my hand off her, and she immediately places her palm against her thighs.

I observe her on the side silently: a lock of hair hides her face while her head stays down, scanning both her hands.

- Talk to me, Amelia… I whispered, putting her lock behind her ear.

My fingers slide a few seconds against her cheek and then rest briefly against one of her hands.

- Look at me… I ask finding only her silence after my request.

She breathes deeply then manages to turn her face slightly towards mine.

The eyes that greet me are misted over with tears and almost dull: their usual glow is masked by the fear and pain that suddenly dominate again… 

- He will not come back… he’s really gone…

- Yes, he’s gone… but he’s watching over you… he’s still here… as long as you don’t forget him…

She keeps my eyes listening attentively and her vulnerable image fits a little more in me… and reaches me imperceptibly.

I slide my arm behind her back and initiate a slight movement back and forth to comfort her with gestures, failing to find the right words.

A weight then awakens against my shoulder and I notice that Amelia’s head is nestled in my neck.

- I feel so empty… so empty in this beautiful apartment, but that’s just not mine… not my house…

- You’re going to need some time to get used to, it’s normal… we’ll all help you feel good here, okay?

She shakes her head slightly and I hold my left hand a little more against her waist, holding her more firmly against me.

So we stay one to two minutes when I feel Amelia’s head rise slightly and her eyes find mine.

- Is it… can I… sleep with you… just for tonight? She whispers to me with a shy look.

I watch her for a few moments, her face a breath of mine. My reason rises weakly, urging me to oppose her request. Arguing that all this would be inappropriate… and dangerous. But the image of Amelia, fragile, frightened that almost begs me for the look, sweeps all the voices of reason. And leads me to grant her this request. 

But I don’t find the strength to express it.

I only manage to nod as if I didn’t want to openly reveal my weakness by a “yes”… a “yes”  that would crystallize an elementary error of the bodyguard.

My nod is enough in any case and she slips under the sheet, lying in my bed on the left side, the opposite of me while looking at me.

I hesitate a few moments, destabilized by this completely unexpected image… unpredictable.

Amelia, in my bed, looking up at me.

I almost regret having accepted.

I take my eyes off her, wait a few seconds and finally lie down at her side trying to ignore her presence… but it quickly becomes impossible. Amelia is indeed closer to me directly and found the position we had a few moments earlier sitting: her head sits against my chest, nestling in my neck and her left hands lay against my chest.

I let her do it. A new time.

Motionless.

Inertia as a parade to control me. 

But a jolt breaks this frozen attitude that I was trying to maintain. Followed by a sound that I know only too well. The vibrations of Amelia’s sobs resound in me and make me react quickly. 

- Hush, don’t cry… I beg you… I say in an almost desperate voice that surprised me.

Amelia’s hand against me clings to my t-shirt and I embrace her in parallel with both my hands, stalling on her waist, while moving slightly as if to rock her and reduce her crying.

- I am here…

- I know but I am so tired… tired of suffering…

- Suffering always ends up fading…

I see Amelia’s head move against me and I discover her face slightly raised towards me, while I look down.

- It is still in me somewhere… he’s bleeding constantly, she whispers, pointing to her chest with her hand, pointing to her heart. It hurts too much… I wish it stopped just a little…

My gaze remains hypnotized… fixed on her… focused on her image, her words escaping her lips… overwhelmed by her distress, her pain, this pain and the fatigue she expresses in her words, but that I feel also in her face and her gaze.

- Is that… you who managed to calm down a little…

My body stops its back-and-forth suddenly as I digest what she confesses.

- By your presence, your words, your attention… the softness of your hands… she describes as one of her hands finds my left hand against her waist, hugging our fingers and placing them against her belly.

Her face moves very slightly from mine when her voice resonates weakly again.

- The heat of your skin, she whispers against me before dropping off her lips sensually in my neck.

My body stiffens suddenly but cannot help but vibrate

I should have detached myself, interpose myself, but I don’t have time while her face rises above mine.

Her lips open slightly a few millimeters from mine to whisper five words.

- The taste of your lips…

Five words that vanish… like her mouth finally finding mine… a few seconds… just a touch of our lips against each other.

I remain feverish, disconcerted by a contact that I think almost imagined… so it was brief.

But the tingling on my mouth doesn’t deceive… and comfort me of the reality of a kiss… furtive but undeniably real.

I redirect my attention to the young woman, always posted above me, her two hands on my chest now to stay at my level.

Her two pupils are watching me.

They study me and seem to be waiting for something.

And gradually, they change their glow… and find their spark of request that I had identified a few moments earlier.

A dangerous glow.

Able to make me sway.

I had to detach myself. 

Just like this situation that was getting out of control.

- Amelia… please… I hit her with the conviction that I was trying to maintain in appearance.

I should have looked away.

I should have even detached myself from her, leave that bed right away.

But my eyes are captivated by the shows that are at the bottom of hers: tears that are reborn, a fragility that springs like a spark and almost melts this dose of control that tries to take over the top of me.

- Stop, she continues while grabbing my right hand still against her waist. Stop the pain, she says placing my hand against her heart. Prevent it from bleeding… she murmurs, her eyes shining with tears.

I feel the beat of her heart under my hand that synchronizes oddly to mine drumming in my chest. A tear escapes from her right eye and runs down the slope of her cheek to disappear under my t-shirt… this piece of fabric that I had worn over and over again… but that covered her skin, like my hand resting against her heart… against this bust that I had guessed, then observed… and that vibrated finally under my fingers.

A very particular warmth is diffused throughout my body… that which reveals to me the danger of the moment… the precipice over which I lean unconsciously.

But that I must avoid… I must go back as quickly as possible.

I take my hand slightly off the hold she held against her bust, push her slightly so that she is lying on the bed, and leave my hand suspended above her.

I didn’t really know what to do, while her eye begged me not to leave her.

That her look begs me not to deprive her of this warmth.

And it’s a black hole that invades my mind.

Indecision and hesitation assault me.

But a gesture takes me by surprise when fingers find mine again, awkwardly left over her, and hold my hand against the heat of a skin… the softness of a thigh unveiled by a raised t-shirt.

Silence hovers for long seconds or long minutes, our breaths as the only regular sound around us. Our eyes remain frozen in one another until the pupils of Amelia lose a little more of their glow, and that gradually her face is lowered.

- Excuse me, it’s ridiculous, she murmurs simultaneously pulling her hands away from mine. With everything you know about me, I’m already lucky if you feel a little pity for me…

She pauses for a few seconds and then resumes immediately.

- I’m sorry, I…

Only these words escape from her lips weakly.

The hesitation, the confusion and perhaps the despair destabilizing her at this moment, making her lose the thread of her thought… and touching me imperceptibly.

She finally shifts a little more to the side and recreates a certain distance between us, as if she wanted to escape after reflection. 

- I’ll do better to find my room, she concludes with a quaver in her voice.

Amelia offered me the outcome that I expected: the one I had not been able to concretize on my own, frozen in my silence and almost paralysis.

Because I had not done anything during this exchange to push her away, to dissuade her from continuing her attentions, her actions, her requests.

I had no reaction.

As a spectator of the scene. A position of an observer who had ended up doubting her… and to make her come back on her initiative and on what she asked me.

Her reversal of attitude was unexpected, I had known her more insistent, but it allowed my conscience of the bodyguard to get out of this complex situation without committing the slightest misconduct… conduct that was to be to be irreproachable. 

And yet, it is not the relief that overwhelms me at this moment.

It’s something else…

When the request of her heart still resonates within me.

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Thank you for reading. Have a great week 💛

[fortheloveofeos]

The Vanguard - Chapter 7

Happy Holiday Season, y’all. I’ve been doing some writing that I’ve forgotten to post. I’ve got a few things up my sleeve I hope to have up over the season. Hopefully, the girls will be back in full force along with a new story that I intended to be one chapter per Chocobro but probably will be longer because my brain takes off sometimes. 

Get ready for angst and backstory.

XXX

Eirwen had been silent since the incident several hours before. Gladio had steered her away from the training area of the Citadel and into the back garden in hopes the quiet and seclusion would give her some peace. For hours he had watched her pace, absently trailing fingers over the stone walls and leaving a trail of ice behind her. Finally unable to watch her self loath any longer, Gladio had dared to speak and ask her where she wanted to go. Her answer had been a vague “anywhere that’s not here” before he had handed her his extra helmet and they sped off through the busy streets of Insomnia. She had followed him almost blindly until she heard him rattle his keys as he opened the door to his apartment - conveniently across the street from the building Prince Noctis had recently taken up residence. 

The apartment was entirely decorated in dark leathers, navy blue, and dark wood. Photos of scenic mountain views and pictures of his family were scattered along the walls. “This is...impressive,” Eirwen paused as she caught sight of the floor to ceiling custom shelves that housed an incredible number of books - most bound in hardbacks with titles covering subjects ranging from history to culture to largest number of war and strategy books she had ever seen outside of that section in the Citadel library. She also noted the fair number of fiction books scattered throughout and couldn’t help but see that more than one seemed to be romance novels. Trailing her finger over their spines, she was shocked to see how immaculate the collection was - no creases or signs or weather and absolutely not dust to be seen. 

Keys clattered somewhere behind her as Gladio deposited them into the bowl by the door and removed his heavy boots. “Bit of a hoarder when it comes to books. Coffee or tea?” 

Pulling an old leather-bound tomb from the shelf, Eirwen scanned the pages of a guerilla warfare strategy written in Ancient Lucien. “Milk?” 

“Coconut.” 

Nodding, Eirwen carefully thumbed through the yellowing pages. “Coffee, then.” Various sounds of cabinets opening and shutting and then of a brewing coffee pot filtered around her as she scanned the old runes advising on the importance of partners and scouting teams. 

Minutes late, Gladio handed her a steaming cup of fresh coffee that was just the right shade of dark caramel. He took up residence on the couch beside her, careful not to touch her but remaining close enough that she might know he meant to offer her comfort if she needed it.

Looking at her now, Eirwen looked nothing like the ice goddess she had appeared to be earlier in the day. Currently, her skin was flushed pink from worry and the heat of the coffee, her blue eyes bright with something akin to anger but without such force. She had tucked her legs under herself and curled into the corner of the couch as if trying to take up a strategic position to protect herself. Gladio had never witnessed such power before today - not even when King Regis had renewed the power that held up the wall protecting the city of Insomnia. It was incredible to think that any mortal could wield such power.

Exhaling, Eirwen closed the book with a sense of finality and caught the slight jump from Gladio out of the corner of her eye. Rubbing at her forehead, she forced herself to speak evenly. “You’re scared of me now?” She hoped she hadn’t sounded angry when Gladio was the only person who seemed willing and eager to listen to things from her perspective without jumping in and trying to give her advice. He was her partner in battle. 

“Scared of you?” Gladio readjusted himself so that he more easily faced her but did his best to appear relaxed as he reclined his arms across the back and sipped his cooling coffee. “I’m not afraid of you, snowflake. I’m worried for you. There’s a big difference.”

A humorless laugh escaped her. Leaning forward, she twisted the length of her pale locks between her fingers and focused on controlling her emotions so as not to turn the Shield-in-Training’s apartment into a meat locker. “Don’t worry about me. I’m always ready for battle.” In fact, punching something sounded like a wonderful idea at the moment. 

Finishing his coffee, Gladio deposited the cup onto the coffee table before making a show of giving her his full attention. “I’m not doubting your training and abilities - a few rounds with you on the training mats has proven you’re more than capable in that department. What happened earlier between you and Amira has me worried. I felt...whatever that was that you pushed out at her. I watched her freeze over. I saw your expression when you pulled yourself back out.” He didn’t ask her to explain, nor did he demand answers or promises that she wouldn’t do the same to him. 

“I don’t know what to tell you, Gladio. I can’t explain it. It happened once, years ago. Amira…” trailing off, Eirwen raked her hands through her hair in frustration as if hoping to pull the words from her head. “It was like she 

 me when I was completely broken - or at least patched me back together. I wanted to try to do the same for her but I couldn’t find it, I couldn’t find what hurt her.” Tears of frustration threatened to spill from her eyes and she angrily wiped at them. “I couldn’t do the same for her. What good is this power if I can’t even protect the people I care about.” Forcing herself up from the couch, she marched over to the large window looking down on the busy streets below and pressed her forehead against the cool glass hoping to calm herself down. “She’s the only family I have.”

Silence rang out through the apartment. Distant sirens and the sounds of city life filtered between the two warriors to break up the deafening quiet. Gladio, for all his reading and knowledge in how to handle emotional trauma when related to combat, loss, and injury, was at a complete loss. Another not so well kept secret of the Twins: bad family relations. To his knowledge, Eirwen had none to speak of. In the file Cor had given him in preparation for his first mission with her, she was listed as a ward of the Citadel until she had become of legal age. Gladio, on the other hand, was fortunate enough to have an actual family. 

“You don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. I’ve got your back now, Eirwen - on and off the battlefield.” Gladio walked past her to the kitchen to put away the dirty dishes as he spoke, hoping not to make her feel pressured or closed in. “People care about you.” He had seen the way Crowe, Libertus, Pelna, and Nyx were with her and it was clear they had forged a bond that was deeper than camaraderie or friendship.

Across town and shaking from over exertion and residual tingles of forced magic, Amira leaned against the window from her perch. Purple lightning cracked in the distance each time her fingers twitched. It had been hours since the incident and she could still feel the sorrow in her heart left by Eirwen just before their connection snapped. The bone deep chill had left her almost as soon as it had arrived but now she felt oddly warm in a way that reminded her of post fever.

Nyx had been kind enough to make her a pot of gunpowder tea, piping hot and slightly bitter. She also vaguely noticed that he had switched on the radio to a low jazz to fill the ringing silence of her mind. He moved with familiarity and confidence in her home and she couldn’t help feeling both grateful and annoyed at the same time. 

“You don’t need to stay.” She hated how quiet and weak her voice sounded but she felt the need to at least offer him a way out of the current situation. Other than Eirwen, she wasn’t really accustomed to anyone trying to take care of her even after her injury.

“And you don’t need to catch the flu pressed against the window, princess.” Nyx chuckled at the obscene hand motion Amira quickly shot his way and was relieved to see she seemed to be clawing her way back out of herself. “I’m not going anywhere until we figure this out.” When Amira opened her mouth to argue, he was quick to stop her and refocus her attention on the larger goal in hopes of getting her to face the current issue. “We’ll be called back into the field any day now and since you’ve been cleared, I need to know you’re in the right headspace.” If he couldn’t get her to consider the issue as a work-related problem, he would have no hope of getting her to open up about personal issues.

Nodding, Amira worried the warm mug between her fingers. “I told you, I felt something snap. I’ve never felt her so far away - not when we’re separated by thousands of miles.” Assuring her that the connection could be fixed, Nyx urged her to continue. “Whatever she was looking for...something seemed to break her heart.”

“I’m sure she’s just worried about you. The two of you have always had each other -” Nyx stopped short as his phone vibrated in his pocket. The only people that had his number were Glaives and other work associates and the only time it rang was due to some work related issue. Fishing it out from the pocket of his jeans, he was surprised to see Pelna’s name lighting up the screen. “Report,” he offered by way of greeting.

Amira watched and Nyx’s eyes narrowed slightly and his stubbled jaw clenched. Though Pelna couldn’t see him, he nodded several times and made agreeable noises to urge him to continue. After a few moments, Nyx ended the call and ran a hand over his suddenly weary face. This time, it was Amira who was concerned by the sudden quiet. “Seems we have a bit of work to do.”

“Pelna cracked the firewall and found some sort of list he immediately sent to Cor - who informed him that several emissaries from the Empire are planning a visit to attend the Foreign Relations Gala in a few days.” A crease had taken up residence on Nyx’s forehead as he repeatedly ran the conversation through his mind. 

Shocked, Amira was silent for a moment as she processed the information. “They’re not planning a confrontation in front of a room of international dignitaries. Could they have realized that I copied that file?” 

“There’s no way they’re that stupid. They’re up to something, though. Pelna also reported increased military activity at the northern border - encampments, patrol, the works.” Sighing, he leaned back against the counter and studied Amira closely. “Looks like the vacation is over.” He paused momentarily hoping to choose his next words correctly. “You’re not going to...like what I have in mind.” 

Sighing, Amira pulled herself up from the window and stood to face her partner. “I rarely do,” she reassured him.

XXX

Unlike her Twin, Amira had grown up in what anyone on the outside looking in would consider a perfect home. Malcolm and Nadia Everet were the storybook couple - Malcolm hailed from one of the richest, self-made families in all Lucis while Nadia, coming from old Lucian nobility, had been raised as if she herself were next in line to the throne. When the two had married nearly three decades earlier, neither bride or groom had ever laid eyes on the other prior to meeting at the altar and both had approached the scenario as if it were a business transaction to further themselves and their families. When Amira had been born, she had instantly become the new bargaining chip for her parents and had been ushered through years of etiquette classes, ballroom dance lessons, advanced tutoring, fashion and beauty seminars, and all the formal parties her parents could drag her to. Amira had grinned and curtsied through it all, praying to the Six for a way out.

Things had remained tortuously the same until her fifteenth birthday. For years, she had begged her parents to allow her to train with her paternal uncle and member of the Royal Kingsguard, Declan - her justification being that she should know how to defend herself should her pedigree ever put her in harm’s way. Finally, after much pressure from her uncle, her parents had relented and allowed her to train two days a week for a few hours in place of the cardio workout her personal trainer had devised for her. Immediately, she had fallen in love with the raw violence and unstructured chaos that came from physical combat and had shown real promise for someone so young. Her uncle worked with her continuously had been able to nearly ensure her a position within the guard after her college graduation, even going so far as to go against her parent’s wishes for her by involving King Regis himself. She couldn’t have found anything more removed from her original life if she had tried - or at least she had thought until her training accident had sealed her fate. 

Uncomfortable falling back into bad memories, Amira kept fidgeting in her seat and pulling at the garment she had hoped she would never wear. The couture gown had been stashed away in its original box since her parents had sent it to her over a year ago in hopes of enticing her back into the spotlight her family thrived in. The saving grace was that the dress was at least mostly black. Made of the highest quality black satin and an overlay of organza, the floor length gown possessed a custom fitted corset with an off-the-shoulder sweetheart neckline that dipped between her breasts exposing a bit more skin than she felt entirely comfortable with. The draped split sleeves fell beyond her wrists, perfectly displaying the tattoo of delicate roses twisting and blooming down her arm, and a careful slit ran up the long skirt to her mid thigh on one side. Hand embroidered gold applique leaves and vines decorated the bodice and skirts while the sleeves and trims were encrusted with shimmering gold glass beads. She had paired the dress with a pair of black designer pumps with a scarlet bottom adorned with a criss-crossing straps that buckled just above the ankle and glittering gold and diamond drop earrings. She’d had to buy new makeup as she had avoided wearing it as much as possible in recent years and had opted for a heavy-handed winged eyeliner and a dark plum lipstick. 

“If you pull continue to pull at the dress, you’re going to end up ripping it before we get to the gala.”

Sighing, Amira arched a perfectly filled in brow at her uncle Declan who was comfortably dressed in his usual Guard uniform of black slacks and dress shirt. He’d only added a jacket and patent leather shoes to his daily ensemble. “You know how much I hate this. I thought by becoming a Glaive I could wipe my hands of all this.” Contempt leaked into her words as she studied her black and gold manicure. 

Chuckling, Declan straightened his jacket and offered his niece a knowing grin. His salt and pepper hair mixed with the warm gold of his eyes had always made him so much more inviting than her father. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how to walk in heels already? I thought we raised you better than that.”

Immediately, Amira flipped him off with her glittering gold-tipped finger and flipped her half pinned up hair over one shoulder. “Please. We both know I came out of the womb wearing a pair of six inch pumps.” Thankfully, the sleek black vehicle came to a stop and the back door was opened by a smirking hero. “Don’t start with me tonight,” Amira warned Nyx as she slid across the leather seats and carefully out onto the sidewalk before the Citadel. 

Flashing lights erupted from either side of her. As if flipping a switch, Amira smiled for the photographers pushed back her shoulders until she felt the familiar ache beginning in her spine. Declan was quick to take up her elbow as he too paused to allow the paparazzi a moment to capture his image. As the two moved forward towards the grand entrance, Nyx moved to her other side as if to shield her from the cameras. Speaking quickly, Nyx spoke just loud enough for the two Everets to hear him. “Many of the foreign dignitaries have already arrived but no one has spotted anyone from the Empire yet. The others are posted up inside and I will be positioned to see the entire ballroom.” Holding out a gloved hand to Amira, Nyx offered her nearly perfectly clear earpiece. “Pelna just finished these this morning. Don’t worry about it not picking up your voice if you speak quietly, it’s been calibrated to your voice specifically.”

Declan ushered Amira through the glass door before heading to the elevator and pressing the correct floor. “I probably should have mentioned this earlier, but your parents are here and they would like to speak with you. Try not to get blood on the dress.”

Groaning, Amira thumped her head back against the onyx wall of the elevator during her brief moment of normalcy. Tonight, she was once again Amira Everet, heir to the Everet fortune and darling daughter of Malcolm and Nadia. Of course, they had not been briefed on the plan the Vanguard and the Kingsguard were to execute. To them, their daughter was finally coming to her senses. “Six, I am going to need an entire bottle of champagne.” She could already feel the headache beginning to bloom in her temple. 

[captain-yeet]

Ironhearts (Sansa Stark x Fem!Reader)

Summary: You were just a simple lone soldier, travelling throughout Westeros trying to find something to keep you going, something to fight for. You joined Jon’s cause to fight against the Night King and his army. One night, you couldn’t sleep, and a certain Lady of Winterfell spies you training.

Warnings; Swearing, self-doubt. But fluffy!

For a cold winter’s morning, a steady sheen of sweat formed on your forehead as you swung your sword at the training dummy.

You couldn’t sleep. Stress kept you awake all throughout the night, making you irritable and restless. Figuring some training would tire you out, you grumpily stomped your way down to Winterfell’s courtyard. So far, you weren’t sure if it was working. Your eyes were heavy; but the rest of your body was not.

Letting out a frustrated growl, you struck again at the dummy, your E/C eyes glowering with a slightly maddened glint in them.

From afar, a certain red-headed Stark watched the frustrated young warrior curiously and with great interest.

Lady Sansa awoke early that morning from a nightmare. Flustered and shaken from the contents of her dream, she dressed herself and decided to take a walk to clear her head. She had a long day ahead and with Jon being busy with “entertaining” the Targaryen visitor, gods knew that she needed a clear head to take on the day.

As she approached the courtyard, the sound of metal colliding with a hard surface met her ears. Curious, she followed the sound down the hall leading outside. She came to a halt on the balcony and gazed down at the sight before her.

There you were, swinging a longsword at a training dummy, grunting and growling each time your weapon met it’s target. Sansa noted with each swing, your attacks grew sloppier and less focused. 

Curious, she rested her elbows on the railing, her hands balled into fists under her chin, and watched.

Your H/C hair was falling out of the messy bun at the back of your head, a light coat of sweat collecting on your exposed biceps. How you weren’t cold, Sansa had no idea.

She cleared her throat, catching your attention at last, E/C eyes widening in surprise at her sudden appearance. 

The sound of someone clearing their throat brought you out of your insomnia  induced dummy beating session, and you turned toward the sound.

Your eyes widened at the sight of Sansa Stark watching you intently from the balcony above. “Morning Lady Stark,” you called out breathlessly, the sword weighing heavy in your dominant hand.

Her lips twitched up into a small polite smile. “You’re awake rather early,” she replied, cocking her head to the side.

You shrugged as you sheathed the longsword. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Sansa hummed in response. She rose from leaning over the railing of the balcony and began walking down the stairs to you.

Your relationship with Sansa was professional primarily, but there were moments shared between the two of you that completely and utterly confused you. 

There was one moment where you were escorting her back to her room in the evening in place of Brienne, who had some business to deal with at that time. As the two of you slowly walked down the hall you chatted animatedly, with Sansa linking your arm with hers. As you arrived at her bedroom door, the two of you gazed at each other in silence, an unspoken emotion behind her bright blue eyes as she stared back into your own.

The two of you stood like that for a while, the air around you almost feeling electric but you chalked that up to you feeling uncertain. Or perhaps it was the wine you had earlier kicking in. Then with a sly smile, Sansa bid you goodnight, disappearing behind her bedroom door and leaving you a little dumbstruck at the interaction that took place.

That night keeps you awake sometimes, wondering of the meaning behind it - or if you were reading too deeply into it.

Sansa came to a stop in front of you, her eyes scanning your disheveled appearance. “Is something bothering you, Y/N?”

Your mouth opened slightly, the words stuck in your throat. “I - there’s no need for concern, Lady Stark. I can assure you that I’m fine.”

You hoped your words would convince her. However her eyes narrowed, brows knitting together. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?’

Blinking at her response, you were about to defend yourself until she slowly reached her hand up toward your face. A stray lock of hair had fallen into your eyes and made itself home there thanks to the sweat. It felt as if your heart would leap out of your chest as you watched her ever so gently brush the lock of hair back.

“You can tell me what’s on your mind,” Sansa murmured softly. “And please, call me Sansa; we’ve known each other long enough now that titles are forfeit in private.”

This was true - you’d been at Winterfell for a little over a month now. You were here for Littlefinger’s scheming, hating the way he was trying to toy with the Stark sisters for his own twisted gain. You had to fight away the smirk that wanted to creep onto your face when Arya executed him under Sansa’s command.

Nodding very faintly, you sighed. “I have trouble sleeping most nights,” you told her.

Her hand now lowered and clasped with the other, Sansa motioned for you to continue with a nod of her head.

 “Do you ever worry about whether you’re doing the right thing, or making the right choices?” you asked her. When she nodded, you continued your train of thought. “I came here to Winterfell to help with the threat beyond the Wall. That was my mission, still is. But now, I’m afraid I’m feeling conflicted.”

 “What do you mean?” Sansa asked, her calm exterior cracking, a frown making it’s way to her brow.

You took a shaky breath, looking down at your feet nervously. Am I really about to say it? you wondered, a sarcastic tone to your thoughts. What do I even say? “Oh hi Sansa, I’m sorry I’m feeling conflicted about going to war with undead because I fear that I care for you deeply and want to stay here to protect you and keep you safe?” Oh yeah, that will go over well!

 “Y/N... I don’t know what to say...”

Your head jerked up, panic seeping into your veins as you stared open-mouthed at her shocked expression. Shit, I didn’t mean to say that out loud! “I... look it’s nothing, please just - ignore that I said anything.”

You began to walk faster ahead, away from the red-head. You heard Sansa calling your name but you were too afraid to even glance back at her, too embarrassed.

She was a Lady, the Lady of Winterfell. What were you? Just a commoner with a sword and insomnia. You had nothing to offer her, and the thought made your heart sink.

A gentle but firm hand took hold of your forearm; somehow even in a dress she caught up with you.

 “Y/N, please look at me,” you heard her plead, desperation in her voice.

When you refused to turn your head toward her, she came closer to you. You felt her hand hesitantly cup one side of your face, turning your face towards her own. You felt like a scared little girl as you eyed her expression anxiously.

But all you saw was... curiosity. Maybe even a little fear of her own. “You truly meant those things you said?” she whispered, not moving her hand away from your face.

Your mouth opened and closed, all that came out was a mere squeak. “I -” you began, trying to find words, “yes, it’s true.” You paused and took a deep breath, closing your eyes. “I apologise if that makes you in any way, shape or form uncomfortable. I just think that -”

You never got to finish your sentence, as a soft pair of lips met yours. Your eyes opened briefly in shock as Sansa Stark kissed you. Sensing you stiffen, she pulled away, and you swore you’d never seen the lady so vulnerable-looking in all the time you’d known her. 

Sansa was afraid she’d done something wrong, feeling you stiffen so under her touch. Perhaps I moved too fast? She panicked on the inside.

 The two of you stood still, staring at each other as snow fell lightly onto both of your heads.

Might as well take a leap of faith here, you thought to yourself. Gulping slightly, you took both your hands and cupped Sansa’s face gently, watching closely for any sign that she was uncomfortable before leaning in and kissing her.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, a passing thought of “What if someone sees?” entering your mind momentarily, but you didn’t care enough to stop. Gods be damned, you really liked this woman.

She was the first to pull away, one of her hands filled with a fistful of your shirt while the other rested on your cheek, thumb gently caressing it. “That was... rather pleasant,” she said softly, almost a gasp.

You smiled at her, your nerves gone for the moment. “You could say that,” you breathed. “That was very, very pleasant.”

A giggle escaped Sansa’s lips, and you couldn’t help but join in, resting your forehead against hers. “So what happens now?” you asked.

Blue eyes gazed deeply into your own E/C eyes with a playful but soft look about them. “Well Y/N, I don’t just let anyone kiss me, especially like that. What I was going to say earlier before you took off was that the feeling is mutual.”

You pulled back to stare at her, a grin creeping onto your face. “Really? You’re not fucking with me are you, My Lady?”

Sansa let out a very un-ladylike snort. “No, I am not fucking with you,” she retorted, the playful look in her eyes still present. “I happen to feel very deeply for you, have for some time now.”

You felt as if you were on cloud nine. Or perhaps riding a dragon above cloud nine. Either way, you were over the moon with this revelation to say the least. Holding out your arm for her, you felt your heart swell as she linked hers with yours. “In that case my dear, I would very much like it if you were to be mine?”

Sansa leaned into you, resting her head on your shoulder. “I’d be honoured,” she whispered softly, the two of you making your way back to your room for some more alone time. After an hour of more talking and stolen kisses here and there, sleepiness was finally taking hold of you, and you drifted off to sleep peacefully, the last thing you felt were Sansa’s fingers running through your hair.

If the end were to come, you could happily say that you’d willingly let it come, so long as she was by your side when it came. But you wouldn’t go down without a fight, and by no means were you prepared to let the darkness take this new light that had come into your life.

[eerythingisshaka]

Santa Can’t Bring Me What I Need

A/N:  Title is from one of my favorite Christmas songs!  This is also inspired by A Christmas Carol, except it’s a Black Panther smutty fever dream.  So...here you go

Word Count: 5.4k

The lights twinkling across your bedroom window are not helping your chronic insomnia as of lately.  Sitting up in your bed hugging your knees to your chest, you exhale deeply thinking over your year coming to a close.  2018 was supposed to be your year of you!  You getting what you want and to hell with what others thought!  But you and your bed remained stale as ever

When would it be your turn to have a story to talk about?  A love affair better than a Lifetime movie?  Actually having something to do instead of lying to people about why you can’t make this or that.  You get up from your bed to go fix yourself a drink in the kitchen.  It’s Christmas Eve after all and not a damn thing is sitting under your tree.

You make yourself a glass of red wine and sit on the couch to watch some TV.  All your usual shows are on winter break, so things get boring real fast as you sift through your watchlists.  You hadn’t had a decent dinner, so luckily for you the hot toddy is hitting your system quicker than expected.  What was not so lucky was how the alcohol brought you into a now delirious funk.  Your head becomes hazy as the buzz settles in and you get a little talkative.

“Fuckin holidays don’t mean a damn thing to me.”  You mutter.  “Ain’t nothin but some commercialized bullshit to get you broke and paying Uncle Sam more sales tax.”

Usually when you drank, you were the life of the party, but without an audience, you sound like an old man needing their medication.  Also, you get sleepy much quicker.

As you lay down, resting your head on the arm of the couch, you flip Netflix up to your list and see Black Panther as your first choice to continue watching.  

“Hell, I watched that movie about 35 times….so what’s 36?!”  You yell out to nobody as you drunkenly press play and toss the remote behind you.  

The movie starts at the Warrior Falls fight between M’Baku and T’Challa.  So much shoulder, all that back muscle, beards galore, you felt like a kid in a candy store.

“You tell em baby!  We have watched with DIS-GUST!”  You snarl, clappin your hands together loudly as M’Baku makes his dramatic speech.  But you didn’t care about loyalty in the slightest, because when T’Challa lifted his arm to call up the Dora Milaje, you simulated a coffin pose.  Dead.

“Damn, how are these men so fucking fine!  This can’t be real, CGI at best!”  You say fanning yourself as they fought, getting wet and exhausted.  The men, anyway.  “THIS is what I need, dammit.  Santa can walk his fat ass up in here if these hoes were nestled under the tree.  Be a pimp, Santa!  Don’t give me shit else!”

Your eyes began to flutter as M’Baku was put in the leg lock by T’Challa, begging to die.  “If only these niggas existed…” T’Challa’s words rang through your ears as your eyelids stopped resisting and you settle into a slumber.

“Merry Christmaaaas toooo youuuu!”

You feel your neck stiffen as you slowly get up to the noise of carolers.

“The fuck is carolers doing in my neighborhood?”  You ask yourself, groggily shuffling to the door.  Instead of opening it, you beat on it to scare them off.  “GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY DOOR!”  You shout, as their singing stops abruptly.  Waiting a couple of minutes, you open the door to see them leaving but no one is around.  The snow in front of your doorstep is not even disturbed, showing no sign of life.

“That’s no way to show the holiday spirit.”  A deep voice says behind you.

You turn around swiftly to see what it was and standing before you is the King of Wakanda himself.  

“Wh-what the-”

T’Challa puts up his hands to stop your stammering.  “Yes, this is unexpected.  I am aware.”

You cover your mouth in surprise, completely taken aback.  Your eyes travel his attire: an ornate purple robe with gold and black designs around the hem of the garment.

You take a deep breath to calm your speedy heart.  “Unexpected isn’t the word.  Why in the world are you here?  You aren’t real...are you?”

T’Challa smiles wide, glancing at the floor before his eyes travel the length of your body.  “I am as real as you are feeling right now.”

You shake your head, resting your hands on above you, pacing.  “I really had too much wine.  This is crazy.”

T’Challa steps towards you as you walk towards your fireplace and back again for the third time.  You face the flames as his hands come around your waist, wide and strong, on either side of your hips.  Your breath hitches as you look down at them, still unbelieving that they are really on you.  You feel them, his skin soft and taut across his knuckles, fingers so long.

“The only thing that is crazy is to not take advantage of this moment.”  His lip graze your ear as his soft and assuring voice bewitches your eardrum.  You settle your weight against him, the width of his body sturdy enough to handle yours.  

Turning around, you survey his presence once more.  Looking up at his eyes, round and warm, you touch his face.  His beard is as soft as it is manicured, leaving your palm feeling smoother than when it landed.  He turns his head to kiss your fingers before they leave him, rubbing circles over your arms with his thumbs gently.

“So you’re telling me that you are here and you want me to…”

“I want you to feel good tonight.  In any way I can accomplish that.  You just tell me what you want and I am here to service you...and enjoy for myself as well.”  He flashes you a big smile, the apples of his cheeks popping as you nod.

“Oh wow.  Well, I mean, let’s see how this goes.  Umm, ok.  I’m gonna take off your robe now, you good?”

T’Challa tucks his lips as he steps back, waiting, smizing.  You stand for a minute looking at his chest, still unsure of meaning behind all of this.

“Don’t be shy, come here entle.”  T’Challa says, barely above a whisper.  The invitation is necessary for you to finally work the courage to run your hands along the rich cloth of his robe, the strength of his chest resting underneath it all.  You look into T’Challa’s eyes, which are trained on you, as you slide your fingers under the robe.  Pushing it back, the glory of his chest comes forth, supple and hard.  As the robe falls to the floor you can’t help but let out a ‘DAMN’, doing your best Peggy Carter impression to touch but pulling back just as quickly.

“God it’s even better than the movie.  I can’t take this.”  You blubber, near tears as you hyperventilate.

T’Challa shakes his head, chuckling.  “You have every facet of your desires in front of you tonight.  Do you really want to waste time questioning what could or could not be?”

You take a deep breath nodding.  He is right, you have to pull yourself together and nail this down.  This is a fantasy made real, and you needed it to go over just as you always envisioned it.

“No, yeah, right.  Ok.”  You step up to him, palms fully flat against his chest.  Your mouth drops instantly, face strained as if you touched a hot stove but you refuse to retreat.  His heart pounds underneath your touch as your hands travel lower, across his flawless abs, down to…

“GATDAMN, you packin HEAT??”  You squeal in agony as you only felt half the dick.  T’Challa just shrugs.

“Is that what you are needing?”  T’Challa asks, reaching for his fly.

“Not yet, hang on.  I’ll tell you what I want when we get there.”  Stepping up to T’Challa, with little warning you plant your lips on his.  T’Challa doesn’t miss a beat, holding the back of your head, deepening the kiss even more, parting his lips to invite your tongue to mesh with his.  You grip his biceps as best you can to keep from collapsing, the sensations his mouth gave you along with the surprise of these developments made staying grounded difficult.

T’Challa’s hands moved over your back, down to your ass before lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist, causing you to squeal with delight.

“Oh my God, warn me before you do that!”  You gasp.

“It’s not as fun that way.”  T’Challa growls, holding you up by your ass as you clutch his shoulders tightly. Slowly he brings you down to the floor, gripping your breasts through your shirt as he grinds his hips into you.  You lose your breath under him, overcome with lust as he dips his head down to lift your shirt with his teeth, placing kisses on your stomach.

You play in his curls desperately wanting him to go lower.  Placing pressure on top of his head, you guide him between the meeting of your thighs as he looks up at you smiling.

“You know what you want now?”  T’Challa asks.

You nod, biting your lip.  “And all I wanna hear is you sopping me up.”

T’Challa’s eyes darken as he kisses you through your joggers, taking his hands in your waistband to pull them down forcefully.  You raise your legs as he slinks them off, parting your legs wide open for him.

T’Challa stares at your core, lying prone in front of you and thumbing your clit back and forth gently.  You arch under his touch, playing with your breast as a distraction.

T’Challa lines his tongue up to your opening to give it a taste.  He pauses as if to savor your essence before going back in for more.  Your mouth flies open as his tongue darts between your folds, massaging your inner thighs.  You encourage him as he noisily envelopes your pussy with his mouth, barely wasting a drop.  Soon as he puts his fingers inside of you, you gasp at the new pleasure introduced.  

“Oh God, how is this happening?”  You exclaim, gripping his head as he sucks you off.  You feel his laughter between you, the hum sending vibration across your sex to intensify your experience.  

“Ohhh shit, wait.  T’Challa I think I’m gonna-”  But it was too late.  You weren’t sure if what it was, you never experienced it before.  But you expelled all over his face with your orgasm, toes curling as your legs seized around his head.  T’Challa flinched at first, but his shock turned to joy, as if winter’s first snow was hitting the ground.  He kept at it with you, lapping at your juices as you jerked from the overstimulation, needing a break but not wanting to stop.

“You better watch out. You better not cry!...”

Your neck snaps as you looks toward your door.  “Those fucking carolers again?”

T’Challa gets up, reaching for his robe.  

“T’Challa, what are you doing!  I’ll get them gone, don’t worry about it!”

He wipes his face on his robe before sliding it over him.  “I’m afraid it’s more than that.  But our time is done here for now.”

You struggle to put your pants back on.  “Oh come on!  What about what we were doing here!  I’m not finished yet!”

T’Challa wipes his beard off some more.  “Are you sure?”

You roll your eyes.  “Ok, I’m sorry, that was a lot.  But blame yourself for staying on my clit so fucking long!”

T’Challa heads toward the door.  “I like to leave a clean plate when I’m done eating, can you blame me?  Don’t worry, entle, we aren’t finished either.”

As he walks out the door, you scramble for your coat and shoes to go after him.  No way are you going to let him out of your sight, hell, he could take you to Wakanda!

The carolers voices grow as you step outside, looking to see which way he may have went.  You look to the ground for clues, but none were there.  The snow crunches underneath your boots as you look now for the location of these carolers who apparently work overtime for Christmas.  Coming up on the side of the house, you feel yourself getting picked up and spun around and around uncontrollably.  Hearty laughter fills your ears that you know isn’t T’Challa’s as you buck against the strength of this individual before they set you down and you’re facing him.

“I startled you, hm?”

You jump up and down clapping your hands.  “No! No! No!  Oh HELL no!  M’Baku??  The hell is this!  I gotta be dreaming now!”

M’Baku looks down at you in his full fur garments.  “Are you saying I am not a real man, love?”

You guffaw out loud, hands on your hips as you catch your breath.  “Oh no, not at all!  Are you kidding?  You’re actually here in front of me like this.  Did you see T’Challa?”

M’Baku huffs, puffing out his chest.  “You think I want to talk about another man with you right now?”

You shrink within yourself as you feel you may have offended him.  “Probably not, it’s just he was here-”

M’Baku takes a step towards you, peering at you with an intense expression.  “Yet you’re still going on about him.  He must have made an impression on you.”

You shake your head.  “I mean, not like...well…”

M’Baku backs you into the side of the house, one hand on the wall by your face as he leans down over you.  His musk luring you to his attention.

“I am in front of you now and I want you.  You will not speak of others before me while we are having this time, do you understand?”

You nod before his hand finds its way up your shirt.  You inhale sharply at his cold touch, your stomach contracting as it finds your breast, circling around your hardened nipple.  You both just stand there, breaths becoming more shallow as they puff in clouds from the cold in each others faces.  As he gropes you, you feel his face as you had T’Challa’s, just double checking how real this mirage is, and it’s 6’5 of soft strength standing in front of you.  

His mouth is inviting without even meaning to be, the plump layers that are his lips hang slightly agape as his hand finally warms up from your body heat.  You taste his bottom lip, then the top, popping from suction until you share your mouthy passions.  M’Baku growls into you mouth as his tongue paints your teeth, tasting you fervently.  His hands reach for your waist, lifting you up against the wall like a doll, much quicker than T’Challa did.

“Wait!  Wait, I really want you to man-handle me…”  You say, your breath getting lost quicker in the stale cold air.

M’Baku sucks your neck, still gripping your waist.  “And I fully intend to.”

“But I’ve always wanted to do this.  I have to, I will not let you go without seeing it.”

M’Baku pulls back from your neck, looking at you suspiciously.  “What do you mean?”

You signal him to put you down.  You look up at him as you continue your journey down on your knees in the snow.

“I have wanted to suck your dick through that skirt for a long fucking time, and I’ll be damned if I miss this opp.”  You say, reaching through the grassy layers.

M’Baku chortles up to the sky, before looking at you, tugging at you chin.  “It’s not a skirt, but you may proceed.”

Reaching through his undergarments, you swore you must’ve veered off and gotten ahold of his staff instead, until you remembered he wasn’t holding one.   Your hand couldn’t wrap completely around it as you wiggled his dick from beneath his grassy skirt.  

“Good God in heaven…”  You whisper, looking back up at M’Baku, who is biting his lower lip in anticipation.  

You work him between your hands a little, feeling it expand a bit more as your lips kiss his tip, moistened with precum.  Sliding your tongue along his length, you twist your hand around his tip as he grows harder.  

You began to salivate from his taste.  The vegetarian lifestyle made him delicious as you grew impatient with yourself, taking him into your mouth, opening your throat as best you could to introduce his member to your tonsils.

This made M’Baku elicit a guttural moan, leaning his hands on the wall behind you, looking down and cursing you as you twist his shaft while sucking his tip.  You moan with pleasure as his girth fills your mouth fully, making your eyes water from the glory.  You look up at him as his hand finds the top of your head.

“That is good, love.  Take me in deeper.”  He says hoarsely.

You moan in agreeance, stretching your mouth farther, relaxing your throat as you maintained a steady breath, easing over his length inch by inch.  No way in hell were you able to take in all of him, not today anyway, but hearing M’Baku groan with pleasure is encouragement enough to try your damned best.  

Releasing off him, your mouth remains connected to his dick by strings of saliva and precum mixed together as you break them up, polishing his dick with the remnants as you play with his weighty ballsack.

“Ah, that is beautiful. Your erotic nature knows few bounds to satisfy someone in the dead of a winter’s night.”

You lick your lips, twisting his length faster.  “I had to drop everything to get at this, your dick is as perfect as I imagined.”

“Let me see how much more you can take.”  M’Baku says, holding your back as he enters your mouth.  “No hands, love.”

You lay your hands on your lap as he penetrates your throat, pushing his hips towards your face, deeper until you are teary eyed and coughing.  He growls, pulling from you as you collect yourself giggling at his dick bouncing in wait.  He grips your scalp, pushing into you once more, fucking your face vigorously.  You hold onto his thighs, feeling your core throb at the prospect of its turn for attention.  When he pulls out of your mouth, you exhale sharply, licking your lips as he pulls you to standing, kissing you deeply to taste himself along with you.

Then, reaching for your waistband, you start to pull your pants down, kicking a boot off, no longer able to wait to feel him.  You only got one leg out before M’Baku picked you up, wrapping your legs around him, pushing you against the cold wall behind you.

You feel him finding our entrance, wet from T’Challa’s mouth and even more so from M’Baku turning you on, he slowly enters you, his breath catching as your tightness squeezes around him.  You moan desperately from the width, though gravity mixed with your wetness allows you to slide onto him with ease.  M’Baku looks at you, resting his forehead against yours as he begins to dig you out.  His hands rest against the wall as you cling to his shoulders and waist, his hips bounce you on him, those thick thighs powering his movements.  The cold doesn’t bother you at all, you’re almost compelled to take off your coat for heating up with lust.  You snarl in each other’s faces, daring the other to come first, though you’ve already lost.

“Christmas tiiiiime is heeerrre….”

Your head snaps back against the wall as the carolers break you out of your concentration only a little.  “Do you hear that?”

M’Baku’s face is strained in pleasured agony as he takes your jaw in his hands.  “Look at me.”

You do, studying his beautiful, charming face.  Even in aggressive sex, he looks so sweet.  He takes you away from the wall, holding your ass as he bounces you on his dick.  You cry out as he hits your G-spot.

“Happinessss and cheeeer…”

“Fuck. Me. Baku.”  You say with each bounce as he grunts, demolishing you until you feel him cum inside of you, warm and creaming.

A little too quickly he pulls out of you, backing you into the wall, covering himself.

“I hate to leave you like this, but I must go now.”  M’Baku says guiltily.

You wobble, trying your best to put your one leg back in your pants.  “Wait, come on.  Now you really can’t go.  Seriously?”

He blows you a kiss before jogging around and out of view.  You hop to get a boot on, legs wobbly and pussy still clenching, you barely make it around to your front door as the carol singing begins to fade.

Looking around your yard, you are confused and suddenly very cold, obviously wet.  You needed to change your clothes before you caught a cold.  Shaking your head, you step inside the warmth of your home, thinking about what kind of night this was for you to look back on, if it was even real.  Taking off your coat, you walk past the kitchen and freeze.  The fridge door was open and someone bent over, peering inside of it.

“Ohh my God... “  You whisper, closing your eyes, leaning on the island.

He stood up, looking at  bottle of sweet tea.  “You need to reup on your snacks, princess.  Ain’t a damn thing but this off brand tea and some Kraft singles.”

You cock your head to the side.  “Nigga, I got food.  The hell are you talking about?

Erik puts his hands up, laughing.  “Well damn, excuse the fuck outta me!  You ain’t give my boys none of that lip before me.  Speaking of, you got a little something…”  He motions towards your mouth and you quickly turn away, wiping the remnants of your outdoor trist off your face.  

Erik walks in front of you, taking a swig of the tea.  “So you let them niggas smash before me, huh?”

You look him over:  shirtless, scars bedazzling his skin and locs loose.  “I ain’t talking bout shit until I’m given some damn explanation.  Why are all y’all coming into my house?”

Erik makes a face.  “I guess I ain’t your favorite then, huh?”

Your arms over your chest.  “I asked a question.”

Erik screws the top on the tea, setting it on the island behind you, lingering beside you.  “So did I.”

His tone was threatening, and you aren’t sure how much to push him, so you play it safe.  “You’re not my favorite.”

Erik plants his hand on the other side of the island, facing you.  “That’s not the answer I was looking for.”

You shrug, remaining defiant.  “At least I’m telling the truth.”

“That question was rhetorical.  I asked you first if you let them niggas smash before me…”  Erik’s eyes grew wild, jaw tightening as he waited for your answer.

You felt your face warm up thinking over T’Challa and M’Baku, what they did and how it made you feel.

“Technically, only one smashed smashed, but…”  You say looking down at your feet anxiously.  

Erik scoffs, walking away slowly.  “Fucking M’Baku.  I know it was his big ass, cuz T’Challa talk too fucking much, moves too slow.”  He scratches his beard looking disappointed.

You feel embarrassed but check yourself.  “Mhm, it was good too, so there’s no reason for you to be here.  I can go to bed and rest easy with this pussy satisfied, so go on to wherever the hell you came from!”  You wave him off pointing to the door.

Erik puts his hands in his pockets nodding slowly but not moving.  “So he got in them walls then, huh?  Shit, then I guess I’ll just have to stick it in ya ass then.”

You turn into a turtle as your neck curls up at his statement.  “Excuse me?”

Erik walks towards you.  “You excused.  I ain’t going after he done conformed that pussy to his dick.  Nah, I need a fresh spot, and since I know your mouth got that work too, we can skip all that.”

You couldn’t help but get aroused at the prospect of fucking Erik but you weren’t certain about taking him that way.  You didn’t have too much experience in that realm and the way you imagined Erik fucking, he could fuck up your whole digestive system.

Before you could reason him, Erik takes your hips to turn you around, grinding against your ass, sniffing your neck.  “Shit, you got a fatty on you too?  Imma have some fun makin that shit bounce.”  He says pushing you over the island and taking your pants down.  You grip the edge of it, holding on tight as you prepare for what’s next.  Somehow your pussy acts like it hasn’t had enough, throbbing with angst.

“Ohh, shit!  Looka here, you still got his cum on these lips too.  Ain’t that bout a bitch.”  Erik says, clapping your ass as he spreads your ankles apart.

“I’m sorry Erik.”  You say softly, resting your forehead against the cold countertop.

“That’s how nasty you can be?  Laying your ass out for me without even cleaning up after yourself.  You rude as hell.”  

You jump as his hand thunders against your cheeks again, causing you to arch against the pain as it slowly dissipates.  

“I don’t wanna be rude.”  You say, looking back at him as you reach beneath you to play with your clit, picking your ass up in the air as you stand on your tiptoes.  Erik kneels down behind you, kneading your asscheeks.

“Nah, but you are though.  Saying I’m dead last against those two busters?  You don’t even deserve this.”  Erik spreads your cheeks burrowing his face between them as he tongues your ass down.  Your body jerks under his mouth, feeling his rough tongue massage your sphincter, coaxing it to open up for him.

You ooh and ahh as you play with yourself, having the best of both worlds at once sending you over your edge for the umpteenth time today.  

“Oh God, I don’t deserve it, but I’m so glad you’re here.”  You mewl, reaching back for his locs, holding on tightly as he fucks your ass with his stiffened tongue, growling in amusement.  

Pulling off of you he smacks your ass again, shaking his hair loose of your grip.  “Keep your hands to yourself, this ain’t your party, this mine now.  You got all you wanted from them other niggas, now I’m taking what’s mine.”  

You try to answer him with a smart quip, but you’re at a loss for words when his fat finger enters you.  When he feels you adjust to it, he quickly sticks in a second, then third.

“Damn, bitch!  You actin shy before, but I see you opening up to me now.”  Erik says, pleased.

You felt yourself grow in heat as you wanted more, arching yourself to gain traction as you push against his fingers, trying to pick up the pace and feel him deeper.

He smacks your ass harder this time.  “Sit your ass still.  Keep playing games and see what happens.”  He kisses your ass before taking his fingers out and getting your pants off the floor.  You look back slightly, not wanting to be caught being disobedient.  He is taking the drawstring out of your joggers.

“So we don’t have any problems…”  Erik takes your hands, wrapping the string around your wrists, tying them tightly.  “I can tell you be movin around, and I don’t chase shit.”  

“I won’t run, baby.  I swear.”  I say it as though you have a choice.  He tied you up so good, he might as well put you in the oven to roast.

You hear him undo his fly as his pants fall to the floor.  He lines himself up against you, holding the drawstring on your wrists to pin you down as you feel the pressure of him entering you.  You groan out loud without restraint, you couldn’t help it.  It felt so different, you weren’t sure if he was right to keep going or not.

“There you go mooing and shit.  Say words or shut the fuck up, I ain’t no farmer.”  Erik demands.  He goes in slowly, further expanding your ass to his width as you groan, quieter into the countertop.  “That feels…”

“Huh?”  Erik says, finding his hands to your hips as he works his way back and in again, getting himself in deeper.

Your neck snaps back as you identify exactly what you’re feeling.  “That feels good...do it to me again, please.  I want it all!”

Erik pulls your head back further when he finally sheaths himself fully inside of you.  “This ain’t got a damn thing to do with you.  When I make you cum, that’s for me.  When that dick is too much for you, you stay your ass there for me until I say we through.”

You nod vehemently.  “Please.  Do what you need, it’s yours.”

Erik pumps into you, steadily picking up the pace.  “That’s what the fuck I’m talking about.”

You watch your surroundings quake as he pounds into your ass relentlessly.  You felt like ripping yourself out of your binds, but they force you remain in a state of pleasure, driving you mad.

“Yeah, that ass bouncin now.  You should see this shit right here.”  Erik exclaims, slapping your sore skin in retaliation.

“You hittin it just right baby, yes!”  You scream out, feeling a tidal wave wash over you as your orgasm intensifies.  You accidentally beat your head against the countertop, unable to control yourself as his pleasure takes you over.  

You feel his grip on your hair as he wraps his other hand around your waist to pull you up.  “Before you fuck your brain up, I wanna see those titties bounce too.”  He pulls your shirts up forcefully as he frees our breast into the open air.  Erik kisses your shoulder and neck as he hold onto your titties tightly, growing weak as his climax draws near.  

“Next time you take it in the ass, you think of me and how much you wish it still was me gettin in that.”  Erik growls scooping his hips to get every inch of himself inside of you.

“No other niggas could, no others.”  You gasp, wrist sore from your arms tearing against them, you felt like a runner on a marathon approaching the finish line.  Weak but strong to the finish.

“Who’s is this?”  Erik grunts heavily.

“It’s yours!  You’re my favorite, dammit.  You are!”  You were just about to give out when you hear Erik cursing and slapping into you a few times more before growing still, subtly grinding against you until he was drained.  

When Erik let’s go of your breasts, you slump over the countertop, completely spent physically and mentally.  Erik pulls out of you, untying your knots as the sweet relief of your hands being free adds to your orgasmic elation.  Your heart and you ass beat rhythmically, coming down from the assault of passion you just endured.

As Erik puts on his pants he says. “Aye, let’s do this again next holiday you ain’t got shit to do.”

“What….why….”  You try to squeak out your question but that proves difficult.

“Erik snaps his fingers.  “Oh, this on some Christmas Carol shit.  You know the ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future?  Kinda like that, but hella not.”

“This...dream?”  You squeak out, preparing to pass out on the counter.  Erik comes out beside you, leaning over.  

“Only if you want it to be.”  He winks, jiggling your ass one last time before heading out.

When you wake up that morning, you sit up on the couch, Netflix still up as you stretch.  You feel your shoulders are sore, figuring you slept wrong as you head to the bathroom.  Sitting on the toilet you feel yourself a little extra wet as you wipe, not entirely sure why.  It wasn’t until you rinsed your hands at the sink, and saw the marks around your wrists that you remembered what happened that one Christmas Eve and how real it may have been, making you smile devilishly.

“All that I want can't be found, underneath the Christmas tree...”

Ragtag

@chaneajoyyy @wakanda-inspired @bidibidibombaclaat @afraiddreamingandloving @muse-of-mbaku @yaachtynoboat711 @sarcastic-sunshines @iamrheaspeaks

[movieexpert1978]

Upgrade Pt. 3

Another chapter for the story. I’ve been typing away all weekend as I got off of work. Hope you guys enjoy it and please leave some feedback. I’d love to know what you guys think!!!

Pt 3: Elisa learns to be a hunter warrior with Ido. 

Alita battle angle and it’s characters are not my characters. 

The first night Ido and Elisa went out it, they didn’t catch any marks. After a few hours of travelling down dark alleys they went home.

“So are you a doctor or not?” Elisa asks confused as they walk.

“Yes I am a doctor, but when night falls and the insomnia hits I go out as a hunter warrior.” He explains.

“A hunter warrior?”

“Yes or a bounty hunter. We kill marks and collect bounties.” He says. He brings her up to a monitor that shows the data on the current marks.

“Oh…you kill for money.” She says.

“I take the money and use it to make sure the clinic stays open, otherwise it would have closed long ago.” He adds with a sigh.

“Are there others like you…hunter warriors?” She asks.

“Yes, plenty more. Most of them are not as…how should I put it…morally pleasing as I am.” He smirks.

“You mean some just do it for the money?”

“Exactly.”

“What’s in your case?” He kneels down and opens it, showing her all sorts of parts. She watches as he connects some pieces one by one and it forms a giant hammers. “This is my weapon of choice. It’s a rocket hammer.” He says proudly. She stares at him puzzled as he holds a trigger down and blue flame bursts out of one end. He swings it to the ground and makes a decent size hole. “It adds more power so I can take care of marks faster.” He explains. He releases the trigger and the flame disappears before he takes it apart and puts it back in the case.

“Why not use a gun?” She asks. He can’t help but burst out laughing.

“Oh my dear girl, guns are out-lawed in Iron city, punishable by death. They don’t want any weapons made that could challenge Zalem in any way. I would have thought you knew that.” He says.

“I never trained with guns.” She says.

“Well that explains it.” He mutters. They go back home and go their separate ways for the night. The next morning Elisa goes out and studies all the marks carefully before she goes around the city to try and find their trail. She has a few leads by the time she comes back before dinner. That night she leads him along and they come up on a team of marks. The three of them are armed and dangerous as they glare at Elisa and Ido.

“You better back away old man and take your little girlfriend here with one.” One of them says flashing a knife. Elisa doesn’t flinch and her eyes change color. The men looked spooked as no cyborg has ever done that before. Before Ido can make a swing Elisa snarls, baring her fangs. The mark with the knife charges at her. Ido watches with both curiosity and fright as he wonders what she will do. He tries to swing the knife at her, but she catches his wrist and breaks it easily making him shout in pain. She grabs the top of his head and her fingertips have turned into claws, which are glow blue, as she swipes his throat. His head cut clean off from his body. She drops the head as the second mark charges. He is more cyborg with mechanical arms as he tries to swing at Elisa. He’s stopped when she grabs his throat, crushing it instantly, before he punches him in the face and send him smashing into a wall. His body cracks and crumbles as he falls over lifeless. The last mark is almost right at Elisa when she catches him. She shoves one arm away as she manages a punch to his face. It doesn’t do the damage she expected as he bleeds blue cyborg. She frowns before she grabs him and shoves him into the stone wall head first, knocking his head clean off.

The fight is over in under three minutes.

“My god.” Ido whispers to himself. She glances over at him.

“Did I do good?” She asks him. He just stares at her for a moment trying to figure out why she said that when it was quite obvious she did.

“You did…amazing.” He says sincerely as he walks up to her.

“Really?” She gasps.

“Yes.” He chuckles.

“Thank you!” She says giving him a smile before she collects herself. Judging by her behavior, he’s sure she wasn’t praised often and probably sent back to her room or something when her training routine was over. They go to the factory to collect the money and go home.

“Here.” Ido says handing her a few credits. She stares at them as if he’s just put a bomb in her hand.

“Why are you giving these to me? Don’t you need them for the clinic?” She says holding them back up to him.

“Yes but you took them down. You earned it.” He says.

“What do I do with it?”

“Whatever you want. You could buy something for yourself or save them. It’s up to you.” He explains gently.

“Oh…ok…thank you Doctor.” She nods.

“You don’t have to keep calling me that.” He smiles. She only nods as she puts the credits on the table and goes to the couch to sleep.

Xxxxxxxx

Another pattern emerges as Elisa goes out in the day time to look for marks and when she finally catches a trail she and Ido go hunting. One night he reluctantly brings Alita along. Even then Elisa is too fast for even Alita to catch up with.

“Now that was cool!” Alita grins when the fight is over.

“Uuhh…thank you.” Elisa says to her as Alita gives her a thumbs up. Not to mention that she was glad Elisa did most of the fighting and Ido didn’t come home all battered and bloody any more. They soon had enough money for things to be comfortable for a little while, but Elisa still went out to walk Iron city anyway. She was just leaving the clinic when a woman with dark hair and elegant clothing walked up to her and she had the mark of Zalem.

“You’re from Zalem!” She gasps coming right up to the woman.

“Who are you!?” She snaps at Elisa in disgust.

“Subject Ten E a.k.a Elisa Prime, humble servant to Nova and Zalem.” Elisa repeats. The woman blinks in surprise as Elisa shows her tattooed 10 E. She stares at it for a moment before she looks up at Elisa studying her.

Ido glances out the window and sees Chiren talking to Elisa. That was not a good sign and he hurries out.

“Chiren.” He calls out as he hurries over to them.

“Let me guess you found her in the scrap yard too?” Chiren says unamused.

“Yes, but Elisa is human. She’s not a cyborg.” He says.

“I know.” Chiren says looking at Ido.

“Elisa this is my ex-wife Chiren.” He says, introducing them.

“Can you get me Zalem?” Elisa asks.

“If I could get back to Zalem I wouldn’t be here.” Chiren states unamused. He can tell her words sting Elisa a little bit, but then she looks back and forth between her and Ido.

“Ex-wife…wait you were on Zalem too?” Elisa asks.

“Have fun.” Chiren smirks before she walks away. Ido suspects she was going to talk to him again about returning to the motorball games, but now that she’s seen Elisa something obviously changed. Chiren knows a lot more about Nova’s activities thanks to Vector. Who knows what kind of things they were making in that lab scientist laboratory they had. Ido guides Elisa back inside.

“Yes I was on Zalem too. Chiren and I were exiled many years ago.” He says.

“Why?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.” He says.

“You displeased Nova.” She frowns.

“So did you.” He nearly snaps at her as he collects himself.

“Hey what’s going on?” Alita says sensing tension.

“Chiren was here.” Ido mutters.

“Oh…you don’t want to be around her. You can’t trust her…or did you not feel that in her energy.” Alita teases waving her hands and making Elisa frown.

“Actually…she felt a little cold now that mention it.” Elisa says.

“I’m not surprised.” Ido sighs. “Look, please just stay away from her. The people she works with…they’re not good people. They’re selfish and only do what’s best for them no matter who they hurt.” He says gravely. Elisa isn’t sure about what to make with his words, so she only nods.

“Hey I see you got some credits. Why don’t I take you to the market to get something?” Alita suggests, happily changing the subject.

“Ok.” She nods and follows Alita out. She’s not really sure what to get for a while as Alita makes suggestions.

“Oooh! Why don’t you get this bag?” She says holding it up. It was a simple black over the shoulder strap back, but it was nice and big and had a lot of pockets. Elisa looks it over. “You have to have something to put your credits in for starters.” She adds encouragingly. Elisa nods in understanding and purchases it.

“Thank you.” Elisa says to her.

“You’re welcome.” She says giving her a big smile.

Xxxxxxxxx

“We have a situation.” Chiren says to Vector.

“And what’s that?” He asks very much uninterested.

“I need to talk to Nova.” She says.

“What…oh come on!” He protests before his eyes turn blue. “And how can I be of assistance Doctor?” Nova says even though it’s Vector’s voice.

“Subject Ten E a.k.a Elisa Prime.”

“Ooh, I see.” He nods.

“Who is she?” Chiren asks. Nova sits at Vector’s computer and starts typing a few things. He puts in a flash drive and after a few minutes he takes it out and hands it to her.

“She was the most promising subject we had. She had spectacular results. She was responding so well to all the training and stresses we subjected her to, but when we started the next stage things went haywire.” Nova says leaning on the desk.

“What did you do? Give her steroids or something?” Chiren smirks, that’s so primitive even for Nova.

“No, we were on the verge of a breakthrough in genetic mutation. We had only altered her DNA in small ways, but this…this was going to change it all completely.” He says.

“I take it she didn’t react to it well.”

“It’s on that drive. All of her files on are that drive.” He explains.

“Do you want me to do anything with her?”

“No, not yet. I want to see what else she does.” He says.

“Anything else?”

“Don’t help her. She’ll come looking for you, but don’t help her. I want to see her out in the wild.” He says before he leaves Vector stumbling around and clutching his head.

“This better be good.” He mutters to Chiren.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

To try and distract her from trying to find Chiren, Ido helped Elisa register as a hunter warrior. When she came out she showed in her ID card and he gave her a proud smile.

“Is it ok I still go out with you?” She asked nervously.

“Of course!” He says wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “You’re always welcome to come with me.” He says as they walk down the steps. “You don’t have to be nervous when you ask me a question. I’m not going to get mad at you. I know you have a lot to learn here.” He says sincerely.

“Thank you.” She says gently.

“Come on, let me show you a place where all the hunter warriors go.” He says. They go to the Kansas bar where some of the other hunter warriors smirk at them, but otherwise leave them be. ‘Oh great…Zapan is here,’ Ido thinks to himself. He does his best to ignore the big shot and orders a drink for the two of them.

“What is this?” She asks looking at the glass.

“It’s whisky…try it.” He says taking a small sip. Elisa copies him and she grimaces at the taste as it burns her throat. Ido can’t help but chuckle. After a moment her throat feels warm and her body seems to tingle a little bit.

“What’s this feeling?”

“It’s called a buzz. People like it a lot and that’s why they drink alcohol, which is what whisky is. You have to be careful though because if you drink too much you’ll get drunk and feel lousy the next morning.” Ido smirks as he’s done that all too often after Chiren left.

“Who says that’s a bad thing doc?” Zapan says coming up behind Elisa. She turns and glares at him.

“Uhhh…Zapan you might want to give her some space.” Ido warns her.

“Got another one from the scrap yard did you?” He smirks with his accent. Elisa looks him over quickly. He’s a total replacement cyborg for starters, wearing black leather pants and boots and not much else. He has a sword on his belt as well. A normal woman might think him rugged and handsome as he spent a lot of money on his face to look so. A piece of metal was on the center of his chin and he had a Mohawk. His metal looked good too and she hadn’t even seen the skull pattern on his back yet, but she didn’t care anyway. “You on a date with the doc here?” He teases.

“No.” She says even though she doesn’t know what a date is, so she show’s her badge.

“Oooh how cute.” He laughs as she tucks it back into her pocket. “And uhhhh…how many people you killed deary?” He mocks getting closer. Ido just frowns, knowing Zapan is going to get it sooner or later.

“I killed three marks on my first hunt with Ido.” She says.

“Wait…oh no!” He laughs. “So you’re the one people are talking about. Is it true that you can grow fangs and smash people into walls?” He jokes waving his arms.

“I don’t know…maybe.” She growls. Her eyes change color and she snarls at him with her fangs bared making Zapan yelp and jump back, falling flat on his ass.

“What the hell?” He gasps.

“Now go away.” She says flashing her claws that are glowing blue. His jaw nearly unhinges as he gets up. Some of the other patrons look at her in shock.

“You sure know how to pick the freaks doc.” Zapan says before he gets up and walks out. Her eyes return to normal and she recognizes the fear in their eyes. She turns away quickly and downs her drink, ignoring the burn it gives her.

“I’m sorry…but can we go now please?” Elisa asks Ido quietly. He nods in understanding. He finishes his drink and tips the bartender before the go home.

“Are you alright?” Ido asks before he goes to his room.

“I’m fine.” She nods quietly. She keeps her back to him as she curls up on the couch. When she hears his bedroom door close she finally allows a few tears to roll down her face.

[ladyartemisia28]

Say Amen (Saturday Night)

Chapter: 1/?

Pairings: Prinxiety, side Logicality, Platonic Moxiety, Platonic/Family Logince. 

Warnings: None that I can think of. 

Words:4708

Summary: Sanders Sides Human College AU

Being partnered for a class project causes some tension for Virgil and Roman. Until they both go to the same party and well...things happen.

Chapter 1: I Pray for the Wicked on the Weekend

~

On a Friday in a classroom sounds of idle chatter filled the room, if someone were to look through the window a light drizzle would be visible.

The teacher arrived soon after the bell, she wore a white blouse, tan sweater vest with multicolored diamond pattern, and blue jeans.

After she dropped her books onto her desk, she then began to frantically attempt to smooth her slightly damp brown bob. Before she spoke she adjusted her glasses that matched her bright red lipstick.

"I am sure you have all read the assigned books." she began. "Your task now will be to work on a creative presentation about any of the themes the work of your choosing. This project will be due at the end of the semester."

"I'd like to let you all pick your own partners for this assignment, BUT many of you elect to not pick partners"

In the in back of the room, a boy named Virgil sat. He was only half awake due to his chronic insomnia, so he didn't notice a quick look in his direction. With him being in her Creative Writing class last semester, she knew that he had difficulty with group participation.

"I will be choosing your partners for myself"

Towards the front of the room was the dramatic Roman. He was doodling ying yangs in his notebook absentmindedly as he kept an ear open for his name.

"Mr. Sanderson and Mr. Alexander"

Roman pulled from his daze he looked up. He did not recognize the name 'Mr. Alexander', he took a look around to see who was the lucky winner of his partnership. He saw that he had no one looking towards him with joy and excitement.

The teacher had moved on, so he turned to his desk mate, a friendly brown haired fella named Sloane.

"Who is Mr. Alexander?" he whispered not wanting to offend the person in question.

"The boy in the black, in the back corner, his first name is Virgil." he replied with a smile."Cute, in a edgy kinda way right?"

He turned around in his chair to take a subtle peak at him, he was a bit surprised so his gaze lingered.

The boy in question had on a black leather jacket with a gray hoodie under and under that a dark gray t-shirt.

So many layers thought Roman, was he THAT cold? His legs were clad in black tattered jeans, and on his feet were black and metal combat boots.

This Virgil had the gray of his hoodie up over his head and his face downcast. 

This made Roman ever so curious to see what lie underneath.

Not his usual type at all, but everything he could see, was very hot none the less.

"Yeah," he grinned agreeing with the assessment. "Well, its time to meet my new cohort!"

~

Virgil had actually heard that his name announced. But his social anxiety was getting the better of him at the moment. He was still gathering his courage to get up from his desk when a person approached his desk.

He glanced up and then did a second take at the stunningly gorgeous male in front of him. A delicate wisp of red hair fell in front of his whiskey brown eyes.

Scarlet pigmentation faded to orange, yellow then at the crown of his head there was a shift in hues to green. Then blue and then finally the last color at the nape of his neck was a hint of purple.

He wore what almost looked like a letter mans jacket. Tan on the body of the jacket, cream sleeves, stripes of black and red at the wrists and at the collar. Underneath the jacket was a tight fit white shirt that showed off his fit body. 

Unwillingly the thought of the Tumblr post of Dorito!Steve came into his head, it did make him internally chuckle a bit. As his eyes scan the lower half of him he saw skinny blue jeans and brown boots.

Virgil looked up at his face after a embarrassingly long time of ogling his body.

~

When the leather clad boy looked up Roman could finally see his face. His blue eyes narrowed then widened with a look of surprise. Roman's knees felt weak, he had a strong weakness with so called guyliner. Roman wondered if he was wearing light foundation, could his skin be that pale and smooth?

"Hey there, I'm Roman Sanderson." Roman declared with a grin and flourish, waiting for him to introduce himself.

Although he knew his name he wouldn't deny him the opportunity of a proper first meeting.

"And your name handsome?" Roman inquired as Virgil blushed at the compliment. He reached a ring clad hand over to remove his Nightmare Before Christmas messenger bag from the seat next to him. It was kept by his side as a sign to say 'This seat is not available don't sit next to me!'

"Virgil Alexander" his quiet gravely voice responded and ducked his head in embarrassment. Roman suppressed a small shiver at the deep baritone voice.

Roman slid into the seat to the left of him, then took out his three books. Getting a closer look at him from up close he saw his face in more detail. How could Roman have never noticed him before, he was outstanding! He had a pointed chin, full lips, the carved cheek bones like a sculpture, that Roman would kill for. His facial features were sharp yet pleasing. It was like looking at an scowling angry angel.

"So...” he cleared his throat with a small cough “I am partial to the Epic of Beowulf. I love warriors defeating monsters. Knights and Fantasy is so my jam. My nickname around the drama department is Prince Roman.”

He waited for a moment for the dark boy to contribute to the conversation. Also much as he loved to hear his own voice and get to have creative freedom. He was beginning to worry that this partner would be no help on the project if they couldn't communicate. He hated when others who didn't help to get credit for his work.

“BUT I'm guessing that you would favor Dante's Inferno." Roman harmlessly teasing him.

"Cause of my name, right?" Virgil deadpanned flatly as he stared at his chipped nail black polish on his right thumb.

"No, not because of that, even though that is a very funny coincidence." the bright boy smiled as he finally got a response. "Because it seems like you like dark things? " He then gestured towards his messenger bag and person with a large flourish of his hand.

Virgil chuckled at that.

“Yeah I do, look a bit somber.” he replied as he looked down at his attire.

“I think you look JD-lightful.” Roman complimented wondering if Virgil got that reference. JD was a villain, but he was hot.

“Are you comparing me to a sociopath?” he muttered with a slight edge to his voice, as he finally raised his head to look at Roman.

An awkward silence fell over them. Roman broke the quiet a bit louder than necessary.

“I didn't mean to insult you! I just...!”

“I was kidding.” he smirked as he interrupted seeing that Roman had began to panic.

“I understand the look is intimidating. And I get it Christian Slater was hot, so, I guess thanks.”

“Oh, you know I wasn't even sure if you had seen it.” he sighed with relief, internally he was feeling a rush of excitement. He thought that JD was hot, so possibly gay.

“Its a dark deconstruction of those unrealistic 80's teen movies, I love it. I'm also a fan of Winona Ryder, she's in a lot of my favorites. Beetlejuice, The Crucible, Edward Scissorhands, Dracula, Stranger Things.” his face brightening a little bit as he named each movie and tv show. Roman was mildly impressed by his taste in media.

Many of them were things that he would have guessed, like the Tim Burton movies. But he wouldn't have guessed The Crucible to be on his list.

“Wow, so have you ever seen the musical?” Roman asked excitedly.

“Of Heathers? No I can't say I have.” he admitted with a lift of one side of his mouth.

"It's amazing. Candy Shop is such a bop! Although I would very much like to suggest some more productions for you. Wicked, Sweeney Todd, Jekyll and Hyde, and the classic Phantom of the Opera. Oooooh speaking of Opera, Repo the Genetic Opera is a movie musical, so much easier and cheaper to watch. Repo is has an extremely gothic aesthetic. It doesn't have a stage production sadly.”

“You really like theatre don't you?”

“I'm an actor so I would say that I do. I've been in many productions both musical and straight play. Of course that doesn't mean that I'm straight.” he gave a wink at that. Feeling more in his comfort zone being able to brag about himself.

Virgil could feel the reddening of his face at the wink.

“Soooo... I WAS actually leaning more towards Dante's Inferno...” he hastily changed subject to ease his discomfort, missing the micro expression of disappointment on Roman's face.

~

"So are you going to Sloane's party tomorrow night? It's supposed to be chill and if you know him he has great taste in music." Roman questioned as class drew to a close. "If you'd like I could accompany you, you know... "

Much like the class bell going off, within Virgil's mind an alarm went off as well. He suddenly on was guard, his thoughts went to disbelief.

How could he believe anything that he is saying. His words are too charming, it reminds him of.... Virgil began to think, before shaking his head and refusing to continue down that train of thought. His mind was screaming that this guy was not interested in him.

"Yeah, no, Romano was it?" Virgil snarled at him, "I don't know what you want, but I'm not an idiot, so just stop this stupid game."

Roman was so confused.

"Who spit in your bean curd?" Roman asked taken aback.

"I know guys like you, and I don't like being manipulated."

"Excuse Me!" He exclaimed as he placed a hand on his own chest."Their are no GUYS like ME!"

"I'm not falling for this Prince Charming ACT!"

"Act, ACT! I may be an accomplished actor," He declared as he stood with a dramatic chair push, he squared his shoulders with a proud look on his face. “But when it comes to affairs of the heart, I'm never insincere with my affections! When I say that I would like to take you to a party, I truly mean it. " 

With a dramatic flourish of his hand he placed a hand to his chest and gave a look of extreme distress.

"Sure, of course you do, Princey." he scoffed as he stood up as well.

Roman gave the smallest step back as Virgil had seemed shorter than him while they were sitting. Since he had been slouching. But at full height he probably had at lest two inches on him.

“Fine, Forget it!” Roman angrily declared as he grabbed his bag and stomped out of the now empty room. “No, seriously Forget I ever said anything to you! When we work on this on Sunday lets just skip the pleasantries.”

“Fine with me” Virgil retorted as they both reached the door around the same time.

Roman took a turn to the left out the door. Virgil to the right.

~

Thinking it over and over in his head while he made his way back to his dorm room. The thought that maybe Virgil could have said no a little nicer, did occur to him. But he was so startled he just said the first thing that came to his head.

He was just going to try and go to sleep till Patton returned to the room.

Roman thankfully had already scheduled something that evening that would keep him distracted. He went directly to the drama department and picked up his sheet music for the singing portion of his his auditions. After singing through his warm up scales and the pianist came up to him and told him that he was up next. 

Agony by the great song writer Stephen Sondheim was ironically the perfect song for him at the moment.

He did flub up on the pronouns a couple of times but he easily had the feelings behind it spot on.

“Hey you seemed a little bit off today, you okay?” a person with big brown eyes and a orange beanie on their head.

“Yeah Joan, I'm just thinking of my last class. This literature class is harder than I thought it would be.” Roman replied with a halfhearted smile, he wasn't technically lying to one of his best friends. He just didn't include the Virgil part that was making it difficult.

“Well if that's all it is. ” Joan said skeptically.“You did really good today. I could really hear the feeling behind it. You really have been working on the characterization”

“Thanks,” Roman smiled fully the compliment. Joan finished up playing the piano for the rest of the actors.

“So hey are you going to Sloane's tomorrow?” Roman asked impulsively, thinking that going alone would be a bit shameful after he had been shunned earlier. Even taking a friend would be something.

“Nah, I have plans with Talyn.” Joan said as they took their papers from the piano and returned them to their folder.

“Oh, ok” he sighed dejectedly

“Ok now I know that something is wrong!” they accused gesturing with the folder. “If you were feeling like yourself, you would be bragging that you were the one to set us up!”

“I just am worried about class.”

“Class, huh.”

“What's his name?”

“Virgil” Roman said without thinking. He then tried to recover, but failed. “I mean...who?”

“Come on let's go get some food. You can tell me all about 'Class'.” Joan finger quoted and then led Roman out of the auditorium.

~

"Patton, why?" Virgil whined as he sat on his bed the next evening.

"I love you my dark strange son" a soft lilting voice announced. Patton had a strange habit of calling his best friend son and kiddo, he was a wonderful combination of Parental and Childlike. Virgil when he first met this guy he didn't really 'get' him. But he was also always in his corner, regardless of who he was fighting.

"You need to meet people"

"I don't want to meet people, I hate people!"

"You don't hate me." Patton objected with slight questioning pout.

"You're not People." Virgil muttered with a tiny corner of his lip lifting.

"Awww, Come here you Anxious Bean!" his bubbly voice exclaimed as he opened his arms wide for a hug.

Patton was a very touchy person, he hugged as a hello and a goodbye. Incidents had happened when Virgil had to remind him that he must ask if someone was in a mood for a hug at the moment. Virgil was hoping that Patton to let him stay and listen to music with the lights off.

With only a small sigh he shuffled over towards his best friends. He let Patton give him a squeeze,but did not wrap his arms around him in return.

"You are going through a tough time, kiddo." he continued Virgil visibly bristles at the mention of the difficulty he had been going through.

"I don't like when you pressure me to be social." Patton unwrapped his limbs, but kept in physical contact by holding him by the shoulders. He was trying to get some sort of eye contact as well. But Virgil kept his eyes downcast.

"I'm not saying that you have to find a new boyfriend. You could just get to know your classmates outside of class."

"College kids are even worse outside of Class."

"Now Kiddo, you too are a so called “college Kid” no need to be so gosh darn judgmental." Patton said as he let his friend escape his grasp, Virgil sat aggressively on his bed with a little bounce of the mattress.

“If I leave you all alone, you will just listen to that PG13 music in the dark. I really really think you need to do this. Don't you know I just want you to be happy?”

"Yeah I know you do...” Virgil then decided that he would get this out of the way.

"But after this, I'm off the hook for being social for the next two months, ok?"

"One month"

"A month and two weeks, and I'll go with you to the Halloween Costume Party"

“You'll actually go in costume? Not just wear a paper that says 'costume' on it?”

“Yes,”

"Deal!" he exclaimed as his soft blue eyes lite up in excitement.

"I'm glad that you are happy."

"So how do I look?" he asked as he opened his arms again this time to give his friend a clear view of his shirt. On his torso was a pink floral shirt covered in cats that said 'You've Cat to be Kitten Me Right Meow'.

"You look nice." Virgil responded as he dumped the contents of his makeup bag onto the bed. He grabbed his black eyeliner which he used to reapplied his underneath his eyes.

After finishing his face he went to his closet he took a look at his personal armor, his black hoodie with a gray grid pattern. He could cover his head with it's comforting hood, and avoid eye contact.

“Who's party is this anyway?” Virgil asked as he pulled on his converse.

“It's at my pal Corbin's house, I think his boyfriend is hosting though.” Patton stated as they left the room.

~

In a comfortable sized apartment within walking distance of the college. Roman started at his refection in the large bathroom mirror. He finished his applying his golden winged eyeliner. He dusted on a hint of highlighter on his cheeks and forehead. He finished off his look with a red tinted lipstick.

In the doorway stood a tall man with hazel eyes peering at him.

"You know that the social gathering starts in less than 15 minutes." Logan sighed as he looked at his stainless steel binary watch."And it will take at lest 20 or more minutes to get there, not to mention the hassle of finding a spot."

"Well I have to make a good impression, the people must get what they want!" Roman exclaimed as he did another take at his hair.

Roman took a glance over at him. Logan while never a slob, he also had such a nerdy style. In fact he had been mistaken for a teacher several times. He wore a black button up shirt, a pair of khakis and brown dress shoes. He was at the moment tying a plain blue tie.

"Why the Tie, Logan Berry?" Roman questioned.

"Don't call me that. If I remember correctly the saying that mother always said 'Dress to impress'. I like you also want to make a good impression. Just in a less flashy more conservative professional way." he said as "Now what do you think the four-in-hand or half Windsor?"

"Neither! What do you think that a job interviewer is going to be at the party? That they are going to see you in something with style and say, “Hmm that Logan could have had a job at our stuffy office but look at his outfit”!"

“Why do I even ask!” he fumed as he went with a half Windsor and left Roman alone momentarily.

Grabbing his gold cased phone off of the marble counter top he glanced at himself. He took a few pictures and posted them on Instagram with the hashtag #Slay.

As he left with his thoughts he returned to think of how in a different situation. Roman could have been going to this party with a rather striking date instead of his nerdy older brother. He felt unease at the memory of Virgil suddenly turning on him. Roman had thought that they had been having a rather enjoyable time. That they had a sort of connection.

He had just wanted to spend more time with him. And it wasn't like he had outright stated his lack of interest in men. He could have understood that. But that fact that it seemed to be Roman himself that he objected to really hurt.

"Parking spot." Logan said as he returned, now with suspenders that Roman had to admit made the outfit look a little better. Roman quickly removed the look of sadness from his face before turning to his worrisome sibling.

"Well we can take an Uber or a LYFT, or something!" he replied as he grabbed a denim jacket and pulled it on.

“Ooooh Lyft definitely, Uber is known to employ homophobic individuals.” Logan elaborated as he pulled out his phone to order a Lyft.

“Okay Lyft it is!” he declared as he gave himself one last look over before heading out to the living room to wait for the ride.

~

"Hey there gorgeous, how you doing on this fine night Corbin?" Roman he said to a short glassed boy with brown skin “Your boyfriend hosts a nice shindig!”

“Hello Roman, thanks. He really loves these things. It makes him so happy that I barely mind cleaning up the mess at the end of the evening.” he proclaimed as he motioned to the room with a head nod. He smiled at his boyfriend who approached with two bottles.

“Ah the things we do for LOVE!” Roman exclaimed as Sloane slung an arm around his shorter partner.

“Speaking of romance, how's the master of love and matchmaking doing lately?” his usual deskmate and friend asked kindly.

“I did ask Virgil from our Medieval Lit class to come with me here.” Roman hated admiting that he had been jilted, but Sloane was such a sweetheart that he just knew that he would have something to make him feel better. “I can't believe he rejected me. And so harshly. ME!”

“Well, he...” Sloane began.

“I mean I was so charming...sincerely charming. Not faking it like he thought!” Roman interrupted.

“SO did you bring your brother with you?” Corbin hollered over Roman to make sure that he was able to get a word in as he saw the struggle that his boyfriend was having. Sloane gave him a silent 'thank you' unseen by a preoccupied Roman. “I had a question for him for our chem class.”

“I just...” Sloane tried again.

“Can you believe it!” Roman once again continued to talk over his soft spoken friend.

“He's out on the patio, if I remember correctly he was talking to Elliot Smith.” Roman sighed as he returned to his thoughts, not noticing the look of concern that Corbin and Sloane exchanged.

“Ok, well I'll see you around Roman.” Sloane said before he took his partner's arm and they walked through the crowd.

“Yeah,” he muttered to the couple.

He was at a party! He had to do something to make himself feel better.

“Hey Enrique, Come on over here Handsome.” Roman took out a phone, as he called over an attractive looking guy with long brown hair. “Lets take a few for Instagram!”

“If anyone wants to follow me it's Prince of Romance!” he loudly declared. As a few more people got into frame he took a couple pictures with them posting different each time. From a view able distance arrived Virgil and Patton with his head bopping along to the music.

“And THAT is who I was assigned to work with in Medieval Lit. ” Virgil grumbled as he gestured with his grape Gatorade, before taking a swig.

“Seems like a friendly fella!” Patton exclaimed with a happy clasp of his hands

“Lets go talk to him.” “I rather not” Virgil stated with a gruff tone.

“Why not?” Patton asked Virgil had decided to not tell his best friend about Roman coming on to him. He knew that Patton would make a bigger deal of it than it was.

“I already am getting to know him well enough.” Virgil said hoping that would be that.

“But...” Patton started.

“Patton! Virge! So great to see you out and about!” a lovely girl with shoulder length brown hair and brown eyes came up to them. “He promised to go with me to the costume party.” Patton excitedly said to the short girl.

“Yay! Virge, can I borrow Patton for a quick minute?” she asked with a warm and bright smile.

“Sure Val, no problem.” Virgil replied as he was actually very happy for the bubbly pair to take their leave.

Here that showboat was flirting with every guy within range. Just like Virgil had guessed, he wasn't really interested in him. I mean why would he be? Stupid Roman with his stupid gold phone, stupid strong jaw, and stupid waist to hip ratio of Steve fucking Rogers! Looking at the easy smile on his face as he chatted with his friends after his impromptu photo shoot.

Virgil felt a disappointment that he knew it was unwarranted.

Roman didn't owe him anything.

~

“Fuck” he cursed to himself. He wondered how out of any party he HAD to be at this one.

Virgil was unsure how long he was left alone before he spotted the absolute last person that he wanted to see.

His honey colored slicked back hair, dressed in a checkered yellow and black button up shirt and black slacks. Virgil couldn't see his feet but he was sure that he was wearing his signature gold snake scale shoes.

He felt his rapid and loud heartbeat. All the voices around him turned to buzzing incomprehensible sounds that almost sounded inhuman. He glanced behind him and saw that Jae was still there, looking for someone.

Virgil covered his head with his hood and began to search for Patton.

Walking down the small hallway trying to escape he only saw a few handful of blurry unrecognizable faces.

Virgil was sure that he was spotted, feeling dizzy he ducked his head lower. He in his confused state continued his retreat in the opposite direction to where Patton was. Struggling to remember the breathing techniques that Dr. Picani taught him.

Four in, hold for seven, breath out for eight.

His panicked brain formed an insane plan. Then as he turned the corner and entered a semi-secluded hallway like magic he saw a face that he knew. He made his way through the crown and slides up in front of Roman.

He threw back his hood and hurriedly pleaded.

"Hey, my ex is here, I need help! Please make out with me!"

Chapter 3

~

Chapter 2

[ardynium]

This day of @corleonisweek contains traces of smut (even if they are very faint) and the marshal being fed up with a few things. Read the rest of it on AO3. Thanks again to lovely @smgmcrznana for writing with me.

Guilt

Cor heard it on the radio. Insomnia had fallen. The king was dead, long live the king.

The king was dead.

His King.

Regis.

And he had not been there. Had been there to show his son and his friends around, teach the boys some tricks, as Regis had asked him to. Had not been there to save the man he loved, as Reggie had asked him to.

And yet, the star continued to turn, just like that. Even his King was, in the very end, just a man.

Cor felt he should do something, anything. Rush back to the Crown City, help there. Find that the Glaives had everything under control and he was just in the way. Travel with the boys, have an eye on them, but Reggie had asked him explicitly not to do that, and he was glad in a way not having to see Noctis. The boy looked so much like his father that it hurt, even if he had Aulea's eyes.

The marshal had nowhere to go. He stayed with Cid for a few days, drinking with the old man, but Cid saw no use in wasting his time with grief when there were things to do, and could not share his pain about a man that had not been his friend for some decades, so Cor left. Went hunting.

The hunt was the same, always was, helping him focus on the things at hand, keeping him from musing too much, and so he only returned to his tent when he was close to passing out from fatigue.

As he neared the camp there was a light that shouldn't be there. With a hand on his sword he approached cautiously until he saw the being sitting there, the glow from a fire dancing on black armor. "You can't keep doing this, Cor."

"Is it time to go?" He was surprised by the faint hope in his own voice. Settled down at a fire that felt real and buried his face in his hands. So very tired...

"It is not, you have ways to go, and death, death is not the way or the answer for you." A drink was put in front of Cor. "You may rest, but you may not blame yourself for this."

He let himself drop back onto the ground, arms spread wide. "It's too late for that. Far too late. I could have gotten him out there, him and Clarus, and we would have a proper chance to take back what's..."

No. Probably not. Regis had not been doing well the last months. The toll the ring took on him was a heavy one, and while he put on a smile when the others were around, Cor knew how much his body ached. How very hard it was for him to get up in the mornings, how the things the doctors gave him needed higher and higher doses.

He reached over, taking the hand in the gauntlet, touching his strange friend for the very first time from his own will. "Still. Thank you."

The hand he held tighten around his. "You hurt too much over things you can't change, Cor, things that are beyond your control, you forget that it's not the way for us to stumble before them, but to see what's on the other side of them." They sat down next to Cor, close and comforting as the first time they had come for him.

"For us?" A tired chuckle. "That sounds like you and me were on the same side in this, instead of two very different sides Life and death and all that. Even though we may be working on the same border."

"We meet because our paths cross, and because we must carry on." A finger softly stroked his throat, along the hard vein visible by tension.

"You're fucking kidding me, aren't you?" Cor closed his eyes and slightly turned back his head, accepting the touch. "First time? Okay. Job or fate or something. Second time? Maybe. Things to do in the area, I give you that. But this time, out here in the middle of nowhere? This is seriously just paths crossing?"

The repetitive caressing motion of their finger turned into gentle scratches under Cor's chin.

"You are here to grieve, still holding onto guilt that is not yours to bear. There is something out there for you to aid you even if you find it unlikely."

"Is that your way of saying you wanted to see me because you know I'm having a hard time?"

"That's my way of saying you are not alone in this world."

"Could it be your way of saying something else?"

It was nice to be touched again, even if he still not truly understood what they were. Maybe enough of their mead would explain. Maybe only death would. He felt his body relax under their caress.

"My beautiful Cor, you seem to never like what I have to say to you, so why should it be that you cared if it was?" Their palm slipped underneath his neck to massage the tense muscles there, once in a while a finger pulled at the hem of his shirt.

"After all, you've never once called for me. or anyone for that matter, so it is I that must come to you to alleviate you in your time of need."

“Mh.“ A little grunt that could mean anything. “Your own decision, or truly someone's orders?“

"Does anyone else come for you to help? Perhaps therein lies the answer."

“Fuck no, it doesn't. Therein lies the difference if I drink the stuff you serve and ask you to stay the night or if I keep on listening to you speaking in riddles and wonder what the hells you're doing out here.“ What started angry ended with something that was close to a smile.

A hand cupped his face, ancient thumb tracing along the stubble and faint wrinkles made to softly stretch by his mouth. "You want to believe there's another reason for me being here other than comfort. Other than reminding you of the glory that awaits you and that death is not the end. That there is, but you must see through your grief most of all, my dearest Cor."

"If I get through grief and guilt and worry, there'd be nothing left but duty. I'd be even less fun then." His lips formed a kiss against the stranger's finger. "That honey stuff helps me to see you clearly, right?"

They smiled as they played with his pout, gentle swipes across his bottom lip so dearly coveted.

"So it's not only duty with you, you seek fun now and then. My appearance is as how you wish to see me, it's all on you, your needs, I could never hide from you more than that."

Cor slowly sat up and reached for the drink. Sipped. It was still way too sweet and strange for his needs, but this time, he noticed how the world around them stepped aside the tiniest bit to make room.

"That's only half-true, right? There is something you prefer. Black and gold. Then you tried to change it to something I might understand, because..." A turn of the head, watching their shape shift and flicker like air over a hot road, "because you didn't want to scare me even more."

"Are you scared of me still?"

"I... less so than of many others, even though you are nothing I know." More mead.

They watched the glow of the flames move like waves across his brow.

"My beautiful boy, what would you like to know of me? My true intention does not serve you more than the mead will tonight, what will serve you is staying on your path."

"Can hardly ask you if you're top or bottom, now can I?" Cor shook his head. "Aw fuck. Sorry. That came out wrong."

"It came out as you intended, that's all I can ask for." A laugh, and a hand massaging his shoulder.

"You only meet me on my worst days. Why? That your thing?" Muscles and bones were one solid brick under the skin, and he tried his best to not tense up even more.

"You need me not to distract you when you're doing well and you're not exactly one for being cheered on. Though it would be my pleasure to meet often, you're not one for company either."

"Understood." That he did. One for company, he was not, even if there had been times he yearned to be. Tried his best. Failed. "Say. If you're trying to make me drunk again: Will you stay the night this time?" He bit his lip. That, too, came out as intended, even though he was not sure how to go from there. All these years, and he still was as clumsy as ever.

"I will not leave you alone when you need me." The hand traveled further down his back, slipping under the black jacket to caress.

"Is it what you want?" He emptied the glass, tried his best to focus on a face carved from obsidian, the face he remembered so darkly from his first death.

The caressing movement had more purpose now, his shirt sliding up and down vigorously, cold air sneaking a kiss. "If you want, my beautiful warrior."

A sudden movement, and he was kneeling in front of them. "Is it hard to answer a simple question?" His hands running over arms that were armor and leather and skin at the same time, and for a moment, even the silken fabric of Regis' bathrobe. No. Not that.

Their hand ran through his short hair and down the back of his head, gentle fingers on his throat before resting under his chin, a thumb pulling down his bottom lip and softly pushing inside.

Again, the thought of his last lover, his gentle, slow hands, and he saw their face take the traits of the one that still filled his heart. He turned his head, fighting back hot tears that suddenly rose in his eyes.

“Don't. Please. No matter what I think of. Not him.“

"My dearest Cor.." The fingers beneath his chin moved his face back into their view, tilting upwards to see his closed eyes, a thumb trailing along the creases under them, wiping away at tears that had not fallen, Cor's face softly held as they placed a kiss on either eye.

"Are you sure?" Concern and adoration in their voice made clear their willingness to serve him, the man who hurt, yet still was so was so brave, to do anything to consult and heal the broken warrior.

“And not that little shithead Loqi.“ A desperate try to keep his emotions from welling up again. The winter-sky eyes remained closed.

“Yes. I'm sure. I couldn't stand to look into his eyes, even if... he'd smile and be a little melancholic, not because I failed him, but because he was who he was. And... you shouldn't be a fucking substitute. No one deserves that.“

They allowed time for composure to return and put their lips to his eyelids once more. Their hands on either side of his face stroked along the hairs there before drifting fingers over the helix of his ear, then downwards his neck to slip under the collar. Inside they moved along his shoulders and down his arms, freeing him of his jacket.

"As we both are, we shall find solace in each other. You were always truthful to me."

“I didn't have much chance to be anything else with you, let's be honest here.“ A short smile and then, with newfound resolve, his shirts followed the jacket. The light of the flames flickered over pale skin and old scars.

"My beautiful Cor..." They slowly undressed, cape, belts and chains falling to the ground harshly.

"When you lied to yourself before, the last time we met, you were not yourself, but you have managed to understand it now even if you don't know it." They moved closer, wrapped their arms tightly around Cor's waist, hands moving along the curve of his back, replenishing the heat gone with clothes. Their face nested in the crook of his neck, kissing veins and collarbone.

"I don't even know if I understand now." Eyes still shut to the world, letting the being be what it was, heart beating faster under their caress. He did not want to think, enjoy the emptiness in his head for as long as it lasted. His callused hands could not make sense of what they were feeling, skin or a warm stone or something liquid and oily or bliss or nothing at all, but as he touched, all the little wounds that festered in him just faded, and he was nothing but here, night and skin and fire.

They held and kissed him still, under the spell of the stars and the crackle of the fire, of finally getting to taste him after so long. "You will see." Silently said as hands traveled down to undo what little modesty remained. "You will see, I promise you that."

When Cor woke long after sunrise, the embers still smoldered. His head hurt. Had he been drinking? He darkly remembered he had, and he darkly remembered the stranger he drank with, the stranger he... oh. That explained a few things.

The world seemed a different place, just slightly, just in a few shades, a little less real, and as he tried to recall the stranger's face, there was an empty place in his mind, a locked door, and he knew secrets were hiding behind, waiting to spill if he only found the right key.

Then he remembered something, a little detail that had managed to hide under other thoughts for some hours. The king was dead, and it still felt like he fault.

[fading-ronin]

Episode Nyx - A FFXV Story

So after doing a little more time working out on details, I decided to write out a story based on what I feel should have been a great character arc for Nyx Ulric. Appropriately titled: Episode Nyx. 

Read on AO3

"Show yourselves, kings of Lucis." 

The wounded Glaive announced to the frozen space around him that breathed power. He witnessed the shimmering blue lights take shapes into beings in ancient armor, boasting a demanding presence like no other, regal statures being the only state they remained in. These celestial beings had allowed their essence to be absorbed into the ring to provide the power necessary to eliminate the Scourge. They were courageous beyond no bounds, all of the bed time stories told. It was shocking, to say the least, to be in their presence after believing they were a myth this whole time. 

| You call upon the wards of this worlds future, mortal. If you've came lusting for our power, you must first stand in our judgment. |

He looked upwards to the kings as they silenced, his voice shaking as he spoke. "How long will you do nothing whilst.. Insomnia burns. Old or new or whatever it is... Summon your wall!" He spoke with an authoritative tone, stamping his hand upon the ground. 

| You do not command us. Yours is not even royal blood. It does not fall to us... To guard your city.Man's a fool creature, clinging to its past and cowering from its future.Wasting their strength on bygone days. |

"And what future are you wards of?"

| So short sighted.And cursed never to rise above it. | 

It was then a familiar voice had echoed throughout the realm, leaving Nyx to stare up into the sapphire aura, gazing about for any resemblance of the man who had brought him in. The one reminder of his home. 

| Wait. I have seen what this brave soul's prepared to do. He too, seeks to safeguard the future. |

".. Your Majesty..."

| ... Very well, young king. We will weigh your warriors worth. But know our boon does not come cheap. The cost is a life: His or hers. |

Nyx looked from both Libertus to Lunafreya. His eyes had lingered longer upon the princess of Tenebrae, his eyes searching for any sign of hope that he could possibly reciprocate, but her eyes soon vanished beneath the shade before him. He glanced down to the concrete beneath him, feeling the cold that swept upon the leather in his gloves. He could feel it all. The overwhelming sensation of feeling lost. But he couldn't give up now. Not after he had came so far to prove to them that he was worthy to protect the future. To save it from this darkness. The same darkness that took his sister away from him. 

"No... To Hell with your power!.. I'm not here for it.. I only came to tell you, you are no kings!" He began to chuckle at this point, eventually progressing into a soft laugh as he looked upon these shades in what appeared to be disappointment. How could those who wished to protect the future do nothing about the darkness that was attempting to snuff out the dawn? 

| Your worth has been weighed, and found wanting. Now. Burn. |

With those words, the hand the ring had been placed upon set ablaze within a velvet haze, twisting a cry from the throat of the man. He felt his lungs grow heavy as the flame dulled to a searing pain, an occasional wince coming before he released a mighty laugh. With a shake of his head, he glanced upwards, calling out to the bastard kings. "You're gonna lose your precious ring!... But it's not to late to save it..." | You mean to barter with your life? |

"No, no... My life is nothing... Giving a future to those.. Who want to see it... Is everything. I just wish.. To see this future be made for myself.. To help shape it into the future my sister never got to see.. So her name could finally rest within a peace lit by the dawn's light..." 

| Hmm.. You do not fear; even if that future is doomed. If that sentiment is not false, then perhaps you are worthy.We will grant you our light, but know it will set when the sun rises. ... And the price shall be a token of your life.. Be wary you do not fail.We grant you this to ensure the King fulfills his ascension... ... Tell him we will be waiting. | . . . . This conversation rang throughout the thoughts of the Glaive as he stood weakened above the fallen General Glauca, formerly Titus Drautos, the Captain of the Kinsglaive special forces. His breathing was sharp and heavy, each one drunken setting his lungs ablaze with a foreign fire. His eyes glanced down to his being, a sigh of relief escaping him followed by a shake of his head.

  "Damn... I liked this outfit..." Reaching down to grasp the kukri lodged within the chestplate of the fallen General, he would ease it up and inspect it before sheathing it, soon reaching down to grasp the large blade as well. Heaving it up slow, he would thrust it downwards into a crack in the concrete. A small headstone. Bowing to his captain one final time, he would turn, beginning to drag himself out of the city towards one of the lingering vehicles. With each step, he could feel his being fall to the concrete beneath He could still navigate through the wreckage enough to get out of the city. And hopefully find Lunafreya. She was a healer of the wounded if he recalled, perhaps she could help him. She was a piece in this puzzle, and if she wished to bring back the dawn... Then maybe her bodyguard should step up and do his job. 

Eventually he found a truck nearby with the keys in the ignition. After moving a few pieces of rubble from the back end, he eased himself into the truck, taking slow breaths before starting the engine. It took him even longer to muster the strength to pull the gear into drive. His vision blurred, shallow breaths raking every inhale of air. Had this been what the Lucian kings had meant? He felt much weaker than before. So tired... Shaking his head, he took a sharp breath, doing his best to remain awake to continue searching for the Oracle. That was his duty. She, was his duty. 

Taking it out of park he then began to navigate throughout the crumbled buildings and dead daemons. Many of them lingered still even as they faded within the darkness they were born unto. It took him a good while, trying to find an intact bridge to cross or to slip through an unsealed tunnel. Eventually he came to the west gate, staring at the empty roadways and the mass of people up ahead. There was no trace of Libertus or the vehicle he took. He must've taken it elsewhere... 

That meant either Lunafreya went on foot or she was with Libertus. Those were the two grand options. With a strained sigh, the male began to drive forward, going slow as to avoid scaring the public into a frenzy over the vehicle. Inevitably, however, he was stuck behind the waves of citizens. Tediously he drove, using the occasional call out for people to make way for his vehicle. He had scanned the crowd as quick as he could for any whisp of the blonde haired Fleuret. It shouldn't have been difficult. The brightness of her natural radiance should have been visible amongst the black parade that marched ever onward toward whatever salvation they could possibly make for themselves. And then, he had seen it. 

A woman had been off to the side greeting two canines, one with white fur while the other clad in coal, a representative for someone else? He wasn't sure. What he was sure of was who that woman was. You could never mistake the radiant aura that bounded off of her. With a weakened smile, he would ease the vehicle as close as he could before leaning over the window, gazing down to the Oracle of Tenebrae with the best smile he could muster. 

"I never thought you'd be a dog person, Princess..." 

The girl had straighted almost immediately, her twisting slow as her sapphire hues soon rested upon his own. There were no words needed. The look shared between them had spoken everything that they could have ever desired to. Standing from her company, she moved over to him, taking a quick inspection before letting loose a gasp. Her hands had rose to touch the scorch marks that made his skin crisp into ash. His normally sapphire hues had dulled to a stormy gray. With a gentle hum, she would shake her head, brushing her thumbs along the lines slowly. Within a few seconds, her hands brightened in a golden glow, the aches that racked the body of the man soon eased from his body. 

"Blessed Stars of light and life..." She whispered, her forehead soon pressed against his in order to enact the proper rite. The pain had been excruciating for the longest time before he had felt her soothing touch come over his being. With the warmest of breaths, he felt all the pain that had rung throughout his bones relinquish themselves to the white magic the Oracle had boasted. When the glow had ceased, the scars themselves had remained, but the workings of the magic had prevented further tissue damage, the ashen flakes dropping away. "They should fade away within a few days... Now..." Luna started to say, opening the car door to get a full look at the Glaive. It only took a quick assessment before she had quickly burrowed herself within his arms. It was unexpected to say the least but, nonetheless, the male slowly draped his arm around her shoulders. The embrace was quiet, mostly, with a few light sniffs coming from the Tenebrae royalty. Withdrawing from his grasp, he offered her warmest smile, light shades of pink dusting the sclera of her eyes. They were puffy, threatening tears formulating in the corners of her eyes.

  "I cannot thank you enough for what you did. You... You were prepared to sacrifice all to keep the future- me -safe.. To allow me to help Noctis fulfill my destiny.. I could never repay you, Nyx Ulric." She stated in a somewhat regal manner. This had brought about a light shake of the head from the Kingsglaive, his hand waving about lazily before looking forward towards the empty road. "No need to thank me. It's my job, remember?" When he said that, he could see her lips curl into yet another smile, her head bowing in acknowledgment to the words before she would gaze up to the man. It was evident that he hadn't been fully healed, as her power was meant for healing the sick afflicted by the Scourge rather than the Lucii, so she had hoped that he would manage for the time being. 

"I was on my way to a small town nearby. I believe the name is Galdin Quay. Please, accompany me there." The words of the woman had held a professional tone, more so than the one she had held within Insomnia. It had brought a small smile to his lips. Now it was time for the Oracle to come into the light. With a nod to her request, he would unlock the passenger door, watching as she had turned to tie what looked like a book unto the pitch black canine before ushering him off. The one with white ran off soon after as well. 

Nyx had awaited for the woman to walk around the other side of the vehicle and enter. He could still feel the sluggish tug on his being. His vision blurred on occasion, or he'd find himself short of breath, his being failing him to try and lull itself to recovery. He must've been putting on some sort of show, because the next thing he knew, Lunafreya's hand was resting on his shoulder with a concerned expression overriding her former regal tone. "It's okay, I.. I got this." He managed, taking in a deep breath before entering a coughing fit, causing the Princess to lurch forward to prevent him from hitting his head on the wheel. Once he finished, he cleared his throat, shaking his head afterwards. "I can do this. I'm.. I'm fine. I can rest when I get you... to where you need to go. Sound good?" He spoke in a weakened yet determined tone as he focused his gaze upon her. He could still see the worry pooling within her eyes. And yet... She nodded her head. "I trust you, Sir Ulric. My life is in your hands, and I am sure you will keep me safe." Her words were gentle and calming. He felt assured. Justified, more like, to see that this woman was worth coming back to protect. She alone could replace all the corruption and hatred in the world with confidence and compassion. When she smiled, he felt a warmth spread through his chest, his only reaction being to return it. "Whenever you're ready." "Ready as I'll ever be, Your Highness." . . . . The drive had been slow, at first, as the two had to deal with the many airships that had roamed about the skies and the few checkpoints that had begun construction soon after the treaty had been signed. The ride was not silent, however, as some questions were not able to remain within the thoughts of the princess. 

"If I might ask... The ring... To use it, you must wager something of your own... What did you offer?" He could see out of the corner of his vision the focus that the woman had placed on him. Her brows had furrowed at the thought of it, yet intrigued by the survival of the glaive. Had it been anyone else, he would've instantly rejected the idea and tried his best to change the subject, but he felt that she had the right to know. She nearly placed the thing on her finger herself. 

"They wanted a piece of my life. My soul, I guess, to give some power to the ring." Nyx explained the best he could. He did feel a lot weaker than before, more fatigued really, "It was their price to pay when they placed on the ring. That must be why you are so exhausted..." She said, this causing the Glaive to let out a chuckle. "Well, I did just use the Old Wall and fight off both the daemons and General Glauca. I think I haggled 'em pretty good." 

This brought a light laugh from the Oracle herself, her lips twisting into a joyous expression, he himself cracking up. "Libertus was quite the driver. For a moment, I believed him to be better than you." She had prodded his side softly with the tip of her index finger, a playful roll of his eyes following after. "That is, until he gave me the wheel..." "That was a terrible idea. But I can't say much about my driving skills." "Nyx, you drove us off of a highway." "But it worked out." "You then drove it across a rooftop down between two buildings." "Still worked out." "You're impossible." "I like to think of myself as 'adorably annoying.'" 

Luna gave a light slap to the arm of the glaive, causing him to relinquish a laugh at seeing the amused expression lighten her features once again. However, all came to a silence when they had seen the resort known as Galdin Quay come into view. The water gave off a wondrous gleam from the yellow star risen high above. It set a beautiful scenery one could only imagine within the pages of a novel. Pulling the dusty brown truck into a parking space, Nyx had released a steady breath, gazing over to the Princess. "Let me go ahead and make sure it's safe. We don't need any unwanted attention." He himself took to his duty as a glaive, removing his jacket as to disregard any form of identification. His scars had shown more now, a steady trail moving down to his left arm, the deepest mark being upon the finger he wore the ring. Lunafreya looked at him with a bewildered stare, preparing to speak before he beat her to the punch. 

"I'll just say I was attacked by some daemons the other night. Burn marks." He tried to ease her troubled mind, and the explanation seemed to soothe her worry, but she soon gave him a shake of her head. "But I must go with you. The people need faith in the world knowing that I did not perish in Insomnia." 

"But princess--" 

"No buts, Sir Ulric. We can stay here for the evening, you need your rest." She cut him short, giving him a gentle smile before bounding out of the truck. Nyx couldn't help but let out a groan of detest. Slipping back on his coat, as going incognito was not in the plans, he exited the truck to make his way beside her once again. She was confident with every stepped, poised to walk with perfect stature and unimaginable courage. It was a new side to Lunafreya that Nyx hadn't the chance to see as much as he would have. Now he was able to make up for that lost time. 

Not a bad deal after all. 

Hearing the waves brush against the shore brought a sense of relief Nyx hadn't felt since being home in Galahd. Being next to the river banks, listening to the steady trickling of the streams as they passed over stone and earth. It had always brought a deep sense of comfort that none other ever had. His lips curled into a smile before he was stopped short by the feeling of a body before him. Gazing down, he caught Lunafreya staring off, looking towards an island far off into the distance. It was strange in formation, with the terrain twisting upwards in an odd wing-like shape. 

"What is that place?" Nyx wondered aloud, squinting his eyes against the beating sun before a large shiver struck his being, a vision of a man garbed in white with a staff wielding lightning with extreme profession. He floated high with might in his entirety hovering over what looked like the same island before them. And then, as instant as it had came; it vanished. Raising his right hand upwards to grasp his head, he winced from the shock, gazing forward to find the man he had saw no longer remained there. 

"That is Angelgard. It used to be a place where the Astrals would meet in times of peace, using it as a prison for those to repent for their sins. Ramuh, the God of Storms, would pass judgement and smite those unworthy with his lightning." Lunafreya explained as eloquently as she could, and if it hadn't been for what Nyx just bore witness to, he might not have understood any of it. Releasing his grip from his scalp, he leaned forward against the railing, staring at the island in a deep thought. 

"Something on your mind, Sir Ulric?" Lunafreya asked him, this causing his attention to snap to, his eyes rolling a bit as he stifled a chuckle. "You can drop the 'Sir Ulric' stuff, alright? Just call me Nyx." He responded, to which she had seemed surprised, but eventually adjusted to the response with a warmed smile. 

"... Nyx," she said in an unfamiliar tone, “tell me, what's on your mind?" The glaive stared off for a short moment, raising his left hand to scratch at the scruff on his chin, his gaze never leaving the magnificent water before them. "It feels like home. I'm just.. Content."

 Luna's eyes had lit up at hearing how he felt, her taking a respectful spot beside him with her hands folded above one another, staring off towards the horizon to witness said sight. "I suppose I have good taste in destinations." She quipped, causing a laugh to flood through the lips of the man. "Yeah, guess you do. You're officially the co-pilot." "If anyone is the co-pilot, it's you. I'm the princess here." "Oh, pulling the royalty card?" "It's certain! You are my Glaive, and so I have say so." With a sigh breaking through his laugh, he would lower and shake his head, raising it upwards soon after he finished with a broadened smile. "Yes, Your Highness." 

Lunafreya had held a victorious smile on her lips as the argument soon settled. Silence filled the air once more as they watched the ocean sway. But it wasn't long until the peace was interrupted. But it was by a source that neither of them could've predicted. Such a sound that was foreign and yet so close to home.

  "... Luna? Is that you?"

Both cerulean and sapphire orbs transitioned to the new tone to find the Crown Prince surrounded by his entourage standing upon the steps. All four of them had stood with mouths agape, seemingly attempting to process what they had been witnessing, with similar reactions emanating from the glaive and his princess. None had been able to say anything. There was so much shock in the air, what else were they to do? 

It was Luna to break the silence, her taking a few steps forward with her signature smile, Nyx taking a step forward behind her. The other had taken a step as well, meeting the same pace with the woman as the boys would grow ever closer. Once they'd been a few feet apart, the words of the Oracle came to light once again.

"Noctis... I hadn't thought we'd be together so soon, but.. It's so good to see you." The Prince had formed a smile, one filled with a child-like happiness, giving a nod of his head in agreement. "Yeah.. What're you doing here though? My father said you were in Altissia."0

 That was when the two of them were left without a word. Taking heed to settle the silence, Nyx would take a few steps forward, standing beside the Oracle with solemn forming upon his features. "Your Majesty... I think we should go somewhere private." . . . . They rented one of the rooms within the resorts for the night. When they were inside and had made sure no one was prying in, Nyx began to tell the events in full detail to the group of Insomnian's. The news was grim, and with each new piece of information, the desperation and loss grew within the cores of the boys before them. It was when he reached King Regis' passing did he fall short. He glanced down and collected himself, frantically searching for the words to portray this horrid event. Within a moment, he took a breath, exhaled and began

. "Your father, King Regis, sacrificed himself to make sure Luna and I could make it to you safely. He battled General Glauca with all of his might, but.. He fell a proud warrior, and a proud father. He wished you all the happiness in the world.." Nyx spoke out, this bringing about a stunned silence to the group about, even the princess. She too allowed her guard to come down, sorrow spreading throughout her expression. 

"He.. He's gone, he's really.." Noctis said as his fists clenched the fabric of his pants, him holding back a sob as he tried to control himself, his gaze never leaving the floor beneath them. They were silent as they allowed him to recover from such a heavy blow. But before Nyx could continue, the advisor Ignis Scientia pushed his glasses upwards, taking a slow step forward. 

"Nyx Ulric, was it? What caused those scars on your body? I've never seen anything of the sort." 

Silence once more. With a glance given to Lunafreya, Nyx had searched her eyes for anything she had to offer, but he could not find her gaze within her somber. With a gentle exhale, his eyes returned to the questioner, raising his left hand to show the initial burn upon his finger. The indent of a ring, one that all had been familiar with. 

"I used the Ring of the Lucii as a last resort... I put my life on the line to make sure the Oracle could get out of Insomnia safely. I didn't think I would, but here I am. Guess I'm the only person to use it without being a King." He said with a confident tone as he threw in his own little quip at the end. That had caught the attention of Noctis, his head snapping up to stare at the marks that was left on the man. He eased himself off of the bed, making his way over to Nyx slow, until he stood a few inches away from him. 

"The man who killed my father.. Who was he?" Noctis questioned. Inhaling a sharp breath, the glaive exhaled, looking slightly to the right to gather the strength to say the criminal behind the murder. "Titus Drautos... I put a stop to him in Insomnia. He paid for his crime.. I made sure of it, Your Majesty." Nyx replied to the boy in an attempt to ease the anger that was so evidently building within Noctis' form. The news had seemed to startle him a bit, yet the conclusion seemed to subside it somewhat, leaving a dull pained look within his eyes. 

"Man.. To think all that because of conspiring..." Prompto said in a hushed tone, nervously tapping his foot and fingers. Gladiolus had remained quiet throughout the conversation, but soon found himself grumbling out a gnawing question that he could no longer bear to contain. "My father.. Did you see him? Where was he when King Regis was in trouble?" 

To that, all the glaive could do was bite his tongue and shake his head. It was the answer Gladio was expecting, but one he'd yet to prepare for. Sucking in a ragged breath, the Shield of the King sauntered off towards the window, his hands on his hips as he worked to process the news given to him. Ignis too followed suit and eased off from the formation, taking into account of how the last Lucian envoy was that within the room they were in. And Noctis stood there in disbelief as he came to realize... He lost his home. His father. Nearly everything... 

Well, almost everything. 

"We shall continue to see your destiny fulfilled, Noctis. Your father's passing will not be in vain. I promise you." 

All eyes fell upon the Princess of Tenebrae as she boasted her soothing words. "We'll commune with the Astrals, ask them for their aid in purging the Scourge from our star, and prevent the darkness from taking away our light... So we may all live happily." 

The atmosphere of the room had soon transitioned into a hopeful one. Within their personal sorrow, they found the light to hold onto, the future to provide for the betterment of the world. Nyx looked upon the woman with a smile. The cloud that dragged about them could not harm them if hope coursed through their veins. With a bow of his head, the Glaive finally found himself a seat, allowing the exhaustion of the previous events take him. The last thing he had remembered hearing was Ignis discussing dinner plans to make up for the solemn night...

[hati-skoll]

NOCT ME UP

[AO3] [Kinkmeme Prompt]

You are receiving this email because you've chosen to subscribe to Noct Me Up's weekly e-newsletter, if you no longer wish to receive exciting updates about our booty-licious prince's daring exploits, please click here.

Greetings fellow Nocturnes!

We interrupt the month-long memorial for His Royal Highness Noctis Lucis Caelum with exciting news. Our beloved prince is alive! That's right, folks, the sexiest bachelor of Insomnia can be felled by no giant, laser-blasting daemon.

There have been numerous sightings of our lovely angel in black corduroys all over Leide, Duscae and Cleigne over the past couple of weeks, accompanied by a presently unidentified trio – likely candidates include Ignis Scientia from the noble House of Scientia, Prince Noctis' loyal Chamberlain; Gladiolus Amicitia from the warrior House of Amicitia, steadfast shield to our future king; Cor Leonis the Immortal; and Prompto Argentum, Prince Noctis' high school classmate. Anyone who is able to provide further information pertaining to His Highness' companions will be generously compensated. Please direct all relevant emails to princewatch@noctmeup.com.

In light of the heartening news, this week's issue of Noct Me Up will feature a collection of personal accounts detailing Prince Noctis' post-invasion affairs.

Prince Noctis is flawless.

This is a fact we're all very familiar with, but it appears those outside the walls of Insomnia have yet to be blessed by the blinding glory of our esteemed prince. Nevertheless, a chance encounter with his illustrious personage has sent the patrons at Hammerhead reeling.

"So, uh, everyone out here knows, if you wanna get your car fixed, you go to Cid. Best mechanic in these parts, y'know? I mean, of course you do," says starry-eyed customer, Moretum Caesar, "So anyway, I've bust my engine just that morning when I was out on an errand for ma, I don't know what I did to it, I mean if I did, I wouldn't be at Cid's. Had the car towed to the garage and Cid tells me I gotta get in line. Turns out a couple of unlucky schmucks got their car in a pretty bad shape.

"Happens all the time out here. The roads are pretty mean; they'll wear out your tires the way a pack of sabertusks'll run down a weary hunter- Sorry, got a little gruesome there.

"Anyway, the roads here ain't nothing like the shiny black asphalt they've got back in the Crown City. So I'm feeling pretty bad for these guys, might've lent a hand, I don't know, offered them some of ma's fresh leiden pepper- We've got the freshest produce in Duscae, and they're only going for twenty gil a piece!

"Uh, right, but then, when I was walking outta the garage, I saw her. No, not Cindy. The car. It was massive. Built like it could take on a behemoth. I was staring at her thinking, [REDACTED]. That's a damned fine ride. Didn't look anything like any of the cars in these parts. Insomnia-make, could tell from a mile away. And maybe I was feeling… a little less charitable towards… city-folks, you know. Probably rich kids, who've had it good all their lives.

"And that's when I saw him. Well, them. But him. Yeah, I think they were trying to go, what's the term, 'in cognito'? Yeah? Sure ain't cognito from where I was standing. They were wearing the crown's colours, all black. And the prince. Man, I ain't one of those poetic types. But I'd sure as hell try for him. See, he was running towards the garage from across the road – not looking both sides, because all the cars in the world would stop for His Royal Highness.

"I'm not being snarky. With a face like that, and an ass- this isn't going to get me in trouble with the Crownsguard, is it? No? You're sure? Well, an ass like that, all perky and tight, could stare at it for years. Not that I'd ever think of touching. Ever. I mean, he's the prince. So there's no need for any of the Crownsguard to be knocking on my door in the middle of the night.

"Yeah, anyway, he jogged over, hair flipping like in one of those fancy hair commercials. The light all golden and rosy around him, and his skin looked… astral-kissed, all shiny and soft.

"Then he stopped right in front of me, kind of looked at me through his bangs. And he said, hey. He said hey. Hey. Can you imagine? The prince! I think I was standing there for fifteen minutes or something even after they left. And that's when I was hit with the epiphany, you know."

Yes, we do, Prince Noctis is flawless.

I hear his hair's insured for ten million gil.

After assuring Tom Laesus, part-time hunter and self-proclaimed lamialogist, that no, we're not from the empire, and no, we wish no harm on the honourable Crown Prince of Lucis, the NMU team is treated to a most delightful tale of His Highness' never-ending compassion, and surprising insight into the royal beauty regiment.

"Prince Noctis saved my life! He just swooped in and, kapow, wham, bam! Magic sword! And then whoosh, right across the field. And then he did this thingy, and it was like ziiing, glowy weapons all around him. And then he pfkuk, shzoosh, krrek the [REDACTED] out of those [REDACTED] voretooths, and I swear a giant mother-[REDACTED] astral appeared and it was huge and then it was like BOOOOOM!

"And I was- Huh? You want me to back up a little?

"Okay. Yup. [I took up a hunt at] Wiz Chocobo Post. We've been running low on gil lately, and Jen – that's my little sister – needs to see her paediatrician. She's got a lung condition. And it was supposed to be an easy job.

"I'm not suicidal! One gigantoad isn't so bad. I'm a pretty decent shot, so I can kinda snipe it from afar? Anyway. I bagged the job, and I was heading back to Wiz to collect my gil. But this [REDACTED] pack of voretooths showed up all of a sudden, and they were right on my [tail]!

"I knew I had to get to higher ground or I'd be [in serious trouble]. But it was raining, and I just spent half an hour sniping a gigantoad and I was tired, which means careless; and yup, one of them messed up my ankle pretty bad, before I found a decent ledge to take cover on.

"I thought I was going to be daemon fodder for sure! The sun was setting. I was out in the wild, my leg hurt, the voretooths were still out there. We're talking major, major [REDACTED]-fest. Chances of survival looked close to nil.

"So whatever, I started yelling for help. Pretty sure no one would hear me. But… I wasn't just going to lie back and think of Lucis while daemons made mincemeat out of me!

"And Prince Noctis appeared. Prince Noctis! Can you believe it? I thought I was hallucinating. Or dead! Or dead and hallucinating! But there he was! Just schmosh! Cutting the voretooths down like they're… like they're flies!

"He had the guy with glasses hand me a potion after they took care of the [REDACTED] beasts. Prince Noctis was totally chill about it, although I think he was kinda upset that they messed up his hair? I mean, it still looked pretty [REDACTED] awesome to me!

"Uh, I might've told him I'd pay for the damages. Brain to mouth filter went down after all that splooosh. His big, brawny bodyguard dude told me not to bother – kinda implied I wouldn't be able to afford it. Which is, well, duh. I hear his hair's insured for ten million gil or something.

"Although the insurance company's probably under Niflheim control now, if it still exists-

"Guy with glasses was promising the prince to cook up some fancy tomato hair paste? While they were walking away? Prince Noctis didn't seem too psyched about it."

I hear he does car commercials. In Altissia.

The hunters around Cape Caem were a lot more tight-lipped about Prince Noctis' whereabouts, but we are nothing if not tenacious when it comes to news regarding His Royal Highness. After several days of scouting the area, the NMU team chanced upon a friendly restaurateur who's been dealing carrots with a "quite charming" group of four. We've been led to believe that the Prince's retinue is growing a farm right on Cape Caem. But it appears Prince Noctis has bigger plans than agriculture in store.

"Ah, yes. They've rather capable green thumbs, those boys," Tony Cauponi says fondly, "Even though one of them seems to detest carrots quite profusely. Such a shame, caem carrots make for a most delectable palate, quite the rage over at Cupona.

"Hm? A description of the boy? Black hair, blue eyes, I believe- About my height? Yes, I'd say about there. And a penchant for black, which his friends share.

"Handsome lads, all of them. I hear they're in the fashion industry, just enjoying a bit of nature in their free time. The blond one said something about being seaside supermodels. He was taking a lot of pictures, probably for their portfolio. That's quite important for models.

"Anything else I heard? You're fans of the lads, aren't you? Well, let's see…

"The muscled one – he's a sports model, isn't he, considering his physique – was telling his more genteel, high-fashion friend – the one with coiffed chestnut hair and glasses? – that Blue Eyes had been 'taking forever and refused to put the rod back in'.

"I think Blue Eyes replied with, 'All you did was tell me to 'put my back in it'. It was frickin' huge and my arms were tired, alright?'

"Ah. I'm not sure I want to speculate on what they were talking about. Could be plenty of things. Like sex, or… gravure modelling? Or… sex?

"The bespectacled gentleman praised Blue Eyes for his persistence and assured him that he's 'getting much better' and that he does in fact have, ahem, 'a good sense of when to relax and when to use his muscles, although he has been rather tensed lately, so maybe they ought to take some time that night to massage him properly and get him adequately loosened up?'.

"I didn't catch Blue Eyes' response, but he must've been on board with that plan, because there weren't any protests coming from his quarter.

"The smaller blond one was chattering about the quality of Altissia's beds, so maybe that's where they're heading for their next shoot? He said something getting a car on a boat, and how that'll make 'a wicked picture'.

"Huh, I'm guessing, sea-themed car commercials? In Altissia. Sounds like an interesting concept."

Well. If Prince Noctis' looking for a career change, then I'm sure his future works will be highly anticipated!

One time, he met First Secretary Camelia at a bar. And she told him he was pretty.

If that isn't enough to excite you, we're sure the next account will have you on the edge of your seats. One of our subscribers sent us an email a couple of days ago with a few attached pictures. With her permission, we're publishing the contents of the email below: (We're sure you'll find this as interesting as we did!)

Hey girls, you'll never guess who I saw down at Maagho bar.

[princesexyaf1.jpg]

Tell me that isn't His Royal Sexiness Prince Naughty Noctis. I dare you. Tell me it isn't him. He's even more gorgeous in person dfdahbjvfa Like you can't see in the photos, but I swear those eye lashes are just wasted on a guy. Are we sure he doesn't use mascara? Like are we actually sure?

Anyway, he and his boy toys showed up out of the blue, looking all sensually dishevelled mmm… I wonder what they've been doing to get their hair and clothes all mussed like that. [Friendly reminder that Noct Me Up frowns upon hate mails directed at any of His Highness' love interests.] Came sashaying in like they totally do not have the empire riding their asses.

[princesexyaf2.jpg]

Also, you see that second photo, where he's standing with his hip cocked and his shirt riding up? Our boy has abs! And he was totally flaunting it for his boyfriends, I kid you not. Bending over every flat surface like he's asking for a pounding. The blond one, Prompto iirc, Prince Noctis' classmate(?), he was taking photos like his life depended on it.

Ok I tried to secretly video them, and let me tell you, it was hard. It's like those boys have ESPN or something. They turn every time I have my phone camera up. But whatever, at least I got Something.

[princesexyafnbfs.mp4]

The footage is shaky and grainy, tilted at about 60 degrees off-centre, but it focuses on Noctis' figure as he leans over a barrel – back arched and ankles crossed. Prompto laughs, bumping into Noctis' side as he enthuses about something. It's inaudible due to white noise and background static, but he's pointing at his camera. They move closer, so their bodies are pressed flush against one another, almost huddling. Ignis draws Noctis' attention after a few seconds, and Noctis turns to him. After a short exchange, Ignis leans forward. It's unclear from the angle, but one might assume the prince's advisor is taking liberties. Gladiolus soon enters the frame, casually mussing Noctis' hair with a smug grin. Noctis tries to duck. He fails, and his pout is visible despite the bad video quality. There's a bit of rough-housing, before Gladiolus abruptly freezes. He turns to stare directly into the camera, at which point, the camera spins and the feed cuts to black.

And it's like so obvious they've a Thing. I mean, c'mon. Did you not see that kiss? That was so obviously a kiss. They make such a cute couple. Or foursome. #LOVEWINS Look, all I'm saying is, if Prince Butter-My-Muffins wants his muffins buttered, then who are we to judge? Plus that's some very Fine men he's toting about, I wouldn't blame him for wanting in on that meat sandwich.

Now for the juicy deets, First Secretary Camelia popped by all casual-like to have a word with His Royal Pinchable-Cheeks. Totally not suspicious at all, no siree. Walked straight right up to Weskham and asked for his "pretty boy guests" because everyone's clearly been waiting for Prince Noctis to show up after that announcement about the Oracle.

They were talking real soft and secretive, but I swear the First Secretary invited Prince Noctis back to her apartment 'to discuss terms'. I'm betting they're here for amnesty, the prince and his boyfriends. It only makes sense, since Accordo's the only place with any sort of independence from the Empire. Am I right or amirite?

Since the treaty's screwed six ways to Sunday, he can even tie the knot with one of his boy toys. That's what couples come to Altissia for – no, not the view. Cheap marriage licenses!

You think they'll have a fake King Regis officiating, or is that too tasteless?

One time he stabbed me with his sword. It was awesome.

Our last entry comes from a mysterious man in a fedora who has identified himself as Nydra Ainuzi. He approached one of our Accordo-based NMU associates shortly after we received the email informing us about Prince Noctis' impending elopement. Nydra considers himself, "a well-informed expert on Lucian royalty, their retainers and all other matters concerning the Crown and Crystal," and he has been "paying special attention to the so prodigious last son of Lucis Caelum."

"Where do I begin, where do I begin? Oh, there is just so much to tell about the beautifully tragic Prince Noctis.

"Shall we begin with his battle habits? I think we shall. Behold, the brave and heroic Prince Noctis. He's nimble and quick and oh so skilled with his weapons, and [sharp intake of breath] dear me, is His Royal Highness carrying a moogle plushie into battle?

[ardynsphoto1.jpg]

"Heavens, who would have guessed that the prince was so attached to stuffed animals? To think he'd be childish enough to lug one around while fighting, such disappointing disregard for proper battle etiquette- I do need that photo back. It was stolen, as in borrowed from someone.

"Yes, a blond-budding-photographer someone.

"Well. I guess he wouldn't miss it.

"Hm, I see you're quite charmed by the prince's utterly unprofessional attachment to toys. But have you seen this appallingly indecent cosplay he did for that crass video game festival?

[ardynsphoto2.jpg]

"Oh, you're swooning. Yes, it's awfully risqué of the prince. What a blatant lack of respect for decorum, showing so much skin- No, you cannot have that photo. It's borrowed.

"Oh fine.

"You seem quite pleased to have seen Noctis' n- nipple. I can't say I understand the appeal.

"I beg your pardon?

"You wish to know of the prince's steamy dalliances with his secret paramours? Oho, I can definitely help you with that. Let's see here.

[ardynsphoto3.jpg]

"Feast your eyes.

"Indeed, how terribly promiscuous- Such unruly behaviour from a scion of the distinguished line of Lucis, no less. I'm sure you're all quite horri… fically excited.

"Because it is obviously a cause for celebration – to have a sexually active prince, enamoured with his very male attendants. No cause for concern at all. None at all. The lack of heirs would be sending no one into a state of panic.

"Do you even-

"Why, I'm sure you would even be pleased to know that the prince once stabbed me with his sword. Quite brutally. Are you excited about that, hm? Do his violent tendencies not faze you?  Do they not cloud your sunnily enthusiastic support of whatever that brat-

"I don't think I expected so shrill a reaction, but it's rather flattering to know that you feel so strongly about my well-being- What?

"Was it what? Awesome? Are we on the same page?

"Was it awesome to be stabbed by Prince Noctis' sword? I- Do I look particularly prone to masochistic tendencies? Well, I suppose being tormented and ravaged by daemons for two thousand years does that to-

"You know what, yes. Yes, it was awesome. I absolutely enjoyed being impaled on the pointy end of his magic metal phallic symbol. You can put that down in your little publication. Good day.

"And keep that photo."

And there you have it, the life and times of our ever beloved, ever righteous Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum. Watch out for next week's issue of Noct Me Up to find out more about His Royal Highness' devoted bedmates and their amazing sexcapades.

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