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gumnut-logic · 3 years

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Where There Be Dragons (Bit 5)

Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 | Bit 4 | Bit 5

Well, this is turning into a chain of ficlets where I shove two characters together and they babble for a while. There will be some proper story telling at some point, I promise :D

This bit answers a few questions and probably could have gone further, but I’ve run out of time.

As always, many thanks to @scribbles97 @janetm74 and @tsarinatorment for all the amazing support ::hugs you all::

I hope you enjoy this thousand odd words :D

-o-o-o-

Scott stepped foot onto the bridge of Thunderbird Five, the constant hum of well-oiled machinery and busy mechanics hung in the air. It was a place of action and determination.

The wide forward steel glass ports covered almost the entire bow of the ship, supported by her cahelium infrastructure. At the moment, they were draped in an almost-black, mercurial, midnight blue as John took his ‘bird deep enough for a good undetectable cruising depth so they could clear the shipping lanes.

The interior light was dim here, kept low for ease of viewing both inside and outside those massive windows. What little light that made it down to these depths from the fading sunlight above flickered gently, giving the room an unearthly light.

This was the command deck of Thunderbird Five, the name inscribed in large letters beneath those viewports. It was an intimate place for Scott. He had paced this wide deck many a time, John’s eyes following him back and forth.

But it wasn’t the command centre of International Rescue. That title belonged to the comm room - a comfortable lounge behind the bridge dominated by a large round table and cushioned chairs. That was where his brothers gathered during an incident. That was where the order to deploy was given.

Scott’s cane clunked solidly on the metal deck plates. John glanced over at him. His brother stood in his uniform behind the big wooden wheel that directed his ‘bird through the oceans. Like Scott’s uniform, his brother’s was blue, but both his baldric and the patch on his shoulder were Indian yellow in contrast to Scott’s command silver-grey. John’s specialisation was communications and International Rescue’s technical infrastructure. The man was a genius and Scott held great pride in his brother’s capabilities.

Virgil may have built the majority of the detectors, receivers and transmitters, but John had conceived and created the prototypes. The technical specialist stretched the laws of physics and took them to new heights. The fact International Rescue’s agents could connect across the entirety of the planet was purely because of John’s skill.

But as always, it was when his brothers combined their skills that they truly shone. The incident with the Eos automaton had seen John lose his left eye. It was one of the reasons Scott would never trust that sweet-talking pile of spare parts. John could have died. Thankfully, their grandmother had almost magical fingers like her engineer grandson where it came to the human body. It had been close, but his brother had survived.

And between John and Virgil they had built the eye.

A brass eyebrow arched at him, the mechanical lid blinking as if it had life. The mechanics focussed on him with a faint whirr and John smiled just a little.

“Plotting her demise again?”

Scott rolled his own eyes. “I do think of things other than Eos, you know.”

“Oh, I know.” But his brother’s smile was far too smug.

The commander grunted and turned back towards the viewports, leaning a little heavier on his cane.

John snorted. “The detectors read good weather ahead. We should make the West Indies in good time.”

“Good.” Beneath his feet he could feel the fine vibrations of Five’s massive rear propellers. Shaped somewhat like one of Gordon’s manta rays, Five was wide and flat, but huge, the largest of all the Thunderbirds.

She was designed to be a base, a mobile headquarters from where the other four Thunderbirds could launch. His own ‘bird, alongside Virgil’s Two, were nestled beneath her dorsal fin, ready to launch into the air. Five would surface and redirect her great propeller system back into the depths as her sisters pushed off from her spine.

Once they were airborne, she would close up and resubmerge, disappearing into the waves.

Four, when not being carried by Two, exited via Five’s belly. It was only Three that required a launch from a land-based site.

Initially, anyway. There had been plans.

“You’re sure of those coordinates?” It was a redundant question. One he had already asked multiple times. He wasn’t one for indecision, but the cost of this one was his father’s trust and that hurt ever so much.

They were basically hijacking the entirety of International Rescue’s equipment, give or take whatever their father and Hiram had in storage or development. This was something his grief-stricken, authoritarian father was unlikely to ever forgive.

And it went against every grain in Scott’s body to disobey Jeff Tracy.

But this was his little brother. If there was even a chance he had survived crashing his experimental spacecraft in the South Pacific, Scott had to find him.

Yes, the chance was ridiculously slim.

But it was still a chance.

“Scott, I am sure. One thousand miles north of the colonies of New Zealand. There are a number of islands in the area, despite its remoteness. I’ve shown you the maps.”

He certainly had. They were still scattered all over the table in the comm room.

Scott swallowed and straightened his spine. “Yes, thank you, John.” He glanced up at his brother. “You need to speak to Gordon.”

His brother’s lips tightened and he looked away. “He knows where to find me.”

A sigh and Scott strode over quietly. He reached up a hand and placed it on John’s shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“It should have been me aboard that ship. It was my experiment. My attempt to reach space.”

“It was Alan’s choice. He knew the risk going in.” Scott squeezed John’s shoulder gently. “Besides, how do you think you could have stopped him?” Alan had been absolutely rabid about this project. They had succeeded on multiple occasions in achieving orbit with unmanned mechanisms. Logic had led them to adapting their plans for a third air-based Thunderbird to a space orientated vehicle. Hiram’s safety record was meticulous. They had gotten used to success.

Perhaps God had decided it was time for a reminder.

Please let them not take his little brother as payment for that lesson.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds #Scott Tracy #John Tracy #Where there be dragons AU #an attempt at Steampunk

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villain-imagines · 5 years

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NSFW Alphabet --Eowells Eobard Thawne

Another looooooong one. Mostly because I just find the differences interesting.

A lot of similarities, but some key differences compared with Mattobard’s Eo, along with a bit of differentiation between this

and this

NSFW under the cut

A=Aftercare - What they do/act like after sex.

In the guise of Dr. Wells, he lets his tenderness show through more than he might otherwise.

He tells himself it’s part of the act, but really it isn’t. That’s just the way he reasons with himself and excuses the smile of fondness that finds his way across his lips. He tries to not notice how easily he melts against your touch when you lay beside each other and you wrap an arm around him. He kisses you softly and holds keeps you close as he silently memorizes every freckle and subtle feature and traces across your skin with his fingertips

After his cover is blown, he takes a few step back from the easy intimacy you two held prior. Not because the feelings were not real, but he does it in an attempt to distance himself from the man he had pretended to be for nearly fifteen years. Even as he does try to distance himself, seeing your clear disappointment elicits painful tug in his chest and affects him more than he’d like to admit.

The line between who he is as Eobard Thawne and as Harrison Wells is blurred at best. His actions may appear uncaring and callous, but they’re really masking a thinly veiled desire to reclaim his already unsure sense of self as Eobard Thawne. However, this tends to slip away in a post-sex afterglow and his inhibitions are lowered enough that he shows a similar tenderness as he did as Harrison Wells. Of all the lies he had to tell, what developed between the two of you was not one of them.

B=Bondage - Are they into BDSM, and how far they’ll go if they have a green light.

Big yes. Mostly similar to other versions of him, but Eowells in particular thrives on control even more so than other versions. (If that’s even possible)As carefully as he’s played his cards in the 15 years he’s been stuck in the past, he’s all too aware of how fragile his control over the events around him is.

Years of uncertainty about his future and all of the possible consequences of his interventions in the timeline that were completely out of his control made him recognize the value he placed on the things within his power.

This transfers into the sexual in both subtle actions to almost over-the-top obvious symbolism. In a way, this is where he can take a break from playing relativelynice as Dr. Wells. He’s more inclined to be disciplinary than other versions of himself.

Prefers Master, Sir, and Daddy, and of course, Eobard/Eo after you find out his identity because hearing his own name after all those years at all is enough to get him horny, lets be real.

C=Cum –

Inside, anywhere. Especially down your throat. He loves to keep his hand on the back of your head, threaded through your hair, ordering you to look at him as you swallow.

D=Dom - Are they dominant, submissive, a switch?

Very dominant. Even more so than other versions of himself. Somehow.

Like other versions, he could occasionally like a switch-up, but it would have to be in very specific circumstances. He’s had more practice in patience by this time than he would have preferred, but to him, the line between sexy, endearing, or fun, and tediously irritating him is very slim. This stemmed partially from his past of playing Harrison Wells when he relied on networking and fundraising events for the particle accelerator. Too many beautiful people trying to make passes at the famous scientist through botched attempts at seduction. (Some so painfully forward that he nearly laughed at the audacity) He found it almost amusing at first, but it quickly became just irritating.

With an established relationship, he might humor you and enjoy you playing taking charge for a time. However, youwon’t be expecting any switch-ups as far as dominance to last too long.

E=Edgeplay - Similar to ‘Kinks’ except it’s a lot riskier than usual kinks (knifeplay, breathplay, etc.).

He’s very cautious but kinky.

Manipulative with more of a sadistic streak. Less tolerance for disobedience, more of a sadistic streak. (less pain, more seeing how much discomfort you would put up with for him) He’s more likely to meld well with someone with slight masochistic tendencies, but he isn’t going to push far enough to cause significant harm. And he veryeagerly rewards you for it. He particularly levels up his aftercare in these contexts.

Like other versions of him, if you ask him to choke you, he’ll oblige with a frankly unsettling eagerness, but will never have you doubting for your own safety. He likes seeing you squirm and beg for him, but he’d never hurt his precious kitten.

F=Fantasy - A fantasy of theirs (ex: a teacher/student fantasy).

Absolutely has a Professor kink and student/teacher fantasy

Has definitely imagined handcuffing you to his wheelchair, bending you over, and fucking you while he whispers to you all of the filthy things he wanted to say and do with you as Dr. Wells, but couldn’t because of the role he had to play.

He’s always wanted to see how you’d look in a collar. Not even purely for the sexual. Sometimes when he sips a scotch on the couch at the end of the day, he imagines you cozy and comfortable in his presence, curled up with your head in his lap, your lead in his hand.

He loves the idea of something tangible that ties you to him as much as he feels his emotions have tied him to you. He wants the affirmation that you’re his, and that you want to be with him.

G=Got Caught - How they react when they get caught having sex.

Not too keen on being caught before his secret is blown, but it’s very unlikely with his speed.

H=Hot Spots - A place that drives them crazy when stimulated

He’ll melt under any kiss to his neck or collarbone. The softer it is, the more likely you might get an involuntary shiver from him. Running your hands through his hair and tracing your fingertips across the back of his neck will elicit a similar effect.

I=Intimacy - How romantic they are, or can be, before, during, or after sex.

He has layers.

Deep down, Eobard is a romantic at heart, trying to pretend to be more of an ass than he is when he cares about someone. As Eowells, he prefers, quiet, subtle romance tactics. He’s very observant about your favorite things, so much so that it often surprises you how he knew (even if he won’t mention just how he knew)

Very capable of wooing you when he puts his mind to it, and can be a thoughtful romantic.

J=Journey - Their ideal way of leading up to sex

Under it all, he still has a flare and appreciation for the dramatic. He loves careful, drawn-out teasing. He’s very purposeful when it comes to seduction, and when he’s wanting to draw the process out, he’ll only touch you once you’re quite nearly, or literally, begging him to.

K=Kinks –

Previously mentioned kinks, included, like restraints, light choking, pretty much most power dynamics,

Again, call him Daddy, Professor, Master, Sir, take your pick because either way you’re going to be sore later.

Has a discipline kink, but may not express it.

Bit of a worship kink, likely stemming from a bit of a god complex

Restraints in any way (handcuffs, ropes, some gags, collars, chains, this boy is kink)

Absolutely has a teacher kink

L=Location - Where they like to have sex at, do they like risky locations, etc.

Preferably quitter places, but also anywhere.

He’s into fucking in a lot of questionable locations, with the possibility of being caught. (but without the real possibility, given his speed.)

M=Masturbation - How they are when they get themselves off, what they get themselves off to.

Reluctant, but nearly out of necessity, if he for whatever reason can’t tune out his sexual drive.

Fantasizes you in various scenarios, maybe watches. He’ll become so engulfed in his fantasy that he barely registers his hand wrapping around his shaft. It doesn’t help that his mind drifts to you more often than he’d like. Especially on the nights team Flash takes off and all he has left to do is wait until Barry gets faster, and he’s done all of his strategic planning already.

After he’s discovered, he can zoom over to you with little issue, but I wouldn’t put it past him to turn a mysterious call to your phone late at night into him making you equally conflicted about knowing who he was and how low and seductive his voice sounded through the phone now as Eobard Thawne.

N=NO - A few things that they will absolutely, under no circumstances, ever do.

Not into anything involving urethral play or any other cock bondage devices

Not into super hardcore humiliation for himself or his s/o (with the exception of the Flash)

O=On’s - Their top turn on’s that they have (things that’ll get them super horny super quickly).

Seeing you wearing anything he’s given you, clothes, jewelry, hissweater, even occasionally the STAR laboratories attire left around for emergency. That was histoo, after all.

Teasing or pushing his boundaries while out and about (cheeky comments, verbal jabs, witty remarks in general)

Begging—literally you can extort the hell out of this and he even knows it. He gets a sort of high from listening to you beg, but on the flip side of this, if you beg for something he gets just as much satisfaction out of giving it to you as hearing it. He’d give you anything, literally anything.

Subtle habits you have that he picks up on when you’re completely oblivious to his watchful gaze. (running hands through your hair, biting your lips, smiling softly at something you read, ect.) Usually, not overtly sexual in nature, but once you notice and meet his eye, something switches in him and he feels the sudden need to pull you close into a heated kiss.

Ego, complement him and he’ll be horny without a doubt.

P=Position - Their favorite position to have sex in.

He loves having you bent over something, or on all-fours as he takes you from behind. He loves the power it gives him and how easy it is to yank your head back by the hair and drape his body over yours, whispering filthy words into the skin of your neck. Also, it wasn’t something he could have done while pretending he was in a wheelchair

However, he equally loves being face to face, pinned to the mattress beneath him, making you meet his eyes as you writhe, begging and breathless in pleasure. He loves the closeness and intimacy it allows, while also allowing for the versatility to be as rough or gentle as he chooses. He loves watching his partner’s face intently

Q=Quickie - Do they like it, do they prefer quickies over actual sex, etc.

He is obviously very good at quickies, but he likes to really take his time with you if time and situation allows for it.

Yet, he seems to always be ready to fuck in the more time sensitive scenarios. He’s equally content zooming you behind the nearest corner and fucking you hard against the wall, his hand over your mouth to stifle your moans as he whispers sweet filth into your ear.

He gently reminds you that ‘you wouldn’t want to be overheard now, would you?

And he whispers praise of how ‘you’re being so good for him,’ as you try to stay quiet, pulling your legs wrapped around him to pull him closer.

R=Rough - How rough they are, or get, when in bed.

He generally loves being rough, but he can have his moments of both. He’ll certainly cater to whatever your preference generally is, but as a baseline of measurement, his gentle may still be a bit rougher than what would count as normal.

He wouldn’t be rougher without your consent, but with that he’d love to do whatever kink that would fulfil something for you, especially if it puts him in a position of control.

He’ll spank you, pull your hair, scratch, leave marks, bite, press you into the mattress beneath him, wrap his hand around your throat, and generally play rough, but he’s very observant to your reactions and controlled with anything that might be more dangerous.

S=Stamina - How long they can go before they tap out.

Too long.

Even when he’s pent-up and comes too quickly, he hardly has a long enough refractory period for you to even fully register him being hard again. He’s up for as many rounds as you are.

T=Toys - Do use toys, do they own them, what kind, etc.

Not super necessary, considering he’s practically a human vibrator.

U=Unfair - How much they tease you, how they tease you, etc.

Asshole supreme. Don’t expect sex without at least some begging first. He’s patient, and loves soaking in whatever desperation he can elicit. He wants you to want him as badly as he does you.

V=Volume - How loud they get when having sex, things they might say, etc.

Quiet grunts, moans into your ears and skin, just soft enough to hear, filthy whispers about whatever you two are doing/ what he’d like to do. He’s eager to share a little glimpse into his filthy mind. Sometimes he comes with a louder moan, but more often if you two had a long night of foreplay.

W=Wild Card - a random letter for the character of your choice.

Conflicted--- When he stole Harrison Well’s body, he also absorbed his thoughts, memories, and the lingering echo of the original Well’s emotions. Eobard has always had a strong sense of self, and his original personality remained dominant for the most part. Yet, in moments he can feel an added pull of sentiment and internal conflict that he was sure stemmed from what was left of the other man. The emotion he absorbed from Wells never fully interfered with his plans, but it did influence the relationships he’s built with his team at STAR labs, and with you.

As big as his ego is, deep down, it’s a relief to him when you lean closer into his touch. He holds you close and absorbs every bit of affection you offer to him. As Eowells, he’s marginally less needy than other versions of himself, but he feels affection towards you with even more intensity, and is very protective. He genuinely wants you to succeed in whatever your drives or passions are, but he has the less savory tendency to make relationship and friendship calls foryou from a distance. This could range from subtle sabotage to quietly removingpeople who may mean you harm, or people flirting or attempting to date you.

X=X-Ray - How they look with their clothes off.

Definitely larger than average and well endowed. Not as large his original body’s, but thicker. Neatly groomed with a dusking hair on his chest and a lightly trimmed happy trail of darker hair.

Y=Yearning - How often they need to have sex.

He generally isn’t someone who feels sexual urges too often without a focus of interest. And he can usually shut out any sexual urges if he needs to accomplish a task.

But also his patterns of urges tend to change if he has a focal point of interest. Ordinarily, he didn’t waste much time with it, but with having you so close, quite often.

Z=ZZZ –

He’s not a quick sleeper, and even when he does, he requires fewer hours of it. So, expect him to silently plot and stroke your hair as he keeps you pressed against him. He’ll either curl around you, or have you curled against him, with your head on his chest and your arm around his middle.

#eobard thawne #eobard thawne imagine #eobard thawne x reader #alphabet prompts #the flash #reverse flash #reverse flash imagines #reader imagines #villain imagines #eowells #harrison wells imagine

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alteriius · 5 years

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“Please don’t walk out of that door.”

FANDOM: Final Fantasy XVPAIRING: Cindy/LunaWORD COUNT: 1,486LINKS: AO3 | KOFI | Prompt POST / TAG

Things were getting worse. Yes, she’d lost touch with her powers. No longer could she heal or speak to the Astrals, as though she’d forgotten the very language they once spoke to her, but more than that, the days had grown shorter until the glimmer of light the sun offered had disappeared entirely. Eos had been lost to a blanket of darkness and worst of all, the king of Lucis had fallen in a sleep so deep inside the crystal that not even the voices of his closest friends could reach him.

Noctis was gone and the world that Ardyn had created—the one that mimicked the life he’d been living for centuries—only worsened every day as the population dwindled.

Things just kept getting worse because now, Prompto and Gladio hadn’t returned and her thoughts turned helplessly to the worst case scenarios that ate away at her heart and what hope she had left in the wake of this nightmare.

She thought first of Noctis, of seeing their king step foot in Hammerhead with few to greet him. She thought first of a man who’d have to hear from her that his friends had passed in his absence.

Lunafreya couldn’t even imagine the way his face would fall. She couldn’t bring herself to think about how much easier it would become in less than a minute for him to bring his own life to an unfitting end.

It only made her further despise her loss of power. It frustrated her to think that fighting Leviathan had siphoned that last bit of strength from her bones and barely left her alive. Were she still the Oracle she had once been, she might be able to venture into the dark and help them.

Instead, this task was left to another. Going after Gladio and Prompto was the job of a strong, capable woman she scarcely knew, but deeply respected even after the short time Lunafreya had spent here in the safety of Hammerhead. Mere days after the sun had disappeared beneath the horizon for the last time, Miss Cindy had become something of a leader here amidst the seasoned hunters and refuges that managed to make it there before the lights in Galdin Quay went out.

It feels impossible to approach her, no matter how kind she’s been. Though she’d taken her in, given her a bed to sleep in and clothes to wear, Lunafreya’s had little to offer in return for her hospitality. What little strength she’d had prior to the battle with Leviathan had fled right alongside her powers.

No longer could she commune with the gods or call forth their will to heal her people. Apart from pretty words, she was useless—or at least she felt that way, no matter who tried to convince her of her worth in these trying times.

“Miss Cindy,” she finally says after a long moment of excruciating silence. She can only watch the woman prepare for departure for so long before the fear eating away at her finally takes hold and she’s forced to speak.

As soon as the words are out of her mouth, Miss Cindy Aurum turns to address her. Soft green eyes meet her own and suddenly, she is awash with a sense of tranquility she hasn’t known in weeks and she wants to cling—hopelessly, desperately—to the woman before her and the hope she instills in her that Prompto and Gladio alike are alive, wherever they might be now.

“Need somethin’, Lady Lunafreya?”

The garage is empty, save for them and the car Miss Cindy’s been working tirelessly on for the last few hours. The lighting is dim enough to conserve some amount of power, but bright enough that it still staves off the daemons that lurk now in every dark corner of the world.

Alone as they might be, in a room so quiet that a pin dropping would be audible, Lunafreya finds herself choking on every ounce of anxiety pooling in her stomach. She’s dizzy with the fear of asking Miss Cindy for something so selfish, so beyond the realm of what she would dare consider acceptable.

Never once had Lunafreya considered her own needs anything more than secondary, if even that. She needed to be there for her people, more than she ever thought she would need even a brief moment of comfort from a woman who was little more than a stranger.

But today was different. Today, she was not the Oracle she once was. The powers that had been loaned to her by the Astrals had been revoked and she had been robbed of her ability to give even momentary peace to her people.

“Please, don’t walk out that door,” she says after a moment of silence that leaves her heart pounding in her chest. Her words spark an unfamiliar light in Cindy’s eyes that overwhelms Luna with a sense of guilt that might never be quelled.

Gone is Cindy’s brilliant smile, replaced by the same frown she wore when someone came to her with grave news. The loss of Cindy’s keeps Lunafreya from finding her own more so than usual. So heavy is her heart with the loss that came with the deaths of so many that little keeps her spirits up, save for the optimism of people such as Cindy.

It only feels worse to stand here knowing she is the cause of yet another to lose their smile. Already she bore the weight of so many other failures, yet she still chose to add this on top of so many others.

“If you don’t come back… I…”

Her words are lost to her fear, to the anxious rumblings in her heart that was already screaming for the perceived loss of men like Gladio and Prompto, whom she might never lay eyes on again.

But Cindy doesn’t shy away from her because of this. Nothing about her pessimism shocks her like it does so many others. Here, there is no pressure to uphold a false image of hope that Lunafreya can’t bring herself to believe most days.

“Your Highness, ya ain’t gotta worry about little old me,” Cindy says with a laugh so brilliant that it seizes that stress from her soul and slays it. “Just cause those boys can’t take the heat, don’t mean I can’t.”

Luna knows that she should agree, that nothing leading up to this point had ever given her the impression that Cindy couldn’t fare better than most beyond the boundary of the outpost. But she couldn’t help the cold, icy grip of fear taking hold of her. Every day, it’s grasp was strengthened and terror in her heart only grew.

People were dying left and right, disappearing into the night sky and becoming daemons themselves. Luna’s concerns couldn’t be so easily assuaged and Cindy is too kind to leave her to war with these feelings on her own, much like how she couldn’t leave Prompto and Gladio out there to do the same.

Cindy reaches into her back pocket a moment later, giving her little in way of words of comfort and instead handing her the item in question.

“Here,” she says, as if her intentions are clear, though Luna feels only confusion in their wake.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.”

What lays across both her palms is a wrench of all things, old and clearly well taken care of, much like the rest of Cindy’s equipment. Still, she finds it odd to be handed such an important tool that Cindy would surely need.

“You’ll hold onto her for me, won’t ya? That beauty is my good luck charm and I’m gonna be comin’ back for her.”

She says it as though it ought to quell the worst of her fears and perhaps it does. It’s a physical representation of a promise that Lunafreya is not accustomed to, but she finds herself somehow calmed by the idea that, if nothing else, Cindy would be returning for this tool too important to her trade to leave behind otherwise.

“I’ll need it to give those two boys a good smackin’ around for worrying ya when we get back,” Cindy says with a confidence that even Lunafreya is tempted to believe. For the first time since Prompto was presumed missing and Gladio elected to go looking for him, Luna felt there was no well-intended lie amidst the promise being made.

“Please,” Luna starts, feeling like anyone but herself in these few moments, when her heart ached with the fear of losing not one nor two, but all three of them in one fell swoop. It didn’t much matter how desperately she wanted to look strong, for she knows her world is on the verge of collapsing beneath her feet with so many deaths and disappearances fresh on her mind.

She can’t take even one more, much less three.

“Please come back.”

#final fantasy xv #lascivus #cindy aurum #lunafreya nox fleuret #cindylu #allen writes.#the title is a really bad joke #also idk what this trope is called so if someone knows what it is plz tell me

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charlottedabookworm · 5 years

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A sad reunion between Somnus and Nyx in a Somnusson SI!Somnus fusion that discord made very sad very fast and I’m very good at that so...

Have fun:

Nyx felt it when Galahd fell.

It’d been two thousand years since he’d stepped foot in his ancestral home – two thousand years since he had walked the Isles, two thousand years since he had stood out in a Storm and breathed, two thousand years separated from his Patron’s lands, two thousand years of never being able to get closer than the opposite coast, of only being able to watch from a distance – but he felt it like a dagger to the heart from half-way across Eos.

Galahd fell and Nyx staggered at the realisation that he could never go home. His home was gone – the home that was forcibly taken from him so long ago, that he had dreamed of nearly as often as he had dreamed of his family – and it hurt.

Galahd fell and, alone and half a country away, Nyx couldn’t help his scream of loss.

And then he picked himself back up and put himself back together again.

Because these were his people and Galahd was his home, even if he had been separated from them both for millennia, and it is his duty and his right to care for him.

His people would head to Lucis, to Insomnia, for safety from Niflheim who had invaded them – this Nyx knew deep in his bones – and so that is where he would go. Even if it hurt. Even if he hadn’t set foot in that accursed city since Aelius – his son, who Nyx had barely known for fear of losing him but had loved so much, who he had never really gotten to raise, who had grown up under the Draconian’s control and never known it for fear of what would happen if he knew, who had hated him and Nyx couldn’t even blame him for that because he had a right to – had ascended to the throne.

Insomnia had been his prison for decades, like it had been his father’s prison before him, and while the thought of returning made his heart skip a beat it didn’t change the fact that Nyx had a duty of care.

He was Galahdian and one of Ramuh’s Chosen and these were his people and if that meant that he had to face some of his worst nightmares, had to walk in Bahamut controlled land and pretend not to see ghosts on every corner, then fine.

They were far more important than he was, anyway.

Somehow, Nyx hadn’t expected it to hurt so much.

But, standing on the docks, watching his people – injured and bloody and with the broken eyes of people who have lost so much and there are so few of them, how many had they lost during the Fall? How many of his people had Nyx failed? – pour off of the ships, tears into a piece of Nyx that he didn’t know was still whole.

These were his people and it hurt to see them like this.

He didn’t quite stop and stare, Nyx was far too old and had seen far too much for this to shock him, but it hurt all the same.

An elderly woman stumbled as she left stepped onto the dock and Nyx was there, stabilising her, before he could even think about it – wrapping one of her arms around his shoulders and letting her lean on him as he peered down at her bleeding leg. “I’m a doctor, please let me help.” He said, begged, and she looked at him with wary eyes before she took in his appearance and nodded.

Sitting her down on a crate, it didn’t take long to clean and bandage her leg and he was grateful it was a relatively minor injury. “Thank you,” she said when he was done, smiling sadly at him. With a steady hand, she reached out to trace his lineage beads and he knew that she knew who he was. “The old man has missed you.” Was all she said though, and Nyx was grateful for that too.

“And I him.” He forced out of a suddenly closed throat, doing his best to pretend that those words and the feelings that they invoked didn’t hurt even as she ushered him away.

Even as he threw himself into helping – insinuating himself into the medical tents, because he was a doctor if not a healer, and watching his patients relax at the sight of his braids and tattoos (and oh, didn’t that instinctive acceptance that he’d been so long without hurt) doing his best to save as many of his people as he could.

It was only hours later, once the worst of the injuries had been dealt with and he had watched far too many of his people, far too many children die, when he took a short break to drink something and try to push to memories back into the dark corner of his mind, that they approached him.

By that point, word of who he was had spread across his people in hushed whispers and it was… It was nice, to be known by his people when he’d only seen a few every couple of years. So, Nyx wasn’t surprised when he’s approached.

“Morpheus?” They asked, and Nyx nodded in response the name he’d used for more years than he had the one of his birth – the one that was more his then Nyx was, some days, because Nyx had been the happy boy with a family and a bright future and Hypnos had been Bahamut’s prisoner and Morpheus was the one who wandered, always searching for his home but never finding it. Morpheus was broken in a way that Nyx hadn’t been, and sometimes he looked at himself and couldn’t recognise the person he’d become.

The hunter smiled, a bright spot in the chaos around them, and gestured towards him. “We have someone who wants to see you again.” Hope burns, sudden and painful, in his chest and Nyx does his best to shove it away because if the years had taught him anything it was that hope was far worse than death.

Death ended. Hope just kept on hurting you, over and over again.

They ushered him away from the tents, towards the outskirts of the camp, and that horrible hope in his chest continued to grow – burning him from the inside out – because he wanted…

But Nyx had gotten used to not getting what he wanted a very long time ago.

And then they walked into a tent and Nyx’s heart stopped and he couldn’t help but stare. His hands clenched into fists, Nyx trying desperately to shock himself out of this hallucination because this couldn’t be real. It couldn’t. This was a miracle and miracles didn’t happen to Nyx and he certainly didn’t deserve one, especially not now, after all of this.

Breaking skin with the pressure, blood split but Nyx didn’t let up – didn’t allow them to heal over as he knew they would if he loosened his hold - because the man in front of him was still there and Nyx didn’t know how to deal with the fact that this might be actually happening.

This couldn’t be real.

“Nyx?” The man asked in a familiar voice, one full of broken hope, and Nyx broke at the sound of a name that he hadn’t heard attached to himself in millennia. He threw himself at his father, tackling him in a hug and nearly sending them both to the floor as he shook uncontrollably.

Neither of them noticed the others leaving and giving them privacy.

“Dad. Dad.” He sobbed, clutching his father as tightly as he could, and his father clutched him back just as hard.

His father pressed his forehead against his own desperately, their braids brushing together – and it healed something in him, to see his father wearing his braids again after so long trapped in the place where they couldn’t dare show their heritage. His dad looked right with beads in his hair and he didn’t realise how much he’d been expecting not to see them until that moment.

“Nyx, my son.” He choked out, voice wracked with more emotions than Nyx could name but ones that he completely understood.

“I missed you so much, dad. I’m so sorry that I got you taken away-”

“Nyx...”

“-I didn’t mean to say what I did and I’m sorry that he took it out on you and it was my fault-”

“Nyx.”

“-it was all my fault and I’m so sorry dad-”

“Nyx. Enough.” And Nyx froze at the stern tone he’d used – something that he’d normally only heard right before he was about to get grounded for life (also known as 6 months) – and stared at his father with wide-eyes. “This, any of this, was not your fault, the Draconian just used you as an excuse and it had nothing to do with you. No,” He glared when Nyx went to interrupt. “It was not your fault; do you understand me?”

No. He didn’t really understand, of course, it was his fault, he’d made a mistake and gotten his father banished and bound due to it and maybe it would have happened anyway, but it had happened years before it might have. Couldn’t his father see that it was his fault?

But, based on the glint in his dads’ eyes, he wouldn’t accept that sort of reasoning. And Nyx loved his father far too much to argue with him right now, no matter that he was wrong. “Okay…” He said. “I love you.” Because if there was one thing that all of this had taught him it was that you could never say those words enough.

His dad softened, relaxing from stern to doting in an instant. “I love you too, Nyx. More than anything.”

Nyx pressed closer to his dad, refusing to be parted from him even for a moment after so long separated, and closed his eyes and just soaked up the comfort that was being in his father’s arms.

He’d lost his home today, yeah, and it hurt, and he hated that he’d never get the chance to go back to Galahd properly again. But he’d regained a piece of it too, and that was far more than he’d ever expected to happen to him.

Nyx had his dad back and he was never letting go of him again.

#my fic #ffxv #si!somnus verse #somnusson au #nyx ulric #somnus lucis caelum #fusion #it sad #i'm sorry #i tried to make this happier i swear i'm just really bad at it

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shardclan · 5 years

Photo

The way the imperial carried himself along the bustling footpaths of Noon Point, it wasn't a wonder the merchants who saw him coming scrambled to put out their finest wares. They needn't have bothered; he wasn’t there to shop. In spite of his clear youth, his gaze was straightforward and had all the nobility of a young king. And much more importantly, an emanating glow that proclaimed he was a child of Lightweaver's first imperials.

Even if he had come as a buyer, his silks were as golden as morning light and finer than any they could have produced, and the sapphires around his neck would have made any jewels held up to it them look tawdry by comparison.

Labrusca and Verbena watched him pass over the edges of steaming pints of fresh milk from the Happy Harpy Creamery. From between them, Trathail piped up.

"A relative of Eos, yes?"

"Maybe," Verbena mused. "There's not much family resemblance."

Labrusca chuckled and licked foam from her lip. "You mean he doesn't look like he'd apologize to you if you poured your drink on him."

Verbena drew her brows together. "Are you still mad about the scroll?"

"You're adorable when you try to scowl," Labrusca teased. "But nah. It was the best thing for me. I didn't need to be a pearlcatcher. Eos did."

"Then why are you so hard on them? The debt's been repaid a long time."

Labrusca shrugged. "It's not meant to be harsh, but stealing that breed change is probably the most gutsy thing I've ever seen them do. Have you ever seen them walk around with half that guy's self-assurance?"

Verbena pressed a finger thoughtfully under her bottom lip. "Yes...? But just once."

A crash and several surprised shouts erupted from further down the lane. Verbena and Labrusca craned forward, more curious than startled. Trathail's wings pushed both back off the street and under the safety of the awning, and a sizzling bolt of light magic shot by them like a comet before crashing into the cobblestones.

Eos landed shortly after. The sword they always carried but never seemed to use was unsheathed and steady in their right hand. Runes lit along the blade and a copy appeared in their left--a muted ghost of itself shining with the sort of flat, off-putting light only seen in the Hewn City. When the imperial winked into existence with a bronze flash, they met the swing without hesitation. In the flash of sparks, the imperial winked out and back in, but again failed to surprise Eos.

"Just! Come! Home!" the imperial grunted, punctuating his shouts with hard strikes.

"I am home!" Eos shouted back, pushing the imperial backward and kneeing him hard in the diaphragm. Their chest rose and fell rapidly as they stood over their wheezing opponent. "Just... just leave, Phi."

Phi stabbed his saber down, steadying himself as he sputtered. "Coward."

Eos grimaced and waved away the illusory copy of their sword. "Offensive magic is illegal in most of Aphaster City. I don't want to see you in prison. So for Elevens' sake, will you please just go before Penitence gets here?"

"You know that's not what I meant." He glowered up from under from under his disheveled hair. "All of us...Parhelion Imperials in life, and death, and all that comes after in the Hewn City. And then you fuck off and decide you want to be the only Parhelion Pearlcatcher."

"So what?!" Eos cried, feeling old anxiety raise bile in their gut. "I couldn't live like that!"

"But we did. And we will. And by Weaver's Light, you will too even if it takes the rest of the Age to restore you."

"Restore me...?" The remaining sword slipped from Eos' hand and clattered on the stone. A sickly beading of sweat prickled over their whole body. They shook their head, first dismissively, then with rapid panic. "You can't."

"It's not impossible."

"Even if you find one, you won't ever be able to afford it."

"We're willing to steal if it undoes what you've done." Phi rose to his feet. He was still nursing his mid-section, but his eyes were firm. "It's not just about you, Eos. Do you know how our family looks to other Parhelia now? Do you know how embarrassing it is, being the little brother of the Parhelion who deserted their cause and even their species?!"

With a final cough, he lifted his saber again. "If you don't have the discipline to do the right thing, I will damn well do it for you."

"I don't want to!" Eos shrieked. "I will never be an imperial again! Not ever, not ever again! Just leave me alone!"

The hysterical shrillness of Eos' voice freed Verbena from the shock of the fight. She rushed to them, throwing their arms around them defensively and shielding them from Phi. Labrusca shouted something that neither of them heard over a thunderous metallic thud.

"Bully imperial!!!" Trathail yelled, her feathers rising with her onslaught of reproach. "Do not make Eos cry! No fights in the street! No throwing magic! it is morning; drink milk and be peaceful!!!"

Phi looked at the harpy with more confusion than anything. Her mask was unreadable, but given she had swung an aluminum canister at him, she clearly did not fear him. It had crashed harmlessly against a hastily formed magic shield, but while he was still deciding what his next move should be, the canister cracked.

Trathail's cries of anger gave way to horrified squawking.

"MY MILK!"

While Phi had been spared the impact, the shield did not do anything for the gush of steaming milk that drenched him before he could begin to flinch out of the way. He froze on the spot instead, wide-eyed and mentally blank while Trathail mourned the canister like a wounded hatchling. His hair...his clothes...

A faint snicker snapped him out of it.

Labrusca was still standing under the awning of the Happy Harpy Creamery, busily pretending to drink the rest of her milk. The act wouldn't have fooled anyone--her eyes were clenched shut and her entire body was jiggling with the effort to not laugh.

Every atom of Phi's being went hot, and he blushed right up to his antlers. He whirled on the lamenting harpy. "How dare--!"

A sword, a dagger, and a spade all appeared at his neck seemingly out of the ether. Behind them each, a massive male guardian with a face like a glacier, a harpy with plumage that could have blinded the Windsinger, and an imperial woman with the thick arms of a long-time farmer.

"I have the situation under control, Koki'o," Penitence rumbled.

"Mmm, so ya do." The imperial recalled her spade peaceably. "Thanks for your service."

He grunted, and turned his attention to the harpy. "Ma'am, if you would."

"I would not," she hissed. "He was going to attack our sister!"

Koki'o gave a deep hawing laugh and patted Phi's milk-soaked head with a menacingly heavy hand. "Ya needn't get in a ruffle. Ain't a soul in Aphaster that would let Trathail come to no harm."

"Ffion," a second, more grizzled harpy harpy barked. "Stand down."

"But--!"

"We are guests. Leave the male to Aphaster’s law."

Labrusca sipped the last of her milk and watched order re-assert itself. Penitence led Phi away in a decidedly milky pair of ice cuffs, and the two harpy 'guests' tried to comfort Trathail. Or at least the more brightly colored one was--the older one was staring at the sign for the Happy Harpy Creamery like she couldn't decide whether she hated it or thought it was funny, or maybe both.

With the fight over, Eos--bless their gentle soul--was crying in Verbena’s arms. Labrusca regarded their stocky arms and shoulders with new respect. She'd always thought it was an oddly beefy shape for such a shrinking violent but it certainly made more sense now.

“So,” she called, setting her empty pint down on an empty display table. “Which one of us is going to tell Stellaria about this? Not it.”

#Flight Rising #Aphaster Stories #C: Eos #C: Verbena #C: Trathail #C: Labrusca #C: Phi #In which Phi is dead serious but he's also pubescent #And Trathail continues to be a blessing on my life #Labrusca seeing Phi again later: What's up milk boy?#Phi dies instantly because he looked lame in front of a cute girl #Fourca: Oh THAT'S the milk boy?#Phi dies again because a cute boy also knows he's lame

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deathbyignis · 7 years

Text

Drautos x Reader pt 5

It takes you a moment to process his words. Was he talking about you? The oxygen is immediately sucked out of the room and you find yourself suffocating. You know. You know in your heart who hired this band of misfits and why he did it. Your body begs for you to breathe but your mind is too preoccupied to obey. A wave of emotions cascades over your now shaking body...anger, sadness, fear, despair. Images and thoughts race through your mind of the only person in all of Eos who would want you captured like a trophy and returned to your case. Luche turns to look at you- his jaw open and eyes in shock-clearly this was not the answer the Glaive was expecting to extract from his prisoner. His eyes dart to Bleu, then back to Titus - awaiting his orders. Your eyes shift to the back of Titus' head but he doesn't turn around, instead he leans forward in his chair holding his gaze to the kid as his hands begin to shake violently - either out of fear or rage - and the water bottle in his hand rattles against the table. "Y/n, go get Sonitus please." He says in such a calm manner that your mind doesn't register the request, your watery eyes just continue to stare at Bleu. "Y/N! Go get Sonitus!" His tone is that of Captain Drautos now giving you an order which snaps you out of your daze and you immediately comply. You say nothing in reply and stand yourself upright, not realizing that the wall was the only thing holding you up and you walk what feels like a zigzag formation towards the door. Your hands are shaking and sweaty as you reach for the doorknob and you can barely see it through your tears. When you close the door behind you, you can hear the screeching sound of Titus pushing his chair back, then that of Bleu's body smacking against the floor with a pathetic wail. Your body is confused, feeling as though it is weighed down by cinder blocks but at the same time floating on air as you slowly make your way down the hall to Sonitus' location. You don't know why Titus would ask for him specifically, Sonitus is not as well versed in interrogation tactics as Nyx, but you didn't care enough to debate the issue with yourself. When you reach him, you aren't even sure yourself what just happened so you speak to him briefly, only telling him that the Captain needs him and follow as he races to the conference room. Once Sonitus is with Drautos and Luche the door is shut and locked behind him, so you lean on the wall once more and slide down it to sit, tucking your knees into your chest. You got too comfortable girl, you tell yourself, angry that you could be so stupid for believing the nightmare was over. You sit there quietly sobbing to yourself trying to listen for any information coming from the conference room. With a thunderous crash, Luche bursts from the conference room and runs to the room Nyx is guarding, emerging moments later with the second guy, this one much older than Bleu. He is cursing loudly at Luche as he is forced down the hall with one arm craned tightly behind his back. He spits at you as he is unceremoniously thrown into the conference room, while concurrently a bleeding Bleu is led out and placed in Nyx's charge by Sonitus before he returns to the conference room. Pelna and Nyx are staring at you now with 1000 questions in their eyes that you can't answer. You wanted to run to them because you would feel safe, but you also knew that if they knew the whole truth of what was happening right now the boys would kill Bleu first, then ask questions later, so you tucked your soaked cheeks into your knees. They know nothing of the life you lived pre-Lucis, and you wanted to keep it that way. Crowe and Titus. Two people knew your deepest secrets, and nobody else. You wanted it this way because it had to be this way. The Glaives were a bunch of gritty, scrappy, hard-ass motherfuckers and you couldn't have them to viewing you as weak or fragile. A gunshot. A scream. Ten minutes. Sonitus emerges and heads towards Pelna's room. He surfaces with guy number three. This guy you surmise is in his late-twenties. Sonitus attempts to quickly lead him by you, but his prisoner is fighting with him-throwing himself from one wall to the next-all the while grinning at you as he is lead down the hall. The prisoner blows you a kiss as he passes your position on the floor, and is promptly met by Titus at the door with a vigorous punch to the kidneys. The door shuts. It is locked. "What the fuck is going on?" Nyx whispers just loud enough for you to hear it. Tears begin to form again as you stare into his eyes and contemplate your answer. You don't want to lie to him, but you can't exactly tell him everything either. "It appears as though my past has caught up with me." You whisper back. "What does that mean?" Pelna retorts. You wipe the tears from your eyes and with a resigning sigh look up at them, giving them a grin. "I love you guys" you say quietly. You raise yourself up to your feet and begin to walk away in the direction of the stairway that leads to the club. They are calling for you to come back but you don't turn around, keeping your gaze firmly to the floor. __________________________________ You have no recollection of how you got here, or how long you have been here. All you know is that the sun is rising, so it must be around 5:30 am. Your body is shaking from the cold morning air and the damp dew on your shoes that you apparently kicked off hours ago tells you that you have been here a while. Your eyes focus onto various objects around the park as your senses take in the sounds and sights of the awakening city. You always loved coming to this park. The abundance of green trees and the bubbling creek always reminded you of home. Home. Him. Them. Eighteen months of your young life you spent married to him. The marriage was arranged but you went into it willingly, believing he was perfect. He became possessive very early in the marriage--always wanting to know where you were, who you were with, what you were doing. You were so naive to believe his obsessive behavior translated to love. Ravus the man was not a terrorizing monster, but his colleagues in the Imperial Army were and he did absolutely nothing to stop them from tormenting his wife. They requested you, he delivered. Ravus' sole purpose in his life was to save his sister, it didn't matter if he had to sacrifice you to do it. It is him. No question in your mind. On the many occasions when you had threatened to leave, Ravus would threaten you back tenfold. He would tell you that he would "hunt you down tirelessly and bring you back" to Tenebrae. You were used as tool for him to gain favor with those in power in order to climb the ranks of the Imperial Army, nothing more. You were rarely allowed to leave the castle and even then never without an escort. Your escape and subsequent entry into Insomnia was either a matter of dumb luck or a gift from the Gods. The sound of quickly approaching footsteps behind you snaps you out of your deep reflection. You summon your daggers and jettison yourself off the bench and turn 180 degrees in one swift movement. "Gods damnit, Axis!" You yell at him through chattering teeth. "You scared the shit out of me!" "Captain Drautos is at your apartment." He says with a blank expression, staring directly at you. You stare back for a brief moment then divert your gaze to the tree line and inhale deeply, taking in the sweet smells of the park. The time has come for the years-long avoided conversation. You nod your head in understanding, put your daggers away, and pick up your shoes. You begin to follow Axis in silence, walking the two blocks to your home barefoot. You enter your home and see Titus sitting on the couch. The two of you connect again and you fall to your knees against the door in a flood of emotional sobs. He is quick to shoo Titan away and engulfs your body into the safety net of his arms. You grab roughly at his chest and desperately raise yourself to straddle him, burying your face into the crook of his neck as he clutches your body tight to his. "It's ok.......you're safe." You try to say something, but your body won't let you. You are inconsolable and your sobs uncontrollable. Titus continues to hold you for as long as he needs giving you time to slowly regain control over your body and emotions. Titus sweetly lays gentle kisses on your crown, forehead, and temples and begins whispering all the things that you need to hear to regain your emotional strength. He tells you that you are a different person than you were five years ago when you married Ravus. That you are stronger, tougher, and a total bad-ass with a Katana. He tells you that even if Ravus were to get ahold of you, that you would still be able to wield King Regis' magic and could slice off a piece of every motherfucker who touched you. With a slight upturn of his lips, he also reminds you that your lover commands the most psychotic group of commandos on all of Eos and says that they would infiltrate Gralea itself to find you...which elicits a small giggle from you because you know it is true. Feeling suddenly brave, you lift your face to his until you are nose to nose. You study his beautiful features and see that he too was crying while trying pick up the pieces of your fractured soul. You take his face into your hands and kiss him gently. "Titus?" You say quietly, placing your forehead to his. He pulls you close to him and answers affirmatively "Yes?" "Forgive me for this, but I've been holding onto this...and...I have three questions I need to ask you...can you promise to be honest with your answers?" He pulls away, cupping your face in his hands, looking at you quizzically. "Of course." he finally says. You study him for a moment and take in a deep breath. "Do you think I am really naive?" His breath ceases for a moment and you can see him searching the depths of his mind for the right words. He thinks he has the correct answer and he looks at you dead in the eyes. "I believe that there are a lot of things that happen that you would rather not acknowledge because they are too horrific to contemplate. I believe that you would rather believe that those things don't exist because it is easier to deny them than to acknowledge them." He had no idea that he had hit the nail on the head with that one. "Do you know...and I mean KNOW...in your heart...that I would walk straight into Ifrit's den if you asked me to? That I would fight him to the death...for you?" He looks at you with tears forming in his eyes. "I know that...yes" You tangle your fingers into his hair and kiss him again but this time you don't pull away and insert your tongue deeply into his mouth. He greedily reciprocates and has you pinned to the door instantly. Titus wets his fingers on his tongue and begins to urgently massage your clit, but you grab hold of his hand to stop his advance. "I said three questions love." you say breathily. "Right." he sighs, withdrawing his hand and leaning back. You pause and look at him for a long time, begging Sweet Shiva for the courage to ask your final question. She finally blesses you, and you squeeze his hand tightly. "Did you know?" you whisper. "Know what, babe?" "Did you know that the High Commander of the Imperial Army was sending a covert-ops group to Insomnia to kidnap me?" you ask, holding back the throngs of sobs fighting their way out of your body. He looks at you in disbelief and horror, turning stark white as the blood rushes from his face. "Of course not...h....how c...how could I possibly" he stutters as he stands and walks across the room, using his arms to rest his body against the mantle. You study his mannerisms. He is nervous, trying to hide it behind a veil of innocence, but he is failing miserably. You lean back against the door, your flooded eyes watching his face, reflected in the mirror mounted above the fireplace. "I doubt if you remember but we met once" you say softly to him, tears falling freely from your eyes. "In Tenebrae....I was 18....Ravus and I had just recently married." Titus raises his gaze to look at your reflection, his tears free-falling onto his grey tank and a small sniffle emotes from his body. "I was marked up pretty good from my first encounter with Ardyn." you continue, "There was a dinner party at the castle for Imperial Army Officers....and you were there. Did you know that out of the nearly 50 guests that I met that night....you..." your voice cracks and the words get more difficult to push out..."you were the only person to ask if I was ok." Titus turns slowly to face you. "How could I ever forget?" his eyes finding yours. "You were so beautiful...so broken." You raise yourself to your knees and slowly crawl your way over to him. Your hands ghost over his calves and come to rest on his shaking thighs. You search his eyes, waiting for your answer. Tears begin to fall down his cheeks once more as he reaches down and cups your face in his gentle hands. "I knew the Glaive could protect you." he mutters under his breath. You literally feel your blood freeze. "You knew he was coming after me?" you stutter in disbelief, blinking out tears. You stare at his quivering chin for several moments pleading silently for him to say more. When no other information is forthcoming, you stand and begin to stumble your way upstairs to your bedroom. "Y/N wait" you hear him cry behind you but you ignore his plea and keep walking. Titus races after you and grabs your ankle as you are about to reach the top stair, dragging you down to him and pinning your body below his. "No!" you yell from below him as you rapidly apply several slaps to his face in a futile attempt to free yourself. Grasping your hands he pins them to the last stair above your head, cuffing your wrists with his massive fists. He is yelling that he loves you...that you were never in any danger...but his plea is all for naught as you continue to grunt and kick your legs in a desperate attempt to get free. Titus puts the full weight of his body onto yours, encircling your legs in his and buries his face into your shoulder begging for a chance to explain himself. You quickly come to the realization that your struggles are pointless against his massive frame so you stop moving altogether, save for the rapid movement of your chest as you attempt to catch your breath. Titus growls and places a hand on your throat, turning your face away from him and lowering his mouth to your ear. You could feel his hot breath coming in short bursts and your hips involuntarily jerk up to hit him in the groin, earning a small chuckle from your breathless sparring partner. You moan as his tongue traces the frame of your ear and he pulls your lobe into his tender mouth at the same time as his groin grinds against yours, pinning you there as you lift yourself to meet him. Satisfied that you had given up the fight Titus releases your throat and ghosts his hand down your tattered dress until he reaches your lace thong and begins to massage your clit once more. He releases a heavy gasp and raises his forehead to meet yours, his eyes boring into yours. "Tell me you love me." he whispers hoarsely. "No" you cry. "Tell me" he says, still working your clit with his eager fingers. "Titus please" "I would never let those fuckers hurt you, please believe me!" "Fuck you Drautos!" you snap at him as you slap him again and make a pathetic attempt to push him away. Titus emits a guttural groan as he rises to his knees and positions himself directly on top of your legs, keeping them pinned down. He reaches down to grab your dress at the neckline pulling you upright as he violently rips the delicate fabric straight down the middle exposing your glowing body for himself to admire. The Captain tastes blood in his own mouth and raises his hand to find the source. Pulling his thumb away from the bloody lip you just gave him, he chuckles at his little Glaive and turns his attention to your thong-removing it with a simple snap of the thin thread. He pins your arms to your bare rib cage and leans in so close you feel his rapid hot breath on your cheek. "I love you so much baby, I would never let them hurt you." he conveys the best he can through his tears. Titus raises his head to face you. He grazes your lips with his tongue, a desperate maneuver because he knows you can't resist it, but you do-at first. He runs his skilled tongue from your lips to your jaw, to your ear, peppering his trail with languid kisses. You stare at the light above you and eventually lean into him, hating your body for betraying you as you can feel your nipples harden and a pool forming in your core. When he returns to his starting point you try to fight the urge but open your mouth to willingly receive his tongue and he releases your arms in order to cup your face in his hands, delving his sweet tongue deep into your mouth. You grasp his hips with shaky hands and help him maneuver his way between your legs. Titus moves quickly to insert two fingers into your dripping slit and releases your mouth to dive onto your sweaty mounds. He shows no desire to tease right now as he engulfs your full tit into his warm mouth, sucking at your nipple several times-- his mouth moving in tandem with his fingers. His thumb finds your clit and after a few simple strokes your pussy explodes on his hand, your body shaking violently but he has no intention of stopping there. The gift of your wet orgasm drives him into a frenzy to please you and he spreads your legs further to insert a third finger and bangs hard at your entrance like a man possessed. You cum again immediately in an ocean of spasms raking your body.....his palm moving to roughly massage your clit but you firmly grab his hand to stop him. "Fuck...honey...stop" you quietly beg him to cease his attack. Opening your dazed eyes to search for him, your body continues to jerk involuntarily. He stops as requested and smiles at your dripping cunt, appreciating how much liquid has spilled from your limp body. Massive arms wrap themselves around your slumped form to pick you up and he carefully navigates the love puddles to bring you back down the stairs. You grab hold of his shoulders, laying open mouth kisses on his neck while breathing quick and shallow. When the two of you reach the couch, he puts you on your feet and pushes your destroyed dress off your shoulders. "Sit baby." His tone is soft and you do as you are told, breathlessly slouching into the couch. You watch him with lidded eyes as he removes his tank and undoes his belt, allowing his dress pants from last night to fall to the floor. Your eyes drop to his throbbing bulge which brings you to full attention and you pop up to the edge of the couch. Sliding two fingers of each hand into his waist band, you tug at the material of his boxers and release his glorious cock. Wasting about as much time as he did, you grasp the base tightly and force him straight into your mouth as far as his head will allow. "Whoa, take it easy." he pants while entwining his fingers into your hair and pulling you away, forcing a sinful pop to emit from your mouth. You glare at him and slap his hands away, annoyed at him for expecting mercy when you received none. You drop to your knees and grab his hips and force him to turn, pushing him to sit on the couch. Positioning yourself between his legs, your hands force his thighs wide. Your hungry mouth descends on his balls, aggressively sucking one into your mouth, then moving to the other. His vocal approval paired with his full-body shiver alarms you that your mouth is working a little too well and Titus attempts to pull you away again-but you are having none of it-you slap his wrists and pin them to his sides without stopping. "You're gonna make me cum baby." he whines as your soft warm mouth engulfs his fat cock once again, pausing to tease the ring of his head every time you are on the upstroke. "Mmmm" you moan with pleasure and steal a glance at him when you taste the sweet flavor of his precum on your tastebuds. Your eyes connect with his and those beautiful green orbs that you adore are clinched shut and his chest is flushed red which motivates you to go down faster, suck harder, tease his head quicker. Titus begins to jerk his hips upward meeting your mouth somewhere in the middle of his length. He frees his hands of your grasp and softly lifts your hair into a messy bun so he can watch you swallow his cock as he pumps deeply into your now hot and dripping mouth. The sight is more than enough to send him over the edge and he forcefully pulls your face away from his crotch and cums hard on your tits. Not satisfied with this, you go back down on him mid-orgasm and begin to suck the remaining cum right out of him. He continues his orgasmic thrusts up into your throat as he is eager to give you what you desire. When he has no more of his sweet nectar to give, you pull away and stand up above him. He has been slain. Titus reaches for you, but he only grasps air. "We're done here." you say with contempt, and you turn to walk away. This time he lets you.

#titus drautos #ffxv #luche lazarus #nyx ulric #pelna khara #kingsglaive

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keliandra-blog1 · 7 years

Text

Dazed - Part 2

Mass Effect Andromeda - Liam Kosta and Kate ‘Kat’ Ryder (eventually?) Drabbles and one shots leading up to and including their romance.

- Kat dealing with, or not dealing with a reckless Liam. {Rest of the ficlet is under the cut so people aren’t spammed with a wall of text.} I am open for any prompts / requests for them as well.

Part 1 - my little introduction to Kat Ryder.

Lowering her assault rifle, she could feel the blood coursing through her veins. The offending Kett lay still and unmoving at Liam's feet.

Without wasting a second, she charged over to his position. “What the hell was that?” she demanded. The clenching of her stomach and tension in her muscles had come on instantly but refused to relent so easily.

He turned around to face her, his dark brown eyes wide and questioning behind the safety of his helmet. “It was moving into position to flank you,” he responded defensively.

“I know! That's why I had my omni-blade ready!” she exclaimed. The image was still so clear in her mind, that split second that she had thought the kett was going to fire a shot off first. Aimed right at Liam’s head.

“How was I supposed to see that from my position?” he asked forcefully.

“You were in cover with your shields down. You don't leave cover when your shields are down unless you have a death wish!” She knew her tone was only making him more defensive and that she should really pull it back several notches but, it just wasn't happening. She couldn’t force her tone to co-operate.

“Or unless your Pathfinder needs backup, your welcome by the way!” he growled, glaring right at her. “Just doing my job.”

She stood there for a moment staring at those blasted deep, dark brown eyes of his, until her mind managed to processes his words. “What about the next time? If you get yourself killed, how are you supposed to back me up then?”

“Still here aren't I?” he bit back, “and so are you, always make sure of that. Heleus needs it's Pathfinder.”

“Damn it Liam, you are an important member of this team.” She draw in a sharp breath that did little to calm her nerves. It did give her a moment, just long enough for the tone of her voice to normalize. “Getting yourself killed isn't going to help anyone and you can't even see it.”

With that, she turned away from him, and the dead kett laying in the sand at his feet. The nomad was only a short distance away, a dropship had forced them out of the vehicle and into a skirmish. From the few conversations she had with Liam, it became increasingly obvious that he didn't hold his own worth in very high regard and that was… concerning. Even more concerning was just how high he seemed to hold hers, almost to the point of hero worshipping, or something close to it. What was it Lexi had said? To be careful because he could very easily raise her up on a pedestal. It was unsettling, even embarrassing to consider the notion that he may already have.

Way up there, out of reach. Possibly in his mind, out of his reach.

She wasn’t certain if Peebee had thought she was far enough away from them to not hear her, or if she just didn't care. “You idiot,” she said to Liam. “What Ryder is really trying to say is that she likes you. She doesn't want to be worrying about you getting yourself killed to protect her.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell the asari to shut up and not put words into her mouth. However, it caught in the back of her throat refusing to be spoken.

Shit. Peebee is right! I do like him. Not just like him but, really like him.

No, she couldn't be sure. It was one hell of a time to decide, after all of the men who had been in and out of her life, that finally one was worth taking notice of. During the alliance training her father had insisted on, there had been many flirty soldiers in the making. Many more in the seedy bars she frequented while her mother was sick, and afterwards, those times she just needed a break and a few drinks to forget it all for a few hours. She had brushed them all off, each and every attempt to try and catch her attention. There in Andromeda, her father gone and brother in a coma, what if Liam was just a convenient attempt to not feel so alone?

Lost in her own thoughts she realized she had missed whatever it was Liam said, that prompted Peebee’s next comment.

“Dumbass,” the asari exclaimed as she swung open the nomads door and climbed into the back.

“Realist,” Liam injected as he climbed in after her.

“Pathfinder, I am detecting a remnant construct nearby,” SAM added as Kat was taking up her usual position in the driver's seat of the nomad.

Drawing in a deep breath, she shifted her head from one side to the other and back again. Trying, unsuccessfully to ease some of the tension from her neck. “Mark the nav point SAM. We will check it out tomorrow.”

“Wait, what do you mean tomorrow?” Peebee piped up from the back. “It’s close anyway and it's remnant.”

“It’s also late and we are all tired. I’m taking us straight back to the outpost. Who knows how many Kett are between here and there as it is,” Kat responded firmly.

“But-,” the asari started to protest.

“Peebee,” Kat warned. “It’s not going anywhere. First thing, after we have all had some much needed rest.”

Peebee sighed loudly. “Fine. I’m holding you to that first thing though. Like really early.”

“Not too early,” Kat and Liam both chimed in at the same time. Almost instantly some of the tension in her muscles melted away as they also both chuckled in response.

Kicking the nomad into action, she was keen to get back to the ship. If only to hog one of the showers to wash off some of Eos’ sand. Somehow it always managed to get into everywhere. After their battles with the kett at every turn, she also didn't want to consider what other grime she was covered in. The splatters all over her armour spoke for themselves she thought with a cringe.

Yes, a shower would definitely be the first stop once she was back on the tempest.

The journey back to the outpost, much to her relief, was a smooth one. Even Peebee and Liam remained quiet in the back, possibly too tired to continue with their earlier conversations. More like earlier arguments. Listening to them had almost been as tiring as fighting the kett. Still, even with the smooth ride back, it was a few hours before she was finally showered, dressed in her comfortable slacks and hoodie, sitting in the kitchen on the Tempest. It felt like there was always something that demanded attention, messages, reports, mission deployments and that was just when she was on board the ship.

Lexi was always complaining about her eating habits, or lack thereof, as if there was actually time to eat better. More to the point, time to prepare food in the first place. Someone had clearly been cooking earlier, the scent still lingering in the air. Whatever it was, it smelled delicious and set off an instant grumble from her food deprived stomach. With a sigh she reached for the box of blast-oh’s on the table and pulled it towards her, ignoring Lexi’s chiding voice in her head as she reached in and grabbed a handful of the cereal. Tomorrow. I’ll find something better to eat tomorrow.

Her eyes fell to the list on the data pad in front of her and the over-full schedule that was glaring back. As if there would be time to even breathe, let alone prepare and eat a full meal. At least it didn’t give her much time to consider all the flavours she missed from home and maybe that was a blessing.

#Mass Effect Andromeda #Rydam #Liam Kosta #Kate 'Kat' Ryder #SisRyder #My Fanficlets #MelinaAmell Writes #Or tries to

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gumnut-logic · 4 years

Text

We’ll Be Home For Christmas 5.1

Title: We’ll be home for Christmas

Day Five – Here on Tracy Island – Part 1 Prologue | 1.1 | 1.2 | 2.1 | 2.2 | 2.3 | 3.1 | 3.2 | 3.3 | 3.4 | 3.5 | 4.1 | 4.2 | 4.3 | 4.4 | 4.5 | 4.6 | 5.1

Author: Gumnut

20 Jun 2020

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: The boys can’t fly home for Christmas, so they have to find another way.

Word count: 3313

Spoilers & warnings: language and so, so much fluff. Science!Gordon. Artist!Virgil, Minor various ships, mostly background.

Timeline: Christmas Season 3, I have also kinda ignored the main storyline of Season 3. The boys needed a break, so I gave them one. Post season 3B, before Season 3C cos I started this fic before we saw it.

Author’s note: For @scattergraph. This is my 2019 TAG Secret Santa fic :D

No, I haven’t forgotten about this fic, and yes, it hit the six month mark about two weeks ago. I started writing this 8 Dec 2019. I’m nearly there.

Landmark, though. It is now officially my longest Thunderbirds fic, overtaking Gentle Rain today at around 60,000 words, depending on which word processing program it is sitting in. Never expected it to be this long.

This chapter pretty much wrote itself. It is almost like a role call of the five brothers and their states of mind. So a little bit of all the bros in this. I hope you enjoy.

Many thanks to @i-am-chidorixblossom @scribbles97 and @onereyofstarlight for reading through various bits, fielding my many wibblies, and for all their wonderful support.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

Day Five: Here on Tracy Island

Virgil woke late the next morning. It was a pleasant awakening, slipping from deep sleep to doze to a peaceful warmth beneath the covers. His room was dark. Darker than his cabin on A Little Lightning and with decidedly less sway.

He lay there for a while, enjoying the lack of need to get up and do anything and the absence of pain. He had slept the sleep of the dead and was thoroughly rested. There was something to be said about sleeping in your own bed at home that no holiday anywhere could provide.

But honestly, he wasn’t one to sit and do nothing for long, his brain kicking into gear while he lay there, listing off things waiting to be done. A visit to Two to reassure himself she had been checked over and was ready should she be needed. Not that he didn’t trust his family, it was just for his own peace of mind.

He should be able to get away with it so long as he didn’t spend too much time down there.

It took him a full half an hour of random rumination to realise that it was Christmas Day.

Oh shit.

The clock said eleven am.

His family...

He sat up abruptly and was thoroughly reminded of how stupid such a move was.

Oh, for the love of...

He grunted and rolled over until his face was smothered in his pillow.

The medic in his brain listed off the reasons why he shouldn’t have done that and why he needed to be careful and, goddamnit, he was sick of this. It was only an appendix, for crying out loud.

Stupid surgery.

That could have been so much worse.

He was being a spoilt child.

He let out a breath into his pillow, its warmth wrapping around his face. Another week and he would be fine.

But now, it was eleven oh five on Christmas morning and he was holding his family up.

He clambered out of bed with minimal complaint from his body, into the shower, a shave and into his familiar red flannel, jeans and boots.

It was such a comfort to be home.

He blow-dried his hair, gelled it up and made himself presentable.

The man who stared at him from his bathroom mirror was one appendix less and a whole pile of experience more.

He hummed to himself, tasting the notes in his throat. He could feel the soft whale skin under his fingertips, hear the lap of the water, the breeze in his hair...

And the music.

His eyes were closed without permission, the imagery taking over his mind. His fingers tapped against the bathroom vanity marking out the beat and rhythm of what he was trying to say, the pictures warping into abstract and lack of understanding.

Salty and long spoken, the notes repeated.

He didn’t know how long he stood there under the bathroom light, eyes seeing another world somewhere below the ocean surface.

By the time he shook off the haze it was eleven forty-five.

Almost lunchtime.

Alan would be foaming at the bit.

He pushed himself away from the sink and killed the light. Walking carefully across his room, he shook himself, rolling his shoulders. Get it together, Virgil. Your family is waiting for you.

Out through the door, down the corridor and, screw the stairs, he was taking the elevator.

It swallowed him whole.

-o-o-o-

Gordon had been up since before the sun. It was a sign that he was home. A session in the pool brought familiarity into the equation. There was definitely a difference between swimming in the pool versus the ocean and it had nothing to do with water salinity.

The ocean was beautiful and he adored it. But the pool sported no threat, no need to monitor his surroundings beyond the presence of a mischievous brother or two, leaving him to be able to focus on his stroke and let his mind wander.

The pleasant warmth of well used muscles pulling him forward through the water, simple thought processing...and considering the last few days, there were a lot of thoughts awaiting examination.

Some he had managed while piloting A Little Lightning on the home stretch, but there were still more needing answers and tactical decisions.

Sam. Mel. Scott. John. Virgil.

As far as he knew, Scott was still planning on inviting the neighbours over today. That would place Sam within reach of the apparently resistant Virgil.

He understood where both men were coming from. Virgil needed time and Sam was just a ball of eager energy.

Gordon was stuck between the two.

Push came to shove, he would side with Virgil regardless. He had too. But he really didn’t want to be divisive. If Virgil would talk just a little, it would help not only Sam and himself, but it might assuage the ball of worried energy that was Scott.

His arms sliced through water until he reached the end of the lane, his body automatically flipping and turning into the push off surge in the opposite direction. Air, splash and his hands slicing through the water again.

Okay, he would admit that he was worried himself. At first it was just amazing. His brother could sing to whales! A breakthrough. But yesterday he witnessed exactly how spaced Virgil became when singing and everything screamed wary. Humpback whales were beautiful creatures, but so big and so possibly unintentionally dangerous.

He couldn’t let Virgil anywhere near a whale alone. It just wasn’t safe. There was so much they didn’t know and the urge to protect his gentle brother just swelled in his heart.

They needed to investigate further. Find out exactly what was going on. Make sure his brother was safe. That it didn’t affect any water rescues.

They couldn’t afford to have Virgil spacing out in the ocean at random. As it was, Gordon wasn’t going to let Virgil anywhere near the ocean during rescues for the foreseeable future. He could stay up in Two.

Safe.

Whale song could travel around the globe.

His native realm had become a hazard for his big brother and that was unacceptable.

They had to find out what was going on.

John and Eos had made a good start, but Sam and himself needed to investigate further and soon.

Virgil needed to cooperate for his own safety.

Gordon broke his stroke, pushed himself to the side of the pool and rested his head on the concrete a moment, letting his body float randomly.

Blood pumped through his ears, his heart still running at exercise rate.

He needed to convince Virgil.

Somehow.

-o-o-o-

Scott revelled in the early dawn light. His feet pounded on his wonderfully familiar route around the Island. A trek he hadn’t laid eyes on for a week.

His runners crunched volcanic gravel beneath them.

The sun was just rising on Christmas Day, the beautiful weather hanging strong, the sea a stretch of glass disappearing off into the horizon. His current trajectory pointed him directly south where he knew beyond the glass lay Raoul Island. A single spot in a sea of blue, so similar to the even tinier spot that was Tracy Island.

Same sea of blue.

A pokey tree appeared on the side of the track, its red flowers quite glorious in the morning sun, and he found himself grinning. Sure, he knew the correct name of the pōhutukawa tree, but Alan’s name was so much easier to pronounce and it made Mel laugh.

His legs took the strain as he jogged up the rapidly steepening trail.

If he was honest with himself, the whole no strings attached thing was a lie. He found himself thinking about the woman more the longer they were away from Raoul.

And they only left yesterday.

As soon as the sun was high enough in the sky to be polite, he would be contacting Raoul with his invitation to her, Sam and Liam. It wasn’t the only time he had invited people to the Island, they weren’t entirely hermits, but it was rare and the first time in a long time.

And he was so looking forward to it.

Penny and Parker were due after breakfast as was the tradition. As soon as everyone was awake, they would have their present opening party, always a major family event. More for the company and laughter than the presents themselves.

He could almost hear Gordon declaring it ‘Tracy style’ complete with the arm movements to compliment the claim.

But Mel...it was like he was excited to show her the Island, perhaps because he knew she would be very interested in the ecosystem that had developed here since their father had begun repairing it over a decade ago.

And he was staring at it right now as he followed the path around the back of the Island. Pokey trees, palms and ferns were everywhere a foothold was available. Scott knew very little about their ecosystem beyond the need to keep it safe. Gordon and Virgil were the ones who knew most about it among the brothers. Gordon focussed on the sea and Virgil sometimes helped out with animal numbers and photography for the scientific group.

But Mel hadn’t been here since Dad...

He grunted and hurdled a rock he hurdled every morning as the slope inverted and started heading down. The view was stunning.

Despite the glass of the ocean, the swell still crashed on the back cliffs of the Island, jagged volcanic rock resistant to the relentless pounding.

Hopefully she would consent to the visit even though it was late notice.

He did have a Thunderbird, after all.

-o-o-o-

John hadn’t slept much. He never did when something was on his mind. His everything drove him to find a solution, particularly when a brother was involved.

Eos never slept, so she was the perfect insomnia companion.

There was also the factor that he was home, but he really wasn’t.

He was missing Five.

Now he was back on the Island, everything was screaming at him to go home.

Not that he didn’t like the Island, quite the opposite. The Island contained his brothers, his grandmother, Kayo, his family and he adored his family.

But the stars were calling to him. His body ached to feel the release from gravity. He wanted his home.

He ignored it.

His body needed gravity. It was an undeniable fact. It had evolved under the pressure exerted by the planet and while his mind adored the stars and the lack of gravity, nature demanded its return under the ‘use it or lose it’ mandate of life on Earth.

So, tired, but awake anyway as the sun hit the front of the villa, John made his way down to the pool where he found Gordon, as expected, in the water, but unexpectedly, not swimming. His head was lying on one arm at the edge of the pool, his body floating lazily behind.

John dropped his towel on a lounger and, bare footed to the edge next to his brother. Folding himself into a seated position he dropped his feet to dangle in the cool water.

“Gordon?”

“Hmm?” His head rose a little blearily. “Oh, John, hey.”

“Merry Christmas.”

“Huh? What, oh, Merry Christmas, John.”

A frown. “You okay?”

Gordon flexed his shoulders. “Yeah, just thinking.”

“Virgil?”

“Yeah.”

John sighed. “Same. But you do know he’s okay?”

“Yeah, just thinking it through.”

John pushed himself into the water and couldn’t help a relieved sigh as the water took away so many of the effects of gravity, cradling his body. “Swim with me?”

Brown eyes turned to him and John saw a reflection of his own worry in their depths. “Sure.” Gordon pushed off from the edge, his movements graceful despite his distraction.

John moved to the lane next to Gordon’s preferred and lined up beside his fish brother. Gordon shot him a brief but grateful smile before pushing off the end in a careless surge into stroke. He was metres ahead before John had even shifted into form.

Typical.

Show off.

But he couldn’t help but smile as he pushed off the edge himself, automatically moving into a strong but leisurely stroke in warm up.

Swimming denied verbal communication, but it wasn’t needed, the two of them just keeping each other company.

By the fifth lap, John started pushing himself, putting his body through the exercise needed to keep it healthy. He had no delusions of keeping up with Gordon. He just paced himself as his body needed it. Twenty laps in, he eased up a little and checked on his brother.

Gordon was still going. John brought himself to a halt, treading water, muscles pleasantly buzzing.

“Hey, John.” The astronaut startled, turning in place to find Scott standing on the edge of the pool. His running gear appeared well used, sweat stains prominent, and he was still breathing heavily. “Just letting you know that I’m going to be taking One out in about half an hour.”

“You going to get Mel and Sam?” Gordon was suddenly beside him. It was a sign of how tired John actually was that his younger brother startled him almost as much as Scott had a moment earlier.

“Yeah.”

“Can I come with?”

“Don’t you want to be here for when Penny arrives?”

John arched an eyebrow in Gordon’s direction. The fish had been looking forward to Christmas for that very reason. Before Virgil’s illness, it had been Penelope this, Penelope that. Apparently, he had the ‘best’ gift lined up for their first Christmas as a couple. Whether or not that was still going ahead considering recent events, John had no idea. Gordon hadn’t mentioned it since Virgil fell ill.

“I thought you had the fastest plane on the planet, Scotty.”

Their eldest brother snorted. “Plane, yes, younger brother, no.”

“Hey, I can be fast.” A strawberry blond frown. “Regardless, I need to speak to Sam.”

Scott eyed him a moment. “Virgil?”

Gordon sighed. “Yeah, Virgil. Gotta handle this delicately.”

Scott’s lips thinned. “Okay, then you better be ready in thirty because that’s when I’m leaving.”

The fish was already climbing out of the pool. Wet footprints marked the concrete as he strode to his towel.

Blue eyes turned to John. “You okay? You look tired.”

John let water run through his fingers. “I am, but I’ll live.”

Voice quiet. “Virgil?”

A single nod, voice equally quiet. “Virgil. Eos, Gordon and I will work it out. We just need time.” And patience. Admittedly, he didn’t have much of that where his brothers’ health was concerned. He could fake it, but it didn’t mean he felt it.

Scott’s expression was thoughtful. “I know you will do your best. Don’t forget to look after yourself.”

A groan. This was why Virgil was always adamant that he was fine. I single hint of something wrong and their biggest brother was all over them, his concern obvious. “I’m fine, Scott.”

That earned him a grunt and John actually struggled not to smile at his brother’s exasperation. John swam to the pool edge and pushed himself out of the water. A wave in the direction of the rising sun’s reflection. “The pool is all yours, dear brother.”

Scott eyed him. “Thank you.”

The morning breeze cooled John enough to raise goose pimples on his arms. Before he could reach for his towel, Scott was handing it to him.

Ever the big brother. It was John’s turn to eye him back. “Thank you.”

Scott smiled at him, a definite smirk on those lips. He knew exactly what John was thinking and had likely done it on purpose. “Anytime.”

Hmmm. “Merry Christmas, Scott.”

Those blue eyes widened as his big brother obviously realised that despite all the preparations underway, despite the tree they had stacked with presents the night before, he had still managed to forget the significance of the day.

It was John’s turn to smirk.

But Scott recovered quickly, tilting his head, a small smile on his lips. “Merry Christmas, John.”

With that he turned and headed off into the house.

-o-o-o-

Alan loved to sleep in. He shared this love with his second eldest brother. Getting up early sucked big time and he had no coffee addiction to help him.

But there was one day of the year when you could witness the youngest Tracy out of bed, while not early, at least a decent time where breakfast could still be called breakfast and not lunch or even brunch.

Christmas Day.

Alan adored the day. Presents, food and family, what more could a guy ask for?

So, eight am found him stumbling down the stairs to the kitchen in search of the second and third items on the list. He found Grandma at the kitchen table eating her fruit and yoghurt.

Alan made no effort to be quiet, but she didn’t appear to realise he was there, staring out across the lagoon. “Grandma?”

She dropped her spoon with a clatter as it hit the bowl. “Alan!” She clutched her hand to her chest, gasping. “You frightened me. Gave my old heart a kick in the pants.”

“Sorry, Grandma. Are you okay?”

“This time. Though I wouldn’t recommend doing it too often.” She held out an arm. “C’mere and give me a Christmas hug.”

Now that was something he was quite happy to do. Grandma hugs were always appreciated. “Merry Christmas, Grandma.” He held her tight.

“Merry Christmas, honey. Are you hungry?”

Uh, that was always a loaded question and there were important indicators related to that. “Where is everyone?” He had expected to find at least John down here. His space brother would eat his breakfast staring out into the lagoon and follow it with work on his tablet just to be around family in his own way. But not today.

“Scott and Gordon have gone to Raoul to collect Ms Fisher and that scientist friend of Gordon’s.”

“Sam?”

“I guess. They were both in quite a hurry to leave.”

That set Alan grinning. “I think Scott likes Mel.”

An arched eyebrow. “I thought she liked Virgil.”

A snort accompanied the grin. “I don’t think she is Virgil’s kind of girl.”

Of course, that was the very moment Kayo decided to enter the kitchen. She had obviously been on a run, dressed in shorts and a high cut top.

“Who’s Virgil’s kind of girl?”

Alan’s eyes widened. “Um.”

Green narrowed at him. “What are you up to, Alan?”

“Nothing!” He held out his hands. “What did I do?”

“I’m more concerned with what you are going to do.”

“Suspicious, much? I’m going to eat breakfast, that’s what.”

She continued to eye him. “No practical jokes today.”

“I wasn’t planning on it. Gee, you’d think I was Gordy or something.”

“Gordon will be contained by Lady Penelope. You, however, are not.”

“And what? That makes me some kind of prank genius?”

“Genius, no, annoyance, yes.”

“Hey, Merry Christmas, Kayo. How about a little of the spirit?”

She glared and him and grunted before turning away and stalking off.

“What’s up her skirt?”

“Alan!”

“Well, you saw her. I didn’t do anything!”

Grandma was quiet a moment. “She has things on her mind.”

“When doesn’t she?”

“Let her be.”

“I didn’t do anything!”

Grandma sighed. “Things will work themselves out for the best.”

Alan stared at his grandmother. What on Earth was going on? Did everyone know something that he didn’t. He sighed. Wouldn’t be the first time. “I’m going grab some breakfast.”

“Yes, dear.” And Grandma was staring out at the lagoon again.

What the-?

Alan grabbed the refrigerator door and flung it open, his eyes raking its contents. Perhaps food would fix things.

A glance at Grandma found that she hadn’t moved.

There was definitely something going on.

-o-o-o-

End Day 5 Part 1

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Scott Tracy #John Tracy #Alan Tracy #Grandma Tracy #kermadec fic

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charlottedabookworm · 5 years

Text

I started that Somnusson oneshot that I was talking about ages ago yesterday during the log-off protest and I figured that I might as well post the first scene for it because I’m bored and have nothing better to do.

This is meant to be a fluff scene but it pretty sad in places because, chronologically, it’s the fluff scene that’s closest to the Betrayal - the scene being set around Nyx’s 19th birthday and mere months before Somnus’ betrayal and Nyx and Ardyn’s executions, so Somnus is already planning stuff and Nyx doesn’t know because he loves and trusts his dad.

And, now that I’ve made myself sad again, here’s the scene:

"Hey, starshine," A familiar voice called, and Nyx's head shot up, interrupting his conversation with his uncle. Squinting in the light of the sun that was shining through into the private garden, he stared at his father in shock. "Happy birthday!"

"Dad!" Nyx whined at the childhood nickname, but he was unable to force down the bright smile that formed on his face even as he stumbled upwards and pulled his dad into a fierce hug. "I've missed you, dad," he whispered into the man’s ear, clinging to his father desperately after months of necessary separation.

And it was necessary, Nyx probably knew that better than anyone. They had been doing their damnedest to hold everything together even as Uncle Ardyn kept getting more and more ill, and it had led to Nyx – as his uncles heir and the crowned prince – taking on a lot of the day-to-day running of everything months ago in an effort to slow down the progression of his illness by allowing him to rest, leaving only the most important things that he couldn’t take care of on his own for his Uncle. And his father was the best diplomat in the Kingdom and, as such, was constantly away placating allies and reinforcing treaties because they couldn’t afford war or even to be seen weak.

Nyx understood the necessity of sending his father away, had made that choice himself more than once over the last year, because he was a prince – was Crown Prince – and his people and their safety came before all else, but just because something was necessary didn’t mean that he had to like it. It didn’t mean that he didn’t miss his family.

Because he did. He missed his uncle Ardyn: missed the man who had helped to raise him, who joked about the nobles with him and lost himself for days in the library and took him traveling with him whenever they could get away with it, who faded more and more each day, who was a mere shadow of the vibrant figure of Nyx’s youth. He missed Gil: missed the silent comforting presences of his dad and uncle’s Shield, missed the man who had guided him through the first steps of using a blade and was surprisingly good at the hiding part of hide-and-seek.

And he missed his dad.

He missed the man who snuck him chocolate from across Eos and read him bedtime stories and plotted elaborate pranks against his uncle. He missed the man who despaired over Nyx’s skills with people and blushed his way through the sex talk and couldn’t sing to save his laugh. That man, who he so rarely saw these days in favour of the diplomat who was known world-wide, that man Nyx missed.

So much.

Nyx just… He missed his dad.

So, to have him here now? To have his whole family together again, for however short a time? That was the best present that Nyx could have asked for.

“I love you,” he said quietly, burying his face into his father’s shoulder and breathing in the familiar scent of apples and sword oil and leather and wood that had always whispered comfort to Nyx.

His dad grinned warmly back at him. “Love you too, starshine.”

For a long moment, they just stand there, breathing together and just taking in each other’s presence, before they pulled back and stepped apart.

Nyx took a deep breath, forcing his hands to drop back to his sides and pushing away the pain at the separation and the urge to cling to his dad and never let go again. He had duties and people who needed him, and Nyx couldn’t afford to cling to his dad anymore. He couldn’t afford to be a child anymore.

Besides, they were here now. That was more than enough… Right?

Right.

“Little night.” A deep voice rumbled quietly and Nyx grinned, spinning on his heel and launching himself at the towering figure – trusting the man to catch him as he had always done before.

“Uncle Gil!” He cried, clinging to the man’s torso like he was a monkey – both of his arms and legs wrapped around his chest – and pouting a little at the fact that he was still so much taller than you. Holding himself in place with his legs, Nyx moved his arms so that he could poke at massive shoulders. “What are we feeding you?”

A giant hand reached out and plucked him up by the back of his collar, holding him up to eye-level like a misbehaving kitten, and Nyx frowned at his pseudo-uncle as he hung in the air and, in the background, Uncle Ardyn and his dad cackled at him. Why did this always happen? “Vegetables,” Gilgamesh said sardonically.

“Uncle Gil,” Nyx whined petulantly, annoyed that his uncle would tease him like this. His uncle raised an eyebrow at him and he sighed. “Fine.” Urgh. He hated vegetables.

With his agreement – however reluctant – to eat his vegetables, Gil placed him gently back on the ground and patted him on the head patronisingly. “Good.”

Nyx scowled, leaning away and pushing at Gil’s hand half-heartedly for a moment before his happiness at being surrounded by his family again overwhelmed everything and he couldn’t help but smile.

But still, his hair.

Glancing between two of the three people he loved most in the world, and smiling so wide that it made his face hurt, he couldn’t help but say warmly, “welcome home.”

This was the best birthday ever.

“Right!” Uncle Ardyn said loudly, a wide grin on his face – one that warmed Nyx to see, it having become so rare as his uncle had gotten worse - as he clapped and made Nyx and his dad jump at the sudden noise. “It’s present time for my favourite nephew!”

“Unless dad has something that he has to tell us, I’m your only nephew Uncle Ardyn!” He called after his King, laughing, as he meandered inside to gather whatever gift he had decided upon this year.

“Still my favourite!” His uncle called back as his disappeared inside and Nyx laughed again, even as he was unable to take his eyes off of where his uncle had left from.

He didn’t often dare look away these days.

“How is he?” His dad asked quietly, gaze focused in the same direction as Nyx’s own.

“Today’s a good day.” Which was a miracle in and of itself, honestly, after the recent string of bad days. He hadn’t seen his uncle this active in weeks. Nyx hesitated a moment before lowering his voice further and continuing on. “But he’s been getting worse. This is killing him, dad, he’s fading away and It gets worse with each person he heals. We’re losing him and I’m terrified that he’s already gone past the point of no return and all he’s doing now is killing himself faster.” Nyx bit back the tears that burnt at his eyes and leaned into the arm that his father wrapped around his shoulders.

His uncle was dying, and he couldn’t do anything and that hurt.

“It’ll be okay, Nyx. We’ll find a way to help him, I swear it.” His dad whispered and Nyx breathed in the comfort in those words, let the confidence in his father’s voice reassure him, and plastered on a fake smile as his uncle finally reappeared.

A smile that very quickly became a lot more real as his uncle bounced up to him and waved a cloth wrapped gift in his face with a smirk.

Opening the present, Nyx couldn’t help but laugh. “Uncle, really?” He asked, holding up the – so soft – plush coeurl that was wearing an exact replica of his circlet and the entire thing must have taken his uncle hours to make. It was adorable, and he loved it on site.

Ardyn laughed happily as Nyx hugged the plush to himself with a dopey grin.

So soft.

“I love it!” He gushed to his smiling uncle, plush still clutched to his chest even as all three of the men around him grinned at the way that he kept stroking soft fur and Nyx couldn’t even bring himself to be embarrassed. They all already knew about his love of soft things and his collection of fluffy blankets anyway. “Thank you!”

The sound of a throat clearing tore Nyx’s attention away from his gift and to his dad, who had his hands behind his back and was obviously hiding something.

“I know that it’s been a very busy year and that Gil and I haven’t been around often, but we found this when we passed by some merchants several months ago and immediately thought of you…” His voice trailed off and Nyx gasped as his dad held out a beautifully carved spear.

The metal tip glistened dangerously in the sunlight and the shaft was embossed with thousands of tiny stars and it was very obviously both custom made and masterfully done.

“Oh wow,” he breathed, tucking the plush under one arm as he reached out to grasp the spear, shifting as he tested the balance and falling into the basic stances for a stave that he’d learnt at his uncle’s knee years ago. “It’s beautiful. Thank you, both of you, so much. But I don’t know how to use a spear...” And he couldn’t imagine such a beautiful weapon not being used.

Grinning, his dad stepped forward and adjusted his stance. “Then it’s a good thing that we’ll have a few weeks to beat the basics into you.”

A beat passed. Then two.

Nyx stared at his dad and his uncles, all of whom were grinning at his gaping mouth and lack of composure, in shock as the words processed in his mind.

Then, he threw himself at them all, tackling them to the ground in a hug as he laughed, completely delighted.

This was the best birthday ever.

#my fic #ffxv #somnusson au #Nyx is Somnus' son #nyx ulric #somnus lucis caelum #ardyn izunia #gilgamesh #fluff #angst #okay - it's more bittersweet fluff interspaced with angst #but honestly this fic doesn't have a happy ending and I don't know what you people expected #the entire thing is set around the betrayal and Nyx's death - interspaced with happy family moments #because I enjoy hurting myself and all of you #it's probably sad generally but it gets worse when you know everything that's going to happen #(and I do so this made me cry in places because foreshadowing /hurts/)#anyway have fun and tell me what you think #Dying Inside

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