#sage lesath x mc

[evanox]

On a scale from king/queen of the party to shy awkward wallflower, where would you personally place a good match for each of the M4 of Last Legacy when it comes to a partner? Or what kind of traits do you think, a suitable partner might need?

{HELLO sorry I never responded to your requests I kinda completely gave up on LL BUT I was trying to find something and saw this was already fully written and it was a shame to leave it rotting here}

ooo that's a fun q thank you!! I hope I understood it right!!

m.list

Felix

Felix himself has always been a wallflower at parties. Sure, as a toddler, he'd eat up the praises of nobles as his fathers showed off the gifted kid they were so proud of, but he tired out quickly so Florian would rush him to bed before little Fe got too cranky and his magic started going haywire.

He still doesn't enjoy the balls—the nobility's massive egos far too stifling, only rivaled by the clothes his father made him wear.

Even in a modern setting, he wouldn't enjoy parties that are too loud and crowded. Felix might just hide in the kitchen to read a book or find the host's cat, only emerging from the shadows when it's time for truth or dare (he always picks dare, and it's beginning to get scary for others because there's almost nothing he'd say no to).

Felix finds himself more drawn to other wallflowers; even if you don't talk, you can at least look at each other with understanding before moving on.

It's great to have a partner who understands when Felix needs out. Hell, he might actually enjoy the party better with an introverted/awkward partner—it's the perfect excuse to grill any stuck-up nobles if they so much as dare to tease you if you stumble over your words or forget the nobility's strict codes of etiquette; only Felix gets to tease you (as long as you can take it), and only because he finds you cute.

Then you can both grab a snack or a drink and quietly slip out of the crowded ballroom to tour the gardens together. If the music is loud enough that you can still hear it faintly outside, he might just ask you for a dance amongst the roses with the moon as your lone witness.

"How un-noble of you, Felix!" you would tease when Felix leads you off the paved path and towards the arching willow where you'll be perfectly hidden from any other stragglers, then Felix would laugh softly before he presses you against the tree and kisses you until you're ready to be portalled into bed (for sleep or for other purposes, none of my business).

However, I wouldn't say Felix can't appreciate a life-of-the-party partner! After all, it is only a matter of time before an extrovert comes to claim their introvert, thus maintaining balance in this world.

Your joy might even become so contagious that Felix can't help but join, especially if it's too unorthodox for the nobility, leaving a string of offended gasps and/or disapproving scowls behind you—it's all the more reason to love you. You can swing and sway all over the ballroom and cause all sorts of mischief and pranks together, as long as you can respect when he needs to just go home.

Anisa

Attending balls is a minor part of her job, whether she's escorting a VIP or standing guard. From a work perspective, a more extroverted partner might be more convenient for making connections and entertaining guests. Anisa, however, doesn't really have a preference.

An extroverted partner is fun in the way that, when Anisa is standing stiffly in the ballroom by the buffet or the grand staircase, trying to keep up appearances (or even in a modern setting, fussing after everyone in the party), you can help her slowly but surely relax and break out of her shell.

Once Anisa picks up the vibe, she does a 180 and lets out the party animal (though this one's nowhere near as wild as Sage); you can see it in the way her movements are much more relaxed, how she throws her head back and laughs so loudly at the dumbest of jokes, and how she spares a dance for whoever asks—that is until she finds you amongst the crowds and pulls you in to dance the rest of the night away.

Just promise you won't let her overindulge in the wine or the punch (that Sage might've dabbled in) lest she starts acting too inappropriately on the job. You know she can't part too long from the buffet.

An introverted partner is great, too! Anisa won't force you into attending parties with her because it's work after all, but if you still want to come along, she'll take care of you throughout the event, continuously checking over you.

Oh, to have Anisa hold your hand and press a tender kiss to your knuckles as she softly asks, "Are you okay, love?"

I guess you would activate that loophole where it's like, she might not usually go out of her way to have fun at events, but seeing you wilting by the corner will push Anisa to encourage you to have some fun with her, as long as you're up for it; she'd love to pull you in for a dance, your hand held high in hers, and proudly show you off as her lover to everyone.

And if you don't want to dance, well, there's always the buffet! There are so many foods you can try, and Anisa can't wait to hand/spoonfeed them to you.

Sage

He's drawn to the life of the party like a moth to a flame. Sage might be quite the tease, but he still loves being kept on his toes; having someone who can match his pace might even help him burn out all that extra energy.

The loud, crammed taverns are where he thrives, and a partner who enjoys them too adds to the fun. He'll pull you for a dance once the bard picks up a jolly tune, sweeping you off your feet and hopping from table to table as people watch in awe how he swings you with such ease.

Hell, you could sweep him off his feet; he definitely won't complain.

That is not to say Sage would push away the wallflower! He'd try to pull you from where you cling to the wall—wouldn't you rather have fun than look so awfully glum?

Once you explain that you're not necessarily miserable, but the chaos of the dance floor just isn't your scene, he nods in understanding. With a wink and a swish of his tail, he asks you to keep your eyes on him as he blends in with the dancing crowds. You can join in whenever you wish, but until then, you're more than welcome to enjoy the view.

Your discomfort immediately triggers his protective streak, and he'll keep an arm up so people won't keep bumping into you as he escorts you out of the crowded tavern once you call it a night.

If you're attending a party at Fathom or whatever fancy palace for whatever fancy reason, Sage would gladly pull you away from the crowds and the noise to explore all the secret passages and chambers. Hey, you could even find an empty room or a closet for seven minutes of heaven ;)

Rime

Like Anisa, I don't think Rime has a preference. I'd say he might have been partial to a life-of-the-party sort of character—repressed choir boy craving an outlet that he is—but Rime did date Felix, who isn't particularly social. That is not to say that Felix and Rime didn't know how to have fun! I just think Felix's way of 'letting go' is more so through mischief and less through partying or socializing.

So in conclusion, Rime doesn't care how extroverted or introverted you are as long as you know how to have a good time.

If you'd known Rime before as the Starsworn Captain, you might've taken him for a reserved prude, but unlike Anisa, he doesn't really need you coaxing him into being more 'out-there'; he'll compete with you over it. Want to ask him for a dance? He's already eyeing you up and down, looking like he could almost eat you up.

Even on the dancefloor, he'd be looking for ways to fluster you.

Recall how if you choose to remain silent during the first confrontation in the Felix route, Rime would wonder why Felix would choose someone so boring over him? I think, if you're more of a wallflower, Rime might tease you a bit especially if he's interested in you but doesn't know you all that well—not to tear you down but it's his... unconventional way of trying to coax you into coming out of your shell.

#rime solano varela #felix iskandar escellun #sage lesath #anisa anka #last legacy #fictif #fictif last legacy #felix escellun #last legacy sage #last legacy rime #last legacy felix #last legacy anisa #sage lesath x mc #sage lesath x reader #anisa x mc #felix escellun x reader #rime x reader #rime x mc #last legacy headcanons

[xp-factor]

-An old sketch inspired by ideas the community had bout MC and Sage swapping places-

#last legacy oc #last legacy #last legacy fictif #oc #oc art #original character #last legacy sage #sage lesath x mc #last legacy mc #role swap #drawing #doodle #sketch #traditional drawing #my art #OC: Carine

[poisonouswritings]

modern au... Where.. sage is in a band... With Lucan, Balsam, Tulsi and elowen...

SAGE WRITING SONGS FOR MC<333 MC GOING TO ALL OF HIS SHOWS T-T.

making out back stage😼

Sage teaching MC how to play guitar, carefully guiding your hands to the proper frets and chords.. kissing their cheek when they do a good job.

If his band is somewhat popular...

HandiesInHisDressingRoom

SORDY I HAVE SI MUCH BRAIN ROT LOSLOL

CRYINGSCREAMINGTHROWINGUPILOVEBANDAUS

GN!Reader, I think it's so much funnier if their band is popular but you have no idea who they are, mix of scenario/HCs, NSFW under the cut

It's a normal day in the café when the bell above the door chimes and- hey that rhymes

:)

Anyways, normal day. Guy walks in. He's cute. You get the vague sense that you've seen his face around before but don't dwell on it. It's a café after all. Lot of repeat customers.

You can hear him humming.

He comes up to the counter to order and flashes you a pretty smile. You smile politely back and ask how you can help him today.

It's a standard response but then why does he seem surprised? His fluffy ears give a twitch and the tip of his tail flicks like you caught him off-guard. But he seems... A little pleased, too.

He orders some stuff - a latte, a sandwich, a cookie - and when you ask him for his name he seems a little amused.

'C'mon. Really? You don't know me?'

Shit, are you supposed to? You're about to say that it's just standard procedure or something, hoping to spare yourself the awkwardness of having forgotten someone, when something crashes behind you. You whip around to see your coworker having just dropped a plate of danishes that were gonna refill the display case. You rush over to check if they're alright but then they let out this very fangirl-ish (gender neutral) squeal and go 'Omg! You're Sage Lesath!'

And the guy does not seem surprised. He laughs a little. Your coworker rushes over to start pestering him with questions and compliments and more noises while you're stuck cleaning up the damn danishes.

You hear the bell chime again and more incomprehensible-excitement-noises so presumably your coworker can at least distract them for a moment while you finish cleaning up. There's only one cook in the kitchen back there, but luckily they don't seem to have any interest in whatever's going on so more danishes can get made.

When you come back, there's a whole ass group of people now and your coworker looks like they're about to faint. You go to get everyone else's orders and find out (mostly through breathless squeals) that the newcomers names are Lucan, Balsam, Tulsi, and Elowen.

It's only at this point when you're clearly (colloquially) nonplussed that your coworker finally asks why you aren't more excited. And you kinda shrug and say that everyone seems lovely but you're not entirely sure why you would be excited over your coworker's friends that you don't know?

You have never seen your coworker look this exasperated. Have they really failed you this badly? Do you not remember them practically tying you down to a chair and making you listen to that new album like, two weeks ago?? You admit that you'd started reading fanfics and totally zoned out.

Yes I'm plugging my own shit don't judge me

And the others are laughing at this whole scenario. Another customer is coming in so you finally shoo everyone away from the counter. You have a job to do y'know! And as your coworker finally scurries back to the kitchen, you take the new or-

...

Sage is lingering by the counter, ears perked and tail swishing in amusement. Once you take the order and the new customer moves off to the side, Sage settles his elbows on the counter and watches as you move around.

Normally you might be a little weirded out but... he looks like a cat. Well, more of a cat than before anyways. You're almost tempted to pet him. But instead you make some conversation. While Sage is certainly flirtatious and a little cocky, you can't help but notice something genuine underneath. When you casually ask if all the flirting is some kind of rocker persona... Well, he gets a little flustered.

When all the food and drinks are ready, you load it up on two serving trays and haul it over. Sage trots along after you like a lovestruck puppy.

The others ask you to sit with them for a little bit. You point out you're still on the clock but your coworker encourages you to do it, whispering (not all that quietly) that if you get free tickets then you have to give them one. You promptly shoo them away while they laugh.

Through a mix of Google, Spotify, and laughter, you find out they're a punk/rock/indie/whatever band (everyone keeps arguing about it. Google lists them as alternative) called The Griefers. Elowen is the lead singer, Tulsi is the drummer, Balsam is the keyboard/pianist, Lucan plays the bass, and Sage does guitar (though he sings once in a while as well).

R,,,rau,,,,,raunchy photoshoots,,,,,,,, hehehehehe,,,,,,,,,

When you scroll across a particularly suggestive pic of Sage (as in naked with his guitar - Zenith - covering his crotch) you immediately exit out of that.

'Aw, you don't like what you see? ;)'

He's all snuggled up next to you, so you flick his nose. He leans away but laughs, and his cheeks are a warm pink.

-

It doesn't take long after that for you to be invited to their practices. It's a little weird with all these stagehands and sound techs and whatever running around behind you, but over time you get used to it.

You get your own dedicated little loveseat and everything.

It doesn't take long for you to start seeing through everyone's professional personas. Lucan is an over-excited fluffball that loves animals, Balsam is a total sci-fi nerd, Elowen gets startled by jump scares and Tulsi likes anime.

And Sage? Sage is an absolute dork who gets flustered when you cheer for his playing or bring him a coffee or tell him he looks nice today.

One day, it's Elowen that invites you over to the soundstage. And so you clean yourself up, pack some snacks for everyone (they prefer danishes and cookies from the café over the stuff from the craft table. That's what they say anyways, but you're pretty sure they just like getting to have a friend bring them something personal), and head over.

You come in through the back like usual, stopping to chat with one of the stagehands you're friendly with, when the sounds of an argument catch your attention. Sounds like it's between Sage and Elowen. That's definitely not new. Especially when you hear Balsam laughing.

'-and it hardly seems fair,' Elowen is saying. You can't decide whether she sounds more annoyed or amused. 'Not to us, and certainly not to them.'

'Gods, why don't you just mind your own business?!' there's Sage, sounding as frustrated as ever. Elowen has a way of getting under his skin that makes his fur absolutely bristle.

'It becomes my business when they're all you talk about. If you cannot admit it to them, then you should at least be able to tell us.'

'Fine!' Sage snaps. You come around the corner to see the cat all fired up, tail lashing around and ears pinned flat. 'You want me to say it, I'll say it! I'm in love with MC!'

.... *Badum-tiss!*

That would be Tulsi - who just noticed you - hitting a rimshot.

Balsam, who notices you, starts wheezing.

'Don't laugh!' Sage is more exasperated than anything now. 'This is why I didn't wanna tell you guys, because you were gonna be assholes about it-'

Lucan beams brightly and waves to you. 'Hi MC! Did you bring those snake pastries I like? :)'

Sage pauses. His ears perk and twitch as he turns to look at you. His face goes bright red.

'.... Night take me.'

Balsam is wheezing so hard that he's gone completely silent. Help him.

-

You and Sage start dating after that.

Obviously you get backstage passes to all his shows. He loves getting to see you before and after a performance, especially since he's usually buzzing with so much energy and he needs a way to get it out.

On that note he's very touchy-feely when you're backstage. Sometimes it's making out and squeezing your butt a little, other times it's nuzzling and purring and getting his fur all over you.

It's inevitable that pictures of you two together get out. You get,, mixed reactions. On the one hand, a lot of people think you two are an absolutely adorable couple, and Sage is clearly happy with you. On the other hand, a lot of people are jealous and shit-talk you as a result.

So obviously Sage gushes about you every chance he gets. If you're comfortable being on his Instagram then he posts selfies of the both of you and always captions it with something about how sweet/kind/adorable/lovely etc. you are and how lucky he is to have you.

He also likes leaving those 'sugar daddy hmu' type comments on your page because he thinks it's really funny

If you don't really wanna be on social media then he respects that, and he saves all his gushing for interviews.

Teaches you how to play the guitar,, stands behind you so he can guide your fingers along the fret board,,, his palms are so warm and his fingertips are all calloused,,,,, kissing your cheek when you do it right,,,,,, humming along,,,,,, tells you that with a little practice you'll be the best player ever. Maybe you can replace him when he wants to take a break? Oh but if you need more lessons then he's happy to keep his arms around you ;)

You play with the band sometimes! Just during practice or when you guys are goofing around. Everyone teaches you a little bit about their instruments. You find out Balsam's keyboard can record things and he recorded Sage's impromptu love confession, so Sage will be in the middle of practicing a solo and Balsam will start playing it on full volume to fuck with him.

Sage does write songs for you and he's always so shy about it. He only ever sings it when you guys are alone though. Usually at his or your apartment/house/whatever.

You get free merch so that's cool

I think Sage used to kinda overdo it at the after parties, but now that you're there to keep him in check he's a lot calmer. Obviously still drinks and possibly gets a little high but he's definitely not blacking out like he used to. It's after one of those parties, when Sage is curled up in your lap taking a cat nap and you're stroking his hair, that Tulsi points it out.

He gets hit on a lot. He always has, of course, but now it almost seems to happen more often. It always kind of annoyed him before but now it downright pisses him off. Everyone knows he's in a very happy relationship, thank you very much, so can't they just fuck off or something? He always tells you about it when it happens, and it makes him sulk a fair bit. Do people think he's a cheater or something? That he's so sex-crazed that he would betray you like that?

You always hug him extra tight and kiss the top of his head and remind him that he's all yours, and that makes him feel better.

It's a little silly (at least, that's what Sage says) but he still gets anxious about performing sometimes. It depends on the crowd size.

And tonight's performance has a lot of people.

He's got about twenty, twenty-five minutes before he needs to be on stage for final checks.

His tail won't stop flicking around and his ears are flattened and he keeps rubbing the back of his neck.

You ask him if there's anything you can do to help. He looks over at you, amber eyes full of sincerity, and softly asks if you can just,,, let him forget about everything for a minute?

I think that's one of the things he loves about you. You see through the music and the rock persona and whatever to who he really is, and he just... Really needs to be reminded that he deserves love and affection. Not as the lead guitarist for the Griefers but as Sage Lesath, a dorky cat man who chases laser pointers and is spooked by ghosts and once walked into a door because he was too busy texting you to pay attention to his surroundings.

You :) tell him :) to sit down on the :) on the table :)

He's a little flustered but agrees, sitting on the edge of the little table. It creaks ominously but holds fine, so that's good.

You set your hands on his hips,, tuck yourself between his legs,,, cup your cheeks in his hands and kiss him all soft and gentle and sweet. He purrs into your mouth and gradually relaxes, tail winding around your thigh as he pulls you closer so your chests are flushed. You trail your fingers through his hair,, scritch behind his ears,,, give him a lil tug so his head falls back,,,, you kiss his cheek, the underside of his jaw, gently press your lips against the spot where you can feel his pulse jump. His breath comes out as a broken sigh, and his words become a little whimper.

You give his ears one last affectionate scratch before dropping your hand back down to his waist. Give his sides a little squeeze. Then start trailing your hands slowly up his sides, sneaking under his jacket. He's practically trembling under your touch.

As you gradually trail your kisses and bites down his neck and to his shoulders, you coo to him. Tell him he's such a good kitty cat, your good kitty cat, so cute and so sweet and so lovely,,,

And it doesn't take much for you to feel his cock getting hard in his pants.

He's panting softly, all flushed and lovely and eyes dark with need. You carefully unbutton his pants (after undoing the various belts and straps that are part of his costume) and roll them down to his knees to let his dick spring out. There's already some pre leaking out of the tip, and that makes it easy for you to take him in your hand and pump his shaft. His head falls back and bumps against the wall, purring and moaning and bucking his hips a little. You use your free hand to peel back the collar of his jacket and leave a hickey on his shoulder, where it'll be hidden.

Then you leave one on the crook of his neck, where it probably won't be hidden. The makeup artist will totally have your ass for that but it's worth it.

Oh, he looks so cute, all blushy and panting and drooling like that... You love him so much.... And tomorrow morning, you're gonna wake up wearing his jacket and make some breakfast in bed, and you guys can spend the whole day cuddling on the couch and binging movies and laughing. And in the evening, maybe you guys can go on a date? Just something simple, like ice cream and a walk in the park or something like that. And then you'll go home and ride him until he passes out :D

Sage whines that he's getting close. You could already guess from the way the tip of his tail is flicking around like crazy.

You quickly squat down and take the tip into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down a few times until he lets out a warning cry. Then you pull back, opening your mouth wide and letting the tip sit on your tongue and looking up at him. He's watching you.

And you wink.

And he cums in your mouth.

You wait until you're sure he's done - and it takes a second, kitty cat cums a lot - to suck the last of it off his tip and then swallow. Then open your mouth to show him you swallowed it all.

And even though he literally just came, his cock gives an interested twitch.

You quickly tuck him back in and stand up before he can get any ideas. Fix his jacket. Smooth his hair. Cup his cheeks and smooch his forehead.

He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close and for a few minutes you guys just,, hold each other. He mumbles a soft 'thank you' into your shoulder.

One of the stagehands slaps on the door and tells Sage to hurry up. Sage growls lowly and squeezes you tighter. He'll be there in a second!

He just needs you close for a little longer.

#last legacy #fictif last legacy #sage lesath #sage lesath x reader #fictif sage #last legacy sage #sage lesath x mc #tulsi ain #lucan de bhaldraithe #elowen de bhaldraithe #balsam #anon asks #ozzy answers #ozzy daydreams

[salem-xx]

I need an angsty sage fic where he’s completely corrupted and maybe instead of working with the los he kills mike (bc he hates him and mike sucks so it’s just what should happen) and takes his place just wreaking havoc on porrima and at first anisa felix and mc are trying to find a way to bring him back from the corruption but sage doesn’t want to be saved and is completely corrupted so they realize the only thing to do is take him down but MC refuses and is sure they can bring back sage, but rime (bc do you remember how annoying he was when he was in ch 12/13/14 of sages route) is like no he’s completely gone…. and MC confronts Sage alone to try and talk things through and maybe they’ve found a cure/way to help and basically that scene in the forest in Ch 10/11/12? where he is full hulked out and MC either waits patiently or talks him down from the corruption but this time he’s yelling at them for following him and basically tries to kill MC (obviously doesn’t or does he 👀 i mean whatever floats your boat) so i’m gonna need a whole fic of that

#this is not even an original thought i feel like i’ve seen soemone say sowmthing like this and if they have and they wrote the fic PLEASE #SEND IT TO ME #also this is inspired by the fact that i was watching ben 10 ultimate alien force this morning bc why not and there are two episodes where #kevin levin goes crazy after stealing a bunch of ppl’s powers and gwen is trying to save him and she hunts him down but he’s so mad bc he— #had been trying to stay away from her so he didn’t hurt her but then he went absolutely bonkers #please feel free to add maximum angst and maybe a happy ending or even a bad ending would be greta but only as like a bonus chapter bc —- #I NEED A HAPPY ENDING #this is literally based off my obsession with watching ben ten as a kid and me trying to relive some nostalgia #kevin levin = sage lesath #fictif #fictif last legacy #last legacy fictif #sage lesath #sage lesath angst #sage lesath x mc #sage lesath x reader

[bri-the-bi]

Literally not a single person asked for this but I am DEEP in my last legacy hyperfixation so

This is my Last Legacy MC and Sage LI, Elena Cervantes.

Her entire name is a reference to the astrolabe, with Elena being a reference to the astrolabe being a “Dawn/light element” and Cervantes, possibly being related to Spanish “ciervo”, for stag, being a reference to Rime as the previous wielder of the astrolabe and yes I’m just repeating what’s in the screenshots.

Elena dyes her hair ALL THE FUCKING TIME, hence the three different hair colors in the picrews (personally my favorite is the blue).

As for personality, you know all those choices to call Sage out on his bluffs/flirt back with him, etc.? Yeah, Elena.

I kinda have nothing else for her considering I just developed her to have an MC for little mini fics (none of you are EVER going to see it because in typical artist fashion, I hate everything I create) so like. Ask shit about her and I’ll make something up on the spot.

Also random but the ship name for her and Sage is Elenage and I feel like when she gets worked up about something she’d be that one scene from B99 where someone gets Holt worked up about dentists being considered doctors and the entomology and shit and it cuts to him and Jake and he’s just “……apparently that’s a trigger for me”

She’s chill about 99% of stuff but when you get her worked up she starts fuckin GOING

Also when she’s tired and doesn’t wanna deal with shit she just defaults to Barista Voice™

Okay yeah that’s all I’ve got for Elena <3

#last legacy #fictif #sage lesath #last legacy mc #sage lesath x mc #I don’t know what else to tag this as #she also teases him about being a cat a lot I think #all the cat toys for sage

[anonymousbeefriendfanfics]

Spicy Times with Sage Lesath (HCs)

Today's content, along with my return to the Last Legacy fandom (sorry I've been away so long, my friends) is dedicated to my darling "child," one of the people I am proud to call my friend. Happy birthday, honey, I hope you enjoy your catboy <3

Character: Sage Lesath

Fandom: Last Legacy

Warnings: Sexy times are discussed, not too much detail. Also serious fluff towards the end~

I feel like funtimes with the catboy has two settings: all or nothing. It depends entirely on what mood you're both in.

Most of the time it's 'all.' Sage is 110% all in. This man's sex drive is through the freaking roof. He wants you in every way, every position, on every surface, you name it. The innuendos and suggestive commentary reach an all-time high. He's ready and willing to slip off at a moment's notice for some quick fun, though he prefers to take his time. He's more than down for getting down and dirty, the rougher the better.

His ideal scenario would be alone at home (well, wherever 'home' happens to be at the moment, anyway) with nowhere to be and sufficient soundproofing or no one around to hear. He wants to be able to take his sweet time and not need to worry about being quiet. If you ever find yourself in this situation, expect one hell of a wild ride. He has impressive stamina and a quick recovery time, so you'll very likely be at it for hours, if not all night long. Let's just say that you'll both be very tired but very satisfied by the end of this.

Let's talk toys for a minute. I don't think Sage is too into them, he usually prefers to do things the old fashioned way with just your body on his, but he's more than happy to include them from time to time to spice things up a bit. I think his favorite would be ropes, just to see his partner tied up under him... also lingerie. He's definitely a biiiig lingerie fan, even if it's as simple as you wearing his shirt. I feel like he also likes the thrill of things, so fooling around in semi-public places would definitely excite him, as would spontaneously trying new things together. You may want to try bringing some food items into the bedroom, too. Just saying, this man would happily lick whipped cream from every inch of your body if you let him.

Sage absolutely loves getting off but he secretly craves your happiness and approval more than anything else, and would do just about anything you want to bring you pleasure. Beware of body worshipping, because once he gets really caught up in the moment, endless praises will start slipping off his tongue. Speaking of his tongue, have I mentioned that he's very good at this? He has enough experience to know exactly what he's doing, and he's surprisingly perceptive in bed, so he's quick to adapt to his partner's specific needs and responses.

His other setting, though, is exclusive to you. This man has had a ton of sex over the years, but he's never once come close to making love. But once he finds a partner, once he falls for someone? That changes. Suddenly things are far more passionate, more intimate, fueled by love instead of just lust.

I'm talking the kind of affectionate, cuddly, loving sex where you're tangled up so tightly that you don't know where he begins and you end and yet it's still not close enough. Soft touches and languid movements, savouring every single second you spend lost in one another. The sort of sex that is a love letter and a prayer rolled into one, worshipping one another while simultaneously thanking the powers that be for allowing this to happen. Words of devotion and praise and affection whispered against skin, pressed into kisses, devoured in a kiss that travels straight to the soul.

This doesn't happen terribly often. Don't get me wrong, if it's what you want or prefer, Sage is more than happy to accommodate that. But for it to truly become that intense, he needs to be in the right headspace. Sometimes it happens randomly, but most often this is the result of being separated for a while or having a dangerous experience. Anything that makes him want to hold you tight and never let go. Another reliable trigger for this is if Sage himself is having a bad time emotionally, if something significant has happened to shake him up or bring his mood down. He basically becomes a lonely kitten, and this is one of the ways of making him feel better.

Sage is also surprisingly good at aftercare. Sure, he's not exactly known for that, as half the time there isn't really time nor the need after his flings - but with a partner, that, too, changes. It doesn't matter if it's the roughest sex you've ever had or the softest, he's going to spoil you as much as possible afterwards. He'll help you clean up and bring you snacks and water, make sure you have everything you could possibly need... and then it's cuddle time. He gets so clingy after sex. He wants to be wrapped around you one way or another, probably purring up a storm, especially if you scratch his ears. Post-sex naps are very common for him, and now for you too, because good luck getting away from him in that state. He's a lovesick kitten.

Writing Masterlist 🐝 Requests Open!  Tag List 🐝 @deemod33r @dollyb0y @mossmosis @krae16 @mako-bones @saintfl0rian @bunnythedrone @bananacockatiel @pst-02 @hestia-marie

#beefriend-writes #last legacy #sage lesath #sage last legacy #sage lesath x reader #sage x mc #fictif last legacy #lemony #fluffy

[aaapplepie]

Purr

Sage x Reader (but mostly Sage), no specific warnings for this one but there is some angst in the middle!

He hates how loud his purr is.

He's spent so long putting up walls, building up his cool-and-aloof persona- and all that hard work is severely undercut by the fact that scratching him in the right spot makes him melt like a godsdamn housecat. Obnoxious. Mortifying. He hates it.

He doesn't purr in front of others often. When he does it's usually a smug, self-satisfied kind of purr, slipped into the brief minutes between lying in bed with a stranger and sneaking out their window. It's still embarrassing, but, well, they're normally too trashed to care. And it's not like he has a lot to feel good about these days. He'll take what he can get, even if the feeling curdles into self-loathing once he's back in his own bed. He'll forget the whole thing by morning anyway.

~

He's still a little self-conscious about purring in front of you. After the first few times it's starting to feel easier, but it's a kind of vulnerability that he's just not used to. It doesn't help that you've apparently made it your life's goal to get him to do it as often as possible, because you're a menace hellbent on torturing him specifically (and he loves you).

Tonight you have him seated on your bed, leaning back against you while you run your fingers through his hair. His eyes drift shut as you pause to scratch behind his ears; a moment later you feel a familiar rumbling where his back is pressed against your chest. The heat rises in his cheeks when you start to giggle, and he turns to give you a little nip on the shoulder in retaliation. But even as he does he snuggles a little closer, purrs a little louder, because fuck he's a sucker for hearing you laugh. He's still purring as he tugs you under the blankets; you rest your head on his chest and listen until sleep overtakes you both.

~

~

He hates how loud his purr is. He knows the corrupted can't hear it across the water- that they couldn't reach him even if they did- but that doesn't make him feel any safer. Nothing does. There's a deep, instinctual part of him that's convinced the vibration will stave off the corruption creeping through his body like a disease. The rest of him knows it won't. Still, he curls up on his island, bloody and sick and alone, purring himself into a broken sleep, and for once in his life he's not grateful that no one's around to hear him.

~

You're back. You're alive. You hold him close and make a gentle joke about his purring and he's too exhausted, too anxious, too relieved to care.

~

~

He hasn't thought about his purr for a while- he's had bigger concerns, and at this point it ranks pretty low on the list of things he's ashamed of. So when the two of you finally get some time alone and you tease him about his purring (again), he's almost surprised that he's blushing. It feels weirdly...normal. Routine.

He buries his face in your neck, half to pull you closer and half to hide his embarrassment. He hates how loud his purr is.

It's nice to worry about something stupid for a change.

#last legacy #sage lesath #sage x reader #did you know that cats purr when they're sick/injured #bc I didn't and it's making me sad for some reason #anyway these aren't super connected I just wanted to write about sage purring #I miss my boy :( #also some stuff I couldn't fit in there- #hc that sometimes when mc gets sick sage just flops on top of them and starts purring #like babe is it working. do you feel better yet. I'm helping :-) #also that ilephta parents (or at least cat ilephta parents) purr their kids to sleep #idk I've got catman brainrot #apple.txt

[chouleonasimp]

Nap with my fav catboi mhehehe ~

gossshhhhh i really miss Sage 😭

#digital fanart #fanart #last legacy fictif #last legacy #fictif last legacy #lastlegacymc #last legacy sage #nix hydra fictif #fictif #fictif sage lesath #sage lesath #mc x sage #last legacy fanart #fictif sage #color sketch #doodle #rkgk #myart #clip studio paint #csp practice

[madorcahatter]

Revived this AU because I miss Sage sm.

#last legacy #fictif #fictif last legacy #fictif sage #last legacy sage #sage lesath #sage x mc #fictif oc #fictif mc #last legacy mc #oc #original character #original character art #oc art

[evanox]

exams are over so that means chapter 2 ~

#last legacy #fictif last legacy #sage lesath #last legacy sage #last legacy mc #last legacy oc #sage lesath x mc #felix iskandar escellun #anisa anka #last legacy rewrite #oc: maehwa #last legacy felix #last legacy anisa

[help-devorak-stole-my-heart]

#fictif #last legacy #sage #sage lesath #sage x mc

[crabbarts]

Birthday present delivery for @evanox​!!!!! Here’s their lovely MC Maehwa with Sage, plus Mae and Teo trying on costumes :p

ref photos

#last legacy #fictif #sage lesath #last legacy mc #mc:teo #lee maehwa #my fanart #zekes art #sage x mae

[poisonouswritings]

Me casually remembering how I fell down the stairs and then up the stairs while completely sloshed makes me giggle

Made me think abt Sage being completely sober (for the first time in forever... Pun intended😉) and taking care of a drunk MC. It's just cute imo 😒

How was ur day btw Ozzy? I ask everyday now it's a daily routine

-disney anon

I really wanna be drunk and go on Disney rides, but I do not think that's gonna work because I'm a hot mess. Getting high would probably be much more doable.

My day has been. Um. A day. My sister is moving out soon and she's trying to pack her room up but she's very emotional and also generally very prone to crying so she keeps getting frustrated with something and then breaking down crying and then yelling at me when I offer to help. I'm also just,, not great with strong emotions like that so it doesn't help that I'm just standing in the background like 🧍. Also my room has turned into a depression nest and I'm gonna have to take care of that because I need to put a desk in here.

How're you doing?

Also because I think it's cute:

Assuming this is pre-timeskip Sage, he's probably only staying sober tonight because you or Tulsi asked/told him to. It's not something he'd volunteer for. Getting to see you drink, though. That makes it worth it.

He's been around so many drunk people before. That's obvious. But this is the first time he's been so hopelessly enamoured. Everything you do is adorable and fascinating to him.

If you're more of a chatty drunk then you start telling stories, a mix of your life from Earth and sloppy recountings of various animes/games, except you never actually specify what's real and what isn't so Sage is getting a very confusing picture of Earth.

If you're quieter then you can cuddle up to him and just enjoy the vibe. He nuzzles you and purrs constantly. Encourages you to have some water and food. Will feed you if you ask him too.

If you're very affectionate - hugging him and kissing his face and praising him - then he is the biggest puddle of happy embarrassment that you have ever met.

If you're more aggressive then someone comes up to try and flirt with Sage and you promptly try to attack them like a feral little fucker. Sage has to grab you and hold you against his chest until you settle. He thinks it's hilarious but also will not let you commit assault.

Does not matter if you can walk or not. He will carry you home. Absolutely loves it when you mush your cheek against his chest or softly thank him for taking care of you. Kitty craves affection and reassurance.

I think that he worries a lot about losing control and hurting you/someone so getting to take care of you is just very calming for him? Kind of helps him believe that he had a handle on himself, he's a better person than he thinks, and that things will be okay.

Tucks you into bed. Helps you take off your shoes and jacket so you can be more comfy. If you ask him to stay with you then he 1000% will but he'll be so red-faced. You can climb and nuzzle all over him and he is powerless against it.

Will wake up early to get you water and whatever his personal hangover cure is. Takes care of you while you're hungover too. Sometimes his voice gets a little loud but he tries to be quieter for you.

#last legacy #fictif last legacy #sage lesath #fictif sage #last legacy sage #sage lesath x reader #sage lesath x mc #fren asks #ozzy answers #ozzy speaks #ozzy daydreams #tw alcohol

[sixthplan]

It breaks me every time when i remember that Sage probably wanted to kiss MC again but was afraid to even touch them

#chapter 13 #my poor meow meow #fictif games #sage x mc #sage lesath #last legacy sage #last legacy

[lastleggysee]

Substitute Lovers - Sage Lesath (pt. 2)

Okay so I couldn't get Last Legacy off my mind and ended up writing more Sage/Reader (+ FWB!Felix) so here's that. It's also a slow burn now I guess.

Part 1 here!

Word count: 6,635

Warnings: Mentions of blood, slight NSFW (nothing graphic imo), minors DNI

Felix returned, black-clad and brooding, two days later than he initially stated he would. 

Before this, Anisa was the only one who worried about his delay, insisting to go on a search for him by sunset on the first day. Sage offered his assistance if she was offering a bounty, mumbling something about “bringing the brat back before midnight”, but you managed to hold their reins until his arrival. 

On the morning of Felix’s return, Sage found you reading on the balcony, lightly stroking Stella’s sleeping form on your lap. 

“Some balls you’ve got - don’t they teach kids to stay away from monsters where you’re from?” He chuckled, sliding down the wall to sit down next to you. 

“Oh Sage, it’s just a book. It’s not going to hurt you.” You don’t look up from the page you’re on. Since arriving in Astrea, your magic largely showed itself in bursts of instinct. You’d managed to familiarize yourself with small spells, party tricks and mildly-impressive-but-hardly-lethal cantrips mostly, but more complex incantations alluded you. It felt like trying to learn a new language while simultaneously running a triathlon, frustrating and exhausting, but you devoted time to bettering your skills nonetheless. 

A simple truth belied your determination: You’re the weakest link of the New Starsworn. And if you knew it, the Lord of Shadows and all his creepy-crawlies knew it too. 

“I don’t know, you smacked me pretty good with one the last time. What was it again - Transfiguration for Tactile Learners?” 

Sage watched your brow furrow deeply. As if on cue, Stella stands up on your lap, stretching impressively, before scampering off into the castle. Your gaze follows her and lingers long after she’s gone. 

Do you stare at Felix like that, when he leaves your room? After the blush has finally faded from your cheeks and you’re brushing your hair back into place; after your now-hoarse voice has bid him goodnight. How long do you spend looking at the door after he’s gone? How easily do you drift off to sleep after picturing his face in the ceiling above your bed?

But you turn to face him when he calls your name, more often than not, and Sage has never been the type of man to discount small victories.  

This time, though, he does have to call your name twice before you return his attention, face only a few millimeters shy of a scowl. “Lighten up, you’ll get wrinkles if you walk around with a face like that.”

“The only thing here that’ll give me wrinkles is you,” you sigh, reluctantly closing your book. 

“Only in your bedsheets, if you’re lucky,” he says. “But now that I’ve got your attention, I could use some help.”

“Oh? I’m so honored,” you roll your head from side-to-side, trying your best to coax out a stubborn crick that keeps itself hidden.

His smile could have melted you then and there, if the wall wasn’t holding you up. The tips of his fangs now exposed, in sharp white contrast to his sun-kissed skin, the way his mouth tilted towards one side as he moved his lips to form his request. You would have agreed to anything he asked, coming from a mouth like that. 

“Last night, Anisa got me thinking- I really could use a little extra coin. I’m gonna bag a couple bounties, just enough to pay off my tabs and put some away. I mean, I’m glad to be here and all, but righting wrongs and delivering justice doesn’t really pay the bills.”

“Sage, what bills do-”

He cuts you off. “Tabs add up, but that’s not the point. I’m rusty, literally- I spent half the morning scraping the shit off lefty here.” He thrusts his gauntlet into your face, the image of an overexcited child delivering a handmade macaroni necklace to their teacher, before continuing. “I want to get a few rounds of training in real quick before I go. Just for the afternoon. Unless you’re busy, of course.”

A steady hand over his, and you lower his gauntlet from out of your face. How hasn't he lost an eye yet, walking around with these things all the time? 

"I'm yours."

 *                        *                       *

Your chest is heaving. Sage barely has to put in any effort and before you know it you're flat on your back, the air knocked from your lungs. How brutal must the gym classes in Astrea be, for this to come to him so easily?

It's easy to forget Sage was - is - (does it really matter?) a soldier. That the same hands, wide palms outstretched to you now, have taken lives before. How can he call himself rusty when any fight you're in with him is over in a matter of minutes?

He pulls you up with ease. However, your oxygen-deprived knees aren't quite prepared to resume their duties and support you just yet. You crash into the expanse of Sage's exposed chest, eye-level with a particularly angry-looking raised scar. How powerful could something have been, to have left such a mark on him? You're not sure if you want to know.

"Breathe," he reminds you, strong hands supporting you more than you'd care to admit from underneath your elbows. As if to demonstrate, he inhales deeply through his nose before puckering his lips and exaggeratedly exhaling onto your face, blowing back a few strands of your hair that weren't affixed to your sweat-soaked forehead. 

Unable to retort, you follow his instruction, choosing to ignore the insult he added to your pride’s injury. You also choose to ignore his all-too-satisfied laugh as he extricates you from his arms and walks towards the edge of the pool on the outside of your improvised sparring arena. You’re even able to half-ignore the aching in your calves as they protest from overuse. 

But try as you might, you’re unable to ignore the way the muscles of his back move as he crouches down to meet the pool, splashing water from his cupped hand onto his face before running that same hand over his scalp. It didn’t help that his usual braid was now perfectly askew, stray strands of pearlescent hair framing his shoulders from behind. No wonder he’s kicking your ass when he’s able to take your breath like this without even touching you. Sage’s fingers idly skim the water in front of him, creating small ripples that playfully catch the sunlight. 

“Alright, playtime’s over,” he stands, wiping his hands on the front of his thighs and turning towards you once more. “Not that you haven’t been a lovely punching bag, but I’d better get going while I’ve still got a little daylight ahead of me.”

You want to say something clever, something witty or biting, something about knocking that smug grin off his face, but your words are lost somewhere between the ache in your chest and the thin trails of water running down his. Instead, you nod. 

Ever-cavelier, he walks you back to your room at Fathom. His praises of your improved technique (“Who’re you stabbing down when I’m not around?”) are as earnest as his gesture of holding open the door of your room for you when you arrive. He stands in your doorway, perked-up ears grazing the doorframe, and for the first time in your rather long trek back to your chambers, Sage is silent. 

He should thank you, he thinks. Should offer to help you stretch, offer to buy you a meal upon his return. Should stop staring at you. Should definitely ignore the gentle working of your fingers through your hair, tying it out of your face. Sage wagers with himself that if he were a smart man, he’d turn around right now and leave - but his eyes remain transfixed on the stubborn tresses of hair clinging to the back of your neck and the ghosting of skin peeking out from the collar of your shirt. 

“What’s the holdup? Scared or something?” you hum, kicking your shoes off and into a corner.

His heartbeat quickens. Scared? Absolutely. He didn’t used to think about these things. He’s lived the past five years as an enigma, a shadow, a blood-stained mask held up to the world without anyone to question what was underneath. And you read him so easily.

“No,” of course I am. “Do I look like the type of man that scares easy?” He leans against your doorframe for emphasis. And he’s mostly telling the truth. Sage has never scared easily - about anything in the world outside of this godsdamned room at least. 

“Be careful, Sage.” you remind him. He didn’t notice you getting closer until your hand was on the doorknob, form half-hidden behind the heavy door’s wooden frame. 

“Oh, you know me. I always use protection.”

“You’re a dog,” you chide, closing the door softly. Sage lets out a mock howl that’s dramatic, even for him, that echoes down the stone hallway as he walks away.

Felix frowns, wondering how a dog could’ve possibly managed to find its way into Fathom, dusting himself off lightly from the portal he just stepped through. 

 *                        *                       *

You dine in your room that night, and the night after that. Your housemates (Castlemates? Comrades? Brothers in arms?) had once again made themselves scarce; only now conveniently showing themselves as you sat down in the kitchen while brewing yourself a cup of tea. Anisa’s visit was short-lived as she sheepishly asked for your help to tighten the straps on the back of her uniform. There must be one hell of a visitor for her to bring out the official colors of the Sunstone Order so early in the morning, but this didn’t surprise you.

What did surprise you, however, was Felix’s voice from across the room asking you to make a cup for him as well soon after Anisa rushed out the door. He looks rough, even for it to be so early in the morning, and his footsteps appear heavy as he slinks towards the counter. Felix nods, not exactly at you, but in your general direction at least, as you sit the heavy-bottomed mug in front of him. You count the seconds between his sips of tea and heavy sighs like thunder following lightning. You focus on your own beverage in a tense silence, waiting for the skies to open up and Felix to reveal the details of his visit home. 

“I’ll never understand how Escell managed to ascend to the rank of archmage without the slightest clue of how to brew a decent cup of tea.” His customary slouch appears exaggerated, somehow, giving him the appearance of speaking directly into his cup. 

“Beats me. Even in my world, reading tea leaves is pretty common magical practice,” you mutter offhandedly, idly wiping crumbs off the counter. “Maybe he just lied on the application.”

Felix chuckles tersely at this. “Is it, now? Well, I suppose he’s got no excuse then.” He turns the bottom of his mug towards the ceiling, and looks into the cup with curiosity. 

“So you’re able to divine what, exactly from the symbology?” Felix is rotating the cup slightly now, his tone pensive. Combined with the far-off look in his eyes, you’re unsure if he actually wants a response or if he’s simply processing this new bit of information out loud. You suppose you can’t blame him, he never seemed to quite grasp the concept of a barista and the duties of the job. 

“The future, I think,” your nose scrunches as you dig through the recesses of your memory. “We don’t have fancy magic schools where I’m from, but I don’t know, I think it’s mostly up to interpretation. What feelings you get from what you see more than the symbols themselves.”

“It just feels empty,” Felix’s eyes seem a shade darker as one corner of his mouth raises to form a sardonic smirk. “How fitting.”

He rights his posture to an acceptable level of slouch, clears his throat, and the omen passes. You rise to pour yourself another cup and he’s asking about your studies, Stella’s antics in his absence, your thoughts on the less-than-academic romance novel he lent you a week before his departure - but his eyes linger on the cup for the majority of your conversation. His words expertly sidestep your attempts to inquire about his time away, and eventually you abandon the topic in favor of showing him your novice attempts at a portal spell you’ve been working on. 

For the rest of the time you spend together that day, neither of you mention the half-moon indentations etched into his palms. 

 *                        *                       *

Though your drunken conversation with Sage over a week ago still smolders in your memory, you don’t manage to end things with Felix. You would be ashamed of yourself, if you weren’t already so preoccupied with your newest shame: even in a world as fantastical as Astrea, you still manage to find yourself bored more often than you’d care to admit. 

You mentioned this idly to Felix one evening, following a particularly enthralling afternoon of arcane research and, lounging on one of the chairs in his study that seemed to be filled with as much dust as cushioning, if not more. 

“Doesn’t your family have, I don’t know, a magical amusement park day pass or something? You ask, reluctant to follow suit as Felix flips his way through an impressively heavy tome. 

“I haven’t the faintest clue what you just asked me, but if amusement is involved I assure you my family has no part of it.” His chin rests heavily on the heel of his palm, giving his voice a strained tonality. “What sorts of amusements kept you occupied back in your world?”

You avoid his question, reluctant to admit that escaping to the virtual world of Astrea was one of the few pastimes you managed to engage in with any regularity. Instead, you cross the room, ruffling his hair as you pass by him on your way to the door. If he notices your gesture, he doesn’t show it, not looking up from his book even as the heavy door to his study slams shut. 

In a valiant effort to fend off the growing sense of sameness (you didn’t realize how much of a difference Sage and his flavor-of-the-day moods and antics made until he’d been gone for a few days), you decided to pay Tulsi a visit. 

The sidequest of your evening proved more challenging than you’d care to admit. 

And so, you find yourself walking through the dimly-lit streets of Porrima, your mind wandering to a time when Astrea was just a setting in your favorite video game. What did you spend all those hours doing, when the missions were completed? The glow of the moon begins to rise over the western half of the ocean in stark contrast to clouds in the east, casting an iridescent pathway over the water so strongly you could have mistaken it for a bridge, if you didn’t know better. 

Not that you knew much better concerning Porrima, all things considered. Your feet felt clumsy walking over the cobblestone streets, as though your bones themselves knew they didn’t belong; that they weren’t ever really meant to walk the paths you’re on. Thankfully, the streets were much less crowded now than they had been during your last excursion with Sage, so you could put on a well enough show of being a native to avoid suspicious eyes. The few stalls still open, manned by sleepy-eyed vendors, appeared even to have lost some of their color under the streetlamp’s lights. Damp, chilled air blowing in from the water leads the lamp’s flames in a precarious dance, casting flickering shadows this way and that. The splendor of the afternoon had been replaced by a still and alluring melancholy. You wonder not if it will rain, but when. 

It was on your third wrong turn - taking you past a spectacularly vulgar establishment you approximated to a mystical dive bar before leading to a dead end- that you decided to stop for a break. You sit on the edge of a water fountain and pick at the skin of your thumbs as though the precise memory of Tulsi’s shop was buried somewhere beneath the distressed flesh. Asking for directions tied your stomach into angry knots on your best of days, and you hated to make your status of lone outsider known almost as much as you hated to return to Fathom and gather dust like all of Felix’s old books. Your stomach argues that you should stop into the bar to get a meal (or something close to it), but you know your appetite won’t allow you to put down much. Anisa always scolded you for wasting food. Maybe, if you turned back now, you could find her stash of treats before she returned from her duties. 

The steady stream flowing from the fountain behind you washes over your thoughts. You’re unable to make out precise details of the statue’s face, backlit by the moon in a cool white light, but a vase of flowers sits balanced between a large, ornamental pair of horns. Was it a spell or some innate quality of the plants themselves that kept them from withering in the cool air? 

The crash of a door opening, a screech of laughter trailing to the nearby alley. It sounds too bright for it to be ringing through a seedy alleyway. Almost eerie, like a bird chirping at midnight. 

But you don’t turn your head at the songbird’s calls. Instead, a too-loud and too-familiar voice calls your attention. Of course, where else would fate have him be?

It’s hard for you to focus on their conversation over the pounding in your ears, but they’re making no secret of their intentions with each other. You put a hand on your chest and are almost surprised when you’re not able to feel your emotions ripping their way out from your rib cage underneath your palm. How long had he been back? Was he even planning on returning to Fathom? Had he even spared you a thought?

The alley takes on the dark and guilt-ridden quality of a confessional booth as you give into the masochistic urges to observe. Sage’s partner is nearly as tall as him. They’re shushing him with a finger pressed to his lips, their other hand clasped firmly around the belt on his chest - admiring the same jagged scar you did the last time you saw him. Sage’s eyes, never leaving their face, reflect the dim light as he takes their finger into his mouth. The songbird giggles again, pulling him by his belt in for a kiss. Sage’s hand - where’d he leave his gauntlet? - raises to envelop theirs as his knee slides in between their thighs. His boots are dirty; they’re going to leave marks on the pale fabric of his partner’s skirts. 

It’s hard for you to tell whether it was the cold that caused you to lose feeling in your fingers or something else entirely. You abandon the original purpose of your trip, along with the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, and spend nearly all of the change in your pocket on what bags of street cakes were left at a vendor’s booth. They’re stale, half-crumbling in your hand before you’re able to lift them to your mouth. You attempt to dodge holes in the pavement on your way back to Fathom. The moon’s attempt to illuminate your path from behind a wall of clouds is futile, and you trip over uneven stone. 

 *                        *                       *

You track mud into Felix’s study. He’s in essentially the same position you left him in, only with a different book and his legs criss-crossed in his chair. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to do anything,” you indiscriminately pull a book from his stack and throw yourself onto a cushion on the floor. “I’m just not about to be alone in this creepy mansion when the storm starts.”

Felix at you for a long moment before shaking his head and returning his attention to his book. 

You make an earnest effort to make sense of the words in front of you, but descriptions of alchemical techniques throughout the ages begin to blur together after a while. At some point during your absence Felix had opened the heavy curtains, and although you see the sway of trees in the distance it has still yet to rain. 

Why does it always seem like you’re just waiting for the bottom to drop out?

Unable to sit still, you begin to straighten up around the room. Papers and what look surprisingly like small animal bones once littering the floor are gathered into a small pile. 

Is Sage still in the alley? 

You re-shelve what seems like a library’s worth of novels, brushing dust off of them as you go. 

Did he go home with them, or will they spend the night at a motel? Sage was looking to pay his tabs, after all. 

You find a small bottle of nail polish underneath a pile of blankets. 

Had he spent the afternoon with them? Longer?

Felix had been looking for that particular bottle. He must have at least a dozen missing items in this room. 

He’s going to give them the wrong impression, spending time with them like that. Sage doesn’t do relationships, you recall from one of your first conversations with him.

You look for somewhere to place it, somewhere Felix won’t lose it again, but the room still seems half-drowned with clutter. 

There was no reason for him to have been that tender, to have taken their hand in his like that while he roughly pushed their legs apart with his knee-

You slam the nail polish onto the desk in front of Felix with more force than you’d meant to. Hair falls from his face as he looks up at you again, his expression unreadable. 

It’s none of your business. He’s none of your business. 

“Well, are you just going to sit there all night?” you huff. 

“I was under the impression you didn’t want to have sex,” He doesn’t take his eyes off of you as he closes his book. “Not that I wouldn’t be happy to oblige.”

“Oh, Felix,” you lean down, running your fingers through his dark hair before settling at the nape of his neck. He doesn’t respond, but you don’t question whether or not you’re commanding his attention. You watch his throat rise and fall as he swallows thickly. “If either of us had what we wanted, would we even be here right now?”

 *                        *                       *

When the first drops of rain begin to drum against the roof, you realize your mistake. Although your bath could have waited until morning, you dreaded the thought of spending the night with sweaty hair stuck to the back of your neck. After a brief debate on whether to try and wait the storm out or not, the tiredness in your bones triumphs over any sense of reason and you brace yourself for the trek back towards the castle. 

The warm water of the bath house stood in sharp contrast in your memory to the torrents of cold rain coming down now. By the time you reach the entrance your clothes are soaked. You empty the water from your shoes and abandon them by the entrance, making an effort to wring as much moisture as you can from your saturated attire. The chilled stone against the soles of your feet nearly causes you to leap.

So much of your energy is focused on not falling or freezing that you don’t hear the sound of an additional pair of heavy footsteps over your own muttered curses until they’re too close for comfort. Adrenaline dances with already-intense feelings of aggravation as you ball your hands into fists at your sides. If anyone was going to pick a fight with you, they picked a hell of a night to do so. You turn towards the sound, and almost immediately wish you hadn’t. 

“You look awful. Who pushed you in the moat?” Sage laughs, evidently pleased with himself for scaring you. You avoid his face. It’s difficult to see him in the dim light, but you’re able to make out that he’s put his gauntlet on again. 

“It’s the middle of the godsdamned night, everyone looks awful.” You turn away from him, shame creating a not-unpleasant burning in your cheeks. 

“The storm makes it feel later than it is,” he jogs forward to fall in step with you. “But I’ve got a decent internal clock - it’s still a few hours until sunrise.”

He spent most of the night with them, then. The chill makes its way to your chest. 

“I had a hell of a time out there - got enough to settle my debts and then some,” he continues. “But don’t worry, I didn’t forget about owing you from that card game the other night. I was gonna wait until morning, but if you’re up there’s no time like the present.”

“Keep it.” A pebble digs into your heel, but you don’t stop to shake it off. 

“Limited time offer, I’d take it if I were you.” he purrs. “I might just find something to spend it on by morning. Or someone, you never know.” 

The air around you falls too-still for a moment, louder than the thunder roaring above you. You’re not sure when your hands started shaking, rage like ants pouring from a flooded pile barely concealed by the sleeves of your shirt. You mutter something about where he can shove his money, if he even has it at all. Even with his long strides, you’re walking faster than him now. 

“What’s your problem?” Sage reaches out, catching you by the hand. “Gods - you’re freezing!”

Instinct kicks in. A sharp jerk and you snatch your hand from his, the immediate absence of his warmth feeling criminal. You bury your hand in your pocket, turning from him once more. His eyes dig into your back for a few steps, and then the feeling is replaced by heavy fabric draping over your shoulders. 

You stop mid-stride, the bottom of the red fabric of Sage’s coat pooling around your bare feet. The breath you take in smells overwhelmingly of him. Even with your still-wet clothes stuck to your body, it’s the warmest you’ve felt all day. It’s soothing. It’s infuriating. 

“Coins are in the pocket,” he snaps, impossibly still from behind you. “You’re welcome.” Lightning flashes outside, and your shadows briefly merge, stretching further into the hallway. How fitting for even his shadow to have consumed all of you so quickly. 

A dozen half-formed responses float to the surface of your brain, but your energy is focused elsewhere. You will your arms to shake off the coat, but your limbs don’t respond. You will your legs to push your shivering form forward, but you remain affixed to the spot. You take in slow, deep breaths, hoping to calm the rabid creature hammering against the inside of your ribcage. He’ll be the death of you. 

“I don’t want your coat, Sage.” You pour as much venom into your voice as you can, but its echo down the corridor sounds feeble. And you didn’t, truly. Since arriving in Astrea you’d yet to see him wash it, and a dozen small tears and imperfections make themselves known as you glance down at the sleeves. Either dried blood or smeared jam marred the outer forearm (Did he throw down with a baker?), infinitely less offensive than the heat of him which clung to the fabric.

He snorts. “You look like a half-drowned rat, I wanted you to have it.” The juxtaposition he creates with the harshness of his tone and the compassionate gesture leave you at a loss for words. 

He didn’t do this to hurt you. There was no way for him to know how much damage his needle-sharp warmth caused as it seeped into your skin from the fabric. He didn’t recognize his kindness for the ambush it was. To him, it’s just his coat. You’re being mean. You’re being unfair to him. It’s just his coat, and that’s all it should be for the both of you. His footsteps ring heavy in your ears, and for a moment it’s hard for you to differentiate between them and your own heartbeat. He stops in front of you, cupping his hands over your shoulders. 

“Respectfully, Sage, I didn’t ask-” you begin, tone as cold as you can muster. All lessons on telepathy thus far had proved fruitless and frustrating, but his intentions are exact. You meet his eyes, severe and caustic as molten gold, and cringe slightly. 

“You didn’t have to. Don’t have to.” he cuts you off. You don’t have to thank me either, but it’d be nice. 

“Look, I get it. Shit happens. If you gotta be mad, then fine. Be mad with me. I can take it-” Sage stops himself when you scoff, taking the inside of his cheek between his teeth for a moment. His mind oscillates between a call to escalate the situation - he’d barely said a word to you and you were already working on ripping him a new one -  and something else entirely. The tremble of your shoulders underneath his hands breaks his resolve. 

“Whatever, be mad then. I’ll be sorry if that’s what you want, alright?” Sage sighs. “But just keep the damn coat. I’ll be sorry, you be warm. Then we both go off and have a shitty rest of our night in peace.”

Sage hasn’t been proud of himself, truly and sincerely proud - not the self-satisfied garbage he spits out onto everyone around him - many times in his life, but these words he works out over his waning patience are enough for him to add another tally to his count. Especially over the past few years, he’s been so used to surrendering to whatever anger comes up and allowing it to consume him. You’ve talked with him about it, and he’s repeated your words to himself in the mirror more days than he hasn’t. It’s so easy to give into the scent of blood in the water; to bite and kick and spit out cruel words, to win. He’s not happy about it, but if he’s got to lose to anyone, he’s glad it’s you. 

Too incensed to thank him, too proud to look away before he does. His tone has a finality to it, commanding the conversation’s conclusion without saying so, but his hands have yet to leave your shoulders. Heat from his palms has worked its way into your tense muscles. What an inconvenience it will be when he removes them and finds that you’ve utterly melted into him. What a waste of an act of kindness. What a shame. 

Part of you that wants to dive past the point of no return, to tell him how you smolder under his touch, to ask his forgiveness in all languages you speak and that you don’t, to pour every inch of yourself out onto his shoes and beg him to fill you back up. Part of you that wants to hang him by the rafters with his tail and never look back. You do neither, and can hear the laugh of whatever god is out there that’s given you these feelings as the sadistic punchline to their cosmic joke. Their angels say: You’re being mean. You’re being unfair to them. The god replies in the deep breath you draw to steady yourself. 

“That was pretty cold of me, wasn’t it?” you say. He doesn’t answer. “Pretty frigid even, I guess you could say.” 

He accepts your unspoken armistice as a withering light returns to his eyes. No hard feelings. 

“I’m not mad at you, Sage.” you know he picks up on your lie as soon as you say it, but he doesn’t call you on it. His gaze is steady, and for a moment you have to remind yourself that he demonstratively doesn’t have the ability to read your mind. “Not that I couldn’t find something to change that, if I wanted to.”

“You’re sure about that?” The way Sage phrases it is not a question. 

“Absolutely,” you reply, rolling your shoulders back and straightening your slouch. An embarrassing CRACK erupts from your protesting joints. “For starters, who buys a coat with no way to close the front?”

Sage half-chuckles, half-hums. “There’s buttons on the inside, I just don’t see the point in using ‘em is all.”

All-too-eager hands immediately seize the opportunity to fasten closed the front of your borrowed garments, but frustration soon blooms in you once more as you struggle. Sage attempts to direct you - something about a flap near the seam on the left side - but your labors yield no fruits.

“Need some help?” He doesn’t know how, if, he wants you to answer. You shrug, still fiddling with the edges of his coat, and Sage holds his breath before leaping into the deep end. 

He drops to one knee in front of you, smoothing your - his - (it looks better on you, anyway) lapel between his index and thumb as he goes. You freeze, eyes wide, your hands balling into loose fists at your chest - now almost level with his ears. The air feels thick as you inhale.

“May I?” He asks, his voice half-drowned out by a clap of thunder, half by your racing pulse in your ears. You nod almost imperceptibly, eyes searching in vain for something, anything, to focus on instead of the way he’s fixated on the fabric sitting just to the right of your navel.

For a moment, Sage considers making a joke - asking if you’re planning on knocking his eyes out, a quip about what a shame it’d be to hit a man while he’s down - but the words die in his throat. Your chest rises and falls softly, and his ears twitch slightly as the breath of your exhale tickles his hair there. 

He pulls the fabric tighter around you, fingers easily finding the buttons hidden behind tattered seams. Sage has fought for more of his life than he hasn’t. He’s broken fingers, almost lost some, even, more times than he could count. Used his hands and swords and whatever else he could find as a weapon. He remembers sanguine days when it felt more natural to lift a blade than it felt to lift a drink to his lips with his friends, than it felt to lift Tulsi from the floor and carry her to bed. His hands remember more than he cares to admit; scars cannot be so easily erased with a trip to the bar.

There’s a distance between those hands and the hands he uses now to fasten the first button just above your hip bone, he thinks. He works steadily; reverently. In the darkness he has to pause every now and then, running his finger along the seam for a few inches until he finds the next set of buttons. 

You know it’s rude to stare, but this view of the top of his head has your sense of reason in a chokehold. Sage is being careful not to touch you, not exactly - muttering apologies when one of his knuckles skims across the fabric of your clothes; throwing gasoline on the fire burning in your stomach with each gesture. How he’d managed to go most of the day with no shirt on underneath is beyond you, but his long hair curling around his biceps as he carefully works his way up your torso looks so warm, maybe the cold really didn’t bother him that much. You hope his grip on your waist now will be enough to keep your spirit from leaving your body; that’d be an embarrassing conversation with Felix. As he gets closer, and the flashes of lightning come more frequently, you’re able to make out dark flecks on his lower lip and right cheek. Mud? It wasn’t raining when he got to Fathom, and you didn’t see him outside. Blood? Whose? Worries like moths flutter above your head. 

A particularly bright flash illuminates the corridor as Sage secures a button a few inches below your collarbone, and curiosity gets the best of you. You open your mouth to call his name, but your vocal cords work against you. When nothing comes out you take his chin in your hand, maneuvering his face to better look at him. He makes a noise of discontent, but is pliant in your hand. You run your thumb across his bottom lip, carrying thin red streamers of blood against the corner of his mouth.

“Sage, what did you do?” You ask.

His brows meet in the middle like a car crash. “It’s bounty hunting, not nice bounty conversations over dinner. Like I said, shit happens.”

Your finger traces the outline of scratches running below his cheekbone from his hairline. They should be healing, should have been healed before you noticed. 

“This jackass had some kind of enchanted ring or something,” Sage answers the question you didn’t ask. “Got me pretty good across the face, but it’s getting better all the time.”

“Let me help you,” magic is already buzzing underneath your fingertips.

“It’s not that bad.” Sage raises his own hand in an attempt to push yours away, but the look in your eyes stops him in his tracks. “Really - you should’ve seen me earlier, used the last of my socks trying to soak-” 

“Don’t be like that.” You feel his eyes on your face as you push loose strands of hair back from the wounds. 

Sage mutters a reluctant affirmative, and your fingertips warm as the skin of his face stitches itself back together. You rub away dried blood, scrutinizing the pink lines of skin left underneath your touch. How long would it be until you could control your magic enough to leave no traces of injury, until you could keep others from getting injured in the first place? 

Sage feels a stone in the pit of his stomach as your thumb pulls at the skin of his lip again, clinical and calculating. There’s something wrong, deeply wrong, Sage realizes at his own disappointment. He’d set this moment on a precipice and that damn look on your face sent it tumbling off the edge. Your brows are knit together in contemplation; the fevered skin of your palm comforting against the line of his jaw.  

There was something about this moment Sage would never come back from. His head feels dizzy, like he’d gone a moment too long underwater, as your tongue moistens the skin of your lips.

Let me help you. 

Sage opens his mouth, and is stopped in his tracks by the growl your stomach makes. You apologize, cheeks darkening in the dim light, and the two steps you take backwards from him feel like miles.

“I, um, I’m going to go change. I left some street cakes in the kitchen, if you want some.”

Sage stares at the hall you walked down for long after you’re gone.

 *                        *                       *

Sage is sitting on the kitchen counter when you arrive, picking through a paper bag of your street cakes. He doesn’t look up at you, but tosses a bag perfectly in your direction nonetheless. It looks different than it did when you bought it.

“What happened to all the snakes?” You ask, picking through its remnants.

“I thought you didn’t like ‘em,” Sage replies, mouth full and still chewing. In the dim candlelight, his fingers still hold half of an intricately decorated cake that looks suspiciously like a rattlesnake. 

He was right, you didn’t like the snakes. Neither did he. 

The two of you eat in silence.

#sage lesath #last legacy sage #fictif last legacy #sage x reader #sage lesath x reader #felix escellun x reader #felix iskandar escellun #last legacy mc #last legacy #when this fandom dies i hope it takes me with it #which probably won't be long so thank god #again haven't written in years pls be kind

[pandemoniclucio]

Request!

I recently watched hamilton and got pretty obsessed with maria reynolds so i want to make a request, about some last legacy main 4 headcanon with an mc who ran away from her abusive husband, i hope it's not too dark for your liking and you can't do it if you don't want

Hi, thank you for the request.

Sorry if this is late my I had a ton of school projects to do. I'm not very good at angst and I tried my best. If I did misrepresented abuse victims in any way please comment your critiques.

Warning: I won't go into any explicit details but if you aren't comfortable with any reference to any form of abuse, I have other works that are less dark, feel free to read those instead,

Felix

When you first met he noticed a ring mark on your hand & knew that you were married, but probably lost the ring in the portal.

When he asked about your life on Earth & you became nervous and shaky, he knew that something horrible happened.

He didn't know how to ask you about it, but fortunately for him, the night he asked you about your life, you came to his room.

He was in tears when you revealed the cruel way you were treated by the man who was supposed to love you.

When you were done revealing all you could he hugged you tightly, crying with you and vowing to never let him hurt you again.

He decided to put every protection spell & charm so that you could be protected if he wasn't around or if you felt scared.

Anisa

When you first met she noticed some scars & bruises on your body and asked about it, to which you replied, "I'm just a bit clumsy."

She knew your clumsiness was a lie from previous encounters with you being as jumpy as you are, so she decided to analyze you.

She noticed many things about you, such as the fact that you only wore long sleeved clothes and the fading ring mark on your hand.

When she noticed a nasty scar on your arm she knew she had to ask about your marital status but she tried to be very sensitive about it.

She immediately came to your side, holding you close and reassuring you as you recount the some of the events your ex did to you.

She was horrified, shocked and enraged that you had to go through that type of abuse from someone you thought you loved.

She vowed to protect you and make your ex pay for all the abuse he put you through.

From than on then she grew more protective of you and made sure that she didn't do anything that would make you feel frightened.

Sage

Ever since the day you both met he though you were extremely jumpy and, at first, though it was a logical response being in a new realm & all.

He eventually grew concerned when he noticed some fading bruises and cuts all over your body.

He didn't believe a word when you said that you're just clumsy, so he decided to coax you into telling him by telling you a story about something horrible happening in his life before he reconnected with the others.

When you found the confidence to talk about what happened, he was absolutely enraged that someone, especially someone who vowed to protect you, did something like that.

When you were finished recounting most of what you could he embraced you in a bear hug and placed kisses on your head to comfort you.

He vowed that not only will he keep you safe from your ex but he would kill him if he ever got near you again.

After you told him everything, he decided to keep you and himself from his usual haunts and become more protective of you.

#fictif sage #last legacy sage #sage lesath #fictif last legacy #fictif #fictif games #anisa x mc #anisa anka #last legacy anisa #fictif anisa #felix escellun #felix iskandar escellun #last legacy felix #abuse tw