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bamby0304 · 5 years

Text

Love The Way You Hurt Me

Summary: When you meet a strange hunter during a routine case, you never expected things to take the turn they do...

Pairing: Soulless!Sam x Reader

A/N: This covers my @spndarkbingo square Masochist, and @spnkinkbingo Breath Play. If you’re interested in a next level fanfic experience, check out @scentsfromthebunker’s Soulless!Sam scent. Thank you @sculptorofbeginnings for looking this over for me xx

Ao3: Link

Dark Square Filled: Masochism

Kink Square Filled: Breath play

Word Count: 1,652

**HEED THE WARNINGS**

Warnings: Explicit language. Bondage. Masochism. Pain play. Blood. Knife play. Breath play. Unprotected sex. Dub-con.

Bamby

Your lip stung as you grinned up at the panting man before you. His darkened eyes, so full of lust, watched you with cruel fascination. As you stared into the ever changing orbs of the man who held your will in his hands, you felt a shiver run down your spine.

Wrists bound by rope above your head, you could barely touch the floor as you hung from a beam. It was uncomfortable, and painful, and oh so delicious.

Sweat slicked his skin, giving it a shine that made your mouth water. The man had been gorgeous before, but now he was a beautiful beast. Someone who could make you scream in agony, and beg for more.

He’d already done a number on you. The moment he’d dragged you into the abandoned warehouse and tied you up, you’d experienced a pain like never before… and a pleasure that was out of this world.

Stripping you bare with the knife he pulled out of his jacket, he didn’t look you in the eye once. There’d been a moment of complete fear as you realised he could easily kill you. This man you did not know. A hunter you’d bumped into on a case. A hunter who pulled the trigger and didn’t bother asking questions. He could string you up and gut you without batting an eye, and no one would ever know what happened.

The first press on the blade against your skin had made your nerve endings tingle with anticipation. Still laced with fear, you watched as he dragged the metal along the curves of your body as he explored all you had to offer.

He didn’t cut you though, not right away.

Instead, he looked up to meet your gaze and put the knife away. He’d reached up to clutch your face in his large hand, and he’d forced you to look into his eyes.

You saw nothing. No light. No hope. No trust. Beneath the lust, behind the beautiful colours, you found yourself staring into a dark abyss. He was as empty as a black hole, and your life was now in his hands.

The first slap was a shock. Your head flung to the side as the sound echoed off the walls of the empty room.

He was right there again, grabbing your face and searching your eyes, waiting for your protests. When all you did was catch his gaze and hold it, his lips quirked into a smirk.

That’s how you ended up like this, bruised and bloodied. You didn’t dare look down at yourself, for fear of breaking the spell you were under. If you saw the damage that had been done, you knew you would back out of whatever game the two of you were playing… and that was the last thing you wanted.

What you did want, was him. With the pain, and the aching, and the agony, came a desire and a need you couldn’t quite understand.

Why were you so turned on by the way he was treating you? How could you let him treat you so violently?

You could escape, if you really wanted to. You had no doubt he’d let you go if you asked, and you had no doubt he’d make sure you were okay before leaving. Even if that wasn’t the case, you were a well trained hunter… you knew how to escape if need be.

All of that wasn’t necessary, however. Not when you were dripping between your thighs, desperate for the feel of him where you were aching the most.

There was something about letting him take out all kinds of frustrations on you that was, for lack of a better term, hot.

Feeling the blade slice into your skin, breaking the surface and letting blood seep through, you shivered. Your eyes rolled back at the sting. You could feel every small sliver and pain he’d etched on your body. From head to toe you were cut up, with droplets of blood rolling down to puddle underneath your feet and slicking the concrete below. It had been almost impossible to keep your footing before, but now you slipped and struggled, pulling on your binds as you hung there.

Suddenly, he reached up for the ropes tied around your wrists, and used his bloody knife to cut you free. Before you could collapse onto the ground in a heap, he caught you effortlessly, picking you up to carry you in his arms.

Dazed from the pain and pleasure, staring up at his beautiful face, you didn’t care to watch where he was taking you.

After a while, he set you on a cold metal surface that made you yelp. Grabbing your face again, he forced his lips onto yours in a harsh kiss that silenced your complaints.

Positioning himself between your thighs, he let go of your face and began to undress himself. You were unable to watch, though, as you were still being distracted by the deep kiss. His tongue licked into your mouth, tasting your blood and making him groan, the sound only increasing your need for his flesh on yours.

Once the sound of his pants hitting the floor reached your ears, you felt him right where you wanted him.

He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t wait to see if you were ready. Didn’t check if you were wet enough for him. No, as soon as he was lined up with your slit, he thrust in.

If you hadn’t been turned on by the way he’d treated you, he would have torn you in half. Hell, even though you were soaked from the pain he’d caused, you still cried out at the stretch and sting of his length and size as he pushed in until he slammed against your cervix.

There was nothing soft about the way he fucked you. It was hard and rough, his hips slamming into you with a force that made you cry out every time. You tried to find something to grab, to brace yourself, but there was nothing to grasp onto. There was nothing you could do but ride it out as he fucked you through to his ending. You just prayed he’d give you the relief you desired in return.

Fucking you hard and fast, panting heavily as his hair clung to sweaty skin, the man grunted and snarled. His grip on your hips was bruising, and pressed down on a few of the cuts that littered your body. It made you sob for more as tears rolled down your cheeks and your back arched, desperately trying to reach more of him.

His hand wrapped around your throat, his long fingers almost reaching around to the back of your neck. Pulling you up, he crashed his lips against yours again and fucked you harder. This new angle allowed him to press against places no one had ever reached before, and the pressure of his cock against your walls was quickly making you feel faint.

Then he began to squeeze.

Still holding your throat with his large hand, he pulled back as his grip tightened. You couldn’t breathe. Your pulse pounded in your head as he held you tightly, refusing to let go. Everything began to scream as your cheeks grew warm. The pain that came from the inability to take in a much need breath was scarier than the blade he’d used on you before.

Right when you thought this was the end, that he actually would kill you, he thrust in one more time. Slamming into your cervix as he came undone, spilling inside you, he released your throat.

As you sucked in your first breath you felt yourself quake as an uncontrollable rush of pleasure shook your body. Falling back, your back arched painfully as you screamed through the earth shattering climax. Tears rolled down your cheeks as every nerve in your body praised the air filling your lungs, vibrating at the seemingly never ending pleasure taking over.

Trying to catch your breath once more, sobbing as you lay there, the stranger pulled out of you. Between your thighs, you could feel his seed leak out. There was so much of it, you wondered if it was ever going to stop.

Fingers wrapped around your wrists and tugged you back up so you were sitting again. He looked you over, examining every cut, every bruise. He checked your wrists to make sure the ropes hadn’t been too tight. He made sure he hadn’t gone too far.

Then you were back in his arms.

While you’d been trying to come down from your high, he’d pulled his pants back on. In fact, besides the sweat coating his skin, rolling down the column of his neck, he looked as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Distracted by that drop of sweat on his throat, you leaned up and followed its trail with your tongue.

He shivered under your touch, groaning. “I was just going to keep you for the night… but I think I might keep you forever.”

Moaning at the thought, you pressed your lips against his pulse point and sucked a dark mark into his skin. Already you could feel your pussy twitch, the idea of having him between your thighs again enough to make you drip with need once more.

But what really had you panting, desperate for him like a starving whore, was the thought of what pain he might bless you with before giving you both the pleasure you craved again.

“Don’t you think you should tell me your name before you kidnap me?” you managed despite how hoarse your voice was.

The corner of his lips pulled up into a panty dropping grin as he looked down to catch your gaze with his. “The name’s Sam.”

“Sam,” you hummed, licking your lips- the name sounded as delicious as his mouth had tasted.

Bamby

#spndarkbingo #spnkinkbingo #soulless!sam fanfiction #soulless!sam fic #soulless!sam x reader #soulless!sam x you #soulless!sam x y/n #love the way you hurt me #bamby's spndarkbingo #bamby's spnkinkbingo card

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senseless-septic-shambles · 5 years

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Sinking - JSE fanfic

The world seemed to spin as Jackie dodged another blow, ducking under the large metal pipe swung at him. He was breathing heavily, his movements becoming slow as he tired. A large gang of thugs had cornered him, pinning him in the corner of a warehouse, where he was unable to fly to a better position. His strength was fading and he was beginning to fear he wasn’t going to get out of here safely.

He’d fallen back to defending - no longer wanting to take down this gang, just wanting to survive. Pressing his back to the corner, he stood on the balls of his feet, taking long breaths as the gang surrounding him paused for a moment.

“We nearly got him, boys,” one of them said, a grin covering his face.

“Being a bit rude to those of us who aren’t boys in our midst, aren’t you?” Jackie asked through his quick breaths. He flicked his hands a few times, rolling his shoulders in an effort to prepare himself for the next wave he knew was coming. This was bad.

“Enough smart talk,” one of the thugs growled and they began again, changing him. He blocked a blow with his wrists, wincing as the wooden bat slammed into his arm. Hopefully, that wasn’t broken.

There was no time to recover, another blow slammed into his side, too quickly for him to react to. He staggered forward, grunting, and spinning just in time to catch a fist. He flung the woman who had thrown the punch back, shoving her into another man.

Something slammed into the back of his knee and he found himself kneeling, pain bursting up his leg. He gritted his teeth, grabbing the arm of another attacked and using it to pull himself up. Don’t stay down.

Duck. Dodge. Block. Breaths were coming faster and his back was solid against the wall.

Duck. Dodge. Block. He couldn’t hold them forever. There were too many. It wasn’t going to work.

Duck. Dodge - pain burst across his leg and he cried out, collapsing to the ground as his leg gave out. He rolled over, catching a hand flying towards his head and flinging the owner into the wall. But a foot connected with his side and the air was thrown out of him in a gasp. Another foot slammed into his head and he rolled into himself, arms over his head to protect it from any more blows.

Tears pricked his eyes as they continued to beat him - he could do nothing but endure. Nothing he could do but call for help.

That was his only option - he had failed on his own. Slowly, he moved one hand to the button on his wrist, pressing it firmly - in doing that he had sent an SOS back home. And maybe someone would come for him.

He let out a small gasp as his hands were grabbed and roughly pulled behind him. He tried to pull them free but a coarse rope was wrapped around his wrists, bound a little too tight for comfort. Then large hands grabbed his head and he snarled, trying to snap at the fingers by his mouth.

Stars danced across his vision as his head was slammed into the ground, then darkness swallowed him when a blindfold was pulled roughly over his eyes. His legs were bound next, then he was hauled to his feet, swaying slightly in his dazed and bound state.

A hand shoved him forward and he stumbled, suddenly losing his balance. For a moment, blind terror swallowed him - he couldn’t see the ground, couldn’t catch himself if he could. Then a hand grabbed his shoulder, hauling him to his feet again.

He was shoved forward again, but this time the hand didn’t leave his shoulder and he began to shuffle slowly, unsure of where he was going. He began to regain his breath, though his heart didn’t slow its rapid beating.

“Thanks for the blindfold - I was getting tired of seeing your ugly mugs,” he said, trying to keep his voice light and void of pain. He had to at least act like he was in control of the situation.

Pain suddenly exploded in his stomach and he folded in on himself, a huff of air escaping his mouth. The fear in him grew larger - he had no way of knowing where any blows were coming.

Don’t show them your fear. The others will be here soon, you’ll be fine, he told himself.

The air changed - they had come outside. It was cold, late autumn, and the sharp smell of the sea filled Jackie’s nose. They kept moving and suddenly dread filled his body. The sea.

He had to get away. Moving quickly, he headbutted in the general direction of the person whose hand was on his shoulder and was rewarded with a satisfying collision.

He ducked instinctively, feeling a fist flying over his head. Closing his eyes, he listened, trying to sense where his enemies were.

A knee slammed into his back and he was thrown forward, sudden weight pressed down on him. He grunted in pain, his cheek pressed into the hard gravel. Hot breath blew past his ear as someone leaned over him, a hand holding his head down gently.

“You’ve done, hero,” a voice whispered in his head, sending the hair on the back of Jackie’s neck standing on end. “You are mine.”

“Ask me out for dinner first,” Jackie muttered, half into the stones under him. He let out a hiss of pain as his cheek was ground into the gravel, then another as he was pulled back to his feet by his hair.

“Enough funny business,” someone growled, and they began their slow walk again. This time Jackie couldn’t think of anything to quip back - he wasn’t sure he wanted to risk another unseen beating.

The gravel changed to wood under his feet and his heart began beating louder. They were on the pier. He couldn’t get out, he couldn’t free himself. Was this really the end of Jackieboy Man?

They stopped, and Jackie could tell they had reached the end of the pier. His heart was beating rapidly, his hands shaking slightly behind him. Surely this was just a fear game - they were just trying to scare him.

Well, it had worked.

“Goodbye, Jackieboy Man,” a voice said, and he knew it wasn’t just a scare tactic.

“No,” he began, sudden terror removing any thoughts of staying cocky. “No - no don -”

A solid shove sent him stumbled forward and for a second, he was falling. Then he slammed into the water, air escaping him as the sea closed over him. Blind panic filled him and he tried to crawl his way up, but his hand were still tied, his legs only dragging him deeper.

He couldn’t see. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't see. He couldn't breathe. He was going to die. He was going to die.

He tried to kick with his legs tied together, but he had no idea how far above him the surface was, no idea how deep he was. His lungs were beginning to beg for air, but he couldn’t breathe. Panicked, he began to pull at his bonds, now much tighter from the salt water bloating them.

Some still rational part of him was telling him to calm down, to stop thrashing, to conserve his oxygen. But he couldn’t see and he needed to breathe and fear wouldn’t listen to anything rational.

His chest was tight, his lungs burning. He was beginning to lose energy, his limbs moving slower, his steady decent unslowed.

He tried again, kicking with both legs at once but the water was too deep, too far above him. He wasn’t going to be able to do it. He was going to die here, drifting in the dark. For some reason, that didn’t bother him anymore. He was floating, existing in another plane, sailing through the sky away from existence.

A sigh escaped him, taking with it the last of his air.

Something grabbed the back of his suit. A hand - he was moving, faster this time. Then a burst of cold air as he was hauled to the surface. Voices echoed in the distance, a warm, solid form behind his head.

“Stay with me Jackie!”

More hands grabbed him - he was laid on rough ground. Hands pulled off his blindfold and sudden light exploded into his vision. He groaned, a mouthful of water escaping. The rough bindings on his wrists were suddenly pulled away, and his hands laid by his side.

“We got you, Jackieboy.”

Pressure on his chest - water exploded out of his mouth and he started coughing, slowly coming back to himself. He was vaguely away of Henrik couching behind him, supporting his head.

He was slowly helped to a sitting position, more water bursting out of him as he coughed violently. Air - blessed air - finally made its way into his lungs and he gasped, another cough bursting out a moment later.

“Steady, we have you,” Henrik said, a hand solidly on his shoulder. Jackie shuddered, suddenly cold to the bone. A blanket of some kind was laid over his shoulder and he glanced up to see Chase standing over him. He was dripping wet, clearly having been the one to drive in after Jackie

“You good bro?” his brother asked and Jackie nodded, shivering again. He pulled the blanket tightly around his shoulders, shaking.

“We need to get him someplace warm,” Henrik said, looking up at Chase. The younger ego nodded, and Henrik gently helped Jackie to his feet. At some point during the rescue, the bindings on his legs had been cut as well.

“You need to be more careful, dummkopf,” Henrik berated as they slowly made their way away from the sea. “You are lucky we were not far.”

“S-s-sor-rry,” Jackie chattered, still shaking.

“Hey, we’re just glad you’re safe man,” Chase said, laying a hand on Jackie’s shoulder. “I dunno what we would have done if…” he trailed off, letting out a long breath. “I was worried.”

“You are safe now,” Henrik said quietly. Jackie nodded, another shudder racking his body. But he was beginning to warm a little.

“Th-thank you,” he said quietly. “I - I’m sorry I c-couldn’t…”

“Hey, none of that. Sometimes there’s battles you can’t fight alone, okay? That’s what we’re for,” Chase said. He squeezed Jackie’s shoulder and moved forward to open the car door.

Jackie shivered again, watching as Chase opened the door with a flourish.

Why couldn’t his friend follow his own advice?

#jacksepticeye #jse community #writersofjack #jackieboy man #whump #drowning #water #my fanfics

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triumphorce · 5 years

Text

under umbras of bundles of stars,

canopies of leaves & branches that shatter-scatter sky image held indirect

as a gleam in eyes

as conscious lay in fabricated gardens watching memories, & desires in dream form

from across highway covered by

blue-white,

yellow,

& orange lights

sound of tires, mufflers, sirens,

amidst a higher sense

attuned to

muffled far cries muffled while crossing empty lands

filled with chilling wind howls, stealing hope,

which

kickstarts the power on survival mode..

ups& downs

drown the cries further,

that

war, warn, or cheer..

or just sing..

maybe

a hymn made by souls for souls under same umbra to set free to lead to wonder & beauty beyond the surface of senses directly to free to seek love loss between me and me

buried beneath road of longest journey to reach

turn feet all around

all about a world I have no idea about

just mad ideas about Kept in journals i turn over

to all but from in front of views not yet exploited by value of which is, views are power, & are the will in word- to-page transaction

self diminished to substantiate

entries from entrails, not shown to be conquered

win or lose is how I never saw things.

win or win, only optionss, only progress..

yet..,always over complicating;

marathon sprints from start to finish

as I choose, If i choose, to continue to choose to overlook slopes in existence, where hides I, in ruins, digging for recognition

contribute to a mind overloading with what I know I owe society, &me,

burden of see-through beast, I see illusions of future thru,mistaken as truth, play victim, get stressed or believe I'm down on luck ,in dumps of depression and slum of beliefs,

in a slump with headphones on temple and music up, reminisce about the golden olden, me and broseph, SSB, PSO, kanto, johto, cartoon cartoons, many one saturday morning’s, plenty cinnamon toast, fruity pebbles, so many card games at Books-a-million

but when I open eyes from trance

I'm forever face to face with today is today

not then not later...

just

changes who changed how I changed regret and anger to compensate for blaming everybody but me

now I stare afraid at dilemmas mass effect decisions

daily in-and-out-terventions

to keep from falling back into resentment.. spite blinding shelves of subconscious-self- disappointed perpetuating judgment of others binding progression, tying tongue, boiling blood because old habits die hard and I continue fucking up, up raging rapids w/o a paddle, almost 3 decades of failing infinite (according to projections) feel I missed and am missing out on so much, so much world, so many words coiled inside, waiting to explode,

all the time, just like everybody.. everything mind sets sights on turns to target issue how unfortunate for aforementioned coordinates, for anyone close enough for me to put in poems' , important enough to torment conscious over, used to be everybody, used to be nobody, used to be just some people, now its just me and i dont know him

attempts to speak, to learn again, to teach me about me to learn to teach myself, to set example for ambition directed toward a better version, better verses, better reimbursement of time given tryna be an extrovert, free from bitter, free from bitch asses, set internal standards to never get fucked with again, fuck you, fuck him, fuck her, i only fucks with a journal & question everyone, everything, every word, every whisper, shit ima tell my children every day, breakfast lunch dinner, do your best and fuck the rest, get it, get lit off enlightenment, fuck rest, save roosting for death, dont look at me, looknat the sky, seize the day in everyway brain permits, dont reach for others' and if anyone tries to take yours, that means they dont fundamentally respect life, so always permeate passion, ignore distractions keeping you from creating, test limits, test intentions, challenge imperfections with wisdom, know that perfect is just cosmetics, but i remain quiet.. remain tied up being alone, wondering.. whether I'm right to do any god damn thing 'cause if I don't do it right.. was I right to think I could, wrong to think I understood

am i wrong not to try?

what of what's sacrificed ?

how do i keep count

how did I end up here in standby...

standing squeamish & deer eyed in light of opportunities rising in horizon of night skies, to step in to obtain warmth, maintain from days before, to do something, do the one thing, but when will I be ready will eyes be ready to comprehend right or wrong

only me, here. only us, on planet.

only who's responsible? how is who is affected by, afflicted by? when is too late? when is just right, always too soon to tell and.. if I don't do it now, then why expect change..

why, why, why

'cause I expect anything at all

anger toward unmanned vehicles imminent to collide with mine

driven mad up eighty-five degree angled walls during rush hour, sun beaming heat into ride, where i travel on path, thru battlefield of past where fallen intentions decompose to ignorance and wisdom sprouts in the mean time.. I'm in between times, feelin down, down down down down by the way

a trail thru fears past dead ends, rotting trees, looks like fallout hit

a past I try an' forget..

but remember out of reluctance

to accidentally revisit regret,

stand next to biggest fears, see if facing them uproots soul

rolls ideas in head, non-stop

like trolls troll under bridges

to which billy goat gruff temper charges like crono's katana on zenan crossing,

lodes of odes to oaths, lightning loaded, aimed at negative minded sapiens bioshocks via rhythm and syntax, cryo cascades of ideas, locked away in moleskine or computer files to put to rest the rest of an inside in arrest to judgment, in side quest of public playthrough, i feel im on public display, static complaining in front of pretty much strangers modes of awareness to mental problems i exploit to people who might not think im crazy, who might like what i write, might like to write about the same thing, might see giants in those same nodes i stand near, i hear crisp crackles filling an awkward air as i stare at words on sheets that i might tear, might let collect dust, or share prolly might be quiet, only sound is poetic drafts that fill in under open windows, I open slowly, cool rush, goosebumps, awake aware always, even when mind is a crinkled, crumbled candy wrapper still just construct wrinkles in time via hairs stand, ovation, and encores to

helping to cross over doubts, screams of slander, stop it all, right now, shed truth in another light, fed through veins like pen's ink to go over and correct vision of pinheads vane turnin art, free thought to cash and competition, trade purpose blow for blow with obstacles in the name of the next step, over opponents, trade nervous for nerves robust to withstand standing up to stretch and spread chest to stand up for work where time invested is braided circulation goin in circles, time wasted pet peeve number 1

a nowhere never felt before but something seems familiar.. overlooked, under yards, under pressure of bone leverage, give life a lift thru cracks of a collapsing effort stretched behind chest and ribs

a heart glows in

hot coal hues hearth warmth under carbon sheets

till blood boils till steam coils from pores to kill the cold along roads

sun or none

no light above, isn't lack of..

(look inside)

----

harsh heat of reality hot enough to feel cold

make me go ghost in dark times..

friction strong enough to spark moist..

continue until i sear nerves disembody fromm pain till im felt by meta-form of others

heartfelt arcs between soul and soul-mind 2 mind

light releases thru iris folds spectacle in spectacles----

spectrum wheel of emotions spins &spins to understand self an urge that intensifies the more i live life as well as I can Improve every day, no excuse, don't ignore the corners, get behind my ears,every nook and cranny in creative muse-um, uhm, duh, raised on books, nintendo, animation,& wishbone, outside, only myself as playdate, use every square inch as play-scape under every hair in head, a mind uses face and body as way to create 4 fourever& vice versa to escape who ever & know I can do whenever, wherever

wherever i go, a voice in mind goes

that keeps on talkin , keeps me talkin tellin me I've talk--, wrote enough hoped enough to last a lifetime, but that's not enough

and I still got a lifetime

to either solidify or fuck it up

gradually let go of

to concentrate on life's finest moments i build to build form in appreciation, saying get up, enjoy the sun rays breaching clouds just before dawn; gett off yo butt and do what you know what you taught you to do when you were at multiple low points and you promised you, you'd never fall to end, even if you fall again, again, and again, never stall in the middle of takeoff stop in middle of road, cant press play if you lost remote, might as well get up and do it, crawl, run or walk away when the times calls to brawl dark-inner energy only honorable mentions defend health during dishonorable discharge of nega, into rivers, into blue sky.. bordered by white clouds and linear silver

a safe place, work space, desk clerk sifting day to day thru file cabinets memories in memos in notebook; written relativity explaining how I see, what I think say what i want like im eight, glad i spent so much time with words and space-bars, to escape judgment, hatred,

anxious surrounded by bad vibes

above an Earth, below expectations; over a self under surveillance by approval from inside, crazy dimensions, On the fence between people and myself I close eyes, ride waves of nostalgia once more..

see plenty light to traverse pathways, walk fer hours, walk like back in younger days, playin, runnin, completely captivated immersed in games played, tv, roller blades, monopoly, scary stories, trampolines

&10thousand songs later, 10million thoughts later, here I am doing what I made me to.

can't wait for the next chance

supplied energy through lines to hidden gracelands.

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ckyking · 7 years

Text

the world forgetting, the world forgot

finally done with this timetravel!hc which grew so fucking long omg. so, yeah, new ot3 + nyxnoct. enjoy!

guess who is going to a special kind of hell for this? me! and guess who doesn’t give a fuck? still me!

now that’s out of the way, let’s get on with it

the astrals like their cycle

if the first king of light fails? allow the bloodline to grow in power

a king is born, dies, goes to the crystal

rinse and repeat, until the expected spike in power comes

but what if this went even further?

it always seemed strange to me that regis gave noctis what would have become his royal arm, the culmination of all he did as a ruler of lucis

aren’t they supposed to be forged in the heat of battle? a weapon stolen and made greater still? a weapon born from its wielder’s being?

no, noctis’ royal arm is and has always been the sword of the father, not that it bore that name at the time

all that he is and he would be compressed in one blade, the one that would ultimately take his life

and the engine blade? regis’ weapon

(in other worlds, this is not true, and regis gave him the engine blade as a birthday present, for his son who would never get to make his own path)

this is how it happens

when noctis dies for the first time, the crystal refuses to let him go

the king of light is born at dusk and dies at dawn, so it is written

but for him to die, he must be born first

this is a given

so, when he dies, the crystal takes him back into himself, and whisks him away to a time where his shadow lingers over everyone he ever touched

the soul of eos does not care for linearity, it exists at every point in time where the planet is still alive, and it would not be denied

he reappears around forty years in the past, in the tempering grounds, unaware of anything but his name

gilgamesh, for all that he is ruthless, still recognizes a member of the line he had sworn himself to

the line that he himself belonged to, once upon a time, before forsaking his name to protect his brother, and become his shield

he is the one that takes the last king in, that heals him and takes care of him, helped by the lucian souls who dwell in their resting place

noctis is cut off from the crystal’s power, because he is not a king in that world. he is just a man, adrift in time

elemancy, inherited from his mother’s side, still runs in his veins, but it is the only magic he has access to now

and the blade he wields is the one responsible for the scar on his chest

as well as the two daggers that had followed him in death, like their owner would have

noctis spends a lot of time in the tempering grounds in the beginning as he slowly regains his strength and adapts to the hole the crystal left inside of him

not that he knows what the dull pain inside of him is

training with gilgamesh, talking with the souls, healing

the past is not that different from the future in that moment

after a while, gilgamesh pronounces him as healthy as he will ever get, and tells him that it is not yet his time to dwell in the tempering grounds

that the lake would accept him, someday, but not at the moment

but still, so he may always find his way back, gilgamesh gives him one of the banners adorning the caves, which he ties around the handles of all three of his blades

he starts exploring after that, getting back in touch with the world he was kept away from for his own good

jobs as hunter, mercenary, always on the move, never settling

one of the people he likes to spend time with is kimya, who feels both familiar and grounded in a way that doesn’t leave his head aching

he feels like he knows her, but it’s not as urgent a feeling as when he tries to pierce the veil obscuring his memories

it’s during one of those hunts that he meets clarus for the first time

the future king’s shield usually get out of the city for training purposes, to test his strength against stronger opponents than he would find in insomnia and to see his friends amongst the hunters

it’s not unusual for him to go to hunters’ bars to share glasses and stories afterwards

that’s when he starts noticing a lone hunter, always in black, with simple and functional clothes, but the sigils and subtle ornaments betray them as being of lucian make, even if older than what he is used to seeing

the crystal earrings which glinted in the light, the old jewelry around his neck, the designs engraved in his sword’s hilt

all of it betrayed his lucian heritage

no one seems to know who he is, he just appeared one day and starting taking all of the higher bounties and coming back none the worse for wear

and he is always alone, no matter that more than one hunter offered to accompany him

but what struck him the most was how similar he looked to aulea

the features, the eyes, even the unconscious little movements when confronted with either cold or heat were the same

and this is what pushes him to seat at his table the next time he sees him

noctis is surprised to be approached so boldly

people are always either completely at ease around him, like kimya or little dave, or put ill at ease by something...out of place around him

clarus is neither, and he is curious in spite of himself

something in the back of his mind hums in recognition

it’s almost too easy to fall back into half-remembered banter as the shield asks him about his latest hunt, the one everybody had been buzzing about

because who goes to hunt a family of malboros on their own?

but there is a reason why noctis doesn’t like to stay around people for too long

warm and mellowed by alcohol, it’s easy to forget the splitting headaches that incapacitate him at the least opportune of times

the only sign of pain this time around is a brief furrowing of his eyebrows before his face smoothed out

and clarus is amazed by how much he looked like regis in that moment

regis, whose face could clear of laughter in less than a second when faced with a member of the council

but he has no time to dwell on it, because his drinking partner gets up and starts gathering his gear

“i will see you around?” he says uncertainly, looking back with cloudy blue eyes

“you will.” clarus has an inkling about who this mysterious hunter may be, and he is not about to let go before confirming it. “i’m clarus.”

“noctis. just...noctis.”

and he is gone

they don’t see each other for quite a while after this

because noctis’ head won’t stop hurting

the memories are almost there, and whatever is holding them back is raging

half-blind from pain, he makes his way back to gilgamesh by letting his feet take him back, based the feel of the elemental deposits he encountered on his way

he doesn’t know how he is not killed before arriving, really

elemancy is his saving grace, close-combat so out of his reach it’s laughable

noctis finds his way to the havens simply by feel, feeling for the runes humming with blessed magic, eyes closed to try and lessen the pressure behind them

they grant him just enough peace for him to doze off fitfully, images flitting behind his eyes

when he finally, finally gets back, he almost cries in relief

death would be better than this

the first thing he feels is gilgamesh’s gauntleted hand on the side of his face

“what have you done to yourself now, lost one?”

noctis turns his face into his hand, cold metal a balm to his burning skin

the blademaster leads him gently to the lake at the center of his domain, and makes him drink

while inwardly cursing the astrals and the crystal for the way they chose to play things out

noctis finally falls asleep, and gilgamesh takes him to the island, letting him rest on the altar at its center while it takes effect

once again burying his memories and healing him

this time, he lets it go deeper, granting him a part of his power

the ritual was only ever meant for his own warriors, but exceptions are to be made sometimes

(the tempering grounds and everything associated with them were forgotten for a reason after all, and that reason is the water)

the recovery takes longer this time, noctis’ exhausted body and mind falling deeper into slumber to recover

when he wakes up, it is to the warriors’ concerned voices and gilgamesh leaning against the slab of stone he was asleep on

“whatever you did almost killed you, lost one. do not attempt such a thing again.”

noctis takes a moment before answering

“they were almost back. i don’t know if i want them to.”

a solemn silence fills the grounds

the memories are safely back behind their wall now, but the lost king vows to stay away from others even more than before after this

he doesn’t want to go through this again

the barrier is stronger now, and the headaches are gone by the time he goes back to the surface world, away from the tangle of dimensions that make up the caves he calls home

his resolve does not last as long as he had wished

as soon as he gets back to an outpost to take another hunt, he is asked by no less than 3 people how he was doing, if he was alright, what had happened…

mostly the people he interacted the most with, like ezma’s husband, david, who liked to move from outpost to make sure everything was alright or the tipsters who had gotten to know him through their usual “bartender witchcraft”, as david would put it

he is a bit overwhelmed but touched by the concern

the concern quickly melts away when he learns that the hunt he had been keeping an eye, for a pair of behemoth causing havoc in duscae, was taken, and by clarus nonetheless

from what he had gleaned before his retreat to taelpar crag, the man usually took his time to do recon on the bigger targets, which noctis hopes is true as he heads to the last place they were reported at

“get back!”

clarus’ body moves before the words register to his mind, the tone, cutting and commanding, leaving no room for disobedience

he jumps out of the monster’s way just in time to avoid the lightning storm aimed at the spot he was standing in just a second before

glancing back, he is startled to see noctis and not regis as he had first expected

and even more by the unsettling violet illuminating his eyes, so unlike aulea’s deeper blue

but he is sure of one thing now : noctis truly is a leonis

the elemancy is confirmation enough

the way he fights? definitely hammers the point home

the dodges, edged in red and gold compared to the traditional lucian blue; water and air being drawn to him as he fought, replenishing his reserves like he had seen aulea do countless times; the same precision and deadliness at the base of cor’s style; the way he focused his aura into the edges of his sword

and the sword in and of itself. he had only seen the likes of it in king mors and regis’ armiger. the lines, the carving, the runes. a sword worthy of the royal line

the shield understands why this man could go head head to head with monsters even hunter groups hesitated to face by himself and win

the first behemoth goes down without a hitch in a combination of lightning and fire, igniting the very air around it in glorious red and blue

the second one is more difficult, and flees in the face of the hunter’s power with only a scar left to prove that it survived his sword

when they are dealt with, noctis rounds on clarus

“what the hell were you thinking!?”

he is pissed off, and it shows

nobody is stupid or reckless enough to go after a mated pair on their own

even he was planning on asking for david’s or ezma’s help for that one

clarus is not cowed in the least by his wrathful stare, but he does seem to grow more uncomfortable by the second

which is how he figures out that he is injured

noctis’ bedside manners are not the best

he brusquely tells him to strip off so he can deal with the wound, and nearly starts tapping his feet in impatience when he is not listened to immediately

the shield does, reluctantly, not willing to try his luck with the clearly angry hunter, moreso that he used all of his recovery items during the fight

(a lifetime knowing aulea leonis will do that to you)

there is a pretty consequent clawmark on his back from where he got caught by surprise

drawing clean water from the nearby swamp, noctis starts cleaning the wound and encouraging the edges closed. lightning to stimulate healing, fire to clean, and he is set

the older man can damn nearly hear gilgamesh talking about a warrior’s pride and why it should be taken seriously, and it does not help his temper

the vague grumblings about pride makes the amicitia chuckle in spite of himself, which just puts noctis in a worse mood

when he is done, clarus catches him by the arm and thanks him

tells him that he owes him a debt, and that he could call on him whenever he wanted

the older hunter visibly restrains himself from refusing, and abruptly deflates after actually hearing gilgamesh

it’s good enough for clarus

for now

because he is damn well making sure to either bring regis/aulea to this unknown leonis, or to make him come to them

though he is not going to try his luck now, with how put out noctis looks

their second meeting is quite the exciting one

after getting back to insomnia, clarus seeks regis out to tell him about the interesting man he met, who fights and acts like a leonis

which prompts the crown prince to dig into the archive behind his father and the council’s back

aulea and cor were born to their father’s second wife, the first one having died 5 years before in the infiltration of one of niflheim’s biggest bases

she was a soldier in the king’s army known for her ability to modify magitek on the fly and transform it into devastating bombs when mixed with the king’s magic, explaining why she was given this mission

they did not find anything confirming her death, and she was pronounced killed in action

their father found out later while shifting through her personal effects that she had been 3 months pregnant at the time

it would not be out of the realm of possibility for her to have survived, explaining noctis’ existence

perhaps this was another one of niflheim’s schemes. how could they be sure?

regis is sceptical, but willing to hear clarus out and meet this supposed leonis

aulea, being aulea, learns of this and tells them she is coming along, no matter what they say

no way is she letting them deal with something concerning her family without her

so, it’s a group of three that leaves insomnia

meanwhile, noctis is still exploring eos, still doing hunts, but stays closer to human settlements because of the encroaching MTs

david doesn’t stop teasing him about that, because his friend finally connecting with someone else? unthinkable!

“so you like them younger, huh?”

“shut up dave”

“now you’ve just gone and dashed my dreams to pieces”

“i swear to the fucking six i will feed you to that coeurl.”

“hey now, let’s not get hasty, what would dave and ezma say?”

“she would agree with me. and dave would never find out how much of an idiot you truly are, i’m saving you some trouble.”

“wow, that’s cold.”

“oh hell, look what you’ve done, it’s coming our way now! you owe me so many drinks after this.”

the three lucians get to the outpost in the aftermath of this hunt, noctis laughing and poking fun at david, ezma judging both of them from where she is teaching dave proper weapon maintenance

aulea marches straight to him, because she wants to know

“aulea leonis, thanks for saving that knucklehead back there. he is an idiot and needs constant supervision, like that other one” she says as she jerks a thumb at her companions

there are definitely no indignant sounds in answer to that

noctis is bemused, but shakes the hand she thrust in front of his face

a quicksilver smirk unnoticed by everyone but her oldest friends crosses her face

because she got him exactly where she wanted him

a lot of things can lie, but not magic

and the way he instinctively starts drawing on the reserves she purposely left open is the sign she was waiting for

their timing couldn't have been better

when exhausted, a leonis tries to fill their their reservoirs of magic from everything around them, be it elements, deposits, or other wielders themselves

it cuts off as quick as it started, but noctis’ startled eyes meet hers, and he knows

“hello, brother. i wonder where you have been all those years.

regis and clarus are appalled by aulea’s lack of tact

noctis is not...shocked, per say. something inside of him knows it’s not the truth, which he tries to tell her

she is not having any of it

“you are a leonis, magic doesn't lie”

“even it it was so, that doesn't make me your brother”

“it does. only three of us were born with the gift in the last hundred years : my father, my brother and me. you can't be anything but blood.”

(the leonis’ blood is one that strengthens overtime, privileging a few members over the others to focus itself)

noctis shakes his head silently and goes back to healing david, trailing sparks of lightning on his skin as he forces the wound closed

“i don't have anything for you to settle your debt yet, clarus, if that’s what you are here for.”

the dismissal is clear

aulea prepares to argue more, but she is stopped by clarus’ hand on her shoulder

the hair, the face, the eyes, noctis and aulea are so similar, it’s eerie, is what regis thinks as he takes over

he is still wary, but there is something about the hunter that calls to him

the practiced detached look is evident to him, for having seen it many times in the mirror, but he forges on

“you could come back with us. family may be waiting for you at the end of it.”

“i have everything i need right here, thank you.”

“is there anything i can do to change your mind?”

“no.”

noctis thinks that everything is said and done at this point

oh, how wrong he is

he inherited his stubbornness from somewhere after all

“very well then. we’ll just have to convince you.”

and then they rent a motel room

noctis cannot believe this is his life

david is silent beneath his hands

“you sure you don’t want to see what this is about? not everyday you get an invite to insomnia’s upper echelon.”

“not interested.”

a smirk curls his lips after that, but just as he opens his mouth–

“ouch! what did you shock me for!?”

“whatever you were about to say, i don’t want to hear it.”

cue mock wrestling match

noctis may have the height advantage, but david is mean to make up for it

ezma wonders how she got saddled with this idiot sometimes

dave is alternatively cheering for his dad and noctis

really, what regis meant by convincing was “we’re going to accompany you on your hunts because this is apparently how you bond with people”

noctis is unimpressed, but lets them tag along

they are a pretty impressive bunch, really

lightning quick aulea with her rapier, magic at the tips of her fingers, as quick to laugh as she is to frown

cunning regis who refuses to give up no matter what, who moves in the air like he moves on earth

stoic clarus, unmovable as a rock, always ready to meet a challenge head on, and to pull the other two back when necessary

noctis hates to admit it, but they are growing on him

it’s the little moments, like regis holding them back for a second when he comes up with a new plan

clarus yelling at aulea when she nearly hit him with a spell and the sheepish shrug she gives him in return

regis and clarus watching noctis care for his sword, or the play of firelight on his earrings, the flex of his back as he trains with aulea, the glint of his jewelry at his hands and throat

laughing together over drinks as regis gets progressively more drunk and handsy around clarus

subtle around each other, those two are not, especially so far away from the city, and from its citizens’ constant judgement

aulea looks on in exasperated fondness and shares commiserating glances with noctis, who is looking on in amusement at regis’ uncharacteristic behaviour and his shield’s attempts at appearing unaffected

watching clarus unceremoniously carrying regis back totheir motel room is what makes noctis laugh around them for the first time, jacket thrown over his shoulder and hair tied back to deal with the heat

clarus and regis stop bantering for a bit, and it is when they think maybe

it’s a slow process, their trust, interrupted at times by aulea’s insistent questioning or noctis’ faraway gaze, his fingers lingering on either his sword’s sharp edge or the holstered blades at his thighs

their stay vary from a day to a week, the time they can spare until they are missed back in the city

after a while, weskham starts joining them, the butler both amused and worried by his friends’ constant absence

they click immediately, much to the three’s annoyance

weskham is too damn charming for anyone’s good, and not even noct is immune

telling him stories about aulea and regis’ shenanigans when they were younger, including the time regis inadvertently warped on top of a building and aulea climbed after him to get him down

kings mors didn’t stop laughing for 10 minutes straight when he found them

regis wants to hide his face in his hands, but he refrains from it. still does not help the blush when noct catches his eyes and his smile widens

this is not how he want to be noctis to see him dammit

from the corner of his eyes, he notices clarus hiding his smirk behind his class and kicks him in the chin

because they are ridiculous

but really, what actually manages to get him back to insomnia is cor, who learned about him from his sister and decided to see for himself after making sure that his sister is still in insomnia

cue tiny cor challenging noctis to a fight when he finds him

noctis is even less impressed than by his three usual tag-alongs and just freezes genji in its scabbard

“proof enough for you?”

cor is spluttering and really want to kill someone, preferably noctis

which does not happen because the hunter is not letting a child go back to insomnia by himself

the youngest leonis is offended but stops protesting when he gets a look scarily similar to aulea

he really doesn’t want to listen to him but as they journey back to the city, noctis starts teaching him little tricks which he starts using in spite of himself, like how to increase the amount of energy he can absorb from deposits, or how to maximize his aura and increase his strikes

pointedly showing that yes, he has magic, and to stop and listen for a second

because grumpy noct is grumpy and needs a nap

they make a stop by hammerhead to rest for the night before heading on to the crown city; cid takes one look at cor’s disgruntled face and noctis’ amused one and wants to go back to his cars

he settles for whacking cor on the head once and tells him how aulea was ready to search the countryside by herself to find him, which cor looks vaguely guilty for

and then he turns to the hunter, looks at him for a second and shakes his head

“so you’re the one the two idiots have been singing the praises of for months?”

“cid, i take it?”

“yeah, that’s me”

this is the beginning of beautiful friendship full of grumpiness and complaints

it’s great

cid tells noct to come on in and to take “the brat” with him while he’s at it

they end up sharing a meal together, which mainly consists of cid and noctis taking turns needling cor who tries (and fails) to stay stoic

cor and his self-assigned minder leave for insomnia the next day

cid is just wondering what kind of trouble regis and clarus got themselves into, because oh boy is noctis completely their type; it’s unnerving

he is too old to deal with this

the smallest leonis may or may not have hidden behind behind noctis at aulea’s unnervingly calm, “please open the gates, before i break them down for you.” when they arrived at the entrance of the crown city

that one was followed by a decidedly not calm death threat aimed at her brother

regis, clarus and her are waiting just behind the gates as they open slowly, still in their formal clothes from the council they hastily escaped once they got cid’s message

noctis enters insomnia, and never really leaves

no way are they letting him go now that he is finally there

and noctis is reluctant in the beginning, but damn if he didn’t get attached to them

so he stays, rejects aulea’s offer of an apartment, because she is the head of the family after her father’s death

she stopped trying to convince him about being her elder brother, because she saw how uncomfortable it made him, but he’s still added to the family register

noctis ends up renting an apartment in what would become the galahdian immigrant district in the future with the money he accumulated from hunts

they don’t even ask him about becoming a crownsguard, it wouldn’t fit him

he gets dragged to the citadel on most days when he is in the city, because they know he would either try to lose himself in the city or go back outside the if left to his own devices

sword and elemancy training with cor, because he got attached

wandering the gardens with regis as he vents about the council or expresses his worry about niflheim

getting conned into trying weskham’s new recipes

going out for drinks with clarus

aulea dragging him for an excursion in the city because “you’re too gloom for your own good”

generally making sure that he does not end up like cid

which noctis bitches about to the man in question. he is not sympathetic at all to his plight and mostly laughs at him

regis and clarus stare when they see him in casual clothes, because noctis looks that much wilder when compared to the other lucians. his hair pulled back from his face, the small galahdian braids at his temple used to keep everything in place, the piercings and accessories that caught and held people’s attention as they enjoyed the city’s night life, the small knives he kept hidden on his person just in case. just, noctis

(noctis does not remember who taught him those twists in the first place, only calloused hands gently running through his hair, arm wrapped around a bare calf, hand following the lines of a tattoo. a soft memory he keeps alive by rebraiding his hair in this fashion, letting his fingers work as he closes his eyes)

their first kiss happens in the green lands surrounding the city, the three of them sitting by one of the small ponds hidden amongst the trees

noctis is warm and comfortable between them, leaning against clarus’ shoulders and looking up at the sky, pointing out constellations to them

regis makes the first step, touching him on the back to catch his attention before leaning in for a kiss

the panic that springs in him is more distant than usual, because he wants this. he doesn’t see why anyone would want him, who had nothing except three blades and a name, but oh how he wants

then, it’s clarus’ turn, turning noctis’ face and catching it in his hands before kissing him, slow and careful, unlike regis’ surer nips and teases

the leonis lets go, stops thinking and enjoys the moment

a lot happens during those war torn years, but mostly they are happy

niflheim can still be held in check by the old wall, leaving them free to travel, even more so with regis grown and able to protect himself

he wouldn’t have accepted staying caged in the city, which is a caelum if anyone has ever heard of one

mors sees noctis in action while he is training with aulea, clarus and regis, red and gold haze surrounding his sword as he danced around the prince’s warp strikes, blades seemingly jumping to his hand as he countered aulea’s magic with his own and singing as they cut through the air to intercept clarus’ strikes

which is how he ends up accompanying the king to the front lines as he fights to reach the lucii statues maintain the wall protecting lucis from niflheim

mors “the tower” lucis caelum, a beast of a man whose favoured weapon is a bow, shooting down soldiers and daemons by the dozens from afar

(the bow of the tower : this weapon belonged to the king who held strong against an invasion, sacrificing lands to save the kingdom's heart)

noctis finally letting aulea and cor call him their older brother

“what will you do if i disappear one day? i won’t always be there to help.” noctis asks during one of their training trip outside of the city, to get cor more experience, which everyone else invite themselves to

cor just frowns at him in reproach

“don’t be ridiculous, i will always find you”

noctis grins and drags him closer, messing his hair up and knocking his beret askew

“what would i do without my tenacious little brother, huh?”

cor tries to push him away half-heartedly, badly hiding a smile while aulea is laughing, arm wound around noctis’ waist

weskham chooses that time to take a picture, and it’s the one cor will keep for years

the leonis family, smiling together

getting taken on fishing trips by regis and clarus, using the opportunity to visit david, ezma and little dave, as well kimya when they go to malmalam thicket for some of wesky’s ingredients

aulea throwing him to the sharks by making him her escort during most of the official functions she attends, because she is enabler and likes making her friends suffer

jealousy and wandering hands in dark corners of a ballroom may or may not happen when noctis in a suit makes his first appearance

helping him out of it is just as good, in regis and clarus’ opinion

but all things must end one day

noctis knows it, because the wall holding back his memories starts to break down, and he hears the lucian souls’ whispers more clearly than before, one of them tugging at his heartstrings with how familiar they (he) sound

when cor expresses the desire to pass the trial, noctis and clarus accompany him

if he is a little more frantic, a little more tender during the last night he shares with his lovers, well, it’s his secret to bear

trying to engrave the sight in his mind, knowing he would never see it again

cor and noctis walk parallel to each other across the dimensions, cor going through the trials led before him and noctis walking to his resting place

as the youngest leonis and gilgamesh battle, noctis finds himself back at the place he first appeared in, on the altar in the middle of the lake

pulling out his sword, the sword of the father he remembers now, he unwinds the prayer banner that kept it tied to him from the hilt and leaning, his forehead one last time on its cold metal, says his goodbye

the sword of the last, the sword of the lover, the sword of the father

two blades meeting in the middle and crossing paths in the stream of time

in insomnia, regis’ armiger appears around him, thirteen blades circling him

when cor takes gilgamesh’s arm, noctis slips back into slumber, to await his time

the waters swallow him, and with him disappears all memories of noctis leonis, events slowly warping at the edge to erase his presence

there is a reason why a leonis’ eyes are blue

the owner of the voice he had heard so many time appears to him as he sinks into the, and the last king of lucis remembers

a roguish smile and pale blue eyes, tattoos he had traced so many times

“welcome back, little king”

and he sleeps

when the king of light sacrifices himself to bring dawn back, noctis, no longer a caelum, not truly, awakens, and gilgamesh greets him

“without the crystal my brother gave his life for, without the ring that adorned your hand, you are mine more than his, lost one; my own”

gilgamesh, founder of the leonis line, the first king’s brother, and his shield

the one who willingly lost his name to better protect his brother, and eos’ future

a family history mired in loss, eyes forever reflecting the blue waters of the tempering grounds; to remember, and to forget

“even if everything you know disappears, even if you are left adrift in time, you will always find a place here”

across eos, events shift back into place, and memories break through the pane of glass they had been hidden behind; in leide, in duscae, in altissia

cor is waiting for him as he emerges from the welcome darkness of the caves

“i told you i would always find you.”

noctis smiles a little at this, both happy and sad. because the life he had left was no more, all the people he had known dead and gone

(a father, a lover, which one came first, which one came last)

to be continued

#my fic #regis/noctis/clarus #noctis lucis caelum #clarus amicitia #regis lucis caelum #nyx/noctis #nyxnoct #nyx ulric #final fantasy 15

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