The house was somewhat contaminated that day. People around the neighborhood had to leave. A gas leak my parents' said. They were escorted out like everyone else. Well, everyone else but the big talking green blob in a hidden basement. Minute by minute, hour by hour, the stomping of feet above me made me shudder, feeling the urge to hide in a loose pipe or crack. I already had the door closed off so they wouldn't know anything suspicious and I overheard that they've found the location of the leak, but the possibility was still there. Well, at least my parents are safe.
I quietly sat on my bed and looked at the files again. I took the map out, the one with the marks of Twitch's domain. The killer that ruined the H.I.V.E. convention and destroyed so many innocents was the one I left unscathed. The paper shakes in my hand as I tried to process this. The memories as I gaze at the map. The gas suffocating.... The bodies leaking.. The screams piercing... The radio screaming... and now he left, planning to do it all over again. He left with arrows that even he supplied him with. I lay myself on my bed, map on my face, as I groan in disgust in my actions. I had him. He was right there, in front of my flashlight. I could've attacked first. Killed him. It wouldn't be a fantastic sight, but it was still saving someone. Save all those in the future. Avenges everyone that died to the little rat! Dad wouldn't even been mad about the rifle being thrown in the water. Why was I so stupid? Why was I so naive!? My dad's words still repeated in my head. "Sometimes.. we need to make those actions," I repeated as I took the map from my face and glared at the poster full of dreams and fantasies.
The ceiling being to rumble with how much stomping there was. Above me, the banging became imminent. I had to get out of here, even if mom said that it was too dangerous. I can't be some gift wrapped up in a pretty bow for them. They're supposed to check all of the pipes for this "gas leak". I quickly go to my open pipe and look to see if there's a way out through here. Sadly everything's blown open.. I quickly got out and look around as they feverishly examine this side of the house. I look to the restroom quickly and ran in. The toilet was a sickly dark green color.. Well I can't get sick. Sigh. Here goes! I jump into the toilet and flush myself down the drain.
The toxic water rushes through me as I move and slide into the cramped pipes of Zaun. The pushing became too much. I couldn't control my position. I twist and turn as gravity began to do its work. As I went down, I heard loud creaks and cracks as I went down. Suddenly the size of the pipe grows bigger and bigger and bigger until finally...
SPLASH!
I fall headfirst into the sewage. The rushing behind me stops as I scramble back up to the surface. I swim faster and faster until I could breathe air. Everything was dark. I could barely see the shadow of my hand. I trudge through to the ridge of the tunnel where ground was. I jump up and writhed violent to get all of the toxins out. Well... guess I'm gonna be grounded. Now.. where's the way out of here?
I tried to walk around the sewers, probing around to see something familiar. I'm hoping that it was in a familiar route that I was on when I was searching for Twitch, but everything was shadows to me, and zaun was a great big place. He couldn't have gone that far down though. He just.. had to stick with the walls and move. Just.. go up. That's all I have to do. Just go up..
Hours have passed as I made my ascent to nothingness. Or was it hours? Usually the bell would signify that... All of the pipes were complete mazes to me. I've never been through any of them. They weren't like air vents and the like. They go up and down and left and right. Water always rushes through them, making it sluggish to go through. Oh.. What can I do? There has to be some way out.. There has to be.
I walk on the humid concrete, ignoring the instances of excrement that I have stepped on. I had better things to worry about. Gotta keep a happy face for this.. Step. Squish. Step. Splat. Step. Crackle. Crackle? Huh? I look underneath my feet. It was a large note, all folded up and everything. There was no way it could've been made accidentally..
I quickly look at the shadows one more time, imagining the entire scene. The pillars were there. The wall. Twitch was once behind him. Only one thing could confirm it..
I quickly stretched my hand into the water. No gun. He was still lost.
I sigh loudly as I quickly took the note and opened it. It was all in large green crayon. I took it close to my face to read the fine print.
"Dear Goopy One,
I thank you for tribute. You're the first of many! Ammo like these aren't easy to come by.. Twitch placed a book for you since you liked my stories. They don't have anything about me though! I worked hard on them, and its great someone has taste! Now... hopefully you'll give Twitch better stuff next time..
However, you're not surface. You may say it, but you're not surface. Why do you side with them?
Sincerely, your ruler, Twitch."
I look back at where I found the letter and grab the book. It was sticky with wrinkled papers. I opened it slowly and felt the pages. Seemed like he was writing ferociously on this one. Pressed hard on the page. I could feel the words on the paper, but can barely make them out. I was surprised. He did this for me? My skin began to heat up slightly at the offer. It was very rare for him to receive gifts like this. No matter how poorly done it was. I look to where I thought I once saw Twitch. No one would be down here. "Twitch?" I said in the darkness. Twitch!?" I shout, more loudly. I listen carefully. The bugs began to skitter around, notifying their master. "Twitch!!??" I shout.
After a couple of minutes, I saw Twitch quickly show himself. He recognized my voice and slowly approached me. I could barely make out his shadow. "Oh! Twitch! I.. I.. need help.."
"Goopy One! Did you call me to join my side!" he squeaked.
"Uh.. no. I'm just lost here. Can you.. can you help me out? I.. got your note."
Twitch growls. "Grrr... then answer my question then! On the note!" he shouts, stomping around. "Why.. why join them? You're not surface.. I.. I know surface! You're not.."
"Because.. Because they raised me. They took me in pal. They showed me food.. a nice home.. love. I just wish I can say the same to you.. but it doesn't have to be that way all the time," I replied. No response came from him. "What'cha got there?" I asked, nodding to Twitch's arm deep in a pocket.
"Huh? None of your business! Just.. just your ingredients! I can make another one.."
I step forward. "Well... it ain't easy. Let me tell you that. The surface you keep talking about, they never made me. How about.. you let me help. I think I have some ideas on what I'm made of."
"You'll.. you'll give me that..?" Twitch stuttered in amazement. "That information?"
"I can only make guesses.. but I can help. Shouldn't be that hard. I'm just ooze after all. Only if you help me get out. Promise?" I lend out a hand. Twitch shudders at the gesture. He was scared. Someone's willing to help. His Goopy One was willing to come back, and he was scared, but he knew of the bones and the experiments. Twitch slowly raised his hand to mine.
"If this is a trick.."
"I don't think I'm smart enough to trick buddy. Especially not to you, heh."
Twitch smiled as he quickly grasped the hand and pulled me towards the lair, leading me out of the dark isolated tunnel. He began to mutter excitedly about his numerous plans, mixing and shaking, blending and testing, expecting this to be his best project. After that, I came home hopeful, with a wilted book in my hand.
Though it probably means absolutely nothing, since everyone is trying to pick apart every little thing they can see in this trailer (including yours truly). I noticed that there were a few times in the KHIV trailer where the darkness that the Darkside is about to appear out of makes a sort of star shape. And star-shaped items have had meaning in KH, of course.
If it does mean anything it doesn't, I have no idea what it would be, though.
Maybe a hint that the Master of Masters and/or Luxu could have brought the Darkside to the world with them? Since there was supposed to be no darkness in Quadratum? And we know they're both tied to star-shaped items with lux?
Summary: When your boss Choi Jongho calls you up to his office you aren't sure if you've done something wrong, or maybe you did something right.
Warnings: MDNI, explicit content 18+ only, unequal power positions, fingering, pet names, back shots, mild degradation, Jongho has a big dick, maybe a vague tiny hint of a plot.
This is complete fiction and doesn't represent the real people etc.
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Fic Masterlist
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You always hated taking the elevator up to the 45th floor. It never meant anything good, just being told off by a manager or given more work. Somehow even though it moved fast it always felt like a death march.
It slowed as you reached your floor. The doors slid open and you walked towards the corner office of Choi Jongho.
There were only a handful of offices on this floor, surrounding a central atrium. Behind each door was a small room for each manager's executive assistant and a further door into the imposing offices of the men who kept the company running.
You knocked gently and opened up to the empty room. Mr Choi's assistant had called you and asked you to come up at 6pm so you kind of expected her to be here. Why were you expected to stay late at the whim of this man if she didn't have to stay?
Feeling bitter you close the door gently behind you. The silence was almost disconcerting, you were used to the buzz of traffic that you could hear at all times on the floor you worked at. You hesitate for a moment and then, deciding to get whatever this is over with, you walk to the inner door and knock with more confidence than you feel.
‘Enter,’ you hear from within. You take a deep breath, plaster a benign smile on your face and push the handle down.
‘Good evening sir,’ you say as you walk in.
Jongho doesn't look up, his head bent over papers and his graceful fingers swirling a glass that didn't look like it contained anything you would get away with drinking openly at work.
You hover, unsure what to do as the door clicks shut behind you. The silence grows heavy.
‘Um, sir, I was told you wanted to see me?’ You ask, still stuck by the door.
Barely lifting his head he glances up at you, dark eyes peering at you through wisps of hair. He still doesn't say anything and you feel panic rising in your throat.
‘Maybe I got the day wrong? Or maybe you wanted me here earlier? I can check my diary, I…’ you babble.
Jongho sits back in his chair, eyes never leaving yours, and takes a sip of his drink.
‘No, you're perfect,’ he says and inclines his head for you to come towards his desk.
You finally step further in. The lights are a little low and the darkness outside the two walls of floor to ceiling windows reflect everything in the room, with just faint twinkles of far away lights breaking up the image.
There's no chair in front of the desk so you stand, trying to find a comfortable place to put your hands as Jongho just stares at you intently.
‘Is there… was there something you need me to do?’ You ask.
A smile pulls up the corners of his mouth but the look in his eyes stays dark.
'I've been watching you,’ he says. ‘And do you know what I see?’
You stare dumbfounded, you genuinely have no idea what this is about. You don't even think you see him that often around the office. Of course you notice him - who wouldn't notice the handsome face and confident stature he carries himself with?
The idea that he has noticed you though, that thought hasn't entered your head and you aren't really sure what to do with the idea. He doesn’t wait for you to answer.
‘I see someone eager to please, eager to work hard… And in desperate need of being fucked until your legs give out.’
Your mouth opens but no noise comes out.
Jongho puts his glass down and pushes his chair back.
‘Come here,’ he says, his legs spread wide, as he pulls his tie loose.
Still mentally in shock you find your body moving on its own - your feet take you around the desk until you’re stood in front of him, your ass pressed against the wood of the desk.
He looks down at your heels and traces his eyes up your legs to your skirt, continuing over the white button down shirt and stops at your lips.
You shiver at the way he silently looks at you. You go to say something but he holds a finger up to shush you.
He leans forward and runs a hand up your calf, making your skin tingle as it gets higher and goes under your skirt. When his fingers touch the lace of your underwear the other hand slides in the other side and pulls your underwear down. Without him needing to say anything you step out of it and a smile pulls at the corner of his lips.
He stands up and even in your heels he is still taller than you. You’re forced to sit back on the desk as his arms come down either side of you and he leans in closer.
His knee comes between your thighs and forces them apart. He steps in closer so your thighs rest either side of his.
‘Sir, I don’t…’ you start but he cuts you off.
‘Don’t disappoint me now, you’re doing so good,’ he says as he leans in and presses his lips against your jawline.
His lips are soft and work their way to your neck. Your breathing is already coming fast.
A gentle scrape of his teeth makes your arms come up to his waist and you feel him smile against your sensitive skin as he presses closer to you.
His hand comes up and cups the other side of your face as he continues to lick and suck on your neck. Without even realising you have moved forward, your skirt riding up until you’re pressed against the hard bulge of his trousers.
Jongho pulls back a little, his eyes feel like he’s staring into your soul as he leans forward and kisses you, gentle at first but it doesn’t take long for the desperation of you both to come out - teeth and tongues clashing as his hands pull your hips hard against him.
Your hands find their way under his shirt and you can feel the hard contours of the muscles in his back. Your thighs clench around him as your nails press into the smooth skin and a moan escapes your throat.
Jongho stops kissing you immediately.
‘Not so shy and nervous now are you,’ he murmurs. ‘I want to hear you beg for it.’
‘Please Jongho,’ you say and he shakes his head.
‘I never said you could use my name,’ he says, a disappointed sigh escaping him.
‘I, sorry… sir,’ you say.
‘Better,’ he says, ‘now beg properly.’
He pulls back out of your arms and takes his black suit jacket off. He doesn’t say another word as he rolls his sleeves up, honey skinned forearms flexing in the light.
‘Please Jo… Sir, I need you, I want to feel you so badly.’
He raises one eyebrow, waiting for you to continue, his hand resting on the button of his trousers.
‘I’m sorry, I’m nervous, I never thought.. I didn’t imagine... I want you inside me, please, anything you want.’
He steps back and laughs when he sees the panic in your face.
He takes your hand and helps you off the desk, spinning you round and pulling your ass against him.
‘That’s it, you just keep being a good little kitten for me and I’ll give you everything you want,’ he whispers in your ear.
He pushes you down so you’re pressed into the desk, his hands bunching your skirt up around your waist. One hand presses down between your shoulderblades as the other moves between your legs and slides between your folds.
‘You’re so wet for me already, maybe I had you wrong, maybe you’re not a good girl but a little slut. Is that what you really are?’ His words make you whine.
‘Sir, I’ll be whatever you want me to be, just please…’ You don’t even know what you’re asking for but he finds your clit and starts to circle it, making your hips press back into his hand.
He pushes one finger, then two, into you and you cry out, resting your forehead onto the hard desk beneath you. His thumb brushes against your clit as his fingers scissor inside of you.
‘You feel so good even like this, I can’t wait to have my cock inside of this tight pussy,’ he says.
You feel the tightness in your stomach.
‘I’m gonna cum,’ you cry out. Jongho leans down over you, his spare hand landing next to your head.
‘Cum on my fingers, pretty girl,’ he says.
He presses on the bundle of nerves inside of you and you cry out as your orgasm flows through you. He keeps working his fingers inside you until he feels you start to relax, the high released.
As your breath starts to come back to you, you hear Jongho undo his zip and you try to turn your head to see him.
‘Uh uh, stay right where you are,’ he says. You can feel his cock sliding against you, gathering up your wetness, and Jongho groans.
The first inch slides in and you gasp but you’re crying out by the time he’s bottoming out as you stretch around his big dick.
‘Oh my god, Jongho,’ you say, out of breath and glad he’s giving you time to adjust to the size of him.
The first time he pulls back and thrusts in slowly but when he’s fully back inside you his hands come up into your hair and pull you up.
‘Look at yourself, you look so pretty taking me,’ he says. You look ahead at the window and are shocked to see your reflection staring back, Jongho’s hand in your hair and his eyes on you in the glass.
Keeping your hair in his hand, your back arched, he starts to fuck you.
He isn’t moving fast but every thrust is hard for maximum impact. The sound as he slams into your ass is drowned out by the cries you let out as every thrust devastates you.
Even so, you can’t take your eyes off his reflection, the way he’s watching himself moving in and out of you, his nose scrunched and lip bitten.
The hand not holding your head up is gripping your hip so tight that you know you’ll have bruises in the morning. Your walls clench him at the thought of him leaving his mark on you.
‘You’re taking my cock so well,’ he moans. ‘Don’t you dare cum until I tell you.’
‘Yes sir,’ you say even though you can feel the orgasm growing inside of you, getting closer with every thrust.
Jongho’s hand comes round and his fingers start a steady rhythm on your clit. Trying to hold the orgasm back you feel tears welling in your eyes.
‘Please sir, I can’t, I’m gonna cum, it feels too good, let me, let me’ you babble, trying to look him in the eye in the window.
He pulls you up fully so your back is pressed into his chest and, grinding into you, his mouth on your ear, he says ‘You can cum as long as you’re crying out my name.’
That’s all it takes. You see yourself in the reflection falling apart as you repeatedly cry out Jongho’s name and he follows you, moaning as you feel him pulse inside of you.
The only thing stopping you from falling to the floor completely boneless is his arm, pressed around your chest, hand on your shoulder, keeping you steady.
He keeps hold of you but slides out slowly, both of you moaning at the loss of each other. Jongho sits back in the chair, lifting you with him and keeping you in his lap as you both come down from the high of your orgasms.
‘You did such a good job. Keep being good for me and I’ll keep making you feel good, my little kitten.’
I don't have as much time to prepare for the flight as I wanted so here's a "Get to know my Character in 10 Songs" w/ some commentary!
1. Starting off with Juniper by Luisa Marion!
I've always loved the name Juniper, but hearing this song solidified this characters namesake. They still go by Sniff though, as a nickname they've had since they were a child. The fear of rain, searching for home, etc, all the themes in this song are perfect for her. This whole song is my fav.
2. The Slow Fire of Sleep by L. Mayland
This song is a small poem to me, but an important one.
"Palm pool, show me where
The truth that's reflected there
Heaven in the sheen of sweat
The truth is that the worst is yet
To come"
3. Let the Wind Love You Still by TOFIE
A slightly tragic song, one that may spell out Juniper's past or future. Either way they are a very forlorn person. Despite their gentle and happy upbringing they've never felt long for the world.
"I am nothing, hardly half of a whole
It takes me now
So bloom, and in the dawn
I'll return to you, we'll remember pure"
4. Mary by Big Thief
By the earth, how I've wanted to create a character around this song for ages. This song to me represents Juniper's desire for love for companionship during a flawed and distraught time.
"Marching up some mountain
With our aching planning
High and smiling
Cheap drink
Dark and violent
Full of butterflies
The violent tenderness
The sweetest silence"
5. Violent Times by St. Vincent
A much different pace of song, consider it a counterpart to the previous song, a little doomerism that hides behind hope.
"Different eyes, you're the same, but I got different eyes
How could I ever have been so blind?
Blame these violent times"
6. Woman is a Tree by The Last Dinner Party
Another song I cherish dearly. There's something layered in this this song that reminds me a lot of No Man Steal your Thyme. It's an anger that's entirely caused by sorrow, and I think that is an emotion Junpier will deal with a lot. Also, Juniper is a tree. Do with that information what you wish.
"Woman is a tree
Tenderfoot and peerless arrived
Oh, my darling is dripping in sequins and milk
The fur of a fruit bat, our limbs line the fields"
7. Loud Bark by Mannequin P*ssy
I'm not a violent dog. I don't know why I bite type shit.
"I want to be a danger
I want to be adored
I want to walk around at night while being ignored"
8. Nightvisions by Liana Flores
Juniper/Sniff has planned romantic arcs in this SMP for SURE! There's some suprises coming, alongside different types of romantic/platonic relationships I want explore. This song is a hint.
"I went to him in shadows
As shadow creatures must
My dreaming eyes in time I felt
Beginning to adjust
When over a new planet
The yellow dawn did rise
I woke alone and took a form I did not recognise, recognise"
9. Liar by Paramore
Sniff will have an open secret the entire smp. The audience will know from DAY one, the secret is not the problem, it's navigation, the relationships, the fear.
"And, oh, my love, I lied to you
But I never needed to
Oh, my love, I lied to you
But you always knew the truth"
10. La Lune by Billie Marten
Oh Billie Marten, long time fans of my might know "Feeding Seahorses by Hand" is one of my favorite ablums of all time. However this song, is like a gentle acceptance, a wish a think Juniper has.
"Ignore signs of change, no more
I come back again, I am flawed"
Yipee ok! I have a playlist with more music here. I'm just a nerd and wanted to share my fav songs and some vague commentary!
Head Counsellor — and Head Medic — duties, you see. And, moreso, representative of his father (or so the man claims). He must be up to greet the sun, and so he must be awake before it rises.
Pitch black, though.
That’s unusual.
“Do you want to go look at the stars with me,” says the pair of eyes hovering above his bed, which Will assumes are attached to a face, and particularly the face of his best friend.
And Will blinks. And squints. And glances outside, where there is not even the barest hint of sunrise — he can feel, in his chest, that the sun is presently as physically far away from him as it can get at this point in the season.
“Nico,” he croaks, eyes sliding shut again, “It’s two in the morning.”
His eyelids reflect the flash of Nico’s grin. “You sound like a cowboy.”
Will’s eyes pop open, and his face burns. He rockets straight up, shoving his best friend, who is laughing. Crosses his arms.
“I damn well do —” He stops, catching himself. Nico snickers. He scowls, and enunciates his words carefully. “No, I don’t.”
“Like Johnny Cash,” Nico says sagely, because he’s a jerk. “Didja just roll in from town, pardner?”
Will scowls and goes back to sleep.
Except, he doesn’t. Because Nico’s laugh is low and raspy, and the mattress dips by Will’s hip, where he leans against it. Where he rubs his palm over Will’s blanket-covered arm, making him shiver. Where he presses in close. Where the warm puff of his toothpaste-scented breath tickles the curve of Will’s ear.
“C’mon,” he murmurs pleadingly, and without looking Will can see his pout, the roundness of his wide brown eyes. “Please? I’m trying to listen to you. You said I’m not allowed out of camp by myself.” Nico lingers at the curve of Will’s wrist, pressing a cool finger deliberately on his pulse point. Will prays he doesn’t feel it quicken, but he can tell by the smirk in Nico’s voice that he does. “C’mon, Sunshine. I want to watch the stars with you.”
Will practically springs out of bed, he jumps away from that low voice so fast. Nico laughs, muffling it with his hands, and it does nothing for the burn of Will’s face, the writhing and churning in his stomach.
“Nice boxers,” Nico observes, as Will bends over his dresser, muttering to himself. Will freezes, and Nico carries on, voice deliberately controlled. “The Ninja Turtles is a really good look for you.”
Will’s face burns so hotly he ceases to feel anything but his own heartbeat in every square nanometer of skin, and then, to add insult to injury, he begins to glow. In his cheeks, at first, but it spreads quickly to the rest of his face, to his neck, down his chest.
Right down, humiliatingly, past his hips, where it shines through the worn-thin fabric.
“I didn’t know I would have company,” Will hisses, stumbling into the first pair of bottoms he finds. He misses the leg holes four times. The glowing gets worse. “What kind of — sick bastard — drags a man from sleep — and then mocks his sleeping attire —”
“Brave of you to call it attire,” says Nico, seeing as you’re covering much of nothing.”
Will misses the leg holes, again. This time he goes careening forward and lands flat on his face.
He’s still glowing, by the time they finally make it out of the Apollo cabin, and Nico is still snickering. Will is still furious with him. Or trying to be. But he gives up, when Nico offers his hand, because the harpies don’t avoid him like they do Nico, and he has suffered enough. No need for avoidable gauging.
Even if the icy cool of of Nico’s sword-callused hands feels good rubbing against his own sweaty palms, and Nico smells, vaguely, like churned dirt and smoke and a little bit of something fresh, herbal. Something good.
“Okay,” Nico says, somewhere past a row of darkened cabins. Will blinks, dazed. Disoriented, in the pitch-black, except the sheen of Nico’s eyes. “Don’t get mad.”
“About what,” Will asks dumbly, a second too late, too quiet. Because Nico’s teeth flash as he smiles, guilty and daring, and then he loses his footing, and the shadows swirl.
Will throws up the second his feet are on solid ground again.
“There, there,” says Nico after a moment, sounding a little shakey himself. He pats Will’s back. “It’ll fade, so long as you brought all your organs with you.”
“What,” Will croaks, and then after a brief, panicked check — “oh my gods…my spleen…”
Nico pauses.
“Well,” he says, and then is silent. He clears his throat. “Well, that’s not an important one, right?”
Will wheezes instead of answering.
His spleen.
His beautiful spleen…
“It’s okay,” Nico assures quickly. “It’s fine. I’ll ask the shadows to be nice on the way back. They should let you keep up to ninety-nine point four percent of your organry this time so it’ll all be fine and dandy.”
He pretends not to hear the mumbled I hope.
Gods help him.
“Where even are we,” he manages, finally. “Stars not good enough in New York?”
“Correct,” Nico says primly. But maybe he catches sight of Will’s still-green face, or maybe he’s just feeling benevolent. Because he smiles, and cups Will’s cheek. Strokes his thumb over Will’s cheekbone. Graciously ignores how Will’s throat closes. “Too polluted, azzurro. I wanted to bring you somewhere worth your time.”
Will feels his breath catch, his heart thump. Azzurro. He doesn’t know that one. And for a moment there is a flash in Nico’s eyes, something like panic, and his hand twitches — like he moves to snatch it away, but aborts at the last second. Draws it back slowly, instead. Lingers.
“Always worth my time,” Will says, before he can stop himself. “You, I mean.”
Nico’s eyes crinkle as he smiles.
“You’re such a cheeseball.”
He is. But Nico looks down as he says it. Kicks his shoe in the grass. Will exhales, and brings up a hand, wraps it around his wrist.
His pulse races.
“Hike,” Nico says when Will frowns. “Uh, the best view around? Up high. Let’s move.”
He stalks off before Will can say anything, tripping over roots and rocks. They’re in a — forest, maybe, of some kind, a trail; Will stumbles over after him and snags the back of his hoodie, when his outstretched hand grasps it, trying to keep in sight.
“Hey,” he says, quiet. “Slow down. I can’t see like you can.”
Nico slows down, so Will can walk next to him. Swallows. Keeps pace, for a moment. Between them their knuckles brush.
After a moment, Nico turns his palm. Will exhales, long and shakey, and matches it, curling their fingers together.
The walk is — good.
They come to the top of a rocky hill and sit heavily. Nico’s breath comes out in cool mist, and were Will not keeping his locked in his lungs, his would, too. Instead he watched the swirl of the steam, as he crosses Nico’s full lips, traces the dark shape of him in the low light. In the thick, night-heavy air.
“You’re not looking,” Nico says, eventually. He swallows heavy, eyes trained on the sky. “Stargaze with me, Will. Look at the heavens.”
Will swallows, dry. He’s not like Nico but his eyes have adjusted, in the dark, and he can see the dark on his cheeks, across the bridge of his nose. He can see the small, shy smile fighting onto his lips. Can see the careful shine of his hair, brushed, for once. The sheen of his silk dress shirt.
“You planned this,” Will says, not a question. “Being — here.”
Slowly, Nico nods.
“Why?”
“I can’t ask my friend to appreciate space with me?” he defends, but it is halfhearted at best, and he picks at his fingernails. “Just ‘cause, I guess.” He shrugs. “Wanted to sit with you.”
It’s not the truth. Or at least not the full truth. Will can feel it like you can taste rain coming in the air, like you can smell the sea before you hear the waves.
“I thought —” It’s harder, than he imagined, to say it. To put the words, and all they imply, into the wavering space between them, above their still-joined hands. But he swallows, and makes himself. Voice quiet. Voice low. “I thought this might be a date.”
Nico doesn’t say anything for a moment. And then he squeezes Will’s hand, and nods.
“…I hoped.”
“You didn’t ask.”
Nico’s flush darkens in the starlight. “I did so.” He breathes. Quick. Inandout. “Kind of.”
Will inches closer, a little. “When you ask,” he says, quiet. “The word ‘date’. In involved.”
For a long moment Nico says nothing. Nods. Gnaws on his lip. Picks at a loose thread, and another.
“Will,” he says, looking away. “Do you want to go on a —” he stumbles on his words — “date. With me.”
Will nods, once, eyes not leaving his face.
“Yes.”
“Cool. Groovy.” Nico nods, once, and again. Will’s lips quirk up. “Good. Glad to hear it.”
Will leans closer, still. He can feel Nico’s body heat, at this distance. Feel his breathing.
“I’m here,” he says. “We’re under the starlight.”
He doesn’t know how to say anymore. He stares, only, eyes half-lidded. Breathing slow. Close. Waiting, for Nico to look back.
He does.
“I want to kiss you,” he says, quiet. “But I’m nervous.”
Will nods. Squeezes his hand. They’re both sweaty, now, too warm.
“Me, too.”
Nico nods. Will does, too, and he bites his lip, because it is ridiculous, because there is a lot of nodding. But he doesn’t know what else to do.
Nico does, maybe.
He slips his hand free. Wipes them on his jeans. And then, fingers shaking, breathing trembling, eyes drawn close together, he rests his palm on Will’s cheek. Slides his fingers in his hair, around the back of his neck. Angela his head down.
“Stop me, if it isn’t good.”
Will exhales, and nods again. Nico leans in close, and then closer. And there is the brush of his lips. Chapped. Gentle.
There is a spark, passing from his skin to Will’s. It makes them both jump.
Nico presses in, suddenly. Surges. Like live wire, like if he doesn’t touch, he will die. Like he needs the taste of Will’s breath in his lungs.
“Will,” he sighs, and kisses him again. And again.
✴︎ in the labyrinth of my pain, would you find me?
✴︎ Azriel x Valkyrie reader, platonic Cassian x reader
✴︎ Summary: you miss a few days of training, down with a bad migraine. It turns out Cassian has a few misconceptions about your condition and, possibly, about pain itself.
✴︎ Warnings: mentions of nausea and vomiting (no descriptions), pain, toxic positivity and ableism, internalized ableism, Cassian's a jerk in the first half. Also I'm so sorry for the tense changing back and forth 💀 I would definitely not call this one a masterpiece
✴︎ Word Count: 3.4k
AO3 Link / Writing Masterlist
✴︎ Notes: somehow writing out my feelings about having a migraine turned into something pretentious about pain and ableism. I think a lot about John Green's "pain is the opposite of language" and how much that's changed my perception of pain
Also listen I love Cassian and I have no problems with him but I had to pick someone to take my feelings out on I'm sorry 💛 also just want to acknowledge that everyone experiences migraines differently and it's not a topic I'm an expert on so I'm sorry if you don't feel well represented by this.
Tbh I could write several essays about the way pain and disability are handled in the acotar books but that's for another time.
Letting out a frustrated groan, you squeeze your eyes shut tighter and twist your knuckle into the pressure point at the base of your palm, chasing the momentary relief it'll give you from your nausea. It works for a minute, and you're considering making your way to the bathroom before another wave hits you when your bedroom door flies open.
"You're late," Cassian's voice bellows through the room and he doesn't see you wince. He strides into the room, footsteps booming across the floorboards, and he's left the door open behind him, letting a traitorous amount of light into your dark room. What good were black out curtains if your darkness was going to be invaded like this anyways?
"Oh my gods you've got to talk quieter," You curl tighter around yourself, head clutched in your hands.
"So you're hungover?" He stops near your bed, arms crossed as he towers over you.
"No, I have a migraine."
"Isn't that the same thing?"
You squint up at him, scowling, swallowing every bad word threatening to spill off your tongue. Though maybe he deserves it for coming into your room without asking.
"Please leave," You say quietly, all the venom you could usually imbue into your voice completely swallowed by your current condition.
"You've missed three days of training." He says by way of answering, definitely not following your request to lower his volume. "You can't coddle yourself like this."
His words punch the air from your lungs. Coddle? Something terrible is rising in your gut, along with the desperate thought that you can't deal with this right now.
"I'm not - this isn't - I don't think you understand how much it hurts." You scramble for words, cheeks heated from pain and anger.
"You've gotta push through it," He says, no hint of sympathy.
"Cassian please."
"I'm not leaving until you agree to come with me."
You don't have time to respond before you're running to the bathroom and throwing up whatever you'd managed to keep down last night, head throbbing with every movement.
Breathing hard, you lean back from the toilet and clutch your head in your hands. The silence rings in your ears and you aren't sure if Cassian is still there or if he finally took mercy on you and left, until his voice makes it's way to you, with just a hint of remorse in it -
"I'd better see you up there."
⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
Cassian did not see you at training that morning, and you're assuming you've bruised his ego because the next day he doubles down.
The thing is, Rhysand knew of your condition. The other priestesses knew. It's only Cassian being out of the loop and if he understood what a migraine felt like, you're certain he wouldn't be dragging you up there. You were used to dealing with people who didn't understand, had worked hard to learn how to give yourself kindness no matter what other people said. But it's like he knew exactly what things to say, what buttons to press to undo all of that progress.
It was like he'd pulled off your armor, piece by piece, leaving you cold and exposed. Going back to that world where weakness was your given name and it hurt worse than stepping into the ring and fighting the pain. If you could prove him wrong, just make it through a couple of hours, you could return to your sanctuary of darkness. And at least then, you wouldn't hate yourself on top of everything else.
So you followed him up to the training ring, struggling to open your eyes all the way in the morning light, hunched over to make the pain down your shoulders and neck just a bit more bearable. You sway on your feet, but Cassian either doesn't notice or doesn't care.
When he moves aside, revealing your small, huddled frame trailing beside him, Gwyn gasps.
"Cassian!" She cries, her tone scathing, and the hint of smug triumph slips from his face. It disappears completely as Gwyn rushes to your side, folding you into her arms to block your eyes from the light. You groan into her shoulder and go limp in her arms, grateful for the support.
Azriel stands to the side, watching with narrowed eyes. His arms are crossed over his chest like Cassian's, but there is no determination or judgment in his posture or expression. There's angry, crackling flames as he watches the redheaded Valkyrie thread her fingers through your hair and murmur soft comfort.
"She missed training all this week," Cassian says, but he's not barking any more. He's feeling a little bit small underneath the glares that pin him where he stands.
"Yeah, we know," Gwyn says, and it's the closest she's gotten to snapping at him in the whole time they've known each other. She turns to you and her eyes soften. "Let's get you back to bed, love."
"No," You murmur, guilt and shame bringing your resolve to the surface once more. You gently push her away to stand on your own, raising your squinted eyes to meet Cassian's. "I can do it. I'll be fine."
She watches you take shaky steps to the nearest mat and begin stretching, body obviously stiff from a few days in bed. You're conscious of all the eyes on you, far too sympathetic for your liking. This is exactly what you hated.
"Are we starting or not?" You let out a stiff laugh, too aware that your words are lightly slurred. That is absolutely not helping the hangover accusations.
The other priestesses shuffle to get into place, bumping into each other as they move to find their positions. There was still a horrible silence, crackling with fierce anger, all rippling in Cassian's direction. He halfheartedly called a few orders, visibly uncomfortable with the energy in the ring.
And you tried. You tried hard. To move your body through the stretches like normal. But your muscles protested every move, threatening to lock back up, sending stabs of pain through your skull. It didn't take long for the nausea to take over, forcing you to the edge of the ring, doubled over and dry heaving.
"This is ridiculous," Gwyn scoffs before she's at your side again. "You're going to back to bed."
"I will not be weak," You growl at her, panting as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, "I am not lazy."
Gwyn's head snaps around to find Cassian, mouth dropped open in fury as she silently dares him to confirm that he may have suggested weakness to you.
"You're not and you know it," She says softly, hauling you up and leading you away from the training ring. “Don't do that to yourself.”
Cassian is feeling like he's surrounded by wolves, all the glares that are being sent his way. He understands by now that he's messed up, and in front of a group that may not be easily inclined to forgive him. He's sure every single one of them has experienced the disbelief that he foolishly shoved your way. For their pain, or for anything else.
He thought you would snap back to your normal self after a bit of warming up, shake off your symptoms with a bit of movement and sunshine. You were strong enough to, if you wanted to. He'd seen it before. He thought you just didn't want to.
A small, firm hand lands on his arm and he finds himself looking down at Nesta. There's sympathy in her expression, but her eyes twinkle with the threat of a nasty bite if he dares to say anything stupid.
"She gets them after particularly bad flashbacks," Nesta says, "Or sometimes they're just random. Madja says there's no fix for the pain but darkness and sleep."
Cassian's stomach twists so terribly he thinks he might puke, too. In the midst of attempting to instill resilience, he's understanding that he knows nothing of this kind of pain. This is something different, something that cannot be conquered in the same way as emotional pain, as every day aches and injuries. You are a soldier in a battle he has no strategy for.
He may understand the concept of emotional resilience, of getting back up and into the training ring when you don't want to. But this is different.
The final blow, the thing that makes him want to cower and hide, is meeting his brother's eyes. Seeing the fire there transports him back in time, sending flashes of a smaller Azriel pushing himself too hard, determined to show the world that he'd never be less because of the damage to his hands. Fighting against words far too similar to the ones his own brother had spouted to you this morning, desperate to become strong enough that no one would ever doubt his pain and live.
⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
It was not a surprise that Cassian found himself in Rhysand's office later, confessing how thoroughly he'd fucked up, desperate for a little direction in how to fix this mess.
"It has to be their choice," Rhysand is saying, eyes meeting Cassian's over his glass.
Cassian's mouth opens and closes as he tries to conjure a response. He knows that. Of course he knows that. But apparently, his brain had not wrapped around how far that concept might go.
Cassian let out a grunt as he sat back in his chair, arms crossed. Rhysand knew he didn't have to push any further, he recognized the conflict in his brother's eyes. So he sat with him, quiet, while he processed.
"Do you want to know what it feels like?" He broke the since after a while, as the idea came to him.
"What?" Cassian blinked, startled from his thoughts.
"A migraine," Rhys explained, "Do you want to know what it feels like?"
Cassian frowned, studying his brother's expression for anything resembling amusement, but there was none. So he nods.
Not even a full second later, his skull is attacked with throbbing pain, deep in the base of his neck. He hadn't even noticed the fae lights before, but now they overwhelm him, causing a dull pain to surface behind his eyes. Nausea curled up his throat, threatening ruthlessly.
"Oh gods," He leaned forward and clutched his head in his hands, finding that his limbs trembled under his own weight.
"Do you push yourself when you feel like this?" Rhysand asked softly, not taunting. Prompting.
"I don't really ever feel like this," Cassian grumbled out.
"Hm," Rhysand mused, his brows drawing together. He'd experienced episodes like these often, under the mountain. He knew that Azriel struggled with them through his teenage years, like his brain still struggled to process his senses outside of a dark cell.
Deep in thought, he only remembered to ease up on Cassian's mind when his brother whimpered.
"Some say pain cannot truly be described with language," Rhys says, gaze somewhere else as Cassian gulps down air. "And that your pain is one of the few things that is truly yours, that you can never share. Even if you manage to describe it, it will never be felt by anyone else."
"I thought she was just hungover," Cassian says, but he's not defending himself. Rhysand knows.
"What if she was, though?" He tilts his head to the side, watching his brother carefully.
And that is the thing that had begun to unfurl within Cassian as he stood surrounded by the priestesses he'd wronged. He understood that having true control of your body meant that dictating how pain is handled had to be yours, too. He understood that pushing someone to deal with pain in his own way was a violation in and of itself. He had stepped into the world that you had carefully balanced and re-built around your condition and dared to tell you that you may have done it wrong.
"Will she get better?" He asks, thinking of the agony he'd just experienced for a few short minutes. The same one that you'd been experiencing for three days, now.
"It's hard to say," Rhysand shrugs, "Madja says she will likely experience these off and on for the rest of her life, but she may have some periods of remission."
He tilts his head at his brother again, "You know that a majority of the priestesses have an invisible disability of similar kinds, right? They won't get better. They will be in pain every day until they die."
Rhysand sighs, thinking of the hundreds - possibly thousands - of tins of salve that Azriel has gone through, numbing the pain of his nerve damage. Trembling hands hidden in black gloves, tucked into his body and away from the world. And that is the reason he's bothering telling Cassian of any of this. Otherwise, he might let him figure it out on his own.
"But the healers-" Cassian begins.
"Are there to help them cope with their emotional pain and trauma," Rhysand nods, "But some of them, a lot of them, were disabled as a result of what they went through and will never get better. Like Clotho.”
Oh.
It clicks in Cassian's mind, then. Who else Rhys meant. Who else Cassian had insulted. He had never barged into Azriel's room, insisting that he still train even when he could not flex his fingers without wincing, without trembling too hard to hold a glass of water. But he'd done it to you, in front of him. And that pinned his disbelief on Azriel all the same.
Azriel's pain, your pain, were enemies that neither of you could defeat. And here he was, shoving a sword into your hands, and insisting that you try.
⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
A soft knock sounds against your door, so quiet you almost don't hear it. You stare at it, wondering if you should pretend that you didn't. But then the knob turns slowly and it opens just a crack, and a soft voice is saying into the darkness,
"Hey, it's Azriel. Can I come in?"
Your breath catches in your throat, and you watch his shadows dancing back and forth through the thin wedge of light he's letting in.
"Sure," You say, moving quickly to smooth your rumpled clothes and tangled hair before he steps in. You're not exactly sure what he thinks of you after this morning.
He steps inside and closes the door behind him. His eyes seem to glow in the darkness, an amber-honey color, and somehow you can still see his shadows, like they're even darker than your room with no light.
"I just wanted to check on you," He says, crouching down beside your bed so you don't have to sit up.
"I'm okay," You say, still getting over the surprise of the Shadowsinger in your space. It's true, though, you suppose. You're used to all of your other symptoms by now, and your heart hurts worse than your head.
"He's an idiot sometimes," Azriel says, basically spits. A smile begins to spread on your face so he continues, “Like, sometimes he's just an asshole, straight up. But this time, believe it or not, I think he actually meant well and was just an idiot.”
“I know,” You give him a sad smile and all of the anger melts from his face.
“I think he went to buy flowers if that makes you feel any better,” He sighs. You know he's just as mad at Cassian as you are, maybe even more mad. But he still can't help vouching for him. It's definitely going to take more than flowers to forgive him, but it's a good start. You also appreciate that Azriel has bothered to warn you ahead of time, in case you wanted to avoid Cassian's apology.
“How are you feeling?” He asks, so quietly. And you wonder who else has earned this tenderness from him.
“It's not too bad right now,” you say truthfully, though you know that sitting up or going outside might be pushing your luck.
“Still hurts?”
“Yeah. Still hurts.”
He nods. “I can try something that helps me, sometimes.”
You search his eyes for a moment, then nod.
“Can I touch your face?” He asks, almost a whisper.
Your heart leaps into your throat and you fight to keep your face neutral as you nod again, no idea what he's planning to do with you.
Slowly, leaving enough time for you to stop him, he reaches out. He's not wearing gloves, like usual, and in the dark you can just barely make out the uneven silhouette of his dimpled, scarred hands.
His fingers land gently on your forehead, and he presses his thumb between your brows. Gently at first, and then harder, circling a tender point under your skin. It makes the pain in your head sharper, and you let out a hiss.
“I know,” He says, “Bear with me a minute.”
You close your eyes, biting back a whimper, but after a moment the pain begins to ease. He keeps going for a few minutes and you feel your whole body relax, pain free for the first time in days.
You don't realize how much you've leaned into his touch until he gently pulls away and you find your head falling forward with him.
“What is that?” You open your eyes and blink at him.
“A pressure point,” He grins, and it almost looks like he's blushing.
“That's magical,” you say. You hesitate for a moment, and then, “you can sit on the bed if you want.”
Azriel smiles and straightens, and you move your pillow to the side to make space for him. He slides off his boots and sits on the bed next to you, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. You place your pillow next to his lap and settle back into it.
“Thank you,” You say, your body feeling lighter than it has in days.
“Of course,” he says.
A silence settles, but it's not uncomfortable. There's something in it that you understand. He's just keeping you company. Here to sit with you in your pain.
It's easy to relax in his presence, between his calm aura and the pain relief he's offered you. And you find yourself spilling the question that's been circling though your mind since this morning.
“What if I can't fight, someday? What if I can't be a Valkyrie anymore?”
Azriel stills beside you. It's a long moment before he says anything. You're tense beside him, and it makes you flinch when he brings his hand so gently to rest on your head. Not moving, just resting.
“First,” He says, in the same soft voice, “You'll always be a Valkyrie. Because you cut the ribbon. Because you sisters will never let you go. And because I know for a fact that the Valkyries did not strip their warriors of their title if they became disabled by an illness or an injury.”
“Really?” You breathe.
“Mhm,” He hums in affirmation. You forget sometimes that he knows the Valkyries from more than history books.
“And second,” His voice drops lower, like he's sharing a secret with you. His hand moves, fingers slipping gingerly through your hair. And it makes you realize that he came here with his hands uncovered as an offer of solidarity. Combing his scarred fingers through your hair, he is offering you vulnerability, like recompense for what you bared this morning. A trade. A truce.
“If you cannot fight,” He continues, “Then you will show the world that a formidable woman can be made from more than fighting skills. You will still be - will always be - something incredible.”
Tears prickle at your eyes, form a lump in your throat. You reach up to grasp his hand, the only thank you that you can manage in the moment, and he lets you.
There's another silence, as he holds your hand in the dark.
“Who helps you?” You ask, turning to look up at him. He watches your eyebrows knit together, so serious, and he swallows a smile.
“What do you mean?” He says.
You bring one finger up to tap the space between his own eyebrows.
“With your pain? Who helps you like you helped me?”
“Um,” He shrugs, “Sometimes Rhys if he has time. Otherwise, no one.”
That's what you thought, but it still makes your heart twist in your chest. It takes a deep breath before you have the courage to say the next words out loud.
“You should tell me next time you're in pain. And I'll help.”
Azriel stares back at you, something bewildered in his eyes. Because he sees your suggestion for what it is. The same thing he offered you. A trade. A truce.
A beginning.
“Yes,” He whispers into the dark, and his hand closes around yours. “I will.”
So my thoughts on Forever Friendship. I’m… disappointed to not get what I wanted but I’m not gonna commit to being a complete hater or whatever. So don’t worry, this post won’t be overly negative. I wouldn’t even call myself a full hater of my currently least favorite MLP gen, so like. it’s chill.
I know most people are upset about the initial absence of Applejack and Rarity, but what I’m mainly upset about is reusing mane 6 ponies as the main cast at all (don’t get me wrong though, I adore Applejack and Rarity). Especially since they’re only slightly redesigned and have seemingly little to no change to their personalities. Yes, G4 reused G3 names and designs. But they actually made them feel like completely new characters, some with entirely different designs (look at G3 Rarity and G4 Rarity or G3 Fluttershy and G4 Fluttershy). Whereas here, not so much. I’d say I’m more disappointed about this than I was about G5 being set in the same world as FiM. Because at least G5 gave us completely new ponies for its cast.
Now, I do like the new designs, don’t get me wrong. I mean, I drew fanart of them lol. I think they’re pretty! Though I’d prefer there were even more changes done to them, especially to their colors. I actually prefer the bright dark blue color in Twilight Sparkle’s mane in the leaked image more than the dark purple color in the second image we got. I’m sure it was just image quality that made it look so blue but I think it looks more eye-catching. And while FiM’s Twilight Sparkle’s main hair color is a desaturated indigo, which is closer to blue than purple, the bright blue still feels more different to me than the purple. A bit off topic but I also noticed Twilight Sparkle’s cutie mark is the exact same except with three sparkles surrounding the main one instead of five, which seems to point to her cutie mark representing her and her friends. I don’t recall if that was something that was ever directly confirmed or if it’s just speculation, but regardless it seems to stay true here. Also I thought this Rainbow Dash design had short hair but upon closer inspection I think she actually has long hair… it’s kinda like a long mullet.
Something that makes me a bit hopeful was the promise of new characters. Quoting Tayhan Mustafa here (the new series director): “there is a whole cast of both iconically recognizable and brand new characters to be discovered on the journey.” So… new ponies promised? They also hinted at Applejack and Rarity showing up sometime later. Whatever that means. And the series being 9 minute webisodes could go either way. If they have good writers, they can make it work. Bluey made 7 minute episodes work without feeling fast-paced at all. So it’s possible they’ll do just fine with 9 minutes. But if they end up contributing to the current fast-paced overstimulating low attention-span climate of online kids media instead, then… well, we’ll just have to wait and see won’t we? And their description of how the show will be like - while a bit vague - does give me season 1 FiM vibes. Which, early FiM is my favorite era of that show so... again, we’ll see how it goes. I also hope the art style will be like an animation friendly version of the promo art, ‘cause it’s pretty.
What I’m really curious about though are the toys. I’m hoping the brushables will be pretty. But I’m a little hesitant on the hope for good pony dolls and playsets because while early G4 gave us quite a bit of brushables and toy exclusive ponies, they stopped caring about the mainline brushables later in its run. And G5 was lacking throughout, not having a lot of character options for the brushables (G5 brushables made G2 look like it had a lot of ponies lol). So I’m hesitant to be hopeful about the toyline here.
I was questioning if I should commit just yet to calling this a G6, because at first it really just looked like another G4.5 under a “G6” label to me. Buuuut considering the promise of new characters (ponies I assume) and the fact that this is not in the same canon as FiM, I’ll go along with calling it G6.
Edit: Onto the art itself cuz I completely forgot to talk about the art I drew lol. I had a hard time figuring out how to draw the manes and tails in my style. My style is much more simple than the fully rendered art featured in the promo so that was really tricky. I like how some parts came out while other parts I’m not that satisfied with. The hooves were also tricky and ended up being a little inconsistent in a couple places just due to not being used to drawing hooves like that. I gave them differently colored hooves though cuz I like giving ponies multicolored hooves. Also I guessed on Fluttershy’s cutie mark, it’s most likely not accurate. In the promo, she looks like she has white butterflies for her cutie mark? Which I’d actually prefer! Something to further differentiate her from her G4 design. But in the voice cast reveal video, they used cutie mark symbols as transitions, and Fluttershy’s butterflies had pink wings and turquoise bodies. Soooo idk lol. Also guessed on the placement (and how many butterflies she has). Maybe I could’ve messed around with it more.
hello! im so happy to see another black lesbian on here. ^^
Could you do a drabble/fic on ambessa going to piltover and leaving the reader behind. ambessa promises she will return even after the reader tells her not to go, to stay. ambessa doesnt make it back...
tysm ^^
a/n: Hiii, I'm so happy to see this request, love representing. I hope this is along the lines of what you were looking for 😚♡
In the Late of the Night
She informs you under the cover of darkness, wrapped up in your marital bed. Your safe place. She shatters it with her words.
“I’m going to Piltover…to visit Mel,” Ambessa says, her warm voice nothing more than a whisper above you. She holds you in her arms, and when you tense, she tightens her grip. You can tell by her hesitation that she is lying in some capacity. That something about her statement is untrue. But you’re too stunned to challenge her.
You made a vow, the night of your wedding, to never lie to one another. To share your deepest, darkest secrets and bear the consequences. Her lack of transparency scares the living daylights out of you.
“When do we leave?” You whisper in reply, a hint of frustration lacing your voice. You don’t like the last-minute plans.
It has been a disruptive few years already, with tensions growing in Noxus and Kino’s disappearance. You can’t take much more. But you want to meet Mel. You want to see her in person after so long. However, all hopes of that are dashed by Ambessa’s next words.
“We are not going anywhere, my love. I’m making this journey alone.” Ambessa replies, wincing when you sit up out of her grip suddenly.
The silken sheets slip down your bare back, revealing enough skin to distract your usually eager wife. But for once, she keeps her hands to herself as you glare down at her.
“What are you planning?!” Though you know deep down that if she’s telling now, she’s already planned every meticulous detail of this endeavor. The wheels are already in motion, you’re just the last to know.
“You know I can’t tell you. I have business to attend to that will keep me away for a long time. It is dangerous work; I cannot risk your well-being.” Ambessa replies, trying to placate your growing anger. But she only makes it worse.
“My well-being. What the hell could be so dangerous in Piltover of all places? You sent Mel there for a reason. What are you planning on doing?! For the gods' sake, Ambessa. I'm your wife, you cannot leave me in the dark!” You snarl, not bothering to contain your volume. The servants know to steer clear of your quarters unless explicitly summoned.
“Don’t force my hand. Please.” Ambessa practically begs, her expressive eyes filling with sadness. She sits up with you still in her lap, grasping your waist with one hand and pressing a hand to your cheek with another. “You know I can’t tell you. All I can say is that I’m trying to right a wrong I should have amended years ago. Things have spiraled out of control…I will not put you in jeopardy. I won’t.”
“But you’ll abandon me here to wonder day in and day out what you’re doing. You’ll leave me to find out about your exploits through your letters, through Rictus, or worse, through rumor?” You snarl, shooting up from the bed to pace. Your hands tremble.
A horrible feeling settles in your gut. A warning of something you can’t even begin to understand.
“You can’t go.” You say in an explosion of emotion, voice wobbling. Ambessa sighs and stands to join you. Her strong, bare figure is illuminated by the moonlight, drawing you in. Her beauty makes you weak in the knees, but you can’t give in to her. Not right now.
“Love I—
“—NO. No Ambessa. I forbid it. You don't get to go off and do something horrible, leaving me here to pray you’re still alive. Unless you take me with you, I’ll…I’ll…” You lose steam halfway through, visibly deflating as the fight leaves you.
You can’t think of what to say because no threat you make will stop Ambessa once her plans are set in motion. Once she’s set her sights on something. Your eyes fill with tears, and you rush into the bathroom to hide, walking away from her outstretched hand.
That night, you sleep far apart, tears stream down both your faces as the inevitability of her absence sets in.
Life in Noxus leading up to her departure is tense.
You go about your duties, tending to the Medarda Clan’s affairs as best you can–while worry threatens to swallow you whole.
You barely talk, barely touch each other—but the moment she steps toward that warship, regret rocks you.
Tears fall down your cheeks, and you rush to your wife’s side.
“Please don’t go.” You whisper, holding her arm and pulling—praying she’ll finally listen to you. Even though you know it’s impossible.
Her voice breaks as she placates you. “My love, I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Don’t go, Ambessa, please. Stay here with me. Be here with me instead of fighting for something pointless. Invite Mel home and put down your weapons for once. Please, my darling.” You cry, reaching up to grab her pretty face as gently as you can.
You press a desperate kiss to her lips—they tremble against yours, as Ambessa fights her instinct. Fights against the sadness brewing in her chest.
“I can’t, my love. I can’t…I have to do this. But I’ll return to your side. I promise you.”
“You swear.” You say through tears, looking up at her with a host of emotion swimming in your eyes. You meet her soulful gaze as she nods.
“I swear. I’ll be back in your arms when this is over. No matter what.” Her warm voice falls over you, comforting you for a brief moment. She kisses you deeply, once, twice, three times, as if sealing her love within you. Before she turns away and enters the warship.
Little do you know that will be the last time you see your loving wife. The last memory of her you'll cling to for years to come.
Nearly a year later, after monthly correspondence and updates that become progressively less frequent, a ship bearing Medarda colors comes to the docks.
But it is not Ambessa who steps off it.
It’s Mel. Her eyes haunted, cheeks tear-stained as she walks off the warship, every bit as regal as her mother. She can barely look at you as she presents a familiar mask.
One you see in your dreams. It glints in the sunlight, just as your lovely wife once did. You’ve watched her don that mask alongside her armor more times than you can count. The slash across the face makes your lungs seize.
You fall to your knees, clutching her lion mask—sobs echoing through the streets as the reality of the situation finally sets in. The reality of a loss you haven’t even begun to process.
Ambessa is never coming home. Your wife, the love of your life, your safe place in this world…is never going to be in your arms again.
