The Muses of Mars

The Muses of Mars have been co-authoring works of fiction and fanfiction for more than a decade.

[themusesofmars]

Off-topic, but our account has been tagged in at least five different posts regarding a Ray Ban sunglasses scam. We're seeing it mostly on Jem accounts, so if that's your primary fandom, you might want to check your page for errant posts. For now we're blocking the compromised accounts. Might be a good time for everyone to be updating their passwords...

[themusesofmars]

Would you ever consider doing a Jem/Danse story to accompany that beautiful commission art?

Hi! Thanks for your question. I’ve worked on at least 3 different Jem/Danse fics, because they’re my two favorite characters from the series, but none of them are directly related to the art I commissioned. For that, I just picked a couple outfits I liked and asked the artist to draw them together in those clothes. There was no specific scene in mind, and I don’t plan to incorporate the art itself into a story. I’ve been very busy with work these days so haven’t been doing as much writing as I’d like to, but I’ll keep it in mind that there’s interest in the pairing for the future. Thank you so much!

[themusesofmars]

Fanfiction updated - Jem

The Muses of Mars would like to express our sadness at the passing of Patricia Alice Albrecht, the voice of Pizzazz, on Christmas day. Pizzazz was one of the first villains we came to root for, and no one else could have done her voice such justice. Thank you, Patricia, for being such a huge part of our childhoods. You will never be forgotten. And to our readers, Chapter 11 of Epitaph is up! Read on Archive of Our Own or FFnet. Please enjoy the introduction of The Misfits into the story. And, as always, thank you so much for reading!

[themusesofmars]

Do you have any more Jem and Holograms fan fiction

Yes! I just haven’t posted it yet. I’ll have some free time next week hopefully, so please stay tuned for an update! In the next chapter of “Epitaph,” the Misfits finally make an appearance. And I’ve put a lot of work into a time-traveling story where Jerrica wakes up and she’s back in high school...and her mother is alive! Thank you so much for asking! When people comment, it reminds me to post updates. For now, here’s what’s on the menu: Epitaph - A beloved member of Jem and the Holograms goes missing. After agonizing, sleepless nights and a harrowing search, the hopes and dreams of America's sweetheart pop group are torn apart when the heart and soul of the band is found dead. Running Like the Wind - Kimber takes up a hobby while her broken heart is on the mend. She never expected it would lead to a new romance, but then she meets Eric. He's friendly, gorgeous, and fun to be with. But is her new boyfriend really the man he claims to be? Mystery at the Mardi Gras - Jem and the Holograms receive a mysterious gift of five tickets for a cruise along the Mississippi River, from Baton Rouge to New Orleans. But the Misfits are also headed for the Big Easy so Pizzazz can hook up with her Internet boyfriend. Bands clash, but a party isn't all they find at the Mardi Gras! Mysteries, hauntings, and romance await!

[themusesofmars]

Fanfiction posted - Good Omens

”The Fall” Synopsis: Aziraphale is having the bookshop renovated and finds it’s true what they say: nearly half of all accidents occur in the home. (Mortal/Human A/U) Ineffable Husbands Week, day 3 prompt: “Fall.” Read below, or on Archive of Our Own or FFNET! “How much longer is this going to take?” Crowley complained, pacing around the middle of the bookshop floor, kicking at debris.

From high atop a ladder, where he was perched with a paintbrush in his hand, Aziraphale looked out at the tarp-covered bookcases, stacks of both old and new wood planks, and fragments of plaster and miscellaneous rubble littering the ground. “Oh…two more weeks, at least,” Aziraphale estimated.

“Not for the entire renovation,” Crowley snapped. “I meant how long before you’re finished with whatever you’re doing up there so we can go and get lunch!”

“Oh.” Aziraphale appraised the column he’d been painting. He was replacing the brown paint with gold. Actually, the columns had been bronze, once upon a time, but their gleam had faded and dulled, and he wanted them looking extra shiny and new. But it was a lot of work for one person. He’d hired a crew to do the heavy lifting, of course—the staircase replacement, the flooring work, the major repairs. But he’d thought it would be a waste of money to hire someone to paint. Anyone could paint. All you needed was a bucket and a brush and a nice, tall ladder. “Well, you’re in luck,” he said, sensing Crowley’s impatience. “I was just about to take a break.”

“Excellent! To the Ritz, then?”

As Aziraphale had suspected, Crowley was talking with his stomach. He got a bit testy when he was hungry. Or tired. Or bored.

“That sounds brilliant,” Aziraphale said agreeably. “I’ll be down in two shakes.” The ladder shuddered beneath his weight as if to demonstrate his point as he put the lid back on the paint can and began his descent.

“Be careful!” Crowley shouted up at him. “I can’t catch you if you fall.”

Aziraphale said nothing. Crowley was quite testy, which meant he must be very hungry. So he tried to descend the ladder as quickly as he could, while at the same time trying to take off his paint-splattered apron.

“One thing at a time, Aziraphale!” Crowley sounded a bit shrill. Then he was crying out in genuine fear, watching helplessly as Aziraphale’s foot missed a step and the man went careening from the ladder straight to the floor.

“AZIRAPHALE!” Crowley screamed. He dove to the fallen man’s side, but it was too late. “Angel!” he pleaded frantically. He was afraid to move him, almost afraid to touch him. But he checked for a pulse with one hand while his other was fumbling with his cell phone to dial 9-9-9.

It was the sounds he noticed first. There were all sorts of unfamiliar hums and beeps amidst the buzz of distant chatter. And he was cold, very cold.

Aziraphale opened his eyes and his vision slowly came into focus. The second thing he noticed was how ugly the ceiling was.

“Aziraphale! You’re awake!”

He turned his head stiffly, just in time to see Crowley leap from a chair to his bedside. He parted his lips to speak but his mouth was dry and his throat was sore.

“Hold still,” Crowley ordered. “My darling,” he murmured, kissing Aziraphale’s forehead, then his nose, then the rest of his face. “My darling idiot. Don’t you ever scare me like that again.”

“I’m not even sure what happened,” Aziraphale confessed hoarsely, once Crowley had given him room to breathe and a small sip of cool water.

“You’re in the hospital, you fool,” Crowley said, his words harsh but his tone gentle. He ran his fingers through Aziraphale’s soft, blond curls, barely able to resist climbing onto the hospital bed with him, just to feel him close. “You fell off that stupid ladder—just like I said you would.”

“I…I did? Oh, good heavens.” Aziraphale struggled beneath the thin sheet, wiggling the feeling back into his hands before reaching up and fingering the stiff collar around his neck. “Oh, good heavens…” he breathed again, realization dawning on him. He could have been killed.

Crowley was right to be furious. “I’m not letting you set one foot on that thing again, do you hear me?”

“That’s…probably for the best.”

“Don’t argue with me, Angel. We’ll hire someone to finish the painting, and all the rest, too.”

“For once I’m in complete agreement with you.”

“And another thing—oh, you’re what?” Crowley was startled into silence. Then he said, “Oh. Well, that’s fine, then.” He seemed almost disappointed to cool his temper. He quickly fired it up again. “It serves you right. You’ll be living off hospital food for a week, and I’m not sorry.”

Aziraphale’s face crumbled. “Oh, no, please,” he begged mournfully. “It isn’t fair. I didn’t mean to fall.”

Crowley tried and failed to maintain his angry face. “I know,” he sighed at last. “That’s why I brought these.” He grabbed a bag of donuts from a side table and held them up for Aziraphale to see. They were from his lover’s favorite bakery.

“Oh! Oh, Crowley, you’re so good to me,” Angel crooned at him.

“Shut up,” Crowley grumbled, sounding far more annoyed than he truly was. “I should beat you with the bag and make you eat mashed up donuts for what you put me through.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, love,” Aziraphale said fretfully. “I promise I won’t let it happen again.”

“Good.” Crowley dropped the donut bag onto Aziraphale’s stomach unceremoniously. “Get rid of those before the nurses see them. I’ll go find you a blanket.”

[themusesofmars]

Fanfiction posted - Good Omens

MESOPOTAMIA: 3004 BC “Ah…here comes the rain,” Aziraphale said. “I noticed,” Crawly snapped, blinking as plump droplets splashed his eyes. The wind was picking up as the sky further darkened, tossing his long, red curls over his shoulders. He watched with something deeper than pity in his heart as men, women, and even children scurried to get home to their village, hoping to be safe from the storm. It was saddening to think that those same families and their homes would soon be underwater. “Well…shall we be off?” Aziraphale asked Crawly through a forced smile. Crawly’s attention snapped back to the angel. “You’re just going to leave these people to drown then, are you?” Aziraphale was visibly uncomfortable by his decision, but it seemed his mind was made up. “The Almighty’s plan has been set in motion. If we stay here, we may be drowning ourselves, as well.” “I can’t believe you!” Crawly drew back in repulsion, as if he did not even recognize the creature standing next to him. “Which of us is the demon here?” Click one of the following links to continue reading on AO3 or FFNET!

[themusesofmars]

Fanfiction Posted - Good Omens

It’s Ineffable Husbands Week! Day 1 prompt: music. “Mood Music” Synopsis: Hoping for a little action, Crowley puts on some music to set the mood. But he and Aziraphale have vastly different tastes. Read on Archive of Our Own or FFNET, or continue on below...

“Crowley, wait,” Aziraphale mumbled against the lips hungrily kissing his mouth. “Wait, Crowley.” Crowley did not wait. Aziraphale felt the demon’s mouth trail lower as the other man’s face pressed against his neck. Crowley’s arms were around him, hands grasping gently. And his hips were… “S-stop, I said!”

“…Hrm…?” Crowley’s wordless question was muffled against Aziraphale’s throat. He blinked slowly as if coming out of a daze as he drew back and his golden eyes focused on the angel’s face.

“…Crowley,” Aziraphale said again, pressing his palm firmly against the other man’s chest.

“Oh—got it.” Crowley licked his lips, finding them swollen and tender, and drew back. He’d been so into it, he hadn’t even realized that he’d pinned the angel down on his black leather sofa until Aziraphale had snapped him out of it. “Too fast?” he assumed. “I didn’t mean to… I just wanted to kiss you.”

Aziraphale sat up the instant there was enough space between them to do so, then set about adjusting his clothing. “It isn’t that,” he murmured, his face flushed and his collar feeling suddenly altogether too tight for comfort.

Sensing their rendezvous was about to come to a decided end, Crowley desperately sought for any words he could think of that would make the angel stay. “We don’t have to… We can take a break for a bit. Can I get you something to drink? We can take a little time to cool down before we try again. Just the kissing,” he added quickly.

Aziraphale gave him a half-hearted smile. “It’s not that, Crowley. I was enjoying the…everything. I just… Well, I cannot concentrate with that noise droning on in the background!”

The serpent’s eyes widened, then he hissed. “But that’s George Michael,” he said, bewildered. “Careless Whisper is a classic. Doesn’t it put you right in the mood? That sax is sexy, Aziraphale. The sexiest.” Aziraphale seemed unconvinced. “Come on, it’s romantic. You have to feel that it is.”

“I don’t like the lyrics.” Aziraphale was seated with his hands resting on his lap, frowning and looking quite discomfited. “It… It’s about infidelity.” He whispered it like a dirty word. “That’s not very romantic to me. Not romantic at all.”

Crowley turned to face Aziraphale, drawing his legs up until he was kneeling. He took the angel’s hands in his and lifted them to his lips and kissed his fingers, and Aziraphale only resisted a little. “Listen to me, Aziraphale,” Crowley said, staring into the angel’s eyes. Aziraphale seemed to have a hard time meeting his gaze, so Crowley reached up and cupped his cheek. “Look at me,” he said softly, gently turning Aziraphale’s face towards him while squeezing his hand. “The words don’t mean anything. I was just trying to set the mood. Don’t like them? Gone.” He snapped his fingers and the music continued to play softly, without George Michael’s mournful crooning.

Aziraphale’s lips twitched as he almost smiled. “That’s a bit better,” he admitted.

“Then…can I kiss you again?” Crowley asked, unable to help sounding a little impatient.

“All right, then,” Aziraphale said uncertainly.

The words were hardly out of his mouth before Crowley’s hands were gripping his shoulders, pressing him eagerly back down against the cushions. Ignoring the soreness of his lips, Crowley resumed kissing the angel. Yet the song was still getting to Aziraphale.

“No, no. I still hear it.” Aziraphale shook his head determinedly and Crowley drew back with a heavy sigh to let the angel sit up. “I’m sorry, Crowley, but I just can’t!”

Crowley snapped his fingers again and the music shut off completely.

They sat there silently for a while, Aziraphale a little huffy and a little sorry and awkward all over; Crowley mostly frustrated, but not truly with Aziraphale.

“I think I should go,” the angel said at last, slowly rising from the couch.

“Good idea.” Crowley stood up. “I think I’ll join you.”

Aziraphale turned to Crowley with astonishment.

“This always happens when you come over,” Crowley accused hotly. “I know it’s not me, so it must be my apartment that’s killing the mood. So I say we go back to your place.” He was already on his way to the door. “There’s nowhere more romantic than a bookshop, really, if you think about it.”

Aziraphale followed Crowley to the door and they donned their jackets. He looked rather pleased. “I’ll make tea.”

“Wine will do. And we can listen to whatever music you like. Or none at all, if you prefer.”

The angel’s cherubic face beamed as Crowley held the apartment door open for him.

[themusesofmars]

Fanfiction Posted - FFXV

We’ve been working on this fic for over a year and it’s gotten really huge! For now we’re just posting a couple of chapters to see if people are interested in seeing more. So, if you are, please leave us a comment! “The School of Love and Heartbreak” Rating: explicit Synopsis: (College A/U) Under suspicious circumstances, Senator Regis Lucis Caelum's son, Noctis, is expelled from Galahd Business Academy. He is forced to transfer to Insomnia University, where he catches the eye of one teaching assistant, Ignis Scientia, and the ire of another, Ravus Nox Fleuret. Noctis is drawn into an intense love triangle, vying with Ravus for Ignis's attention despite the dangers of becoming involved with his instructor. Meanwhile, another professor, Ardyn Izunia, has designs on Ravus, and a lover from Noct's past wants him back. With his standing at the university and his reputation as a prominent political figure's son on the line, will Noct choose to do what's right, or what's in his heart? Read on Archive of Our Own.

[ravuszine-blog]

We’re so excited to announce the full list of participants for cor aut mors! We can’t wait to see what our team will come up with, and hope you’re all as excited as we are!

Our team consists of a total 11 artists and 6 writers. Check below to see all of our talented participants’s social media links– be sure to check out their work!

We want to thank everyone again for their support and interest in our little project for the former prince of Tenebrae. We wouldn’t have a zine without our participant’s enthusiasm, and all of the support that’s come from everyone else interested in it as well. We’re so grateful for everyone’s continued encouragement as we get this zine off the ground, and would appreciate anyone sharing this list to get the word out to all Ravus fans out there!

Keep reading

[themusesofmars]

So grateful for the chance to participate in this amazing zine! Please look forward to it!

[themusesofmars]

Fanfiction posted - Suikoden

“These Vows I Make” I wrote this a while back and don’t believe I ever did post it. I was replaying Suikoden and felt inspired to write about Flik and Odessa. I really liked Odessa and I loved that a woman was the initial leader of the rebellion against the Empire. Hope you enjoy. Synopsis: Flik and Odessa share one last night together, making promises both desire more than anything to keep. They were alone in her room, warmed by the feel of one another’s skin and surrounded by the gentle glow of candlelight. But despite having tried to loosen it for the last hour, Odessa Silverberg could still feel the tension lingering on Flik like a coat of sweat, his bare body radiating heat beneath hers. He lay on his stomach and she on his back, and even with his head resting on his folded arms, his gaze facing away from hers, Odessa knew his eyes were open and his thoughts were restless. She couldn’t remember ever having been unable to put his mind at ease before, but tonight he was unusually troubled. Her coppery mane rained over his shoulder as Odessa leaned forward and trailed kisses along Flik’s leanly muscled spine. Her lips tasted new scars that hadn’t been there when their journey first began. Was she responsible for them? No, she reassured herself; the blame laid with this accursed war—with the damned Empire. The Liberation Army’s doyenne heaved a breathy sigh and abandoned her plot to seduce her vice commander from his sense of duty. Maybe in the beginning he had joined the rebellion for her sake alone, but it had come to be a cause he believed in just as strongly as she did. So, while the rest of her council had long since retired for the night, Lady Odessa Silverberg opened the floor for one last debate this evening. “You’re angry I let them go,” she surmised. Grady, the military commander of Rockland, had strung up the leaders of the Mt. Seifu bandits, Varkas and Sydonia, and left them to starve to death. Odessa had sent a small group of newcomers to enact a rescue operation in the dusty little town to the east. And not everyone approved of her decision—including her lover. Want to continue the story?    Read on FFNET Read at Archive of Our Own

[themusesofmars]

Fanfiction Updated - Jem

Oops! I wrote Chapter 10 ages ago and forgot to ever post it! Thanks so much for reviewing. Without your kind words, I would forget about this story! Thanks to your gentle reminder, kind reader, the fic has been updated with Chapter 10 now, and the next two scenes are in-progress, so stay tuned! Synopsis:  A beloved member of Jem and the Holograms goes missing. After agonizing, sleepless nights and a harrowing search, the hopes and dreams of America’s sweetheart pop group are torn apart when the heart and soul of the band is found dead. Read on FFNET Read at Archive of Our Own

[ao3feed-ignoct]

Cleaning Out My Closet

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2F8ZrQu

by The_Muses_of_Mars

After goodbyes have been said, there’s only one thing left to do: clean out your closet.

EXCERPT:

So. What was in this mysterious, unassuming little box?

Noct held it in his lap for a while, his hand resting on the lid as if resting on his beloved’s chest, feeling his heart beating inside. It was roughly the size of a shoebox, but heavier than a pair of shoes should be. At length, the king said, “Forgive me for prying, my love. I just can’t bear the thought of there being some remaining piece of you that wasn’t a part of me.”

Words: 1873, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Final Fantasy XV

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Major Character Death

Categories: M/M

Characters: Noctis Lucis Caelum, Ignis Scientia

Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia, IgNoct - Relationship

Additional Tags: Sad

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2F8ZrQu

[themusesofmars]

Thanks for the blog!

[themusesofmars]

Fanfiction Posted - Final Fantasy XV

As a token of goodwill and friendship, Insomnia hosts a New Year’s Eve ball and invites the Empire to attend as the two great kingdoms of Eos celebrate the engagement between Prince Noctis and Princess Lunafreya. But not everyone’s rejoicing. (Noct x Ignis, Gladio x Prompto)

Read “Happy New Year” on Fanfiction.Net.

Read “Happy New Year” at Archive of Our Own.

Recommended listening: “Waltz for the Moon,” from the Final Fantasy VIII soundtrack.

This story was so much fun to write! It was interesting to see how Insomniacs and Imperials would interact at a cordial social gathering. And can’t help but enjoy humiliating Gladio. lol Hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

[themusesofmars]

Happy New Year from The Muses of Mars!

It was New Year’s Eve and the Insomnia palace had been decked out for the festivities. The staff had hung the fancy drapes and broken out the good silverware just for the occasion. Streamers were wound ‘round the staircase bannisters and the chandeliers glittered with the flames of the thousands of candles reflecting against their sparkling crystals. Several of the palace guards had been put on firework duty and were preparing the equipment in the courtyard, while hundreds of balloons were trapped inside a massive net on the ballroom ceiling, waiting to be released at midnight.

The palace’s invited guests showed up to the party dressed to impress, and entered the ballroom to the luxury of red-carpet treatment. A fountain of champagne awaited them as soon as they had been formally announced, and each attendee could expect a personal greeting from King Regis himself. The air was filled with the music of an elegant symphony that seemed to go on forever, played to perfection by the royal orchestra. And the scents wafting from the boundless buffet table were certain to whet even the pickiest of appetites.

Ignis Scientia accosted a server carrying a tray of bubbly and procured a glass of pink champagne for himself, then quickly moved out of the way and found a secluded spot behind a column where he could observe the crowd and not attract any unwanted attention. After all, the tall, slender gentleman looked strikingly handsome in his black tuxedo, white gloves, and slicked-back, ash blond hair, and more than one lady’s eyes had wandered over his figure appreciatively. Yet he did not wish to be approached, for neither conversation nor dance. Behind his glasses, his emerald eyes scanned the throng for a familiar shock of dark hair. But it seemed the prince had yet to make an appearance.

The music halted abruptly and conversations suddenly hushed. Ignis’s attention shifted toward the orchestra to see if something had happened. It was then he saw what everyone else was looking at, and just as his gaze settled on an impossibly beautiful young woman wearing an exquisite sky blue ballgown, the crier announced: “The Lady Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, Princess of Tenebrae.”

Ladies gasped and men’s eyes flashed as the vision in chiffon and silk floated into the room, light as a feather and airy as a cloud. Ladies flocked around the princess to admire her stunning holiday attire and the extravagant coif of her fine, blonde hair, chittering excitedly. As they encircled the young woman and bowed before her regal presence, the skirts of their gowns swept across the carpet like flower petals drifting from the boughs of a dogwood.

And then there he was, at last: Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum, in a form-fitting, hand-tailored suit of blackest ebony, and all others stepped aside to allow Princess Luna’s gorgeous fiancé to greet her.

The two royals bowed to one another formally, then Noctis offered the lady his arm, his free hand moving to rest against the small of his back. She accepted, and the other women swooned while the men looked on with envy of their own. For a moment the prince’s stormy gray eyes met his proud father’s, and he nodded his dark head. With a smile the king gestured to the orchestra, and the music resumed as if it had never been interrupted as the prince and princess claimed a spot on the ballroom dance floor and fell into one another’s arms.

Ignis turned away, his back pressed to the towering stone column behind him. He downed the rest of his champagne in a single swallow, then swapped his empty glass for a full one the instant another server passed by with a tray, and drained it, too.

It was but two hours till midnight, yet felt like much longer. He needed air. And another drink.

Ignis approached the buffet table where a surplus of wine bottles had been set out to open as needed. He stole one away and hid it under his tuxedo jacket before he made for the balcony.

Prompto Argentum was running late—as usual—but it wasn’t his fault! His stupid tie had refused to cooperate, so he’d finally given up trying to force it to behave and left it behind. It was kind of modern, to show up to a super formal affair with the top button or two of one’s dress shirt undone, right? As he stood in front of the mirror in his room, checking himself out one last time before greeting the public, he hoped King Regis would think he looked hip, and not send him back upstairs in disgrace.

He tried to be discreet as he descended the stairs, but when the grand spectacle that was the palace ballroom came into view, he forgot to be self-conscious. He’d never seen so many people, such dazzling lights, or so much food! Everything was so fancy that for a moment he felt like he didn’t belong. But then he remembered he was a close personal friend of the prince, and he was going to be the best man at Noct’s wedding, so of course he was supposed to be at the engagement-slash-New Year’s party!

Grinning as he felt his shoulders relax, Prompto bounced down the stairs and made a beeline for the buffet. He suddenly realized he was starving, and it wasn’t often he got to eat the king’s own food.

Even dinner looked fancy, but the youth’s gaze locked onto the dessert table and would not be swayed. What the heck, it’s a party! he decided with little hesitation.

Prompto seized a plate and then dove in, grabbing a fistful of bonbons (causing two women behind him to gasp), plucking three cupcakes from a rack (making a man behind him clear his throat quite loudly), taking two slices of cake (setting a trio of children off in fits of laughter), and then selecting four or five iced cookies shaped like wedding bells. Just looking at all the chocolate and caramel and sugar was making him thirsty, so when he moved down the line toward the champagne table, he cheered out loud. “Woohoo! Time for some drinky!” He reached for a glass stem, only to have his hand smacked away. “Ouch!”

“Aren’t you a little young for booze?” Suddenly a man with a booming voice was standing next to him.

“Yeah, but it’s a holiday, so…” Prompto looked up at the prince’s bodyguard, Gladiolus Amicitia…and burst into laughter.

Gladio was taken aback and embarrassed by the sudden outburst. “Would you get ahold of yourself?” he grumbled, his eyes shifting left and right. “People are staring.”

“Sorry, big guy!” Prompto wiped a tear from his eye and patted the larger man’s shoulder. “I’ve just never seen a behemoth in a suit before.”

“Hmph,” Gladio grunted, adjusting the tie at his neck self-consciously. “And just what do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, pointing a finger at Prompto’s plate. “Does your New Year’s resolution involve a diabetic coma?”

Prompto popped a bonbon into his mouth with a shrug. “YOLO.”

Gladio rolled his eyes and heaved a heavy sigh. “Whatever. I’m gonna see if I can score. Just…keep out of my way.”

“What?!” Prompto choked on a cookie, spewing crumbs.

Gladio gave him a dark look, dusting off the lapel of his jacket. “And for your own sake, don’t let Ignis see you with that crap. He’ll lecture you for days.”

Outside, the air was quite cool. Small groups of guests and a few couples were loitering about the promenade, though as Ignis passed by them he heard more than one complaint about the cold and noticed the ladies hugging their shawls tightly about their shoulders. He felt nothing, save for an ache in his chest that would not subside.

He found a quiet bench in a darkened corner, the branches of a large, potted tree obscuring him from view as he pulled the wine bottle out from inside his jacket and struggled to uncork it with his bare hands. The cork pulled free of the bottle neck with a loud pop! but Ignis managed to aim it away from himself and keep his tuxedo dry. His throat, however, was parched, and he put the mouth of the bottle to his lips and drank deeply.

How had it come to this? How had his secret obsession gone so far? It had hurt to learn that Lunafreya and Noctis had become betrothed—even though the engagement was widely known to be a political ploy—but to actually see them together was an agony he could not bear. Why had he even come to the party, knowing he would see them? Perhaps he felt it was his duty as future advisor to the Crown to be present for such an auspicious occasion: the royal couple’s first public appearance since news of their impending nuptials had been announced. Or perhaps he had wanted to test the waters, to discover whether or not he could tolerate witnessing their union. Well, now he had his answer, he thought, taking another long drink of the robust red wine. Being here had served to do nothing but cause him immense suffering, and now that he was present at the party he had no justification to excuse himself. But he had his diversion, and he intended to make good use of it. By the time the guests were counting down the last seconds to midnight and marking the start of a new beginning, toasting their wishes and hopes and dreams for the new year, with any luck he’d be “toasted” into oblivion.

The waltz, the galliard, the minuet… One dance between the affianced royals had only served to stun the ballroom into silence. Two dances had drawn a huge crowd to watch. The third brought everyone to the floor, dancing gleefully. What a boon, to be able to boast of dancing alongside the future King and Queen of Insomnia! One dance had been vexing; two, tiresome. By the end of the third, Noct just wanted to rip the tie from his neck and breathe in peace.

Fortunately, Princess Lunafreya was in high demand, a long line of men waiting to take his place the moment they parted, and Noct was able to excuse himself from the dance floor, dodging would-be partners of his own. He hadn’t attended a ball since Lunafreya’s thirteenth birthday party more than a decade ago, which had been boring enough when he was a kid, but now that he was a young man he found them all the more dull and pretentious.

Noct didn’t make it far, however, before his father had materialized at his side and taken hold of his shoulder in a vice grip, steering him toward a group of Imperial dignitaries. He grimaced in pain both physical and emotional. The Empire had been their long-time enemy, but mere weeks ago he had learned he was being married off to their darling princess. He was nothing more than a pawn to these people, and he had no desire to spend any amount of time in their company, but the King of Insomnia was clearly giving him no choice in the matter…much the same as in any other.

“Chancellor Izunia,” King Regis called out as they approached a tight-knit cluster of men, “please allow me to introduce you to my son, Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum. Noct, this gentleman is Ardyn Izunia, Chancellor to our good friends in Niflheim.”

Noctis had to be shoved forward before he would move an inch closer. The man called Ardyn Izunia arched his auburn brows at the young prince as though pleasantly surprised to have bumped into him here. It was the most insincere, smug smirk Noct had ever seen.

“Your Highness!” Ardyn sang out with a flowery waving gesture and an excessively deferential bow. His robes bore an ornate, stuffy pattern and far too many frills and ruffles to be taken seriously. “At last, we meet.”

Noct managed a stiff nod.

Ardyn gave the prince a cursory appraisal. His own hair was long and unkempt, his cape was rumpled, and Noctis noticed the man’s boots were caked in dirt. It was as if he couldn’t be bothered, or felt no need to impress or even respect the royal family of Insomnia. He also appeared to be far younger than any of the councilors and politicians Noct was used to; he couldn’t be more than thirty-five.

“So,” Ardyn intoned in a way that made Noct’s spine tingle unpleasantly, “you’re the strapping young lad who’s captured our dear Princess Lunafreya’s heart, hm?”

The other men chuckled.

Noctis didn’t laugh. It was a sick joke, and it wasn’t funny. It wasn’t even true.

“Shy thing, isn’t he?” Chancellor Ardyn appealed to King Regis. Then he turned his attention back to the prince. “We’re all so looking forward to your visit to Gralea, Your Highness. Permit me to personally congratulate you on your engagement to the Lady Lunafreya.” He offered his hand for a shake.

Noct did not want to touch him. He turned his head and looked away.

“A most kind and gracious gesture, Chancellor Izunia. We thank you,” King Regis responded in his son’s stead, placing his hand back on Noct’s shoulder and squeezing it painfully in warning.

Noct’s gaze turned sharply back to his father as he winced. Regis let him go.

“If you’ll please excuse me,” Noctis said through gritted teeth, “the princess kept me for three dances, and I’m in need of a refreshment.” He bowed just slightly, then walked away quickly before his father could stop him again.

“So these things were firing at me—like, a thousand rounds a second—and I was just dodgin’ bullets, swingin’ fists… You know, dancing around them like they were shooting in the dark.”

Gladio stood surrounded by nearly a dozen fascinated females who were hanging on his every word. Their eyes were wide and their cheeks were rosy with excitement as he regaled them with the tale of the time—according to Gladio—he took out a hoarde of Imperial forces single-handedly during one of their two kingdoms’ skirmishes.

Unbeknown to him, he was also attracting the attention of someone else.

“So finally, they must’ve gotten sick of having all their empty-headed toy soldiers slaughtered, and they sent in the big guns.”

“Empty-headed toy soldiers?” one of the women repeated.

“Yeah, the M.T.s—magitek troops. They ain’t real people, ya know.”

“Oh?”

“Nope. They’re robots.”

The women gasped. Some of them giggled nervously.

“Yeah, robots,” Gladio went on. “Anyway, I was breakin’ all their playthings, so the Empire sent out these ginormous, walking armored vehicles that started firing lazer beams right at me!”

Someone in the back of the crowd snorted.

Well, not very ladylike, but nevertheless Gladio continued, “So I just took my sword and chopped the legs clean off ‘em.”

“What then?”

“Well, the things just folded up like paper cranes and that was that!”

The ladies clapped, giggled, and crooned at him, all but fondling his muscles. Gladio was feeling pretty proud of himself right about them, but suddenly the heckler in the back stepped forward and put an end to his fun.

“A most amusing story,” a familiar voice rose above the din. “Tell me, did you come up with that little piece of fiction yourself, or did you need the help of your pretty prince to concoct such a bold-faced lie?”

The gathering broke apart slowly, all heads turning to see who was coming to refute Gladio’s claims.

There stood Prince Ravus Nox Fleuret, elder brother to the Lady Lunafreya and a high-ranking officer in the Imperial army by his own right.

“It is a extraordinary sort of tale to recount, I think,” Ravus continued, stepping forward as the crowd made way. “What with this being a peaceful assembly, don’t you find it in poor taste to entertain your guests by discussing the tragic incident during which you and your prince trespassed on Imperial territory and vandalized government property, claiming dozens of innocent lives?” He had chosen to attend the ball in his formal military dress uniform, and with his shocking white hair and steel-gray eyes, he was as imposing figure as Gladio. And between the two, it was a close call to determine who was the handsomest; but while Gladio’s tattoos, battle scars, and boasts might be attractive some, there was no denying the charm and appeal of a beautiful and commanding prince whose quick rise to power was well-known and respected.

One of the women looked up at Gladio skeptically. “But…you said they were robots.”

Ravus burst into exaggerated laughter, then covered his mouth with the back of his hand. “Forgive me, mademoiselle. But our Imperial troops—magitek troopers, we call them—are biogentically engineered soldiers. I assure you, they are quite alive…albeit inhuman. But if you’re concerned with the loss of innocent lives I mentioned, I referred to the living, breathing human beings who were massacred while on guard duty during the malicious attack on one of our storage facilities.”

“You assaulted guards at a storage facility?” another woman demanded accusatorily. “I thought you were fighting on the front lines before King Regis agreed to a ceasefire!”

“Uh… Well, no…” Gladio tugged at his tie. It was beginning to choke.

“Well, doesn’t that sound like murder?”

“Now, wait a minute—we’re at war with the Empire.”

“Were at war,” Ravus corrected helpfully.

“And they had it comin’. I mean—”

The women were slowly drifting away from Gladio.

One small, young girl remained at Gladio’s side, not quite ready to give up on him yet. “But, you did dodge a thousand bullets a second, didn’t you?” she asked, her eyes questioning and her voice filled with hope.

“Well, of course—”

“Our weapons aren’t capable of such speeds,” Ravus interrupted, quickly adding, “nor are anyone else’s, I might add. The Empire’s assault rifles are capable of firing a thousand rounds per minute, as are our submachines. Our weaponry is the most advanced in all of Eos.”

“What about the lazers?” the girl pressed. She was probably only about fifteen or so, and Gladio was beginning to wish she’d just go away.

Ravus cracked an amused smile. “They were missiles, my lady. But as I recall, Prince Noctis was the one who took out one of our armored vehicles, by commandeering a howitzer.”

Finally, the last of Gladio’s fans shifted loyalties and took up a position at Ravus’s side.

“Now, I think that’s more than enough horrific talk of bloodshed for one evening,” Ravus said more cheerfully. “Which of you lovely creatures would be willing to grace me with a dance?”

At once the women were arguing over who would be the lucky girl, and the whole Ravus Fan Club waltzed away, leaving Gladio standing alone.

He sighed. “I really hate that guy,” he muttered to himself.

It hadn’t been easy, but Noctis had finally escaped. He’d had to disentangle himself from the grasping paws of tween fangirls, seductive heiresses, and a wealthy widow or two, then evade his own fiancée’s detection—not to mention his father’s. But at last he’d ducked his head and made a dash for the balcony. He hoped here, at least, he could catch his breath and maybe have a moment of peace and quiet to himself. It might be just dark enough at the end of the walkway for him to get by without being noticed.

Unfortunately, the balcony was a little more crowded than he’d counted on. People were beginning to flock outside in anticipation of the final countdown to midnight, when the guards would set off a fireworks display that promised to be spectacular.

The prince turned his face to the wall and walked quickly down the promenade until he nearly collided with a potted plant.

“Ugh! Stupid tree,” Noctis grunted, rubbing his cheek where a branch had poked him.

He made his way around the pot and then came to a sudden stop. There, sitting alone on a bench on the other side of the shrub, was Ignis.

“You lucky son of a bitch!” Noctis said a bit too loudly, flopping down beside his court-appointed advisor. He noticed then that Ignis had a bottle of wine all to himself, and he reached out and took it right out of his hands. “I mean, I knew you were smart…but, damn, Iggy! Hiding back here with your own private stash…that’s just ingenious, man.” He put the bottle to his lips and took a satisfying gulp.

Ignis was so stunned he didn’t even try to keep his grip on the wine bottle. His mouth fell open and he forgot for a moment how red his eyes were and how badly they ached. He just thought to himself, I must be far drunker than I thought.

Noct leaned his head back against the pane of a window and closed his eyes, breathing a sigh of sweet relief. Fortunately the drapes on the other side of the glass hid them from view, because he did not want to get caught, now that he’d finally gotten away.

He smiled as a cool breeze ruffled his long, black hair. “I should have come out here with you a long time ago,” Noctis murmured happily. Then he opened an eye, glaring at Ignis. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming outside, anyway? I’d have come with you.”

Ignis’s lower jaw worked as he struggled for a suitable answer. Finally, he was able to reply, “You were otherwise…engaged, Highness.”

“Well, I’m free now,” Noctis said rather flippantly. He took another long drink of wine, smacking his lips with satisfaction. “It’s good. You have fine taste, Ignis.”

Ignis looked the boy over with regret. “I’d like to think so.”

Noct gave him a little smile and set the bottle down on the ground at their feet. It was half empty. “Have you been out here all night?”

“Well…almost. Nearly. Almost, nearly…a few hours, perhaps.”

“Ignis?”

“…Yes, Highness?”

“You’re drunk.”

Ignis flushed scarlet. “M-my apologies,” he stuttered in embarrassment. His head was swimming and the prince was sitting right beside him and he’d been thinking about him all night and avoiding seeing him with Lunafreya and wishing he had control over his own heart and drinking and drinking and drinking…

“You don’t have to be sorry.” Noctis laughed, slapping Ignis’s thigh. “I just wish you’d told me so I could have been spending time with you instead of…you know.” He sighed, his gaze downcast.

Ignis blinked the fog from his eyes and took a long, hard look at the prince. Noctis hadn’t really had a choice in the matter, but it was the first time Ignis had ever heard him speak of his engagement with regret. This was the first time it had even crossed his mind that Noct wasn’t happy.

“Don’t do it,” Ignis whispered without meaning to.

“What?” Noct looked at him. “Don’t do what?”

“Just…” Ignis shook his head once, slowly. He tried again. “You should do what makes you happy. You should be happy. You deserve to be happy.”

The prince stared back at him for a long time. Ignis began to wonder if he’d slipped into another language unintentionally. That had been known to happen when he’d become inebriated in the past. But then Noct said, “Thanks, Ignis. It’s nice to know someone gives a shit about how I feel.”

“Oh, Noct…” Ignis’s eyes burned and his throat ached. “I have no words… Suffice it to say…I care a very great deal about your feelings.”

Noct smiled gently back at him.

Suddenly someone stepped out onto the veranda and called out loudly, “One minute till midnight!”

“One minute till midnight!”

The orchestra abruptly ended their final song for the evening, leaving Prompto without a dance partner. Turned out those Imperial girls were pretty fun, but they vanished just as quickly as the music. Prompto gave the band his heartfelt applause and a cellist smiled and waved.

Grinning happily, Prompto started wandering away from the dance floor. It seemed as though everyone was getting ready for the grande finale. Some were filtering outdoors for the fireworks, others were seeking partners for the traditional first kiss of the year.

Suddenly, Prompto noticed Gladio heading his way.

“Heya, big guy!” he greeted as Gladio reached him. “Great party, huh? So what’s up?” He saw the other man was alone, and looked around in confusion. “Didn’t you, uh, ‘score’?”

Gladio grunted in response, looking rather put out.

“Aw. You struck out, huh?” Prompto gave the older man a sympathetic smile. “Oh, well. There’s always next year!”

Gladio crossed his arms and shrugged his broad shoulders. “Whatever. No big deal. I’m just glad this party’s almost over.”

Prompto sighed. “Yeah. It was fun, but I’m getting pretty tired. I was actually thinking about heading on upstairs—you know, beat the crowds before everyone’s rushing for the door.”

“What, and miss out on your first kiss of the year?” Gladio teased.

Prompto frowned and threw his arms out to the sides. “Uh, hello? Do you see anybody over here?”

“Ten seconds!” someone cried.

Unperturbed, Gladio looked down at the boy with a more serious expression. “How ‘bout me?”

Prompto’s eyes widened impossibly. “Huh?”

“…Nine! …Eight! …Seven!”

“How about me, for your first kiss?”

“They’ve begun the countdown,” Ignis remarked, sitting up stiffly. “I…assume you’ll want to find the princess?”

“Why, so I can give them a good show?” Noctis snorted. “No, thanks. I’m good right here.”

“Yes, but…” Ignis didn’t want to even think about a kiss shared between Noctis and Lunfreya, but… “What about tradition?”

Noctis turned to face Ignis.

“…Six! …Five! …Four!”

After hesitating for just a few seconds, the prince unexpectedly reached up and wrapped his arms around the other man’s neck.

“Y-your Highness!”

“…Three! …Two! …One!”

Noct smiled gently. “You said I should do what makes me happy,” he reminded Ignis. “So…”

“Happy New Year!”

[themusesofmars]

How IgNoct Saved Christmas

Happy holidays, @lhugbereth! Your @ignoctsecretsanta request was “AU-ish and IgNoct’s first time/still working out the kinks.” I’ve come up with a buddy-cop IgNoct A/U for you, in which Ignis and Noctis butt heads, fall for each other, and save Christmas! All in a night’s work. ;) I had a blast writing this story, and I really hope you enjoy it. It’s quite long, so rather than post to Tumblr, I’ve just linked to my online fanfiction-hosting accounts. Title: How IgNoct Saved Christmas Rating: PG Warnings: mild language and brief violence Word count: 14,000+ Synopsis:  Detective Noctis Lucis Caelum is king of the Insomnia Police Department. But Detective Ignis Scientia has just transferred to the Insomnia precinct from Tenebrae and threatens to put a serious cramp in Noct’s style by shoving rules and regulations down his reluctant throat. Noct and Ignis subsequently butt heads, fall for each other, and save Christmas! All in a night’s work. Read on Archive of Our Own  (*includes bonus content*) Read on FFNET

[themusesofmars]

This A/U is never far from my thoughts. The last year of my life has been extremely hectic but I have every intention of continuing this theme and creating a series of IgNoct buddy cop fics. I’m just waiting for the right inspiration to strike. Thank you for reading.

[themusesofmars]

Fanfiction Posted - Yuri!!! on Ice

Good evening! Hope everyone is enjoying the season. The @otayuriwriterscollective​ is hosting a winter event for our favorite pairing from Yuri!!! on Ice, and we couldn’t resist joining in! Prompt: “Baby, it’s cold outside!” Title: “Keep Me Warm” Rating: General Synopsis: Yuri was excited to meet up with his friend, Otabek, over the holidays and do some sightseeing around New York City. But he was unprepared for how cold it would be in the city in winter…or for how Otabek would keep him warm. Read on FFNET Read at AO3

Yuri stepped out of the hotel building and shivered as the icy winter air whipped through his hair and tossed the blond strands wildly around his face. He quickly pulled his hood over his head and zipped up his jacket. He’d been aware of the low temperature today, but he had plans with Otabek, so not even the cold could chase him back inside.

Otabek had texted him just a few minutes ago to say he was already outside and would buy them some hot chocolate from a pastry truck on the street. The two of them had flown to New York City to hang out and do some sightseeing for the holidays. Just because Yuri was used to the cold didn’t mean he liked it, and he was grateful when he saw Otabek at the curb just down the block, tucking his wallet into his back pocket before reaching for two steaming styrofoam cups. Their eyes met from the short distance and Yuri couldn’t fight back a smile. He tucked his chin into his collar to hide it and briefly waved a hand in greeting before shoving it into his pocket to keep it from being chapped by the wind.

They had come to the United States on different flights, so this was actually the first time they’d seen each other since arriving in New York. But as excited as Yuri felt, Otabek did not appear to share his enthusiasm. The taller man was walking towards him with a deep frown marring his handsome face.

When Otabek reached him, Yuri didn’t have to try anymore to hide a smile, because it had faded away. He had been anxious to see his friend again for the first time after the Grand Prix Finals skating competition, during which Yuri had won the gold medal, and had wondered how they would greet each other: with a shake of hands, a hug? Now all Yuri could think to offer was a flat, “Hey.” He kept his hands in his jacket pockets.

“Yuri,” Otabek said sternly, looking him over. “Where is your coat? Aren’t you cold? You must be; I can see your breath.”

Yuri was taken aback, but come to think of it, Otabek was snugly bundled up in a black winter coat and had on a scarf and gloves, to boot.

“I d-d-didn’t bring one with m-m-me,” Yuri was forced to admit through chattering teeth. “Hadn’t expected it to be this c-cold.”

It was then he realized the expression on Otabek’s face wasn’t one of disappointment or annoyance or boredom; he was concerned.

“Are you serious?” Otabek pushed one of the cups at him immediately. “Here. Drink this. It will help a little.”

Yuri accepted the drink with both hands, grateful for the heat that seeped from the cup to toast his palms.

“You can’t stay out here all day in that thin little jacket. Come on,” Otabek said, waving for Yuri to follow him. “There are plenty of shops on this street; let’s find you a real coat.”

“Uh…Otabek,” Yuri said, scampering to keep up, “we have a lot of things to do this weekend, you know? I mean, I didn’t budget for buying clothes.”

“This is more important than souvenirs,” Otabek said without hesitation. They walked to the end of the block when he spotted a men’s clothing store across the street. They waited on the corner until the crosswalk light lit up, then Otabek threw an arm out to his side to block Yuri from bolting right into the street. Instead Otabek checked both directions for traffic, then to the younger man’s surprise he took Yuri’s hand and walked him safely across the street. Yuri was so surprised he didn’t immediately return the pressure of Otabek’s fingers around his, but as soon as they were safely out of the street and standing once more on the sidewalk, Otabek let go.

Otabek approached the shop and pulled open the front door, holding it for Yuri. Yuri looked up at the sign overhead. It read, “Giorgio’s Classic Menswear.”

“Otabek, I don’t know,” Yuri said hesitantly. “This place looks expensive.”

“Go in,” Otabek ordered, so Yuri did.

Inside, the shop was filled with men’s designer suits, fashionable tuxedos, silk ties, and cashmere sweaters. This was definitely not the type of place Yuri typically shopped. He wasn’t broke by any means, but when he bought clothes, it was because he liked the print or the design, not because it had a fancy name brand. “Otabek, let’s get out of here,” Yuri pleaded quietly as his friend followed him into the store and let the door close behind them. “I’m sure we can find an outlet mall or something cheaper than this.”

“You need a coat, so I’m buying you a coat,” Otabek gently argued. “It’ll be your Christmas present, okay? So don’t ask me to get you something cheap.”

Yuri felt his face grow warm. “Oh… Okay.”

“May I help you?” asked a voice.

The two young men turned to see a very well-dressed man approaching. His nametag read, “Richard.”

Otabek placed a hand on Yuri’s shoulder. “My friend needs a coat,” he explained.

“Certainly. Right this way, gentlemen.”

Otabek removed his hand from Yuri’s shoulder to follow after the clerk, and Yuri almost shivered again. How was he able to feel Otabek’s warmth through his friend’s gloves? And why did he feel so cold each time Otabek let go?

“Doing some sightseeing today?” Richard asked as they trailed after him deeper into the store.

“Yes,” Otabek answered.

“Then you’ll definitely want something a bit warmer,” the man agreed, glancing over his shoulder at Yuri in his black and leopard-print jacket. “Here we are,” he announced, leading them to a corner with several racks of fancy coats and designer jackets. “Everything with a red tag is part of our after-Christmas sale; everything else is part of our new collection. Just let me know if you need any assistance.”

Otabek nodded as the man left them and said, “Thanks.”

“Good.” Yuri sounded relieved. “Let me find something on sale.”

He started towards the racks, but Otabek caught his arm. “Yuri,” he argued, “just…find something you like. Okay?”

Yuri looked up but the expression Otabek wore made his face feel even hotter. “Can you hold my drink? And my jacket?”

“Of course.” Otabek accepted the hot chocolate and held out his arm for Yuri to drape his thin jacket over it, then claimed a lounge chair next to a tie display and waited for Yuri to try on a few things, admiring him from his seat all the while.

Yuri felt a little guilty, but he tried not to look at the price tags dangling from the wrists of the coats as he tried them on. He considered a green one that matched the shamrock hue of his eyes, but it was uncomfortably long and seemed to squeeze his legs together when he walked over to a mirror to have a look at himself. He put it back and tried on a blue one that reminded him of the Russian flag, but the sleeves were too stiff and the wool fabric was itchy. He finally reached for a black one that fit him perfectly, and it looked stylish, too. He turned to Otabek with a questioning look. Would his friend think it looked good on him? “What do you think of this one?” he asked nervously.

“It’s perfect.” Otabek stood up and moved closer. His voice was very soft as he said, “It looks like it was made for you, Yuri.”

Yuri felt his heart race at the compliment. He lifted his arm to look at the price attached to the sleeve. He didn’t see any red on the tag. “Otabek, I don’t think this is on sale—” he started to say. But Otabek distracted him by pushing Yuri’s hot chocolate cup back into his hand. Then, wordlessly, Otabek ripped the tag off of the coat and crumpled it in his fist, preventing Yuri from seeing it.

Yuri stared at him with an open mouth as Otabek walked away. “Let’s get you some gloves,” his friend called back to him. “And a scarf.”

Yuri was still stunned and trailed after Otabek in stupor. He let the other man choose a pair of black gloves and a black, white, and gray plaid scarf for him, then shuffled after Otabek to the cash register.

“Did you gentlemen find what you need?” Richard asked from behind the counter. Another man behind him was folding shirts and adding them to a wall display. Not a single one cost fewer than three-hundred American dollars.

Otabek nodded, setting the gloves and scarf down so they could be rung up. He also set the coat tag down and slid it across the counter toward the clerk. “He’ll wear it.”

“Very good.” Richard began ringing up their purchases, then said, “All our toboggan hats are on sale for $9.99 today…”

Otabek turned to his friend. “Yuri, go pick out a hat,” he instructed, and Yuri went. When he returned, Otabek ripped the tag from the hat and settled it over his head, carefully brushing strands of blond hair out of Yuri’s eyes. “Let’s go,” he said, apparently having paid without letting Yuri hear exactly how much.

Back outside on the street, Yuri held Otabek’s drink while his friend tucked his jacket into his backpack for him. “Otabek, I didn’t mean for you to buy all this.”

“How could I let you freeze to death on the street? What kind of friend would I be then?”

Yuri couldn’t argue with that.

They were finally free to explore the city. There was more to do in New York than they could ever accomplish in just a few days, so they made sure to hit the highlights and skipped the souvenir shops. Yuri had intended to buy some tchotchkes while on vacation, but Otabek’s generous sacrifice had made him have a change of heart. “That crap’s all made in China, anyway,” he just shrugged as they passed by yet another tourist trap.

They caught a double-decker tour bus in Midtown Manhattan and drove through Times Square before visiting the Rockefeller Center to tour Radio City Music Hall. Afterwards the pair enjoyed lunch at a buffet-style restaurant along Fifth Avenue called “Bread and Butter.” Next they took a stroll in scenic Madison Square Park, and from there it was only a ten-minute walk to reach the Empire State Building. Next they headed to the harbor and caught a ferry to see Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty. They ended their day with a luxury cruise back to Pier 17 and dined on a delicious meal served on the ship.

Otabek posed for selfies with Yuri as his excitable companion went a little camera crazy and spammed his Instagram account all day long with more than a hundred photos of the two of them storming the city. By the time the sun was setting, they were both tired out. But Yuri wasn’t quite willing to part with Otabek’s company. Even if his friend was reserved and didn’t say much, it made Yuri happy just being together. Otabek didn’t have to say a word for Yuri to know he was enjoying their day, too; he could tell by the sparkle in Otabek’s chocolaty caramel eyes.

As the sun sank below the city skyline, the temperature dropped even further. The coat, hat, scarf, and gloves Otabek had bought him were warm, but Yuri was still colder than was comfortable as they walked slowly back in the direction of their hotel.

“Hey—why don’t we get some dessert?” Yuri asked when their building became visible in the distance.

Otabek’s eyes widened in surprise. “Aren’t you full?”

“…No,” Yuri said, looking away embarrassedly. “There’s an ice cream shop on the corner. Let’s go!”

“Yuri, it’s nineteen degrees out here,” Otabek reminded him.

“Oh. Oh, yeah.”

“How about a coffee, instead?”

Yuri smiled.

They killed thirty minutes in a quaint little café, listening to Christmas-inspired jazz music and warming themselves with piping hot coffee while they engaged in pleasant conversation. Too soon, it was time to leave.

Outside again, it felt even colder.

“Hey—look at that!” Yuri said suddenly, pointing at a souvenir shop. “We didn’t buy anything frivolous all day. Can I get you something, to remember our trip by?”

“Yuri, I won’t ever forget it,” Otabek assured him. His gaze was so intense, Yuri looked away.

“Yeah, but…you got me such a nice Christmas gift, and I didn’t get you anything. Let me find you something fun to take home to Kazakhstan and show your friends!” This time Yuri was the one to reach for Otabek’s hand, and Otabek reluctantly let himself be dragged into the gift shop.

One miniature Statue of Liberty and “I <3 New York” T-shirt later, the couple was back out in the cold.

“Hey, Otabek,” Yuri said, pointing out yet another store. “Want to check that out?”

Otabek’s eyes followed the direction his friend’s finger was pointing and he frowned. “Yuri, that’s another café. Is something going on?”

In spite of how cold it was, Yuri felt heat rising to his face. “No!” he said, a little too quickly. “I’m just cold.”

“Then we should get back to the hotel where it’s warm.”

Yuri gave a little shrug. “I guess so,” he murmured weakly.

They stood there, staring at each other in silence. Then, all of a sudden, Otabek’s arms were around Yuri, drawing him close.

Yuri gasped in surprise.

“You don’t have to keep running into cafés to buy coffee just to warm up,” Otabek said. Yuri couldn’t see his face, but he could hear the smile in the tone of his voice. “My hugs are warm. And they’re free.”

Yuri definitely felt warm now. After a moment his arms slowly lifted, winding around Otabek’s waist.

Otabek continued, “And our date doesn’t have to end, just because we get back to our hotel.”

Yuri’s heart was pounding. Otabek’s embrace was equally firm and gentle, just as he had imagined it would be. There was no hesitation, only warmth and the quiet strength Otabek always exuded. In spite of being in a huge, foreign city, Yuri had never felt so safe. He licked his chapped lips. “Is this…a date?” he dared ask.

“I didn’t come to New York to see the sights, Yuri,” Otabek breathed into his ear, “I came to see you.”

His eyes shining, Yuri hugged Otabek harder. “Then…let’s get back to the hotel, before we freeze to death!”

Otabek finally released his hold on the other man. He gave him a gentle look and reached for his hand, leading the way. This time he didn’t let go.

[themusesofmars]

Another winter, and still dreaming about OtaYuri.

[themusesofmars]

Hanahaki IgNoct is a thing I’ve been thinking about writing lately…

[themusesofmars]

Adam Croasdell | Cameo

Check out this Cameo by Adam Croasdell for Heather!

Adam Croasdell, voice of Final Fantasy XV's Ignis Scientia, took video message requests this week. For $35 I got Iggy to say, "Noctis Lucis Caelum, you are the love of my life. Never believe otherwise." Click to view the video!