#FORTUNIIS – — indie, highly selective multimuse featuring muses from to be hero x, gacha games with a focus on wuthering waves, miscellaneous video games, & various series. unaffiliated with all fandoms & rp communities. 21+ only. low activity.
penned by TYCHO. 25+, they/he.
blog roll. huijarii ( sampo ) rules / muse list ( mobile ) / bonds / interest checker / AUs & verses / portrayal notes / hc & meta / prompts / perm starter call
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i promise this has nothing to do with current dash shenanigans but i was reminded about something i was mulling over earlier
i think it's kinda indirectly said in my rules. but on dash / dash commentary interactions do not typically have any bearing on threads. not unless you ask me can the thread be based on dash stuff. y'know? because it's a whole lot easier for me to go based off established canon or canon events to help drive development between muses, no matter the type of dynamic no matter the muse. dash stuff gets limiting in a certain regard and to a certain extent
if it's say nine for example that i'm using. this guy has no actual context in the tbhx series aside from being on that investigation board and then the x ver opening but i've been able to pin point a nice spot for him in the timeline based on the show's documented one
dash stuff kinda skews things especially if it's unclear whether something is crack or not. i don't typically like to apply any of it to threads or a "present" timeline / point in time
THE WHAT-IFS HAUNT HIS DREAMS &. EVERY WAKING MOMENT, the traitorous recollection of the hasty bucks of hips, the almost-kiss, the yearning in nine's eyes that suddenly put everything in perspective.
of course, █████ felt guilty knowing that he had inadvertently taken advantage of nine in that moment, but the fact that the rebel hero, the man who did things on his own terms, did nothing to quell the flames of passion, push █████ off, but instead reciprocated the action, solidified those lingering suspicions that once seemed too good to be true.
he goes home in a bit of a daze, the buzz of coital afterglow still bubbling in his veins, half-remembering to send nine a text: got home safe. hope you got home safe too, before throwing his stuff aside to step into the shower.
the hot water turns skin pink, washing away grime &. dried cum. as the drain gurgles with the discarded water, it, too, gives some freshness to his visage.
he's gorgeous, █████ thinks, rubbing shampoo into his hair until it suds up into foamy clumps. but that shouldn't be a surprise, he's always been so pretty.
it was no secret that █████ harbored admiration for nine, but when did it shift from being this guy has values i can respect! to wow, this guy is really handsome to i'm eager for fridays to come around so that i can see him.
when did █████ start greedily looking for nine's every smile? when did he want to be the reason for it? when did he start craving those intimate moments where it was just them &. not having to share with a society that never saw anyone beyond the name?
❝ oh, i like him, ❞ he says softly, a fragile utterance like he was afraid to shatter the delicate barrier between him &. nine, staring at the linoleum walls of his shower. well. at least until some suds gets into his eyes &. he cusses, frantically washing his stinging eyeballs.
once the crisis is averted, █████ presses his forehead against the wall, eyes shut. i like him. three words that sends his heart racing, yet makes everything feel so damn right. like this was an unspoken truth that the universe had been screaming into his ears from the moment nine laid eyes on him. well, message received, universe.
█████ throws himself into his bed, phone cradled to his chest. sure enough, there was a notification in his no-longer-barren wechat, probably from nine, probably a good night, probably some stupid teasing remark that would have █████ rolling his eyes &. stifling a laugh in his lonely apartment-
he throws his phone aside abruptly.
oh my god, i'm a loser, █████ mentally chastises, curling up into a tight ball &. fisting his hands into his hair, using the sting to kill the butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. 120, i think i'm having heart palpitations or maybe, a pest exterminator, this is not normal, he groans, uncurling himself from his position &. rolling onto his front, smothering his face into his pillow. █████ screams into it.
eventually, he finds the strength to grope around blindly to his phone, brings it to his face &. stares at the notification whilst swallowing the the flush over his skin.
sure enough, nine had responded, almost immediately, to his text. responding that yeah, he was home, yeah, he was safe, good night, sleep tight, cutie. with shaking thumbs, all █████ could manage was a "^_^/ talk to you in the morning."
was that normal? was he too nonchalant? oh god, he didn't respond fast enough, nine hates him and wants to never talk to him ever again.
he smacks his phone against his forehead with an audible thunk. maybe one more for good measure. he was a grown man with a career, he should not be fretting over some boy.
'a boy that you like~~~' chibi devil █████ sings on his shoulder, cackling when he shoots it a glare.
chibi angel █████ pops up on the other side, chastising its counterpart, 'stop teasing the poor man, he's already having a crisis!'
the devil rolls its eyes, opening its fanged maw to retort before █████ interrupts, sitting up &. crossing his arms, ❝ shut up, he doesn't like me. ❞
his own angel &. devil look at him deadpan before shaking their heads &. disappearing from view, muttering about how hopeless he was. with a groan, █████ falls back into bed. he was going insane, that was it! just pure insanity because his powers are messing with his brain.
despite the late hour, █████ was still feel amped up, too anxious to actually sleep &. taps fomo to scroll through his feed. however, that soon loses its lustre, &. he ends up staring at his own profile, thumb hovering over the post option before typing it up &. posting it without much thought.
it was no help at all. &. even worse, he has to quell the ugly possessiveness that crawls up his spine. as though nine was his to be possessive over.
god.
SCOWLING at his phone, he turns it off &. plugs it in to be charged. this, too, shall pass.
no. it does not pass.
as though the universe was conspiring to ensure that █████ had no measure of peace, he sees nine during one of his lunch breaks, their eyes somehow meeting in the middle of battle. it was electrifying eye-contact, like a livewire threaded itself throughout his nerves.
suddenly, he didn't really have much of an appetite to finish his meal.
hastily, throwing money at the cowering waitress &. stretching over the counter to snag a takeout box, █████ shoves his food into the container, tossing it into his bag before running outside, mask awkwardly placed on his face. ❝ nine .ᐟ ❞
unlike everyone else who had the good sense to run away screaming, he was watching nine fight with bated breath, middle finger &. thumb pressed together with the intent to snap, but he couldn't.
nine fights with an array of colours, prismatic tools that spin from his person &. towards the troublemaker, exhibiting his power, experience &. skill with every movement. this is what a hero was meant to be, this is who a hero should be.
slowly, █████ lowers his hand until it hangs at his side, a fond smile curling his lips up. that's right, everything'll be ok. &. even with the butterflies that suddenly started flying in a tizzy in his stomach, he felt calm, seeing nine with his own eyes - a paradox in of itself.
once nine defeats the villain, handing them off to the authorities, he takes a step forward, then another, before he's bumped into - a crowd swiftly surrounding the rebel hero, all dazzled, all starry-eyed.
it makes █████ deflate, as he hangs back under the shadows of the diner, not wanting to be a part of the fawning crowd.
aren't you going to treat him like everyone else? how do you know you actually like him? you're just like the fans out there. wanting the name, but not the man.
he clenches his fist, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach. did he like nine the man? or did he like nine the hero? was █████ confused? or was he being influenced by the rush of being noticed after being in the background for so long?
█████ clenches his fist tighter until his nails dig into his palms, knuckles white. he wouldn't treat nine like that! he ... he saw nine for who he was &. nine knew that ... right?
but he was a weak man &. he lifts his eyes to find that nine was already looking back at him. █████ blushes underneath the mask, uncurling his fist, raising it to give the man a meek &. shy wave despite his heart already beating against his ribs, wanting to run straight to the hero.
HIS HEART IS PRACTICALLY ABOUT TO LEAP OUT OF HIS CHEST ! the pressure suddenly on, not because he's amassed an audience. nah, nine has always thrived off the attention even if he says he doesn't need it. the whole point of his outfit is to be flashy, even his own creation ability reflects his creativity, meant to be put on some sort of display, be it in a museum, on a wall in a humble house built by his own two hands, or perhaps knocking a villain upside the head with a loud CRUNCH.
a satisfying sound ! proof that even with the iridescent rainbows making his tools & shapes look rather cute dashing around the sky, they pack a punch just like the real thing. & this fight right here ? pure art.
he did his best not to give into the urge of looking over his shoulder, focusing on dispatching the foe & ensuring that he would see their demise, even if temporary to the end while he was around. it's enough to bolster his trust value & show off for the guy he likes, or so he hopes that █████ would stay & watch. not because nine is totally full of himself or anything like that. oh no, his abilities & powers aren't even as cool compared to his friends. no, why would he even compare himself like that ?
& in no time comes the impromptu ceremony, one he had never asked for. his whole foundation was built on the idea that he was doing this because he wanted to. not for the fame, not for the attention. it feels nice & he won't hesitate to flash the people around him a bright smile & shoot some winks, but this was the direct result of temporary satisfaction, eager for a few seconds to receive such a reception.
but oh, does his amiable, happy-go-lucky facade drop when he spots █████ once again. his features soften into a small curve, eyes losing the sharp keen look from before, instead dilated like a house cat that's found exactly what they've been looking to pounce on.
the rebellious hero's feet takes him forward without thinking, the crowd that's gathered parting as he forces a path through. no longer touching the ground, he floats, increases his speed. & without warning his arms outstretch to scoop the taller, much leaner & lankier man into his arms. the sort of thing you'd see in a corny superhero movie scene, but it's not meant to be shared with those still on the ground.
❝ hey ~ hold on to your bag tight. ❞ thankfully nine has mastered flight, rising higher into the sky before he dashes away, poor █████ left with little leverage to cling onto both nine's body & his bag. it would be wise for the rebel to keep his head up, eyes searching for a location to make a stop rather than look adoringly at the other man & end up flying smack into the side of a building. not smart ! no, no. they gain distance from the scene, nine starts to drop once he spots a decent looking area ⸻ an alley way with ordinary buildings, but not high rise office buildings that would practically invite onlookers to watch whatever might unfold.
he slowly floats down, now finally permitting himself to stare at the civilian trapped in work clothing. ❝ what a coincidence, huh ? ❞ the words barely come out, choked, nine's voice a shaky whisper. all the confidence spent fighting a true villain out the window in the face of his crush.
dammit.
feet touch the floor & it is unavoidable how hands smooth over the other to help him stand upright. nine clears his throat, fingers scratch at scalp, mussing his pulled back hair even more than the tussle sustained during the fight. ❝ i'm ... sorry i kinda kidnapped you. but i couldn't resist. ❞
then he laughs, trying to cover up the awkward phrasing. it was just a joke ! a joke about the situation. no amount of embarrassment can stop how touchy he has gotten around the fledgling hero, eager to feel the man to know that his heart still beats. ❝ you're not hurt are you ? ❞
frantic flittering lashes, his eyes glance about █████'s body, his clothes, taking in the stance. he's no medic but doing this hero stuff has netted him with some basic first aid & trouble sign knowledge. no, doesn't look hurt. isn't standing weird. oh but what about ⸻
nine goes silent, his cheeks burning hot with an undeniable flush. this is painful but now they're here & now he has no idea what he should do. not when he's not even sure if █████ feels the same or if the warehouse incident was merely some weird twisted dream.
a deep breath. one inhale & exhale is all he needs before he puts a hand on the other man's hip & walks him gently into the wall behind. ❝ why didn't you text me more ? do you, y'know … are you … avoiding me ? ❞
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AALTO STEPS MORE FULLY INTO THE DOCTOR'S DOMAIN, heel pushing the door close with a perfunctory click, indicative for the need of privacy. not that aalto was planning to speak on more private affairs, but his creed with discretion &. it was followed nigh-religiously.
luuk sits in his chair as though it were his throne, appraising aalto with a glimmer of curiousity in his scarlet eyes, smiling that simple smile &. dangling bait before his eyes.
ah, if it's a game the good doctor wanted to play, then who is aalto to not oblige?
his posture changes into a languid ease, demeanour giving the facade of the harmless businessman - a trusted friend to all, features &. slight frame disarming. aalto laughs, a hearty sound that has him flashing his teeth in a smile, ❝ if you didn't want anyone inside, you would've left the door closed, Dr. Herssen. ❞
❝ this place isn't too bad to be in, as far as offices go, it's certainly one of the more livelier ones, ❞ he saunters closer, bends at the waist so that his mouth hovers near luuk's ear, ❝ although ... i'd argue you wanted me to come into your office. ❞ the smirk was evident in his voice, mist gently brushing over luuk's cheek like a tease.
when aalto pulls away, the smirk is gone, leaving behind an innocent look affixed on his face.
his feet take him to the ceiling - high windows surveying startorch academy with a low whistle, ❝ what i wouldn't give for a view. really great vantage point. ❞ strategic, aalto thinks, rubbing a thumb over his chin, you can see almost everything &. being visible to the student body is reassuring.
he raps his knuckles against the glass curiously, ❝ if you want privacy, do these windows blackout? one would think that some students would want some privacy if they're coming to you for counselling. ❞
HAIRS ON HIS NECK STAND ON END, no matter the amount of practice he has put into his facade, leave it to someone like this black shores consultant to put his composure to a test. aalto is different from others he has run into all those years ago, crafty & meticulous yet his demeanor could have anyone fooled. a strategic display, he cannot doubt it, but this means they play their game on equal footing, vying to be one step ahead of the other.
❝ there was nothing to hide from you, i was intending on returning to you within a few minutes' time. ❞
well played, he thinks as he casts aalto a sidelong glance, the man moving away as if he had not just encroached upon the doctor's space, exciting even the ichor stirring within. it runs hot, surging through his veins like its got a mind of its own, urging him to chase after the bait left dangling out in front of him. but as its resonator, luuk knows better than to move without plotting his next course, even wants to entertain the possibility of dragging this out as much as possible.
his foot pushes against the ground, spinning the chair to position his body towards aalto's direction. ❝ they do. it would be rather careless not to accommodate for such worries. but it is difficult to see into the windows, easier for me to see out. ❞
quietly, he rises from his seat. ivory gloved finger follows a groove in his desk, hooking to find a button that gradually sets the windows to an opaque like screen, not even they can see out from the inside of his office, but the light of the outdoors still attempts to make its way through.
luuk does not stop by his desk, instead continuing to walk towards aalto.
❝ i prefer the natural lighting to turning on a fixture in here. the campus radiates such a brilliant glow, especially in the early mornings. ❞ inability to see color leaves him longing for the illumination that's specially crafted from this vantage point, the smiles of students & the refracting light all golden from his point of view.
front presses against aalto's back, one hand bracing against the window's glass. ❝ seeing as this office is meant to help students & faculty through their private issues, there is some sound proofing in the walls, ❞ he murmurs. ❝ plenty of privacy. ❞
planning for this special day had been difficult what exactly can you do for a man that can have it all ? at the snap of fingers, he can do anything, be anything, see anything, have anything ⸻ or so he understands it. not that everything they do has been sullied by such gratification. they still go out for dates, talk walks, drives, and do anything like normal people would. and he's grateful, so grateful that he's been able to win the heart of an ordinary man.
excusing himself for the bathroom in the dead of night, he pulled himself away from the clutches of his top hero turned cuddle bug. such sad and pitiful whines come from the bed, a man probably still well wrapped up in slumber's embrace, at the very least.
with iridescent flashes, he started to work in the living room, eager to set up a happy birthday banner, some streamers, and balloons. some flair was created by him, other things merely needed tools to help him fasten them into place. the things any mundane birthday would at home. this of course would not be the only gift to his boyfriend this day but waking up to this should be nice enough !
the real gift, wrapped in a box waiting atop the kitchen counter contains a little bunny sculpture. not made by a trust value given ability, but rather his own hands. all the imperfections were purposely left, small divots in the hardened clay meant to mimic aspects of x. he loves him too much not to think about him in everything.
❝ mmm, babe … you can't leave the bed without me, ❞ he murmurs, pressing sloppy kisses to x's face. he misses lips but then finds them in the sluggish start. ❝ we can start celebrating your birthday in here, y'know ? hehe ~ ❞
X DOES NOT STIR WHEN NINE LEAVES THE BED, too wrapped up in their blankets &. warmth. although, he does instinctively whine when his boyfriend wriggles out of his embrace, soothed when the paragon of heroism feels his other half return to the circle of his arms.
the next time x wakes, it's from the tickle of kisses upon his face, sluggish &. sloppy, missing its mark until the end. with monumental effort, he opens his eyes to a half-lid, blinking slowly at nine - attempting to boot his brain up enough to reciprocate properly.
when the nameless hero laughs, it's rough &. husky from sleep. ❝ it's not like i got anywhere to be ... ❞ x trails off, murmuring upon nine's skin, ❝ honestly, i forgot it was my birthday. just felt like another day. ❞
he gives a loud yawn, stretching like a cat before cuddling closer to nine, limbs tangled together until they were like one being. by now, x is far more away, smiling a little wickedly, as his lips brush over nine's sharp jawline - pressing against nine's lips &. nipping his bottom lip with a growl.
with a shift, x straddles nine's hips, pressing their lips once more, attempting to coax his boyfriend to place - fiddling with the buttons of his nightshirt, leaving it gaping open for nine's viewing pleasure. he rolls their hips together, reminiscent of that fateful night at the warehouse, but far more cognizant, far more practiced.
x's breath hitches, staring down at nine with absolute love &. fondness, ❝ i love you ... you're my soulmate... ❞
WHAT A WICKED MAN ! but it is his birthday, the rebel can't exactly be mad that his boyfriend has found his place upon a throne he had picked out months & months ago, fit for teasing his poor mentor in heroism. pfft, even bothering to force their relationship into some sense of normalcy feels absurd, the two of them destined to cross paths, made worse by nine's insistence. or perhaps the way his warm brown hues lingered on the ordinary. a man that might be a little past his prime, hiding away from society yet eager to make some sort of difference. attractive in more than just one way, nine couldn't even explain it if he tried, not in full, at least.
hands reach as high as they can, fingers brushing against the light hairs of happy trail before traveling upward to smooth over the toned muscle there. fuck. training has paid off in filling in some of the beanpole's lanky frame, not that nine cared but he'd be lying if he said he didn't find this hot, feeling the shapes, squeezing what is there. ❝ oh, mmm ... you really like being in my lap, don't you babe ? ❞ he laughs, the sound a bit of a struggle to release as he has to swallow a moan in the process, trying to meet the top hero's gyrating motion.
lashes flutter with each brush of their crotches. he slides a hand down to settle on x's hip, pulling him firmer against him. unlike his modest partner, he rarely sleeps with a shirt on, typically wearing something loose & worn, not particularly attached but not bothering to need much if he's going to be curled around his love. ❝ i love you too, baby. my soulmate, i love you so much ... let me, a-ah ... ❞ his breath catches, moaning again. there's little reason to stifle his sounds here in the comfort of their home, their bed.
debauched, his hair lays loose around his head. it looks much longer like this, adds a bit more charm. it only takes a bit of roughhousing for it to look a mess & this might as well be the equivalent. teeth catch on his bottom lip, dragging against the delicate skin. ❝ sit on me. let me work you open so you can sit. ❞
THE GLOWER DEEPENS ON THEIR MEIN, more a product of mortification rather than true anger. while utowin's perception of their subtle wants was born from years of familiarity that intersected between work &. personal life, easthies never liked being so TRANSPARENT, especially at such a vulnerable juncture.
( as deputy - captain, to be inscrutable was necessary, untouchable by the masses. )
yet ... they find that such touch was not unwelcome. never from utowin.
they inhale sharply as their bodies are drawn closer, a warm line of heat at their front, as utowin dips his head to rub his cheek against easthies - the rasp &. prickle of his stubble pleasant against smooth skin. their arms remain stiffly at their sides, raising slowly with a hesitation contrary to normal behaviour.
stop waiting &. go for it, easthies! hesitation is the enemy of certainty, vinanna's voice intrudes in their head - although the context of the statement was far more different than what they faced with now.
their arms continue their path, winding around utowin's neck loosely, their bodies pressed together impossibly close, stolen moments in the spaces between fleeting time. this was the best that the two of them could manage with the workload that they carried, but it still brought a strange heaviness in easthies' heart to know that it would be difficult to be more.
utowin deserves more than clandestine moments between meetings.
❝ i have always wondered what you would look like without your stubble, ❞ easthies murmurs softly, calloused fingers dancing amidst orange locks absentmindedly, ❝ although, i suspect that there wouldn't be much of a change. ❞ their voice is lighter, devoid of the steel that many feared to hear.
TIME'S PASSING HAD NOT NECESSARILY BEEN UNKIND but it would be impossible for the knight not to notice that their quite moments together, hushed voices, & teases that were intended for banter rather than the result of an unruly orderly's backtalk, began to wane. rarities that struggled to make their way between the deputy captain's schedule & their responsibilities as a whole. for as much as utowin might complain about not having downtime, he cannot deny the fulfillment that rushes through his veins as he spars with fellow companions, earns praise from someone that knew him both inside & out.
he turns his head, forehead aching to press down but resisting so he could look upon easthies properly. ❝ don't go worrying me now, i do try to clean up from time to time. ❞ how much time & how frequent were other measures utowin did not consider, not unless forced to look more presentable for a task or event.
hands squeeze against his partner's body. his face feels hot, far too aware of the attention on him, how they look at him with such fondness & love. sometimes he can't tell if he's dreaming, like this is all part of some fairy tale his lonely mind has been able to conjure up while he goes through the trials & tribulations of becoming a piece of such an elite force. ❝ if you really want to see me without it, i can do away with it. ❞
& likely end up missing him the very next day, easthies dragged away for something & utowin left with his own workload.
that's not a worry he intends to linger on, instead needing his focus on the moment, make the most of what is solely meant for him. he closes the distance, pressing his lips firmly to easthies'. ❝ you're having trouble imagining it, so i think you should get reacquainted with my body. besides, i'd like to soothe you too, love. ❞
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HE MANIFESTS BEFORE THE HACKER as an 8-bit pixel avatar, two-dimensional no matter where he turned. traversing dimensions was easy as saying '1 - 2 - 3' &. while cyberspace was hardly a place x tended to venture, it was still very much his domain by virtue of his powers.
x chuckles, a soft sound that echoes in the virtual chamber, adjusting his glasses as he studies a floating data byte that winks out of existence, ❝ i do like close - up magic, but telling you more would be spoilers. ❞
x's demeanour is friendly, lean body casual &. unruffled despite the presence of the other hero before him, ❝ so, a hacker, right? it's interesting to find you around my neck of the woods. ❞
UNSURE WHETHER HE SHOULD BE AFRAID OR IMPRESSED, he remains standing before the information he was close to reaching out for, only tensing up moments before when he could tell he wasn't alone. here, plucking out what he wanted to see wasn't as easy as grabbing a book off a shelf, but somewhat akin to the idea. if you ignore the security plenty of places have. well, the people he takes interest in or gets hired to look into tend to have some sort of layer of defense. it would be boring if there were no such barriers regardless of his hero abilities.
❝ you should show me some tricks if you mean it. not every day you run into someone like you. ❞ another flat response but he'd be lying to himself if he wasn't the slightest bit interested. ❝ a hacker ... depends on who you're asking. & y'know, i thought you'd want to show yourself off in all your glory but i'm left with a kid's first art project on the computer. ❞
he sighs. ❝ i'm not clumsy enough to be setting off any alarms or triggers. how'd you end up running into me ? ❞
luuk cuddles aalto to his bare chest, refusing to let go of him on this late morning
THE MORNING COMES SWEETLY, warm &. comfortable in the cradle of luuk's arms that every time he attempts to rouse himself, aalto is swiftly dragged back into easy slumber over &. over.
being with luuk, loving luuk, was so easy. it was as natural as breathing air, a biological function ingrained in his DNA. as luuk pulls aalto closer, he manages to open his eyes a crack, laughing softly, reciprocating the cuddles &. kissing his cheek.
❝ morning, cuddlebug ... no work today? ❞ aalto asks, rubbing a thumb over luuk's cheek gently, golden eyes tender &. fond, ❝ want to stay in? ❞
THE ICHOR'S WARMTH NEVER MAKES A SHARED BED UNBAREABLE but rather cements luuk in the moment. a stark difference to the chilling chains of his past that had convinced him he had been useless, forever bound by his purpose as a vessel, & at the mercy of whatever fate had been scripted or even altered. though his purpose in lahai-roi is undoubtedly tethered to a deep seated hatred & his experience here was at the behest of a friend, he would like to think that he has come far in choosing the right path, correcting mistakes, begrudgingly receptive to change at times.
aalto had been a welcomed change of pace, a presence in his life that forces him to temper his anger, be considerate of the effect he might have on the consultant & his partner, take care not to drag his issues into the home that they've made, albeit a little messy. there is no guarantee of tomorrow but much of his life had felt that way anyways, so he can appreciate the now. the small amount of time that he has before he regrettably drags himself out of bed & releases his boyfriend.
❝ mmm, i won't have to go in until later, ❞ he murmurs, pressing into aalto's hand. this proximity allows him to see the brilliance of gilded hues he has come to adore, one of the only things he has been able to perceive in its truest form about the man he loves. he can't complain, his eyes are gorgeous. ❝ yes. i think we're owed a little time together, don't you think ? ❞
he chuckles, a soft, fond sound that might as well spill some of his love on behalf of him. luuk leans, lips press against lips. ❝ i really enjoy mornings like these with you, aalto. ❞
i'm just going to make my X 42 years old (in 41 AC)
and nine i'll bump up to ~33 years old (in 41 AC) and probably see if it makes sense to say if he started his hero stuff a couple years earlier (i mean there's nothing really stopping me so idk why i'm saying that - unless he's secretly mentioned in the art book with some details and y'all haven't told me)
"in 41 AC" meaning that by present day in the tbhx timeline that's how old they would be. most threads i write are not in the "present" for my muses, hence they'll more than likely be slightly younger by a handful of years in most of what i'm writing, unless we're writing something like around ruins incident or smile incident time frames, stuff like that
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"you carry in your heart love of your people, and love of your world. you remind me of someone I knew & cherished. he, too, carried the weight of so much on his shoulders, ever seeking to appear as one whose resolve never faltered. but, without him thinking I knew, I did see the shadows trying to steal away that light. yet, somehow, he would always find his faith. what is it that drives you to perpetually wrestle all these terrible foes? is the knowing those who cannot defend themselves sleep safer tonight enough for you?" ( okay hear me out Gepard would remind her of her father and I am not immune to this specific trope of man easily breaking through her masks without him knowing he does and - )
BELOBOG'S BULWARK STANDS FIRM SO THAT HIS CITY WILL NOT FALL. a credo instilled in him from the beginning, an expectation by birthright ⸻ duty is all he had ever known his life, even as a child, his toys were quickly ripped out of his hands in an effort to acclimate him to the weapons of war, reminders that lives lost was inevitable in exchange for the protection of a people. his life was not quite forfeit yet there was an impending doom that hung over the house of landau. this noble family had always produced the supreme guardian's right hand but many would perish in their prime.
stoic, the model of a perfect soldier, gepard does not let his lips quiver upon internalizing her query. he loves his city, his people, even finds that he prefers having most of his days decided for him. it requires less thoughtfulness in how he ought to occupy his time, what he ought to eat, & helps minimize distraction, but there is no denying that after all these years, he can feel the weight of his shield. shoulders tense from protecting a flank, body aching in the frost's chill, & pushing himself at any cost for laying down his life would still ensure that he meets those lofty goalposts his father set for him, the list still drilled into his mind left by the late supreme guardian, madam cocolia. at times he cannot parse between whether or not he is devoid of a fear of death or if he cares little for his own life outside of being a living shield.
the uncomfortable shift in his seat is covered by an unnecessary clearing of his throat, even raises his hand to hook a gloved finger into his high-collar to adjust it.
❝ even if i do not know someone's name or their face, knowing that i am able to preserve belobogians' livelihoods & peace should be enough to strengthen the silvermane guards in any battle or any campaign. this holds true for me & ... i would want to give it my all so that the guard beside me does not falter. a weak foundation is not meant to stand, therefore i cannot hesitate, nor can my spirit waver. ❞ speaking firm, attempting to brandish his resolve even in casual conversation, there is no rest for a man who has always had little agency in his life. what he does is because he is ordered to, expected to, or has only ever known to do so. there is nothing wrong with any of what he has said, but those that know the extremes he would go to in order to safeguard his own squad or for a swarm of the fragmentum to have their attention on him rather than a way into the city's walls, would be quick to pick each word apart & force him to look at these ideals from his own perspective, his own wants & needs.
but what was there for him to want or need when it conflicted with all he had been brought up to accomplish ? it is difficult for him, even with the small attempts in making his life one worth preserving too.
civilian x places a cake before his counterpart, dark eyes gleaming with humour as he lights the candle for the both of them, “happy birthday to the both of us, let’s hope it’s uneventful.”
UNCARING FOR THE CEREMONY OF BLOWING OUT CANDLES, a slender finger swipes through the frosting on the side of the cake, collecting a small amount till it is weighty enough to remain on his finger. he does not give into temptation right away, instead, his gaze finds its way to his mirror image, eyes crawling from waist up to that adorable face. ❝ so long as it doesn't drag us both out. i think we can manage a little fun behind closed doors, don't you ? ❞ he posits with an airy chuckle.
the clean hand of his juts upward to fist the other's top, gently pulling him down to help blow out the candle. unnecessary, he does it any way. it's quick & better to get this over with to eat some of that cake. ah, though it seems like his eyes unable to find much interest in the sweet, glancing back to his civilian self once again. treats like these are delectable & preferred even to him, but he's already set a plan in motion.
frosting coated finger drifts in front of his mouth, his lips sealing over it as he sucks his own finger to collect the light, sweet taste. it is nothing special but full of that sugary goodness that can keep him going, let him operate without wavering. but it would be selfish to keep it all to himself on their special day. with his grip still on the other he tugs him further, glasses clack, they're too close. this is a gift he wants. fate's envoy practically purrs his name, coaxing him into an open mouth kiss that tastes of frosting, a hint of strawberry mingling with vanilla, a classic combination that speaks to them both.
❝ happy birthday to us, ❞ he murmurs between them, a look dressed by half-lidded eyes & smug curls. only a second before the top hero in white decides to dive back in with the sweeping force of his tongue.