#aliatori

PLEASE barge into my ask box, 90% of the time I leave long tags on posts I want to talk to people but don’t want to be pushy 😆 So far I’ve mostly been listening to Take Me Back To Eden, but I give it maybe three days before I’m completely down the rabbit hole. Thank you for dragging it onto main, these guys are right up my alley!

BUT OF COURSE

The two prompts worked well together so I sort of used them both! I hope you like it ♥♥♥

14. things you said after you kissed me

and

34. things you whispered in my ear

He doesn’t look for him the way a hawk zeroes in on its prey. He doesn’tlook for him the way loved ones await news from the front. He doesn’t look forhim the way search and rescue missions are conducted.

He looks for him the way a man who knows he won’t find what he needsenters a store regardless, with a calculated nonchalance, a detachment that canonly come from years of meticulous grooming, with tinges of Who knows? he’s learned to hide in thecreased skin of his brow. He looks for him the way he runs headcounts, with eyesavoiding eyes, with his hands clenched behind his back, scanning the group ofbattered men and women stepping out from the armored van, because he might behere, and he might not be, and it took Cor years to master how to hide howeager the former makes him, how crushed the latter would leave him.

(The latter has yet to happen, this time, but he’s not young enough tohope for things to always stay the way they are anymore.)

It’s all for show, but of the handful of people who are in on his act,one half is long gone, a quarter of what remains is standing at his side,hoping he’ll find what he’s looking for, with the rest currently being lookedfor.

He wishes he could let go, sometimes. Because the latter hasn’thappened, but if history repeats itself, and if history is a river that alwaysfinds its course, then it shouldn’t be long before he’s robbed again, and theymight call him immortal, but what good is eternal life without the one thing thatmakes it worth living?

He looks for him, slowly, meticulously, like he’s done every timebefore, because it has always worked so far.

It’s the eyes he finds first, always.

Gladio’s eyes, golden and sharp and unmistakable, eyes that haven’tlearned to hide their urgency yet, that don’t know to stay indifferent to avoidheartbreak. Gladio’s eyes, looking for him the way a hawk zeroes in on itsprey, with one thing, one man on his radar, like reports and tactical meetingsand the handful of dog tags in his pocket come very distant second on the listof things on his mind.

Cor doesn’t run to him, doesn’t sigh in relief, doesn’t unclench hisfists, in parts for show, in parts because exhaling has proven to be akin to acurse.

Cor doesn’t run to him, but Gladio does, because he’s not old enough toknow how to be deployed for a month and not miss people, because he’s notdamaged nor cynical enough to expect an empty house upon his return.

Gladio digs his way through the crowd and meets him eventually, and Corknows how much discipline it takes for Gladio not to pin him against the walland kiss him right then and there. They turn around and walk to Cor’s quartersinstead, because that’s what’s expected, and if they have ulterior motives, noone else needs to know.

Cor is the one to do the pinning, in the end, against the closed door,forearm digging into his shoulder blades, and Gladio gives in, because there’s apeace to being ordered around, because there’s relief in being helpless.

Cor kisses him the same way he has longed for him, slow and rational atfirst, then deeply, almost too hard, almost too much to bear. They kiss withclashing teeth and bruised lips, and ardent tongues that crave even more warmth.

There’s a heaviness to their silence when Cor finally lets go of him,like words are ramming into one another, so eager to escape that none manageto.

‘Welcome back,’ Cor says at last, a heavy hand pushing against Gladio’schest, like it wants to make sure he’s still there, really there, all of him,that this isn’t one of those snickering dreams he’s been having of late thatmake him wonder if he’s losing his mind.

Gladio doesn’t responds, leans forward, a silent plea to take his hand awaybecause he’s here whether Cor bruises the skin of his chest or not, and Corcomplies after long second of that burning gaze ripping through his last linesof defense.

He lets go, and Gladio all but falls into him, head finding its place inthe nook of his neck, breathing him in like he’s oxygen.

‘Thank you,’ he whispers.

And that’s where he finds it, what he’s been looking for.

I went where my muses took me, so here's some very fluffy and romantic Ignoct. (My first time writing this pairing, too!)

I hope you like it, ali. ❤

--

Freedom to Be

It had been another long day.

Ignis braced his hands on the shower wall, letting the hot water beat down on his back in a desperate attempt to loosen the knots of stress that had accumulated after ten hours of meetings, writing reports, and arguing with council members.

Saving Eos was cake, as Noctis would say so uncouthly, compared to restoring Insomnia. Ignis honestly would rather take on a couple of Red Giants on his own than be subjected to any more of Councilman Ducarthe’s diatribes. Indeed, it was only when Noctis placed a warm, reassuring hand on his thigh did he calm down enough to take a deep breath and tell the councilman to go to hell. Or something to that effect.

Ignis shook his head, as if to rid his thoughts of the memory. He planned to rest tonight, not dwell on things that are now beyond his control. Besides, his subconscious would do well enough of a job to remind him of today's folly.

Finally conceding that he would need something more than a hot shower to get rid of the tension in his shoulders, Ignis turned off the water, shrugged into a robe, and padded barefoot to his bedroom.

He was surprised to find Noctis sitting on the bench at the foot of the bed.

ALI!!! You making me blush! Thank you so much for your kind words. I’ll never forget how you graced the scene with your “between the shadow and the soul” honestly friends if you haven’t read this work of art go do it now! It’s a great read, by a great author who I appreciate greatly.

T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending?

Hmmm.  I mean, nobody can convince me that Prompto isn’t in love with Noctis, but I don’t know whether that counts or not.  That’s the only thing that’s coming to mind at the moment.  Also that part of Noct’s grief over Luna is mourning for the life that they could have had together as opposed to mourning for what they actually had?  Like, they could have been in love.  They could have been happy.  But they never had the chance to find out if it would turn out that way or not.

X - A trope which you are almost certain to love in any fandom.

There are probably a whole lot of them?  What comes to mind first is FAKE DATING although there have been plenty of fandoms I’ve been in where I’ve never gone looking for it.  But you know what I have gone looking for in every single fandom?  Sex pollen.  Sex pollen, fuck-or-die, aliens made them do it, drugged sex, pretty much every possible variant of “something made them do it” is great, especially if the characters involved had unresolved feelings for each other before the incident.  The kind of “I wanted it, but not like this” thing?  With a bonus of super hot sex?  But then I’m a sucker for a happy ending so they work things out afterward and end up together.  (One variety I love is the kind where they get sex pollened but managed to actually avoid having sex and just sit on opposite sides of a closed door desperately turned on and confess their feelings and then AFTER it wears off they have sex.)