#lionfated

What’s the name of the gun that Prompto gets after you finish episode Prompto?

"I'm divorcing you, and then I'm going to have to murder you if you both keep this up."

( @lionfated )

Deep lavenders gave way to warm milky golds as the sunrise crept through curtains, spilling over bedsheets and sleeping bodies — well, one sleeping body. The other was just beginning to wake as light stretched over her eyelids and stirred her from slumber.

Delicate hands reached up to rub at her sockets, a tiny disgruntled noise catching in her throat — she was used to heavy dark curtains at home, it was not often she was awakened so early. But she had forgotten where she was, and with whom, until brown eyes opened blearily to peer around the momentarily strange room. It was only when she spotted the sleeping frame of the male next to her that she recalled fully the where and why of it all, but this did not keep her from startling a little and clutching the sheets up close to her chin.

He lay there, shoulders and back bare above the blankets, auburn hair tousled — perhaps her own doing. And he was not alone in his bareness, she noted, the sheets soft on her body and beneath toes as they curled against the mattress.

They had slept together last night — the first time between them. It had been nice, enjoyable, a little dreamlike in the way it still didn’t feel real even laying here next to him in the unfamiliar bed. She stared over the clutched sheets at his turned back before, in a fit of awkward jitters, she ducked her head under the blankets to hide her sudden giddiness lest he should wake and see her gawking.

She did not account for the fact that this was hardly more appropriate — if he woke up to find her head under the blankets along with everything else he might accuse her of being some sort of peeping Tom. But then again, they’d both seen it all now anyway, hadn’t they?

All except…

His back turned to her she spotted them — marks that she’d been too distracted to notice before. Battle scars no doubt, marking his beautiful, smooth skin. Her breath caught in her chest for a moment frozen in time before a curious hand reached out to touch, ever so gently, down between his shoulder blades and along his spine.

@lionfated ○ 𝕝𝕖𝕠𝕟 𝕒𝕤𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕤𝕠𝕣𝕒 ○

          ⤷  『  ❝ you gotta stop pretending to be someone else. ❞  』

"I'm not—" It's the first thing that comes out of his mouth, instinctive and automatic, and he blows out a big breath as he tilts his head back over the edge of the couch to look at Leon as the other seems to be all but pacing a hole into his floor.

Poor floor…

"Look, I'm trying okay?" He muttered, pouting slightly and kicking off his shoes so he could curl up on the couch more comfortably, shifting in his seat to better be able to see the other from his perch as well.

"It's not that easy. Can you imagine me just dropping everything out of the blue? They'd think Xehanort possessed me or something." Which, quite frankly, he wouldn't be surprised if that was the conclusion they jumped to. Sora's public veneer was growing more different from the way he felt and conducted himself in private that by now the difference was staggering.

He'd stopped crying and raging a while ago, for which he's silently grateful as he'd been on the verge of breaking character in front of Donald and Goofy, or worse yet in front of Yen Sid and he'd have been in for no end of trouble then. No sad faces… No angry faces either, of course. Not that that counted for anyone but him clearly, considering how often Donald got jumped up. You'd think someone had shoved something up— Ahem. Anyway, better not derail…

"I can't change things now, and I didn't know better a few years ago when I might've still had the chance. It's… not fine, but it is what it is, I guess." He glanced up at Leon again, resting over the back edge of the couch now as if trying to get closer to the man who had become such a reliable and beloved anchor to him.

"It was the same for you, right?" He ventures after a small pause. Leon hadn't yet told him much of what life had been like for him before the worlds had gone and tangled themselves up in each other the way they had. Still, Sora loved the stories, even if it wasn't all good cheer and fun times. He figures one day maybe he'll be talking about his own adventures to some bright eyed and hopeful youngster and they'd feel the same way he did now.

It really was a cycle, huh?

"I can be myself here, that's enough for me." He finally offers in resolution. He can't change his attitude towards everyone else right now, he's doing all he can already to the edge of utter exhaustion to regain whatever it is Yen Sid thinks he's lost (it had better not be his innocence because that was impossible to recover—) and he's barely got energy left over for everything else he's got to deal with beside that.

Such as keeping up his veneer of joviality and good sportsmanship in front of his companions and friends.

He still desperately wished he could pull Riku aside and have a few hours to talk about how they both felt and how things were going, maybe reveal the truth to him even if knowing his cheerfulness was an illusion would likely hurt Riku some… It'd still be better to know the truth, just like he'd want Riku to tell him if something were wrong on his end too.

It's all he wants really, to clear the air and go home, but the way things are now it's already a miracle he can escape to Leon under the guise of extra training. At least here he can catch up on some much needed sleep and talk to his mentor about the things that are bothering him without needing to fear judgement or corrective measures of any kind.

"Hey Leon…" After a moment he glances up again, biting at his lower lip with an air of insecurity he didn't display all that often anymore. "Do you… Do you think I'll ever be able to go home?"

@lionfated​ asked:  [ DISTRACT ]: sender, noticing receiver’s distress, provides a distraction for them (by conversation, a mobile game, a detour, etc.).

Anxious was not something Fang liked to be. She had gone through it far too much to care for it to strike again as she waited to hear from Michele. Most people had left her alone as she appeared to be doing ok to the naked eye. Those who knew her however would know she was worried and nervous to hear from her partner. 

For the good of the pack. 

This thought is the fire in his heart as a war wages on over his head. The grass beneath him is overgrown and sticky with his own blood. Cloud’s jaw clenches tightly and he exhales slowly through his nose as a cross bolt burrows deep into the ground a couple feet away from him. The impact throws up dirt and threatens his instinct to change and charge into the fray along with his pack mates. 

Not yet.

Grimacing, Cloud rolls over onto his other side and presses a hand tightly against the deep gouge marks running along his side. Blood seeps between his fingers, glistening in little ruby droplets and catching under his nails. He shudders from the pain that wracks fine tremors throughout his body. These injuries were not made by a human, much less a hunter. His own pack had done this.

As the youngest member of the pack, Cloud was the most likely to be accepted into the company of the Guild. So he volunteered. Take on the guise of a villager who lost their home and family to werewolves, beseech the Guild to let him join their cause. Exploit their weaknesses. 

They chose a small, nameless village on the outskirts of Radiant Garden. Every last villager would be slaughtered, assuring that there would be no one left alive to blow Cloud’s cover. By the time the hunters got there, it would be too late. 

“We’re pulling back. Good luck, Cloud.”

“I know...”, the hushed voice came, weaving through the silence that had lingered a moment longer than responses usually took from the tall blond. Frankly, it had caught him by surprise to hear those words fall from the brunet’s mouth, so honest and vulnerable at last. And the latter was the important bit. Having been sitting at the nearby coffee table of their shared hotel room (preparations were in order, after all), perusing a local newspaper with furrowed brows, Seifer now set it aside to turn and visibly redirect his whole attention to the other one. An expression somewhere between understanding and reassurance had fallen onto his features briefly as he replied, now being replaced by that slight curl of his lips he knew Leonhart liked best by now, because it seemed so genuinely gentle. And why not? He was very much willing to give his bride-to-be all he wanted, all he craved if it made him more pliable to his own demands. Watching the other as he stood, face turned away slightly, staring at the ground with that same-old bitterness Seifer knew all too well, the tall blond rolled to his feet to come up behind Squall, arms circling around the slender form to pull him against him. Embracing him like a protective shield, head inclined so his breath softly brushed his ear. “I told you, didn’t I? I won’t ever leave you behind. You and I, we’re meant to be crossing paths again and again…” Sprinkling a little Fated Children lore in there for good measure, reminiscing of the old days - meeting at the orphanage, meeting again at Garden, and time and time again after that. Honestly, he might even believe they were bound together himself. One big hand coming up to place itself on the brunet’s stomach, gently pressing as if to pull him against his broad form even more, he nuzzled into the side of Squall’s face as if they weren’t here by means of setting up the final paper work for a marriage he black mailed the other into. In his opinion, business and pleasure didn’t have to exclude each other. Finally releasing the smaller man, Seifer timed the moment in such a way he assumed Squall’s tolerance for being touched so closely by him out of the blue had been reached, resorting to giving him his space again without needing to be told so. Because he knew him just that well. At least that was the thought he wanted to plant in the other’s head, aside with so many others.