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emeraldiis · 2 years

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Friends Don't (Ignis Scientia x Reader)

A/N: bro why did i write this. this game came out so long ago and i havent even played it??? hello??

AO3 Link

Word Count: 8.6k

Summary: Ignis is one of your best friends, and he is stressed beyond belief. Luckily, you know a couple ways to help him unwind.

Warnings: recreational drug use (just weed), high sex, pwp basically

Ignis was a difficult motherfucker to get a hold of. You couldn’t really blame him; being the advisor to the crown prince wasn’t exactly a walk in the park. But it’d been over a month since you’d moved into your new apartment in the capital, and he still hadn’t been over to see it. You were almost ready to get Gladio to carry him over, if only for a few minutes. You told yourself that it was normal to be this amped up about showing off your new place. Ignis was your friend, of course you wanted him to see it! Your frustration had absolutely nothing to do with the huge crush you’d been harboring for years. Nope, no correlation at all. It was just a silly little infatuation that you swore to keep to yourself. But if you were being completely honest, the only person you’d manage to hide your crush from was Ignis himself.

It was all Prompto’s fault. You’d known him since the two of you were in diapers, and he was the entire reason you were even part of his friend group. You should’ve known that it wouldn’t take him long to pick up on the fact that you always seemed to go red whenever Ignis so much as glanced in your direction. And then he and his big fat mouth had blabbed to Noctis, because that boy couldn’t keep a secret to save his life. Which meant that Noctis spilled the beans to Gladio, just because he knew it’d embarrass you. Long story short, your friends were dicks, but they at least had enough common sense to keep their mouths shut around Ignis. They weren’t that cruel.

Still, they weren’t above making fun of you for it whenever they had a chance. So when Gladio had texted you, “you owe me big time,” it scared the shit out of you. Even after your mini freak out where you spammed him with texts asking what the hell he did, he still refused to elaborate.

There you sat on your couch, phone in hand and pipe in the other, hoping that a little mary jane would calm your nerves. A knock at the door interrupted you just as you flicked the lighter, and you groaned. For half a second, you debated on whether or not you needed to throw on a jacket before you opened the door. It was nearly eight, meaning that you had settled into your bed clothes: booty shorts and a tank top that was just a size too small for your chest. But eventually you opted against it, figuring it was most likely just Prompto at your door. You swore that fiend could smell weed from all the way across the city.

You sauntered over to the door, still loosely holding the pipe by your side. Not even bothering to look through the peephole, you flung open the door with a snide remark already on your lips. “If you want some of this, you better pay me b–” Your voice caught in your throat as you realized you were eye level with a chest, meaning your visitor was far too tall to be Prompto. Your gaze traveled upwards and you gulped in fear. It was Ignis, arms folded behind his back as his eyes raked over your form. Suddenly feeling very underdressed, you brought a hand to fiddle with the strap of your tank top. The same hand that was holding your pipe. Ignis’ eyebrows shot up into space. With a squeak, you quickly shoved your hand behind your back. “It’s medicinal.”

“Right,” Ignis said slowly, pursing his lips. “Were you not aware that I was coming over?”

For fuck’s sake, Gladio. You grimaced. “No, I had no idea. I thought you were Prompto.”

“Ah, that explains quite a bit.” When you cocked your head in confusion, Ignis continued. “Gladio told me that you wished to talk with me. At the time, I thought it was odd that you hadn’t simply invited me over yourself.”

You made a mental note to beat the fuck out of Gladio the next time you saw him. “Sorry, I have no idea what he’s talking about.”

Ignis huffed out a sigh of frustration. “Sometimes I wonder if he even knows.” With an apologetic look, he moved to walk away. “Sorry for the confusion, have a good night.”

“Wait!” You called, frantically searching for some excuse to get him to stay. No way were you passing up the opportunity to spend time with Ignis one on one. “Do you want to see my place? I know you haven’t been over yet.” Your words came out rushed and stuttery, but they were enough to make Ignis pause.

“I suppose I have the time.” He took a step back towards the door, then stopped again and smirked at you. “If, of course, you would be so kind as to share.”

For a moment, you were confused as to what in the world he was talking about. And then you followed his pointed gaze all the way to where you were still hiding the pipe behind your back. Your mouth dropped open. “Ignis Scientia smokes?”

With a panicked ‘shhhh!’ Ignis pushed past you into your apartment, hurriedly yanking the door closed. “Astrals, do not shout it to the heavens.”

You spun on your heel to shrug sheepishly at Ignis, who was now standing tense in your hallway. “My bad.”

“And I do not smoke, actually,” he said, smirk gone from his face and replaced with an awkward smile. “But I would be up for trying it, and now seems as good a time as any.”

Well, you could go ahead and mark yourself down as both floored and horny. The most uptight, straight edge, responsible man you knew wanted you to corrupt him with the devil’s lettuce. The image of him blowing smoke out of his mouth, eyes half lidded and hazy popped into your head and you had to fight back a sigh of arousal. “Shit, I don’t see why not.”

Nodding towards the living room, you led him towards your couch and plopped down on it. The plush fabric rubbed against your bare legs and you once again became aware of just how much skin you were showing. You knew Ignis was a gentleman through and through, so there was no way on Earth he’d stare at your exposed cleavage or your way-too-short shorts–you weren’t sure if you were relieved or disappointed. “So, do you want to watch me do it?” You asked tentatively when Ignis sat down next to you.

He hummed thoughtfully. “Yes, I think so.” He leaned back onto the couch, stretching out his long legs and staring at you. Your brain nearly short circuited at just how attractive he was; all lean muscle and hard lines. He was missing his usual jacket, leaving him in just a plain white dress shirt. God, you wanted to yank open those buttons and–

You shook your head roughly, trying to reroute your train of thought before it completely went off the rails. “Um, okay.” As you reached for the small baggie on the coffee table in front of you, you tried to comprehend what was about to happen. Never in a million years did you think that you would ever be smoking with Ignis. You wanted to burn this night into your brain, because there was no way the stars would ever line up like this again. “So, I’m just gonna pack enough in here for two hits,” you explained, opening the baggie and picking out some of the flower with practiced fingers. “Don’t feel bad if you cough or anything, I nearly puked my first time. Prompto still hasn’t let me forget about that.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I trust you to keep everything that happens here between us.”

It warmed your heart that Ignis had so much faith in you. He was correct, of course. You’d never go out of your way to tease him about something that could screw up his reputation. But there was a nagging question at the back of your mind…why was he so chill about this? “Ignis, not that I’m complaining, but what brought all of this on? I thought you were against things like this.”

“Normally, I would be,” he said, running a hand through his gelled hair with a sigh. “But, I know I’ve been high strung as of late. More so than usual. Both Gladiolus and Noctis have been telling me that I need to find a way to relax before I, as they put it, ‘explode.’ I initially brushed them off, but the other day I nearly snapped at Iris when she had simply asked a question.”

That explained a lot. If even Noctis was pressuring him to unwind, then he must’ve been extremely stressed. Even more so if he was snapping at people. You wanted to reach out and run a comforting hand along his leg, but refrained. Ignis wasn’t exactly one for physical affection; you didn’t want to spook him. “Well, you’ve come to the right place,” you said lightly, trying to bring the attention off of him. You mustered up a wide grin. “They call me the relaxation wizard.”

“I have never heard anyone call you that.”

“Prompto does,” you said defensively. “Sometimes.” With a short giggle, you finished packing the bowl and held it up for Ignis to look at. “Okay, I’ll explain what you need to do, then show you.” You tapped a finger to the small hole on the side of the pipe. “This little hole is called a ‘carb,’ you’re gonna want to hold your finger over this while you light it. You just place it against your lips, hold the flame to the bowl, and breathe in lightly.” Ignis nodded along, looking incredibly focused. It was only natural for him to take even something like this incredibly seriously. “Don’t breathe it into your lungs at first, you just want the smoke to fill up the pipe. Then, you’ll take your finger off the carb, and breathe in as deep as you can. Don’t worry about getting all of it, only take as much as you feel comfortable with.”

“I think I understand.” His emerald eyes were shining with concentration and you wanted to sink back into the couch, away from his intense gaze. Those eyes always made you feel analyzed; like he was picking apart your psyche piece by piece. But to be fair, you always thought that the anxiety he produced in you was part of the turn on.

More to distract yourself than to demonstrate, you brought the pipe to your lips and flicked the lighter at the other end. You exaggerated the movement of your finger from the carb to make it clearer what you were doing, then inhaled a lungful of smoke. It burned pleasantly down your windpipe and into your chest. After a moment or two, you breathed out. The smoke curled around your lips and wisped into the air, dispersed by the fan above you. “Your turn,” you said, passing the pipe to Ignis. When he held out his hand for the lighter, too, you shook your head. “I’ll light it for you the first time. It’ll be easier if you have less things to focus on.”

It was mostly true. The real reason was that you wanted the simple intimacy of lighting the pipe for him. It would give you a front row view of his lips wrapped around the pipe; you almost wished Prompto was here to take a picture, to immortalize the moment. “Alright, then.” Ignis sounded skeptical, like he suspected there was an ulterior motive hidden behind your insistence. The man was too perceptive for his own good. Still, he brought the pipe to his mouth and gave you a nod, signaling that he was ready.

“Okay, I’ll tell you when to lift your finger and inhale,” you said, trying to keep your hand from trembling. You sat up on your knees to get a better angle and leaned over him. Your shaking fingers fumbled on the lighter, but after a few awkward flicks, the flame finally caught. Ignis sucked gently, eyes almost crossed as he watched the smoke fill the pipe. You pulled the lighter back when the smoke was opaque. “Finger off the carb, inhale,” you instructed. The smoke was pulled from the pipe quickly as Ignis let go of the carb. You stared, transfixed, as he let his head fall back against the couch to blow the smoke upwards towards the fan.

Watching the wispy smoke blow out of Ignis’ mouth turned out to be one of the sexiest things you’d ever had the pleasure of witnessing. You faintly wondered if you could convince him to let you give him a shotgun kiss, but dismissed the idea as quickly as it came. No way that would ever happen. As you expected, Ignis doubled over in a coughing fit not even a minute after exhaling. You jumped off the couch and hurried to the kitchen to grab him a glass of water. He accepted it gratefully and took a long sip while you stared at him in concern, sitting back down beside him.

“You alright?” You asked nervously, hoping that he hadn’t managed to hurt his throat with all of the coughing.

“I believe I will live,” he rasped, taking another drink of water. He handed the pipe back to you and grimaced. “That was unpleasant. You do this to relax?”

You snorted. “Yeah, first time always sucks. It gets easier.” Humming quietly to yourself, you grabbed your ashtray from the coffee table and cleaned out the pipe. It was easy to lose yourself in the routine of clearing the ash and packing a fresh bowl; the familiar motions calmed your racing heart.

Ignis eyed you skeptically. “I sincerely doubt the second time will be any better.”

With a hum of reassurance, you waved a dismissive hand at him. “This is for me, my tolerance is gonna be a lot higher than yours. You should wait for a bit before taking another hit.” The last thing you needed was to get the advisor to the crown prince too high and end up having to take him to a doctor. Now that sounded like a fast track to some prison time. You leaned back on the couch and lit the bowl, lazily taking a hit. You were vaguely aware of Ignis watching you, and you could feel your cheeks flush a bit red. You weren’t used to having his full attention like this; it was overwhelming. Needing something to break the tension, you exhaled and lolled your head over to stare back. “How’re you feeling over there?”

His eyes had taken on a pink hue, and he had sunk down lower into the couch. “I feel…” he paused, searching for the right word. You stifled a giggle; it wasn’t often that Ignis fumbled for words. “Hazy, like I’m far away from everything.” He finally finished, speaking slowly and carefully.

“Yep, that’s normal. I’ll be right there with you after I finish this bowl.” Not wanting to be left out of the fun, you took another hit, still watching Ignis carefully to make sure he was alright.

The man in question seemed to be quite alright. A lazy smile had graced his normally tense feature, and he was just…staring at you. It was bad enough that the most attractive man you knew was high on your couch, and now you had to deal with him eyeing you up the entire time? It’d be a miracle if you survived the night. He watched you until all the flower in your bowl had turned to ash, and then cleared his throat. “Apologies, I just realized that I have been staring.” He ducked his head down, obviously a little embarrassed. “This is a bit intense.”

You set the pipe on the table, making a mental note to clean it out later. Right now, you needed to worry about distracting Ignis before he freaked. “Here, let’s do something to take your mind off of it while you get used to the feeling.” You stood up, gesturing for him to do the same. By now, you had started to feel the effects as well, and you paused for a moment to let your eyes rake over Ignis’ form. Being high normally cranked your libido up to ten, so trying to reign in your desire was proving to be quite the challenge. “Um, I can take you on the grand tour of my house,” you said, voice cracking as your mouth dried out.

“That sounds nice,” Ignis replied, standing up and stretching. You mourned the fact that his shirt was tucked in; it would’ve been nice to catch a glimpse of skin, but it seemed it wasn’t in the cards for tonight. “Lead the way.” His normally composed tone was slurred, raspy. It sent shivers down your spine and you had to clear your throat before you could speak.

“Ah, okay,” you stuttered nervously as you made your way into the kitchen. “Here’s where I fail to be as good a cook as you.”

“I could teach you sometime.” Ignis had appeared behind you, standing far closer than you were ready for. So close that you could feel his breath ghosting over your neck. You fought the urge to lean back into the warmth radiating off his body and instead forced out a laugh.

Cooking with Ignis sounded fun, if not a bit intimidating. You weren’t sure if your ego was ready for him judging your skills in the kitchen. “Maybe one day,” you said, shrugging off the overwhelming need that had seeped into your veins. You needed him to touch you, to be closer to you. And that wasn’t just the high talking; you’d needed him since the first time he looked at you with those gorgeous eyes. Spinning around to face him–and refusing to meet his gaze–you managed to squeeze past him without making contact. He followed you down the hallway wordlessly, a silent presence that had you on edge. You stopped at the entrance to your bedroom and stepped aside to let him peer in. “And that’s my room. It’s, uh, it’s nothing much right now. I haven’t had a chance to do much decorating.”

“It looks very cozy.”

“Oh, it totally is. I have the softest blankets ever.” Now that you were thinking about it, burying your face in those blankets sounded like the best thing in the world. Without hesitating, you took two steps, then threw yourself face down onto your bed. “Come feel,” you said, voice muffled by the soft fabric. You felt the bed dip down, and looked up to see Ignis perched on the edge, looking incredibly uncomfortable. “What’s wrong, never been in a girl’s bed before?” You teased.

Ignis sighed, half lidded eyes downcast in…regret? Embarrassment? “I have not, if you must know.”

Well, now you felt like a dick. You sat up and placed a gentle hand on Ignis’ shoulder without thinking. “Oh, man, I’m sorry. I was just messing around, it’s not that big of a deal.” Some tiny, selfish part of you squealed with joy and possessiveness. It was wrong on so many levels, but you couldn’t help but imagine being the first one to touch him, making him come apart under your hands.

“It’s alright,” Ignis said. His hand grasped your wrist and lightly pulled your hand off of his shoulder. “Can I…” he trailed off, letting go of your arm to run his fingers through his hair. “May I ask a question that might come across as improper?”

Trying not to let the hurt show on your face from him shrugging off your touch, you nodded. “Only if you’ll relax and come sit with me.” You scooted up towards the top of the bed and leaned back against the pillows, legs outstretched in front of you.

He looked conflicted, eyes darting between yours and the spot next to you. Finally, he relented, and crawled up the blankets until he could settle against the pillows next to you. “Is, uh, copulation really that great? Or is it more of a status symbol?’ His voice was shaky and uncertain, but even as you nearly choked on your spit in surprise, he continued. “My life has mostly consisted of work and, well, more work. I’ve not had the time to pursue any kind of relationship, physical or otherwise. And I, I cannot say that I am not curious.”

You were speechless. Ignis was excellent at flustering you under the best conditions, but high Ignis was a whole other ballpark. He was more open and shameless than you had ever seen him, and you had no idea how to deal. And now you were expected to talk about sex with him? You were glad you had smoked so much, because there was no way you’d be able to get through this sober. “Ah, well,” you started, cheeks flushed red and hands trembling.

“You do not need to answer if you're not comfortable discussing this.” There was a pause, and then the Ignis you knew returned full force. “Oh, Astrals, did I really just ask you that? I apologize, I’m not quite myself right now.”

Although your first instinct was to reach out to him again, you refrained. “Iggy, it’s okay, it’s normal to be curious. And I’m your friend, you can ask me anything and I won’t be weirded out.” You steeled your nerves and took a deep breath, keeping your hazy eyes on your lap instead of your friend. Gods knew you wouldn’t be able to do this if he was staring at you again. “To answer your question, yes, it’s really that great. I mean, bad sex exists, but it can feel really good with the right partner.”

Ignis was quiet beside you, save for the even rhythm of his breathing. You risked a glance over and saw that his gaze was turned upwards; he looked so deep in thought you wondered if he had even heard you. It took a minute or so, but he answered you eventually. “I’ve never told anyone this, but I often worry I won’t know what to do when the time comes.”

This time, you were unable to fight the urge to comfort him. Your hand fell onto his leg and you rubbed your thumb across the fabric of his pants absentmindedly. You were generally a pretty affectionate person, so the idle touch felt natural to you. Ignis was really the only one you weren’t overly touchy with, but it seemed like that would change tonight. “I think a lot of people worry about that. I know that I did.” You pursed your lips in consideration. “Have you ever kissed anyone?” As the words left your mouth, you wished you could gather them up and push them back in. You were being nosy and selfish, feeding into your own delusional claim on the man beside you.

“No, I have not.” Ignis’ eyes were fixed on your hand that rested on his thigh. He chewed on his lip, fingers twitching as if he wanted to brush you off again, but he made no move to. “Why do you ask?”

Eyes shut tight, you ground your teeth together in an attempt to work up the courage for your next question. “Would you like to? Kiss someone, I mean.” You opened your eyes, almost shocked at your own boldness.

Perception seemingly not dulled by the drug in his system, Ignis caught on to your meaning almost immediately. “Are you offering?” He turned towards you, green eyes boring deep into you until you had no choice but to meet his gaze. Despite the faint film of dreaminess that betrayed his state, he looked as sharp and analytic as ever. It made you want to crumble into pieces.

“Only if you want.” You willed yourself to shut up, to backpedal and say that you were too high to know what you were talking about. But it was far too late; your needy heart had taken the reins and it was loath to let them go so soon. Your words hung in the air, thickening the tension that had been building since Ignis had first stepped into your apartment. You cleared your throat once, twice, then shot off the bed like you’d been electrocuted. “Sorry, that was weird! I’m gonna go smoke a little more.” You barely gave Ignis a chance to respond, speed walking back to your living room and escaping the awkward situation that you’d created.

It wasn’t until you had gotten your pipe ready for another hit that Ignis finally emerged from your bedroom. He hovered in the hallway for a moment, then huffed at you and walked over to sit down. You made a point to ignore him in favor of mistreating your lungs for the umpteenth time that night. “I was going to say yes.” Ignis said, sounding slightly miffed that you had ditched him.

You choked on a gasp and threw your face into the crook of your elbow to muffle a coughing fit. “Excuse me?” You managed, throat burning and cheeks aflame.

“I may be ‘high,’” he lifted a hand to make air quotes. “But I’m sure that I am aware enough to consent to something of that nature. Especially with a close friend.”

Attempting to slow your breathing, you ran both of your hands through your hair, pipe forgotten next to you on the couch. “Um, okay, yeah.” Fuck, you couldn’t string a sentence together to save your life. “How do you, how do you want to do this?” The room was spinning, and you couldn’t tell if it was the anxiety or the drugs. Most likely the former, given the fact that you were about to kiss Ignis. Your entire nervous system was on overdrive, yet your libido was cheering violently. You wanted to shout to the heavens that you were about to be his first kiss. Fuck, you wanted to be his last kiss.You wanted to be the only one he ever wanted to kiss.

A shaky sigh coming from Ignis drew you out of your mini freak out. “I might need to smoke again for this,” he admitted, picking at the fabric of his shirt.

Oh. Oh. It seemed like everything was coming up you tonight. Because you were about to kill two birds with one kiss. “Do you know what shotgunning is? In reference to smoking, I mean.”

“I don’t believe so.”

“Um, so it’s where one person takes a hit, then blows it into someone else’s mouth.” Your heart was speeding up with every word you spoke, anticipation thrumming through your veins. “It’ll be easier on your lungs than taking a full hit,” you offered, hoping to sweeten the deal. What you really wanted to say was: please please please please please. But you put a lid on the less restrained side of your brain and went for the more…chill approach. Better to act like this was no big deal, lest you risk fucking it all to the ground by being overeager.

The long pause Ignis took before responding had your nerves flying into overdrive. “I think-” he licked his lips nervously, then swallowed hard. “That, um, that might be fun.”

Your eyes glazed over in blind desire. As fast as you could manage without making an idiot of yourself, you maneuvered on the couch until you were in the same position you had taken to light Ignis’ first hit. He leaned back to give you space, a red flush creeping up his cheeks as his breath quickened. “Ready?” You asked with a shy smile. Ignis nodded, giving you all the consent you needed to light your pipe and inhale, then press your lips to his.

The moment your mouth met his, all thought left your brain. You completely forgot that you were supposed to be exhaling, because all that mattered in the world was the feeling of his warm lips on yours. The burning in your throat reminded you that there was an end goal to this, so you brought your hand up to squeeze his arm once as a warning, then blew the remainder of the smoke into Ignis’ open mouth. You could feel him inhale, and almost wanted to cry when he pulled his face away to blow the smoke out. Sitting back on your haunches to give him some room, you turned your gaze downwards and tried to ignore the heat that crept into your stomach.

You’d barely gotten the chance to set your pipe back down before there was a hurried movement beside you and then, oh, Ignis was pinning you to the back of the couch and kissing the daylights out of you.

His mouth slid against yours clumsily, and you tensed in surprise before jumping into action to kiss him back with fervor. He was content to back off and let you dominate the kiss, his warm hands finding your waist. You moaned at the contact, the sound muffled against his lips. After a few seconds of euphoria, Ignis pulled back, panting heavily, pupils blown. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” he whispered almost reverently once his breathing evened out. “You make me dizzy.”

“Are you sure you haven’t kissed anyone before?” You asked, laughing almost hysterically. The room felt three times smaller with Ignis still sitting so close. A claustrophobic sort of panic was rising in your chest, along with an internal monologue of confusion. What did this mean for your friendship? Are things going to get awkward again? Will he kiss me again?

“Quite sure.” He seemed reluctant to move any further away from you. His eyes flickered down to your bare legs, then back up. “Oh, fuck it all,” he murmured softly, more to himself than to you, then surged forward to kiss you again. “I want you,” he managed to pant out against your lips.

You barely registered his words, too caught up in trying to figure out if your weed was laced, and when the fuck you started hallucinating. Deciding to just enjoy the fever dream while it lasted, you pushed gently at his shoulders. With a small noise of frustration, Ignis pulled away and looked at you pleadingly. “Are you sure? We’re both high, and you’ve never done anything like this, and it could fuck up our friendship.” You were rambling, voice thick with both lust and worry.

Ignis took hold of your hands, squeezing them tightly. “I have wanted you long before any drug touched my system. You are the entire reason that I’ve been so distracted. I have never needed anyone until I met you, and now that I–” he closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steady himself. “Now that I know what your lips feel like, how soft your hands are in mine, I fear that I will never get enough. So yes, I am sure. You’ve reduced me to the basic needs that I’ve prided myself on being above; now take responsibility.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice. In a flash, you pulled Ignis’ shoulders until he got the message and leaned back against the couch. You clambered into his lap to straddle him, needy hands reaching to touch him anywhere, everywhere they could reach. He tensed for a moment, overwhelmed, before giving in to the frenzied passion and dragging you back down to his lips. Ignis, like usual, was a fast learner. He kissed you like he had done it a million times, fingers tightening their hold on your hips and hot breath mixing with yours. Without thinking, you grabbed blindly at the top button of his shirt and pulled. Hard.

Pop!

The first two buttons flew off. “I liked that shirt,” Ignis grumbled against your lips. He dug his nails into the skin of your hip in retaliation, and oh, fuck. You moaned at the sharp pinch and ground your ass down into his lap. The growing bulge in his slacks dragged against the thin fabric of your shorts, making both of you shiver.

“I’ll sew them back on,” you said, finally pulling away from the kiss to stand up on shaky legs. The room had melted into nothing around you; Ignis was the sun, all flushed skin and mussed hair, and you were Icarus, soaring closer and closer until his beauty sent you plummeting. And oh, how you wanted to fall. You grabbed at his arm to drag him off the couch and back down the hall to your bedroom. Your feet stumbled and twisted around nothing, caught up in the giddy excitement. It wasn’t until you reached the bed and yanked him onto it with you that Ignis finally hesitated.

He kneeled on the bed, you leaned back onto the pillows in front of him. “Darling, I–” He didn’t have to finish, you knew that he was completely out of his element. His hands hovered above your stomach, like he wasn’t sure what to do with him.

You took pity and slid out from under him to swap places. His breath quickened as he laid back, allowing you to straddle his hips. “You can touch me, Ignis,” you said quietly. When he didn’t move, you gently guided his hands to the hem of your tank top. Even through your clothes, you could feel the way his fingers trembled as he dipped them beneath the soft fabric. His green eyes were trained on yours while he lifted the tank top up and over your shoulders. With no bra to contain them, your breasts bounced free. Ignis’ gaze snapped down to watch the motion. A choked gasp escaped him and he tossed your top to the side carelessly.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispered. “May I touch?” Even after all your encouragement, he was still asking for permission, voice hushed as if he expected you to deny him. It was sweet; even with how insistently his erection was pressing into your ass, he worried about your feelings before all else. It almost pained you to admit that you could see yourself falling in love with the man below you. What had started as a crush, a simple infatuation, had burned brighter into a consuming sense of belonging. Ignis just felt right.

“Touch me, please.” Your voice came out as a whine. There was a roaring fire in your veins, alighting every nerve with electricity and pleasure. It crested into an inferno when his warm hands found your chest. For a moment he just held them there, tits resting in his hands while his mouth dropped open in silent wonder. You brought your hands up to place them over his and squeezed. The pressure made your back arch into the touch, so you did it again. And again, until you were manipulating Ignis’ fingers with your own. You showed him how much pressure to squeeze with, when to brush a thumb over your nipple and when to pinch. Groans left your mouth with every drag of his skin against yours, rising in pitch and volume when he grew more confident and sat up to drag his hot tongue up your sternum.

The grinding of your hips became more insistent, making Ignis squeeze you harder and grunt with barely tethered restraint. He was unraveling, if the desperate, wild look in his eyes was any indication. You wanted to see that control break, to shatter the most put-together man in all of Lucis. So with a wicked grin, you tore yourself free from his grasp and slid down his body until you were settled between his legs. Somewhere along the way, he had unbuttoned and untucked the rest of his shirt, and it splayed open to reveal an expanse of pale skin. He was lean, that much you’d known, but you hadn’t been expecting him to be so toned. Tight abs clenched as you ran your fingers down them, stopping at the button to his pants. “Iggy, do you want me to suck your cock?” It twitched at your question, throbbing against the zipper.

“You don’t have to,” he said, but his body told a different story. His body was begging for you, and you wanted to give it everything it needed.

Your eyebrow raised as you drug a finger across the straining bulge. He threw his head back with a bitten off whimper. “Baby, I want to make this good for you.” His hands clutched at the sheets in response. “Have you thought about this? About fucking my throat?”

When he shivered at your words, you slid your hands along his thighs to ground him. “Yes, I have. I’ve wanted this since that night, hhhhah,” he broke off into a breathy moan and squirmed as you nuzzled against his crotch. “Prompto’s party. December.” Your eyes went wide.

You knew exactly which night he was talking about. It had been almost four years ago, and the third time you had properly met Ignis. You and Prompto had fed off each other’s energy all night, taking shot after shot and turning his living room into a dance floor. At some point, whether it was the dizziness from the alcohol or the dancing, you had stumbled and fallen onto Prompto’s couch. Right into the lap of a certain royal advisor. Even with how drunk you were, you had enough presence of mind to be humiliated. It was just when the beginning seeds of your crush had been planted, and you figured that you had just killed any chance you may have had. Ignis had been a gentleman, helping you to your feet and encouraging you to take a breather and drink some water. But you hadn’t missed the dark flash of…something in his eyes when you’d landed across his legs.

“That long?” You asked. A smile spread across your face and you had to fight the urge to propose right then and there.

Gentle fingers cupped your cheek and you leaned into the touch. “That long,” Ignis repeated. He stroked a thumb across your jaw. “Now, I believe you said something about…?” He trailed off, thumb coming up to rest on your lower lip.

Batting your eyes at him, you slowly sucked the digit into your mouth, tongue swiping along the pad of it. He hissed in a breath and relaxed back against the pillows. You wanted to tease him further, but you were getting impatient. You needed to hear more of those wonderful noises coming from his lips. With a wink, you dropped his thumb from your mouth and went to work on unbuttoning his pants. He lifted his hips to aid you in dragging them down his legs, and soon enough they were joining your top on the floor. His underwear of choice was a pair of gray briefs that hugged his narrow hips perfectly, and a tiny wet spot had formed where the head of his cock sat. Your ego purred at just how worked up he was. He shrugged his shirt the rest of the way off and tossed it aside, leaving his upper half completely bare. Your mouth watered, but you tried to return your focus to the task at hand. “Ready?” Your fingers danced along the waistband of the briefs, not quite dipping under.

“Plea-oh!”

The word had barely left his mouth, and you had already dragged his underwear down his thighs and wrapped a hand around his cock. It pulsed in your grip, a drop of pre-cum rolling down the side and wetting your fingers. Your mouth watering, you leaned forward to lap gently at the head, and that simple motion earned you a shaky groan. You were uncomfortably aroused, panties soaked and clinging to your cunt. But you ignored your own needs in favor of giving Ignis the best first blowjob a man could get. His hips snapped up when your lips first wrapped around him, and he hissed out a garbled apology, pressing them back down to the bed in an attempt to keep still.

The head was velvety against your tongue, and it was only then that you began to realize just how big Ignis was. The stretch of your jaw as you slid down on him made you ache in anticipation of feeling him inside of you. You threw a precautionary arm over his shaking hips; you knew he was trying his best not to choke you, but this was all new to him, and you figured he might not be able to help some of his reactions. You managed to get down over halfway before you felt the tip hit the back of your throat. Pulling back some, you worked your tongue around the hard flesh and let your fingers encircle the rest. “I can’t, mmmh, so good,” Ignis moaned. His normal proper way of speaking had dissolved into clips of sentences, broken off whines and moans. Every sound that you drew from him had you moaning back in response around his cock, making him tremble and gasp.

As your jaw got used to the stretch, you were able to take more of him, relaxing your throat and breathing in deeply through your nose. You were just shy of reaching the base, but decided that almost would have to be good enough. Next time, you thought–fuck, you hoped there’d be a next time. It didn’t seem as though Ignis minded, or even noticed that you couldn’t take the whole thing. He was too caught up in the wet drag of your tongue and your soft lips sliding rhythmically up and down. His hands stayed anchored to the sheets on either side of him, almost as if he was afraid he’d lose his grip on reality if he let go. And with every flick of your tongue, it was becoming harder and harder to keep his hips pinned to the bed.

“Hnh, darling, you need to–fuck–you need to stop.” He was writhing under you now, muscles flexing in erratic twitches.

You pulled off of him reluctantly, pouting. “But I was having fun.”

“As was I, but this night was going to be over far too soon if you continued.” Ignis was still panting, but he had gotten enough of a hold on himself to at least speak plainly. Unclenching his hand from the sheets, he pushed up his glasses, which had fallen almost all the way down his nose.

“I didn’t even notice you still had those on,” you said, wiping the excess spit off of your mouth. He blushed and shrugged at you, then beckoned you back up to straddle him again. When you did so, he kicked his briefs the rest of the way off and pulled you close to his heaving chest. “How do you want me?” As much as you had gotten off on pleasuring him, your own body was screaming out for release.

“However you think is best.”

It wasn’t fair; Ignis never thought of himself, always put his wants and needs below others’. “No, this is your first time. I want it to be how you want.” You tried not to let the love you had for him bleed into your voice. Just because he had fantasized about you didn’t mean that he felt the same. Your heart burned at the possibility that this was purely physical for Ignis, but you tried to let it go. You’d cross that bridge when you came to it; for now, you just wanted to feel good.

He was quick to roll the two of you over until you were caged beneath him. Though you knew that Ignis spent quite a bit of time sparring or training with his weapons, he always seemed to surprise you with his strength. That lithe form hid deadly power. “I believe you’re overdressed,” Ignis said, propping himself up on his hands to stare down at you. You wanted to cower under his gaze, but you held firm and stared right back.

“I guess you’d better fix it, then.”

With a noise that sounded more like a growl than anything, Ignis sat back and hooked his fingers in the waistband of your shorts. He slid them down in one easy motion, dragging your panties off along with them. For a moment, he simply stared at your bare cunt, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. You could almost see the wires short circuiting in his brain. “I need you,” he moaned brokenly, and fell forward to kiss and bite at your neck.

You keened and tossed your head back to give him more room. That was what you needed: more. More contact, more pleasure, more anything. Your legs came up to wrap around his waist and pull his body against you. He jerked forward, his cock rubbing at your clit and nearly making you scream. You fisted your hands in his hair and pulled him away from his attack on your neck, back up to your lips, which had gone without his for far too long. He seemed to get the message and kissed you hard while his hips ground down against yours, teasing your pussy with a promise of what was to come.

“Just fuck me already,” you gasped out, breaking away from the kiss to whine frustratedly into the crook of his neck.

There was half a second of calm as he leaned back to grab the base of his cock and angle it towards your dripping entrance. And then you felt your nerves come sparking back to life with the head pushed slowly into you. Poor Ignis was shaking like a leaf above you, trying his damndest to go slow and not hurt you. You appreciated the sentiment, but by then you were wet enough to be able to take all of him. With a smirk that quickly dissolved into a cry of pleasure, you tightened your legs and pulled his hips downwards until he was fully seated inside of you.

“O-oh, ffffuck,” he whimpered, burying his face in your hair. “I see why people do this so, ah, often.”

You huffed out a laugh that was more moan than anything else and ran your fingers through his hair. “Told you so.” You brought your point home by arching your hips up into his. He shuddered and pressed impossibly further into you, the stretch making you sigh in satisfaction. The pressure inside of you felt otherworldly, but it still wasn’t enough.

With some coaxing on your end, Ignis began to thrust into you at a steady pace. He was breathing erratically, but managed to find enough semblance of control to establish some sort of rhythm. You moaned out praises and encouragement, running your hands along the rippling muscles of his back. “You feel s–oooh–so good, darling,” Ignis groaned. As hard as it was to focus, you tried to file every one of his noises into your brain, not wanting to forget a single second.

“Touch me, p–hhah–please, Iggy.” Your voice was nothing more than a high pitched whine. Ignis’ cock was striking your most sensitive spot with every thrust, and embarrassingly enough, it was bringing you to the edge far too soon. But you couldn’t stop, you didn’t want to stop. You wanted his fingers on your clit and his cock in your cunt, and you needed to cum with his lips on yours. With as much lucidity as he could muster, Ignis shoved a hand between your bodies and rubbed against your pussy with his thumb. “H-higher,” you instructed breathlessly.

Ever the good listener, Ignis followed your direction and brought his hand up a tad higher. When you gasped and arched, he pressed into your clit and rubbed tight circles into the swollen nub. “Say my name,” he ground out, thrusts growing rough and impatient. “S-say my name when you cum for me, fuck.” His glasses were barely hanging on his face by now, and behind them you caught a glimpse of feral, green eyes. He choked out another moan as his pace stuttered again and increased the speed of his fingers. “Please, I need you cum before me.”

Ignis was a wet dream come to life. He was passionate and eager and he listened to you, and you were about to cum all over his cock. With a curse and a strangled whimper, you dug your nails into Ignis’ back and screamed his name as you came. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and your vision went dark as you heard Ignis gasp brokenly, then sob out your name as he stilled and pulsed within you. The wet heat spilling into your pussy intensified your pleasure tenfold, causing more whines to fall from your lips.

It felt like years before the wave of ecstasy finally subsided enough for you to open your eyes. Ignis had collapsed on top of you, sweaty and panting with heavy breaths. You were content to lie there under him, but there was a pressing fear at the back of your mind. Had you just screwed up your friendship entirely? Ignis must have felt your heart pick up speed again, because he pushed himself up to stare down at you with a concerned look. “Is-is everything alright? Was that alright?” He seemed panicked, terrified at the idea that you may have regretted what had just conspired.

“What does this mean for us?” Your voice was barely a whisper, throat raw from the smoking and the screaming. The high had worn off almost entirely, and it left a stomach-turning sense of anxiety in its wake.

“What would you like it to mean?” Ignis asked. He squinted down at you, making you realize that his glasses had disappeared in the midst of his orgasm. Without a barrier obscuring them, the vibrant green of his eyes was nearly overwhelming. You turned your face into the pillow under your head. He let you hide for a moment, then sighed, frustrated. “Would you like to know what I want?”

You nodded, still refusing to meet his gaze for fear of falling deeper under his spell.

He rolled off of you, lying beside you just close enough so that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him, but not touch him. “I want to do this again.” You held your breath, heart leaping as you waited for him to continue. “But I also want to hold your hand, to kiss you in front of our friends, to protect you from the horrors that go on in this world.” His voice sounded thick, like he was on the verge of tears. “But most of all, I do not want to leave this bed. I want to stay here with you. Shirk all of my responsibilities, spend hours upon hours lying here with you. You are the most dangerous creature that I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. You make me want to give up all I have in favor of calling you mine. And that is why I have tried for so long to avoid this.” He laughed humorlessly, clearing his throat in a vain attempt to stave off the tears. “But I fear that I am quite addicted.”

You turned to face him, hot tears flowing freely down your cheeks. “Ignis, I–” You choked out a sob, reaching out for him. “I wouldn’t ask that of you. I don’t want you to give up anything for me. If being with you means that I can’t always be with you because of your job, then that’s fine. I’ll love you no matter the price.”

Arms shaking, Ignis pulled you onto his chest and buried his face in the top of your head. He sniffed hard, still hell bent on keeping his composure, even as you fell apart. “For you, darling, I will make this work.”

And you knew he would.

#my writing #ignis scientia x reader #imagine #fanfic #reader insert #final fantasy xv #smut

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theheavymetalmama · 5 years

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And now, some Unpopular Opinions!

Because at this point, why the hell not?

Iron Man was better than The Dark Knight

I am in no way, shape, or form suggesting that The Dark Knight is a bad movie. Far from it, in fact. It’s a damn good movie with some fantastic performances, a gripping story, and some of the best written characters and dialogue in the history of movie making. So is Iron Man the better movie? For one, it’s not so stuck up its’ own ass about its’ message. The Dark Knight is a lot of things and one of them is pretentious as fuck, come off as less of a love letter to Batman and more of a method of the director Chris Nolan showing how much he has nothing but contempt for superheroes and comic books in general. Iron Man, in contrast, embraces it and has fun with the idea of a guy who builds a mech suit and fights bad guys. There’s also the question of influence, and that right there is no contest. The Dark Knight influenced Batman; Iron Man influenced the entire movie industry.

Final Fantasy XV was a massive disappointment

I kind of feel bad for dunking on this game considering they just cancelled the last of the DLC. Then again the last of the DLC was going to expand on Lady “Show Up and Blow Up” Lunafreya and Aranea “I’m here and now I’m not” Highwind’s stories and now we’re not getting them and I’m still bitter as fuck for the director’s pathetic excuse for why a girl couldn’t attend the coming of age road trip, so all bet’s are off! Okay, the ladies getting shafted aside, there is a lot to like about Final Fantasy XV, but was it worth the tedious development time? No way in hell. The game looks good but like many open world games feels mostly lifeless and empty, and of the four main characters only one of them is likable and isn’t even playable in the game’s vanilla form. The story is a broken mess that requires other forms of media to fully grasp (dick fucking move there, Squeenix) and the summons coming at random times serves as more of an annoyance than anything, especially since they always seem to show up except during times when and where they’d be useful. It also doesn’t say good things about a company’s management when a game can sell millions of copies in record time as well as do gangbusters on downloadable content and then still manage to lose over 30 million dollars.

And for the record, let it be known that Noctis is far and away the whiniest and most emo protagonist in Final Fantasy history, which is saying something considering this is a series where one such protagonist’s entire character is being so jaded and world weary to the point that his name is the sound a crying baby makes, and he doesn’t whine and complain as much as Noctis does.

Just because you’re a cop or a soldier, that doesn’t automatically make you a good person

I’m in favor of police and law enforcement and even though I believe our military budget makes Caligula himself look frugal in comparison I do support our troops. Having said that, being a cop or a trooper doesn’t mean jack shit if the person under the uniform is a complete and utter scumbag, which happens more often than many care to admit. In fact some people, many people, become cops and soldiers not to protect and serve or out of a sense of honor and duty, but simply because they like making others miserable and want to do it for a living. There’s a reason songs about fighting the law and unflattering depictions of authority figures date back as far as authority figures have been a thing. Respect is earned, not given.

‘White Nationalist’ and ‘Nazi’ are the same things

Calling a Nazi a white nationalist is like calling somebody who abuses their spouse a rough lover. Stop beating around the bush and tell it like it is. Also, don’t debate Nazis, punch them. Punch them as hard as you fucking can. If they punch you back, punch them again, and again, and again until they either run away (which most of them do) or stop moving. Trust me, nobody is going to miss them. That goes double for the alt right. Oh, and speaking of which...

Far Cry 5 chickened out

As somebody who grew up in a dead gold mining community that was mostly Catholic, when the first trailer for Far Cry 5 came out I was stoked as hell for the chance to gun down religious fanatics and skinheads in a place in rural America that didn’t look all that different. Then the game came out and it was abundantly clear to anybody that something somewhere in the game was changed at the last minute. Some have argued that it was their intention from the get go, others claimed they didn’t want to alienate their core demographic. It doesn’t say nice things about your core demographic if you’re worried about depictions of white supremacist cultists scaring them away, but okay, fine. Then make a game that takes place during the decline of the Ku Klux Klan, or in a post World War II Europe where you hunt Nazi war criminals, or failing that make something akin to Black Dynamite or a wacky 70′s Kung Fu movie where everything is purposefully over the top and exaggerated, I don’t care! All your other games have you gunning down hordes of brown people, let people like me and my husband kill some skinheads god damn it!

If you still support Donald Trump after all the vile and abhorrent things he’s done, you’re a bad person

There’s no beating around the bush on this one. I don’t blame people who were swooned by this conman thinking he’d genuinely make a good president and have since regretted their decision. I have nothing but sympathy for them. No, I’m talking about the people who STILL trip over themselves to defend this vile, homophobic, delusions, misogynist, narcissistic bigot. Like when he called Nazis “very fine people,” or is still pushing for a stupid wall along our border that will be bested by two extension ladders and a pair of tin snips. The travel ban, the rollback on regulations that kept food insecure people fed, kids dying in his fucking concentration camps, yeah, no. He’s a treasonous scumbag who deserves to be locked in an 8x8 cell until he rots, and if you still support him then you can claim the top bunk.

Climate change is real and coal can fuck off

Coal is dead. Let it lay down and rot. What, coal is your only source of income in the area you live in? Then move somewhere else! You think I would have left my hometown if there were any opportunities other than timber, fishing, and tourist traps? Sorry, but the longer we stay in the past with coal the lesser we can look forward to a future where a planet can sustain human life. If we want our planet to live then coal needs to die.

No, the left isn’t “just as bad” as the right

This is a fucking gas lighting farce that immediately falls apart when put under scrutiny. Are there extremists and crazies on the left? Of course there are, but they’re entirely different beasts as those found on the right. The left is more of a “eat enough kale and you can talk to dolphins” or “sleep with crystals under your bed and you can see the future” kinds of crazy, whereas the right is more of the “kill all the queers and let the brown babies starve” kind of crazy. Oh, and to each and every single person who said “Clinton is just as bad as Trump,” y’all can cover your reproductive organs in honey and stick them in a mason jar filled with live bullet ants and tarantula hawks, you ignorant scare mongering shitheels!

“Captain Marvel doesn’t smile!”

So what? She’s a space Navy Seal, not a boy scout like Captain America or Superman; she’s not supposed to smile.

No, the ‘alt left’ doesn’t exist and Antifa aren’t the same as Nazis

Are Antifa breaking the law? Yes. Should they be held accountable for their actions? Yes. Are people who want to kill Nazis exactly the same as people who want to exterminate the Jews and subjugate anybody who isn’t white while wiping other people’s culture off the face of the Earth under an authoritarian rule? Hell to the no and “Antifa is just as bad as the Nazis” is right up there with “Vaccinations cause autism” and “the Earth is flat” on the scale of “If you believe this, you are STUPID.” If Nazis and white supremacists went unopposed they’d go around raping and murdering Jews and non whites until there were absolutely none of them left. You know Antifa would be doing if there weren’t any Nazis around? Sitting in their crappy apartments smoking weed, sipping craft beer, eating pizza, and laughing their asses off at 20 year old Saturday Night Live skits. Ooooooh, scary! Yes, Antifa are assaulting people and destroying public property and yes they should be held accountable for their actions. But I’m not going to pretend, even hypothetically, that Nazi apologist scumbags like Tucker Carlson having his door banged on or actual Nazis like Richard Spencer getting punched in the face is on the same playing field as babies being put in cages, innocent black people being murdered by cops, or Jews being put into ovens, you fucks!

New She Ra is better than Old She Ra and 80′s cartoons in general

If you don’t like the new She Ra and prefer the old one, fine, you do you, but don’t act like the original is “So much better” because it isn’t at all. The villains were jokes, the animation was beyond cheap, the characters all looked the same, there were stupid talking animal sidekicks, and the story went nowhere really fucking fast outside of “Bad guys are doing bad guy stuff, our heroes must stop them” because they were commercials to sell toys. Nothing more, nothing less. If the new She Ra isn’t your bag then that’s all well and good, but don’t be a stupid asshole about it, talking about how it wasn’t featured at PowerCon like it’s a big fucking deal when only sad dorks like us give a shit about conventions, or whine about how you’re being oppressed and censored because a 16 year old isn’t rocking 44DD’s, or talk about “CalArts style” like that’s a real goddamn thing. Oh yeah, and speaking of which...

“CalArts style” is not a thing

Shut the fuck up, no it isn’t. It’s a stupid, meaningless buzzword hurled at people who never fucking went to CalArts in the first place. If you’re perplexed as to why modern cartoons all look like Steven Universe, the simple fact is that cartoons are made predominantly for children and shows are made to be aesthetically pleasing to them. With shows like Adventure Time, Regular Show, Steven Universe, Star vs the Forces of Evil, and Gravity Falls being soaring success stories while shows like Young Justice, new GI Joe, and 2011 Thundercats ambitious failures, it’s obvious that formal abstractionist non angularity is in while aspirational human physical fitness is out, and a big reason the latter was even a thing in the first place is because they were toy commercials first and there were only so many variations on plastic molds to form the fucking action figures and because it was the 80′s and Arnold was the biggest star at the time.

“Star Wars: the Last Jedi” is a good movie and fanboys can eat bantha poodoo

I’ve heard all the reasons for why The Last Jedi is a bad movie and they’re all either stupid nitpicky bullshit or meaningless fanboy gripes. I could write an entire essay debunking those reasons point for point, like how the reason Holdo didn’t tell Poe a damn thing because no admiral would ever a tell a lowly grunt anything about their plan, especially after being demoted for being a hotheaded little fuckup. Or that Rey being related to Obi Wan or any previous Star Wars character didn’t happen because that would have been stupid and the definition of predictable. Or that the reason Akbar didn’t do the suicide run is because he’s a meme that the general audience doesn’t give a shit about and that there’s no way in Hell that the Mouse would allow a character named “Akbar” to do a suicide run. Or that Kylo Ren not being an intimidating villain is the whole point and that you’re supposed to hate him because he’s a petulant Darth Vader wannabe and a snake to boot. Or that the effectiveness of said suicide run, where Snoke came from, or the state of the Resistance by the end of the movie, or that any other so called ‘plot hole’ doesn’t matter because this is a movie about space wizards for children and paying obsessive attention to meaningless and pedantic details is exactly how we end up with stupid subplots in the Beauty and the Beast remake and Metropolis and Gotham City being across the river from each other! But the biggest one is Luke wasn’t portrayed as some Jedi Clint Eastwood (why fanboys want that eludes me; the EU did that a few times and they were all terrible) and that him exiling himself doesn’t make any sense.

Sorry, but no, Luke running off to a far and unreachable island makes perfect sense. For one, it’s kind of a thing that disgraced Jedi do, and for two, Star Wars is a fairy tale in space. All of the characters draw inspiration from characters and archetypes from fairy tales and fables of old, and the one Luke Skywalker resembles most (largely by design) is King Arthur. Think about it. Common boy who doesn’t know who his real parents are, meets an old wizard, gets a legendary sword, discovers he’s of noble lineage, tags along with a few colorful characters, goes on a quest that’s bigger than him and the life he knew, hits a few bumps down the road, and then eventually he saves the kingdom by overthrowing his father who once was a great man and a hero but gave in to power and corruption and became a dark reflection of his former self.

You will never unsee that.

Oh yeah, and remember how things turned out for King Arthur in the end? He started a whole new kingdom, he had a few good years, he grew arrogant, things started to fall apart, and suddenly he and everything he worked to build up were undone overnight by a younger, more vindictive relative. Disgraced, Arthur was whisked away to an unreachable island deep rooted in his own legend and mythology where he remained until Britain had fallen to darkness and needed him again. Now of course Britain as we know it has yet to see such a thing (we’ll see how Brexit turns out) but Luke did exactly that. And no, sorry fanboys, but The Last Jedi wasn’t a failure in any sense of the word. It grossed over a billion dollars, received critical praise, the DVDs and BluRays sold like hotcakes, and was adored by kids, teenagers, and young adults, the primary audience that Star Wars is for in the first place. And I don’t give a shit what the audience score on RT says, because for one aggregate sites are a blight on film criticism and we went from this;

“Batman v Superman and Suicide Squad are AMAZING, Rotten Tomatoes is biased and paid off by Disney!”

To this...

“Star Wars: the Last Jedi is TERRIBLE, Rotten Tomatoes says so!”

In just over a year. To say nothing of the fact that what you’re currently saying about The Last Jedi was also said about The Empire Strikes, and like ‘Empire’ twenty years from now people will look back on the fanboy outrage and say “Wow, what a bunch of babies.” And before the inevitable response...

“But Solo bombed because of The Last Jedi!”

Nooooo, Solo bombed because it came out right between Infinity War and Deadpool 2, was rife with development issues since day one of production, it was aimed overwhelmingly at fanboys obsessed with Star Wars deep lore answering questions that the general audience doesn’t give a shit about, nobody was even interested in the thing until the Lego Movie guys were signed on for a hot second, moviegoers aren’t currently hurting for cocky space cowboys...

...and because of the simple fact that it’s a solo movie about Han Solo...and it’s not 1995 and Harrison Ford isn’t in it. See, fanboys don’t realize that just because nerd and geek bullshit is mainstream now doesn’t mean that everyone is now a fanboy deep rooted in everything from where the characters are from to where they’re going, because when people say “I love Star Wars and Han Solo is my favorite character” what the vast majority of them mean is “Those movies with the space wizards and the laser swords are a lot of fun and Harrison Ford is a great movie star.” That’s it. That’s extent of why people like Han Solo. Sad dorks like us may care about stuff like where and when he got the Falcon, how he met Chewie, where the dice came from and all of that and more, but the general audience just wants to see Harrison Ford do cool shit in space. That’s it. To say nothing of the fact that nobody was even interested in the spinoffs in the first place. When Disney announced that they were making episodes 7,8, and 9 everyone went “Oh Hell yes, sign me up!” Then when they followed up with that they were also making spinoff movies about stuff that happened off screen or between movies the same audience was like “Oh...well that’s neat, I guess.”

And no, that stupid fanboy boycott had nothing to do with. Even the dude who started that petition to strike TLJ from canon admitted that he was in a bad place and that he was being stupid and angry, and I can promise you that all the shrieking dorks on Youtube are the buzzing of flies to Disney. If that crowd had any box office and movie making decision influence whatsoever, the next spinoff we’d see a trailer for would be “My Twi’lek Waifu: a Star Wars Story.”

PewDiePie is the worst thing to happen to video games this side of the gaming crash of 83 and he needs to fuck off

Yes, you read that right, and I don’t say that lightly. All sorts of terrible things have happened in the gaming industry since the gaming crash of 83. The console wars, the Atari Jaguar, the Philips CDi, Jack Thompson, the death of the Dreamcast, WoW, an entire console generation packed to the gills with homogenous gray and brown shooters with protagonists who all looked the fucking same, GamerGate, microtransactions, DLC abuse, the death of Maxis, an increasingly toxic fandom, “women are too hard to animate,” the degradation of E3 from a showcase of the biggest and bestest in gaming to a corporately sponsored circlejerk of self congratulatory backslapping and so much, much more.

I don’t care how much PewDiePie gives to charity, or how many fans he has, or how many people think he’s just the greatest, because he’s not. He’s an embarrassing, stupid asshole who constantly gets busted for making stupid racist jokes and by extension making his fans and everyone who has even the vaguest ties to the word ‘gamer’ look like stupid, racist assholes. He’s a corporate ass sucking apologist who gives exposure to anti Semites and racist wastes of space to his audience of mostly 10 to 15 year old boys, and he’s more terminally obnoxious than an Adderall addicted Pomeranian.

The day he posted his first video of him overreacting to a jump scare while making loud screeching noises on top of edgy rape jokes was the day the progress of “gaming as an art form” was shot between the eyes, placed in a box that was then filled with concrete, and thrown into the ocean. He’s a dumbass man child that’s making all of us look bad and he needs to take his millions worth of corporate sponsorships and fuck off forever into some dark, lonely corner of the Internet where he’ll never be seen or heard from again until an inevitable meltdown that lands him on an episode of Down the Rabbit Hole.

And that concludes this post. I’ll give my final thoughts tomorrow, and on Saturday I’m closing this account forever.

#unpopular opinion

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airyravenmaid · 5 years

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Eye Contact

Back at it again at Krispy Kreme with more FF Versus XV bullshit. This one’s kinda wonky and really bizarre since the AU overall ties in with a KH crossover I helped make up along with personal headcanons, but can also standalone for a FFXV AU in itself. I’m just clearing that up since there is a part mentioned towards the end that nods to a world the Chocobros went to as one of their many “world detours” en route to the one they needed to go to in order to establish diplomatic relations with a potential sister kingdom also of light. ...Oh, and there are implications of another headcanon regarding a certain Immortal Marshal, but that’s a popular HC in itself, so that goes without saying. So, yeah, sorry for that; just warning y’all so you don’t get confused and want me burned at the stake.

Alright, alright, that’s enough idiotic justification rambling from me; I’m already buzzed as is and can hardly think right anyways lol. Just enjoy the crazy piece I wrote so I can try and work on the next tone. This one’s not Lightis and is more platonic bc Light’s making fray-ends with these dumb boys :3c. Maybe I can write more of her befriending the others, but we’ll see. ‘Til then, here’s this one and happy reading for those who see this! 💘

Staring back at Prompto from the caravan bathroom mirror was himself, but more clouded. He only blamed it on having just gotten up and dressed for the day not too long ago, figuring he’d taken care of everything he needed to per his morning routine. The very sight of his dull, everyday mirror reflection made him sigh a tad forlornly, but realizing the time to go was imminent only had him slap two hands to his cheeks once. Putting on his more traditional smile, Prompto gave the mirror two thumbs up as enough motivation to start the day right. No prob! He could do this, he could do this!

Upon going to exit the vicinity for the fresher outside world, Prompto rubbed whatever lingering weariness stuck by away from his eyes to clear his vision. When things still looked slightly blurry as before, he gulped. Fumbling through his smallest bag, he dug for what he thought was taken care of already. Pulling out two connected circles he knew to be his contact lenses case, Prompto opened it to find it empty, to his panic.

“Maybe I’ve still got my spares…?” Prompto hoped, rummaging through the bag to try and find more disposable lenses. He found the source box, but opening it only gave him an empty container and an expectation for a very rough day ahead. “You’ve gotta be kidding me! I’m out already?!”

“Prompto, what’s the hold up in there?” Gladio called from outside. “We gotta move!”

“Be right out! Just— making sure I didn’t forget anything is all!”

“Then do one last good check and hurry. We haven’t got all day either!”

Prompto in response called out a playfully affirmative “Aye, aye, Big Guy!” before going to search what he could of something to counteract his flawed eyesight. There was a definite solution on him, he knew, but the glasses case buried somewhere on his possession was considered a dead last resort. Otherwise, those days of having them as his sole option were over and done with. His investigation was thorough, but unfortunately, his results came up fruitless with no lenses available.

Giving up, he exited the caravan to catch up with the other four and hurry into the vacant passenger’s seat in the Regalia before it finally drove off along the world around it. His only hope now was for supplies to be low enough for warranting a pit stop at the nearest store of some sorts, or at least somewhere he can pick up some new spares. Luckily in recent days, he’d been thoroughly reminded to digitally order replacements by a certain team strategist, but there was no telling when the chance to claim them would come. A gunsman’s aim-precise eyes certainly depended on excellent vision, and in a way, so did the entire team.

“So! Ignis, where’s our next destination?” Prompto asked next to him, knowing subtlety was key in his strategy to get his lens replacements. “Anything we gotta do first?”

“Actually, our first order of business is none too far from the Disc of Cauthess,” Ignis noted. “Seems we’ve run low on a few things, and waiting to get them is out of the question.”

“I couldn’t agree more! The sooner, the better; the more supplies, the merrier! So, no need to wait on it.”

“What’s your hurry for?” Lightning inquired, suspicious. “It’s just a run-of-the-mill supply run. We’ve done them hundreds of times.”

“Oh, I know that, it’s just, umm… you never know what you’ll find there that’s useful. And I’m just curious on what’s ‘in store’ for us.”

Lightning rolled her eyes at the quip and slouched back a bit further in her seat. “I guess. Whatever floats your boat, Prompto.”

Prompto knew the excuse was flimsier than wet paper, but if it got Lightning to not interrogate him any further thanks to her lack of concern, then he wasn’t gonna complain anytime soon. His secret plot was to rightfully claim his contact lenses in the proper place, find a place to hide and put them in, and the others would remain none the wiser without being slowed down in the slightest. Until then, however, he’d be stuck in the car unable to so much as fully enjoy the moving sights around him. And what photographer could be truly happy at being unable to see the full, beautiful world that made their digital easel? So much as thinking about it made him more antsy than usual, Prompto exerting it in the form of impatiently bouncing his leg due to only so much space in the Regalia.

He was too distracted by his hasty need for his contacts that he didn’t notice the sky blue eyes of Lightning staring a hole in his skull from the seat behind him. The only feeling compelling her to stare was her good old friend skepticism. Though definitely none of her direct concern, Prompto seemed up to something. But, what was it? That answer she didn’t quite know just yet.

Ignis pulled the car up next to one of the gas tanks, his suggestion to Noctis and Gladio on filling it up for the road taken without much question from either. Lightning got up to stretch her legs and see if anything was of necessary interest in the Mini-Mart, while Prompto went a little further a distance to see if his guess was correct. To his relief, he found what he’d expected to be in the area’s vicinity. It didn’t let him stray so far from the others that the Regalia was out of sight, but it was still a bit of a walk away on its own.

Okay, en-bee-dee, Prompto kept reassuring himself. Just a little trip to the nearest little pharmacy; in and out, then nothing happened from the others’ perspective. Walking in was a lot easier when only strangers he didn’t feel as self-conscious around were also minding their own business like he was non-existent. They were oblivious to who he was as a person and everything; the perfect getaway, he could say! In and out, then he’s run about!

“Hello, Sir, how may I help you?” the optical center clerk greeted. “Are you here to pick up something?”

“Yeah. I’ve got my prescription,” Prompto told them, surrendering the proof that he was medically approved to be there. “I’m here for my spares.”

The clerk looked it over carefully, nodding once the written prescription was validated and approved. “Just give me a few minutes and I’ll be right back out with the brand. It’s the monthly ones, right?”

“Yup! I know they say ‘daily is healthy’, but… turns out it depends on the person.” Prompto let out a laugh under his breath. That was certainly not an agonizing road he wanted to go back down again. Better safe than sorry!

The clerk took about as long as they’d promised. In “Prompto Time”, however, it felt as though every second passed was a minute wasted. He nervously clung to the hope of the others not having gotten done sooner and were presently waiting on their energetic youngest member. Just when it felt like forever had almost gone by him, back came the solution to his trouble of the day. Prompto mutely sighed in relief, thanking them while taking his new supply of contact lenses and handling what he needed to in regards to officially purchasing them.

So as not to risk hitting the road blind as a bat, Prompto hurried into the nearest bathroom to put them in his eyes. In accordance with his process, Prompto removed no more than his fingerless gloves and washed the hands underneath. His studded wristbands got a bit damp from the watery suds, but he couldn’t have cared less. Under the warm gusts of the hand dryer his palms went, rubbing each other all over to eliminate every layer of water.

And now… the harder part he dreaded so much. Two tiny dome-shaped, colorless terrors waiting to torture Prompto until he was to manage in getting them over the two most sensitive organs in his head. Nonetheless, he opened the box and took out the first pair, peeling off their wrapping and concentrating on his reflection. One wrong move, and it’d be over for him and his vision. Spreading his first pair of lids apart with his thumb and pointer finger, Prompto used the other index one to use as an applicator.

“Just a little further…” Prompto gulped, shakily pressing the contact more towards the rim surrounding the stressed lavender-blue of his eye. When it got too close, he wound up giving into fear and setting his finger down to let him blink for relief. “Wait, okay, time out! I need a second…”

“You did remember to wash your hands first, right?” the sudden voice of Ignis asked from behind, startling Prompto into nearly poking his eye out with the younger’s shriek.

“Ignis! Dude, don’t do that! But, yes, I washed my hands, I promise. What— are you doing here, by the way?”

“Tracking down my AWOL friend, who I knew to be running a bit low on his own supplies. Did you find what you needed?”

“Yep! Should be good for a long while!” Prompto looked behind Ignis, even near spots most wouldn’t detect so easily. “Nobody… followed you, did they? Like say…”

“If it’s Light you’re worried about seeing you, then no, she’s waiting in the car. Even if she had followed me, I believe you’d be more than safe in the men’s bathroom.”

“Right, right! Just making sure is all! You never know, you know…?”

“I ‘know’ that there’s also no harm in her finding out about your poor eyesight. I doubt she’d care too much if she knew, anyways.”

“Well, sure, but… let’s just say some things are just better off totally left behind without the reminder. And besides, there’s no harm in not telling her, either! For now, ignorance is bliss.”

“At least, until she gets too suspicious and finds out one way or another. You aren’t exactly among the best at ‘acting natural’, Prompto. Especially when you’re nervous.”

Prompto dismissed the notion, working on getting the first lens into his eye. “I’ll be fine, Iggy. What Light will never know won’t hurt her~.”

“One way or another, something’s bound to happen. But, on the subject. These lenses? They are not meant to be worn to sleep.”

In response, Prompto first let out a mock-buzzer noise while crossing his arms into an X-shape. “Wrong, Iggy! I was sure to get the monthly ones that are a little safer. Besides, that was like one time I did that!” Seeing the raised brow on Ignis’ forehead made Prompto backtrack, knowing he’d been seen right through like glass. “...Plus— okay, maybe two others, but I know that now! Thanks… anyways, though. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“I’ve enough faith in you to uphold that, but also give your eyes time to ‘breathe’ to be at your safest. And, do know that there’s no harm in a certain someone learning something new.”

Ignis left Prompto to finish putting his contacts in peacefully, having no need to tell him where to go afterwards. One down, the other to go. His fingers were shaky, but gripped the lens for dear life to do everything in his power not to drop it. At a snail’s pace, towards the other eye it went until its rim made a perfect contact around the iris. Winking a few times to get the plastic to stick, Prompto moved both eyes back and forth behind his lids, settling on a good enough feel for the new contacts in place.

“Ah, that’s better,” Prompto sighed, happy to see everything clearer than before. “Thank the Six for ‘boneless glasses’ to make my life just a little easier!”

Cleaning out his contact lens case with enough disinfecting solution and putting them in the Armiger’s storage system for ultimate safety, Prompto looked both ways and around on the outside of the men’s room. When the coast was clear, he shuffled out of the store uttering the appropriate “stealth music” as if a spy on a deathly mission. He ducked around some of the aisle shelves to hide himself occasionally, holding a long note once at the entrance before springing out of the building.

“Haha! Completely nailed it!” Prompto boasted, hurrying his way back to the Coernix Station - Cauthess while looking back at the pharmacy he’d escaped from. “And just in time to hit the— ROAD!”

“There you are,” Lightning said, knuckles on her hips and slightly hunched forward to show more of her disapproval at the spooked boy. “Missed you at the shop. Where’d you decide to wander off to?”

“N— Oh, nowhere, Light! The shop just didn’t have what I needed to pick up, so I found someplace else!” Prompto grew even more anxious at the well-known glare being as strong as ever thrown right at him. “I’m telling the truth! I didn’t go too far!”

“You’re up to something, Argentum.”

“Yeah, I am. I’d say about… five-foot-eight? Not as tall as Gladio or Ignis, but you’ve got a little catching up to do—”

“—You know what I mean, don’t be wise. What are you hiding?”

“Me? I’d never hide a thing, ma’am! I’m Prompto ‘Open Book’ Argentum, that’s me!”

“If you’re such an open book, then you’ve got no reason to be so scared of telling me the truth. What is it, already? Spill it.”

Just then, the savior in the form of the Regalia pulled up and honked the horn, courtesy of Noctis driving up front. “You two having fun over there? Whatever you’re talking about can be said in the car, too.”

“Can it, Prince,” Lightning hissed coldly, getting in one of the two remaining seats. “This conversation isn’t over, Prompto. I’m letting you know that now.”

Gulping, Prompto sat himself down in the car, giving Noctis wordless permission to drive onwards again. Thankfully, he was separated from Lightning in the back thanks to Gladio sitting between them. A bit of a tight fit considering how large the man was, but nothing close to “excruciatingly unbearable”. Even with a living barrier between them, Prompto got chills tingling his spine in the worst way possible whenever he was faced the brunt of Lightning’s infamous staredown. Six, if looks could kill, then he’d have been vaporized by now for gazing directly at such a goddess in woman form that had as much beauty as she did perseverance. All he had to do for the time being was work his way around her suspicion until she forgot about it enough, and he’d be home free! After all, how hard could that be to try and get away with…?

The next time they stopped for a while to camp out later on in the day, Prompto sought the opportunity to celebrate his new contact lenses. He did so in the form of, what else, taking advantage of the exquisite outdoor scenery. Letting everyone else know he’d return in due time, Prompto set off to a remote area of the woods with his camera in hand, on the hunt for whatever might catch his eye and become a future memory of the past. Such a moment would be even better with someone else there to also experience the magic with him, but— as much as he’d rather stay far away from the nastier parts of it— nature was bound to have something to tickle his fancy within it.

Prompto took in everything about his surroundings to see what he could do for his little “indie photo op”, as he’d put it before stepping away from camp. Tripod, check. Camera, obvious. Light source? “On fleek”! Angling? Top-notch! Alright, everything was in place and nothing nearby that he could see to mess it up. Selecting his first snapshot spot, Prompto positioned his beloved camera in its standing hold, setting the timer for when it’d go off. Counting down the seconds; three, two…!

“There you are,” Lightning interrupted, scaring Prompto into stumbling into his tripod and accidentally taking a blurred photo of the ground instead of the nice view.

“And there goes my shot,” Prompto sighed, filling his lungs with his breath and exhaling to calm himself enough. “Light, at least warn me first before sneaking up on me like a serial killer!”

“If you’re mad about your dinky little photo, just take it again. This place isn’t going anywhere, but neither am I until you tell me the truth.”

“Oi-vey, there’s just no dropping that, is there? Why do you wanna know so badly, anyways?”

“Because if it wasn’t something worth hiding, you wouldn’t be dodging the question so much. Now, fess up, Argentum. I’d hate to resort to ‘less pleasant’ ways of getting you to talk.”

Prompto found himself sweating in the brow and backing away, one step in reverse synchronized with Lightning’s forward. “There’s nothing to say, already! I’m not hiding a thing!”

“I don’t buy it. Either tell me and let me leave you alone, or don’t tell me and only make this harder on yourself. Make the right choice.”

He’d run out of options, and inner shame prevented him from potentially making for an awkward confession. So, between fighting it or flight, Prompto chose the impulsive option of the latter with his beloved camera in hand. He could always come back for the tripod later once he didn’t have a rosy-haired warrior out for his past. Although it was common sense to know Lightning was chasing after him, Prompto gave into looking back at her anyways and running faster before turning his head around again. When he did, all he received was a faceful of tree bark smacking him right against the face, his camera falling to the soft ground unharmed when his hands went to cover achingly where he got hit.

“Looks like you’re out of options, Argen—” Lightning started to say until she realized Prompto sank to the ground covering his face. Her irritation cooled into an odd sense of concern, now going over to inspect the man more carefully. “Wait, are you hurt?”

“Mmm-mmm,” Prompto got out, something crystalline falling from his left eye and sticking to his upper cheek. When he felt it, he gasped. “Don’t come any closer, okay?”

Lightning grew more worried, especially at the sight of what seemed to be a tear. Did she go too far in pressuring him into injuring himself? That was quite a run into the tree he just did… “I have to make sure nothing’s broken. Are you bleeding?”

“No! Stay back! I’m fine!”

Lightning disobeyed and removed Prompto’s hands from his face. To her relief, he didn’t seem to be bleeding or bruised, but strangely, neither eye seemed damp with any tears. How that could be was unknown to her, but then she looked closer at what was really stuck on a freckle. Against Prompto’s further protest, Lightning picked it up and squeezed it between two gloved fingers while examining it a little better. After a few seconds, she recognized what it’d been if not a salted tear of pain like she initially believed.

“...It’s a contact lens,” Lightning pointed out, still looking at it until Prompto snatched it back from her. “Why do you have a contact lens on you?”

“N— Not important,” Prompto mumbled, trying to slip the lens back into his eye, but to no avail without the proper concentration.

“Sounds so to me. Look.” Lightning knelt down in front of Prompto, getting him to look at the new gentleness her eyes now held for him, not a trace of force to be seen on her. “If this was what everything was all about, you can tell me. Unless you really are somehow secretly conspiring against the others, then I have no reason to get that much on your case over a little contact lens.”

“You thought I was—? No! Never!” Prompto sounded almost offended that she’d think that of him, but in all fairness, he was acting a little off his loop from trying to hide his secret from her. “...I dunno if I can tell you, though. I wanted to make a good impression on— well, someone who’s never met me before this.”

“You’d have better luck by being honest. Trust me, I’ve had my share of bad news, so since you’re not putting anyone’s life in danger, whatever you have in you, I can take.”

Before he could think of any other objection, Lightning sat down next to him against the tree, picking up his camera and brushing off the dirt it’d acquired from the fall. She checked it over to see if it’d gotten cracked or anything of the sort, but was pleased to hand it back to Prompto when it looked as intact as ever. Prompto frowned; there was no way out of this, was there? And it’d be rude to leave a lady unanswered when she’d so sincerely asked, so… time to face the music, it seemed. Astrals, this was gonna suck.

“Well, as you could probably guess, my vision’s not the best in the world,” Prompto confessed, a sheepish laugh leaving his throat. “That’s why I gotta wear contact lenses to— ya know, fix that. Can’t be a photographer or gunsman that can’t see, can you?”

“Then how come you don’t just get glasses?” Lightning wondered as Prompto used his phone reflection to fight the lens back over his vision hole. “It seems harder to put those things in, doesn’t it? One wrong move, and you’d never see again.”

“It’s not so tough once you get used to it and take care of them the right way. And I am never going back to wearing glasses again when I don’t have to! They look fine on Iggy, but count me out!”

“So, you did used to wear them? Why’d you stop?”

“That’s kinda where the whole ‘I’d rather not talk about this’ part comes in. When I was a kid, I didn’t just wear glasses. Believe it or not, I also actually used to be pretty chunky and more of a turtle. Always in my shell and whatnot, you know?”

Lightning didn’t say it aloud, but the revelation did surprise her. Trying to picture a younger, slightly more plump Prompto that couldn’t so much as speak his mind sounded completely foreign to her. But, he also sounded… different in telling his tale. There wasn’t the usual buoyancy to really be heard, or too much of the wise-cracking nature she was more familiar with. No, all Lightning could hear was more of a sadder little boy wearing a sunnier mask to hide a past he wasn’t proud of. She logically kept her full judgement in line, wanting to hear more to see what else there was to it.

“You don’t say?” Lightning commented. “First, on you needing glasses back then, why was that? I’d have figured a noble from Lucis would be able to afford something ridiculous like laser eye surgery, or—”

“—Eh? ‘Noble’, who? If you’re talking about me, I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong guy there, Pink,” Prompto laughed uneasily. “I could never be able to pay for that.”

“You’re not a noble? How could that be; you’re travelling with a prince of all kinds of people!”

“I know. I’m as surprised as you are, trust me. But, alack, I am but a commoner in a group of rich men! Even so, I honest to the Six doubt Pop would have been able to afford getting eye correction surgery for me. Shit’s expensive, lady!”

“Fair enough. Then, how did you get into the Crownsguard if you’re just normal?”

Prompto’s face grew even more sullen, looking at the camera between his fingers without a hint of his usual smile. “That’s what I’d like to know. It’d be super nice to think ‘wow, all my hard work paid off, so I got to be worthy of joining’, but… I just can’t believe it’s anywhere close to the truth. Sure, I got in; lost the weight, did the work, yadda-yadda. But really, even with Pop training me to get here today, I just don’t know if I’d have done so well on my own anyways.”

“It… sounds really important to you. Then, why go through so much if you feel this way?”

“To be honest with myself? A big reason’s all because I wanted to be worth something to Noct. Oh, and that’s besides him being a prince dealing with a commoner and stuff, too. My bestie’s kinda my ‘firstie’ too, if you know what I’m saying.”

Lightning scoffed, rolling her eyes more at the mention of Noctis than Prompto’s friendship with him. “Leave it to the little snob of a prince to hold such expectations on you. He’s got two others that aren’t broken, so why rope you into it?”

“What? Oh! No, no, Pink, you’ve got it all wrong!” Prompto’s tone grew more frantic, realizing he’d planted an accidental misconception in the ex-soldier’s head. “Look, I get you and Noct would rather not wanna deal with each other, but believe me. I’ve known the guy since at least high school; he’s a total sweetheart once you see enough underneath the surface! A little crabby, sure, but he’s really not anywhere as bad as you’re making him out to be.”

“More power to you, then, because I’m not seeing it. Whatever, this is about you, not him.”

“In a way, it’s kinda both. If it weren’t for how my friendship with Noct started, then I dunno where I’d be now. Me wanting to both protect him and be a good enough friend to him is what got me started on the road to changing who I was into someone much better. I’m not sure if I’ve totally succeeded yet, but if I’ve been with him this long, maybe I’m doing something okay for once? Maybe you don’t understand what I’m saying, but to put it all simply, Noct’s done nothing but help me all these years. And all I wanna do is do it back and keep doing it for as long as possible.”

...Wow. At that moment, that was the only word Lightning could form in her mind. She may not have understood why Prompto was going to such lengths for someone like Noctis, but if there was something she did get, it was the gunsman’s process. And though Gladio and Ignis she was beyond fine with as people once she’d gotten to know enough of them, something with Prompto resonated with her in a way those two hadn’t quite achieved (at least, not yet to her knowledge). Maybe it was on the fact at not being the only common person after all Now that he’d said that to her, but whatever it was, Lightning was curious enough to know more.

“Let’s just say I wouldn’t go and say I don’t understand where you’re coming from,” Lightning admitted. “To want to change so badly to make someone you care about the most happy… you’re not as off base as you think.”

“Really, now? Anyone back home make you feel that way?” Prompto wondered. “Like a best friend you’ve got yourself?”

“Yes, and no. Just know I’d do anything to see them have a good life. I can only hope I did enough to make that happen, considering every horrible mistake I’ve made.”

“Assuming they’re still around, if they seem to be doing okay because of you, then… well, lo hiciste, you did it!”

“Sh— they’re thankfully alive and breathing, but I can’t help but worry if I ever did enough or not. And even if I did, what now? Will they still need me anymore?”

‘This would be a little easier if I knew how close she was to the person she’s talking about.’ Prompto worded what he wanted to carefully. It wasn’t every day Lightning have off such a vulnerable aura, so the last thing he wanted to do was make her more upset. “If you ask me, just being able to stand by them and know you could help them go far in life sounds like reward enough. Sure, maybe you can’t be together forever and ever, but knowing you made an impact comes just as close.”

“And how would I know if my impact even mattered? For all I can tell, they could be fine without me. Better, even.”

“One way of seeing it? They may be able to live their own life just fine, but it’s hard to forget how they got to that life in the first place. If you impact enough, they’ll be sure to never take that for granted.”

Hardly even realizing it immediately, Lightning felt her heart mellow out a tad melancholically the more she thought about her most cherished protectorate. All the foolish mistakes she’d made along the way she may not have been ready to forgive herself entirely for, but in where everyone from Cocoon and Gran Pulse now were, she’d do anything to keep it how it’d become in the end. Now, of all the people to find that appeared to understand her in that way, it’s Prompto who claims such a spot.

“Those are some wise words coming from you of anyone,” Lightning told him. “Never imagined it’d be from the same person who’s compared gloves to being ‘hand condoms’, either.”

“Light, that’s only the beginning of my endless wisdom,” Prompto said proudly before simmering back down in his tone again. “But, frankly? I’m more surprised you were so willing to listen that easily. I’ve only really said all that to Noct.”

“It’d be ‘pot calling the kettle black’ if I gave you such a rough time about this. But, if you ask me, it really looks like you’re on the right track, even if you think you aren’t.”

“Can’t stop you if you wanna think that, but all I can do is keep trying and see if I can succeed. Until then, there’s no saying for sure.”

“Well, considering you’re already pulling more weight out here than any nobody could hope to, I’d say you’re making the progress you need. Hell, you’d give Sazh a run for his money if he saw how well you work a pistol. And he uses two!”

“Right! Now, for my next question; who the heck is Sazh?” Prompto in asking it sounded closer to his more chipper side, but was just as unfamiliar with the comparison.

“A friend back home. I think you’d like him just fine.” Lightning started counting off a few fingers, fishing out the similarities. “You’re both top-notch gunsmen, wise-cracking even in the tightest of situations, have a fondness for chocobos—”

“—Wait, wait, hold up! This friend of yours also sees the true glory of Eos’ finest creatures?! Do tell, Miss Farron! Don’t keep a guy waiting!”

Lightning couldn’t help but softly laugh at Prompto’s enthusiasm for once. That certainly got his attention. “It’s more his son, Dajh, that’s crazy about them. But, if keeping a chocobo chick in his hair amounts to anything, I’d say he’s a huge fan of them, too.”

“He keeps a chocobo chick in—! Get out! I’ve— that clinches it! I gotta meet this man someday! I just gotta, Pink! I’ve gotta learn his ways! How could I have been so blind?!”

Lightning pat Prompto a few times on the head, appearing to quell his innumerable excitement levels. “Easy does it, Sunspot. I’m sure he’d forgive you for taking a while to do that. But, while we’re on it, how did you get so good at firing a gun?”

“Well, I hate to keep bringing my pop into this, but back when I was still in training, he found my aim wasn’t just top-notch in taking a few snaps. Turns out projectiles are just my calling, too.”

“And I may as well ask this, too, but who is your dad? He sounds a little more than just another commoner. Is he a veteran?”

“You could say that, but you’ve met him already! He’s the same guy who sent you to travel with us in the first place!”

“What? But that was—” Lightning stopped, eyes widening when she realized who Prompto was talking about. She looked at his sunny, almost cutesy-looking mug, then comparing it to the complete 180 of his apparent parentage. “...No way. The Marshal?! Cor Leonis is your dad of all people?!”

“Yes… and no. Obviously, we’re not blood related, but he sorta adopted me as a baby. Then, eventually, he had to give me up to my… other parents. So, I guess I grew up the rest of the way with them.”

“He had to give you up? Why?”

“Guess it had to do with him being leader of the Crownsguard and all. Someone like that can’t balance such a huge responsibility and a kid, so he didn’t have a choice on it at all.”

“Then, how come you still call him your dad if he’s technically not anymore?”

“I try not to when I need to be formal or in front of other Guard members, but honestly, I still pretty much consider him my father even though I had to go somewhere else.” Prompto’s mouth flattened into another frown, this one as wistful as the ones before it. “Hard to admit, but he’s the only older adult figure in my life there enough to earn that title. My… folks weren’t exactly home too much, so I mostly had to look after myself all the time.”

“They left their kid on his own just like that?! Some ‘parents’ ya got there. Actually, I don’t think I should use that word. If they were really your mom and dad, then they shouldn’t leave their kid behind when it’s still in their control. If it wasn’t? Different story. But, that’s not the case here, is it?”

“Well, I— look, Pink, bad mouthing them isn’t the answer. Can’t change how I was brought up, so… what, huh?”

“I don’t care in the slightest. Prompto, you don’t deserve to be practically ignored by the two people meant to be there for you the most. I’m not accepting it, and neither should you, Mister.”

“It’s not like I ‘accept’ it, exactly. It’s— I just wish… you know…”

The words faded on Prompto’s tongue, but were replaced by a quiet gasp at what happened next. Of all the things to get from Lightning for any reason, her arms wrapped around his body in a strangely maternal embrace was definitely not one he expected. But, for once, it simmered his heart into steady, rather sad thumps. He didn’t find it appropriate to hug back, but it appeared Lightning wasn’t going to let go of him just yet. Although it was his primary thought, it didn’t seem to be a hug of empty pity; even at her rare warmest, the woman to him never appeared as the type to go and show something so pointless for another person. Rather, the display felt as comforting to Prompto as it did secretly unearned.

“You’re doing just fine. You just have to not quit while you’re ahead,” Lightning reassured him. “I haven’t been here as long as you four, but I’m sure they’d have said something by now if you weren’t at least close to good enough. Real friends stick by you from start to finish, but also know when you’re falling behind on what’s really crucial.”

“That sounds true and all, but…” Prompto silenced himself, shaking his head without the desire to say too much more. “Nevermind. You’re right; I shouldn’t overreact or turn into a real ‘Debbie Downer’ here.”

“I never said you were. Feeling low’s gonna happen against your control; it’s what you do with it is what makes the difference. I’m nobody to tell anyone else how to feel, but I can at least encourage you not to throw your hopes out the window just yet. Think you’d be able to do that?”

“Hmm, dunno. I’ve already got bad eyesight, so it’s not like I’ve got better ‘future sight’, either. But, man! Would if I could, Light. Would if I could.”

Lightning could feel a delicate little smile tug at her mouth corners hearing Prompto regain the laugh in his voice. “Careful what you wish for. Being able to see into the future might not be as nice as you think.”

“What makes you say that? Having that as a superpower would rock! Unless— yeah, maybe some things are just not meant to be seen before they happen. Is that why?”

“Among… other reasons people wouldn’t like it. Bottom line, I’d rather you waited and saw, and not saw and waited. You got that?”

“I gotcha! Won’t see any ESP from me, lay-dee! But, you mind if we get going? I did say I was only gonna be gone for a little bit. Don’t want everyone thinking I almost became bear chow again.”

“It is a good time to— wait, ‘again’? What do you mean ‘again’?”

“Nothing that’s not best left in the past! It was before you came along, and we’re all fine now! Don’t you worry your pretty pink little head there.”

Having done enough of interrogating Prompto for one day, Lightning left it at that and got herself off the ground. She was about to turn the other way hoping to be followed, when Prompto let out a loud, energetic gasp after looking at his camera again. Without explaining himself, he grabbed Lightning by the wrist and ran in the direction of where she’d originally chased him from. Besides not wanting to leave his poor tripod all by its lonesome, having another person with him in such a great spot was a photo opportunity just begging on its knees for him to take it.

And just who was he to up and refuse it so rudely?

“Really, Prom, we’ve gotta go,” Lightning insisted as Prompto set her up in front of the tripod and camera like a living prop. “Can’t this wait until later?”

“Not a chance!” Prompto chirped, making sure everything on his camera was all set and in position. “Why pass up the chance of a lifetime in getting a nice snap with my favorite photogenic newcomer?”

“If you wanted a selfie, then you don’t need my help with that,” Lightning quipped, hiding her smirk behind a few fingers at the consequent stunned blush on Prompto’s face born from the comment.

“Oh, fair maiden, how you flatter a clown. But, nope! You’ve gotta be in the shot; no way out until this memory’s made!” Prompto set the timer up, running to where Lightning was and readying himself for the shoot. “Smile for the camera, Pink! It loves ya!”

Lightning never really considered herself a “camera person”, but with how little time she had to think about it before the camera went off and captured her appearance in the moment, she did what first came to her mind. Giving off the most modest of her smiles, the shutter went off and immortalized the exact moment and pose the two were in. Prompto went to go look at his new photograph, rather pleased with the almost punkish way he had his tongue stuck out and the peace sign fingers on the hand belonging to the arm he’d wrapped around Lightning’s shoulders without actually making physical contact. As for his female companion in the snapshot, hers didn’t seem like anything to write home about, but nothing of it wiped even a bit away of the smile on his face.

“Another shot gotten! And this one’s the first to be blessed full-on by such a gracious presence!” Prompto beamed, making loops around the moon from how happy he was to have gotten a photo with Lightning. “Hey, why don’t you see how it came out, too? No need to let you miss out on it.”

“Why don’t you show me while we’re heading back to camp?” Lightning suggested, hauling the tripod under her arm and allowing Prompto to follow in her steps. “Nothing against you doing what you like, but we were supposed to head back a while ago.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course! And since we’re doing it now, take a quick look!” Prompto put the camera in front of Lightning’s eyes, the screen still on its most recent picture.

“Easy with— ...oh.” Lightning saw how the photo came out, rather impressed by the expert-level accuracy and the fact that even her more mild expression didn’t lower any of the quality either. “Gotta say, for someone that needs contacts, you’ve really got an eye for the camera.”

“I’ve had two for as long as I can remember. This journey’s not gonna last forever, so I might as well make a way to capture it for as long— WHOA!”

Lightning immediately ducked and caught Prompto by hugging her arms around to his torso, pulling him back up onto his feet hiding her suppressed urge to laugh. “Maybe tell me more on the way back. While looking where you’re going, of course.”

“That can be arranged. See, it all started when…”

Ignis was in the middle of getting the last few minor touches on camp set up, at the same time Gladio and Noctis were preoccupying themselves a distance from him with a harmless sparring match. Their combat reminded him personally to take a good look at his recently acquired Mythril Knives to ensure they were ready for use next time the team was to be under attack by the forces of evil or wilderness. His ears picked up on faint chatter past the sound of swords clashing and a prince rapidly warping, further investigation informing him that the culprits were the previously absent Prompto and Lightning. The ecstatic storytelling from his blond friend was nothing new, but the interested placid smile on his pink-haired one certainly provided some questions on what happened between them in the woods.

“—Then, I got attacked by a horde of angry baboons! As if that wasn’t bad enough, this leopard comes along and tried to take a bite of me in the worst way possible!” Prompto recited to a fascinated Lightning, Ignis recalling exactly the moment in question on one of the detours taken before they’d even officially set out on their current mission. “All because I wanted to snap a pic of this cute little baby monkey I saw, too! Was that so wrong?”

“You might have just scared the thing with your camera,” Lightning guessed. “What’s harmless to people might not be so to a wild animal. It probably mistook you for a hunter.”

“Still no excuse to try and get me killed! The little…” Prompto grumbled, trailing off and ending the bitter sentence in his head. “Any jungles where you’re from, Pink?”

“Not where I’m living now, no. But, where I was born, the closest I can think of is the Sunleth Waterscape. Never been myself; my sister and a few of our friends passed through it, though.”

“Bummer. Was that awesome ‘Sazh’ guy you were talking about one of those people?”

Lightning nodded. “Him and Vanille went at the same time. Speaking of which, you act a lot like her, too. I think you almost have her beat in the ‘perky youth’ department. And… some other more personal things you’ve got in common, too.”

“I won’t make you say things you don’t wanna, but my ‘Light’s friends I just gotta meet’ list is growing!”

“Maybe when I go back home, you can find time to visit. I’m sure they’d get a kick out of you.” Lightning’s voice had a noticeable lightheartedness to it, imagining the sheer chaos of Prompto meeting her loved ones back home.

“It sounds like you two had a good time out?” Ignis inquired, finally getting the two’s attention on him. His glasses-covered eyes were particularly on Prompto asking it, who knew the reason why.

“Definitely nothing I was expecting, that’s for sure. Anything could end a lot worse, but I’m happy this didn’t.”

“That makes two of us, sister!” Prompto agreed, bringing up the new photo of him and Lightning on his camera. “And guess who also finally got the ultimate selfie today? This guy, that’s who!”

“You finally partook in one of Prompto’s photos, Light? I always thought you to be the camera-shy type,” Ignis said, scanning the camera screen with intrigue.

“I’m not much for taking them, but it came out really well,” Lightning admitted. “As long as Prom doesn’t ask me to take too many of them, I don’t mind getting another in for him.”

“Do you really mean that?!” Prompto squeaked, beyond joyous.

“I just might. I don’t have ‘future sight’ either, though. We’ll just see where things go after this.”

Lightning only left it at that after, flashing Prompto another kind glance before going over to request a sparring match of her own with Gladio after Noctis concluded his with him. It hadn’t gone past Prompto’s cleared up eyes at all, the ecstatic shutterbug still feeling his innards doing giddy flips and turns about the events that’d transpired overall. He found himself smiling with his sunny aura after Lightning, freezing when he’d caught the look on Ignis’ face, too.

“Seems you’ve made a friend in her,” Ignis pointed out. “I’d have to be halfway blind to think she isn’t starting to warm up to you.”

“You really think so?” Prompto breathed, scratching one cheek with his pointer finger.

“I’ve more than a feeling. Not as scary as you thought her finding about your contact lenses was going to be, was it?”

“Pish-pish, lucky guess. Turns out, a lot of things that’s bothered me, she’s been on the same ride just as bad.”

“And yet a lot remains a mystery about our newest comrade. However, enough has certainly come to ‘Light’ with her since she joined us.”

Prompto laughed, quickly catching onto the discreet humor. “Can’t know everything about everybody, of course. Especially since there’s some things we just don’t know the answer to.” At the same time he said that, he fixed the black bands covering his right wrist so they wouldn’t reveal anything the mystery mark underneath.

“Which is perfectly fine. Everyone has their skeletons in the closet, big or small. It’s only a matter of how people take them is what makes the difference.”

Prompto couldn’t argue with that, being unable to avoid looking at not just Noctis toying around on a favored game on his smartphone, but also Lightning performing an impressive deflecting of Gladio’s strike. He still couldn’t fully believe what happened today did, nevermind actually reaching this point in his life. And yet, somehow, here he was; still among the Crownsguard of all things, and making a new friend that turned out to be sailing in the same boat as him in a way.

Another person— Lightning, no less, was more than willing to encourage him from her own honest faith alone. She’d joined Noctis in rooting for him, so Prompto had to be a fool to do so much as consider letting her own too because he couldn’t live up to the simplest of expectations. Whether or not he was sure he’d succeed in the end aside from his personal lack of true confidence, nothing was an excuse to stop after every step taken in the first place.

Prompto tapped one closed eyelid each gingerly, making sure what stuck to his eyes behind them were both secure. He laughed once to himself. Of all the ways possible he could have shared such a deep moment in the woods with someone, it had to be over a measly pair of contact lenses. Small world, he thought. Small world, indeed.

#Final Fantasy XV #Final Fantasy XIII #FF Crossover #Prompto Argentum #Lightning Farron #Tales From The LibrAiry #FF Versus XV #idk what the name for these two is; but it's platonic anyways so no need to use it I don't think???#Regardless; Lemonade Mouth is a go :3c #Also you can pry dad!Cor from my cold; dead hands; let Prom have at least one (1) good parent in his life goddamn it

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asidian · 7 years

Note

How about something about Gladio and Ignis or other Citadel-related people handling the fact that puberty turned Noctis from a cute kid into a really surprisingly attractive young man?

Author’s Notes: I’m… not sure if this is at all what you wanted? H-haha, sorry. orz Anyway, thank you for the prompt, and sorry this got so long and rambly. ^^

===

Notice

===

Puberty comes late to the crown prince of Lucis. At fifteen, he still looks like a child, with a certain softness to his face and a slenderness to his build.

He tries to beg his way out of school picture day, because he knows well enough that, when he stands beside his classmates, he’ll be shorter than all but a handful.

Then comes sixteen, and with it all the trappings of adulthood. Per the king’s instructions, Ignis begins briefing Noct in more expansive matters of state: in boundary disputes and diplomacy; in civic planning and rules of law.

It’s as though Noct’s body rushes to catch up with the responsibility.

He grows a foot in two months; his limbs take on the gangling, awkward look of adolescent puppies. He has to be measured for an entire new wardrobe, and then another, several months after that.

Ignis notes the razor that rests by the bathroom sink now, a point of pride, though he doubts that Noct has much call to use it. He notes the frequency with which the maids have to change His Highness’ sheets, and he sighs, reminds himself of the hormone-driven days he was more than happy to leave behind, and sits Noctis down for the most embarrassing conversation that he has ever had call to engage in with another human being.

It lasts for half an hour. It focuses primarily on responsibilities, and the importance of maintaining the royal lineage. It covers the unpleasant effects of certain sexually transmitted diseases, and what measures should be taken in order to avoid scandal.

It ends with Noctis in possession of a box of condoms.

It ends with the knowledge that Noct can turn that peculiar shade of dahlia pink, heretofore unseen.

===

The damn kid has a fan club.

Gladio’s not sure when it happened, but hell if it isn’t the funniest thing he’s ever heard.

Iris comes home from school one day, all worked up about it, and Gladio knows by now exactly which way to prod to get his sister to talk about whatever she’s excited about. She’s bad at hiding it; that’s just the kind of person she is. If she’s into something, it comes bubbling up out of her.

So he prods, and she begs off answering, and then two hours later, she comes back around while Gladio’s reading in his father’s study. She sits herself down on the couch, and she says, “I wasn’t the one who started it,” and Gladio feels his eyebrow go up.

Iris launches into a tale of intrigue and betrayal, one that ends with two of the most popular girls at their school founding the Prince Noctis Fan Club.

And what else was she going to do? She has to keep an eye on them, to make sure they’re not doing anything that’ll be bad for Noct’s good name. So she joined, too. She might not be first in line to be Shield, but she can shield the prince from some things, at least.

Gladio tells her that she did the right thing.

He agrees that it’s best she keep tabs on membership, for Noct’s sake.

He sees her to the door, and he closes it behind her, and he sits back down with his book.

Then he laughs so hard tears roll down his cheeks, and bites his thumb to keep from being loud about it.

And when Iris’ class comes to the Citadel on their field trip, he cajoles Noct into playing tour guide.

===

Noct’s new apartment looks like a space that can be lived in, finally.

The cardboard boxes scattered haphazardly across the floor have long been unpacked. Their contents fill the shelves. Ignis saw to most of it, fiddling with considerations such as convenience and aesthetics, while Noct played games on his sofa.

That’s months in the past, now. On the occasions when the space is clean, it actually looks quite nice.

The young man that stands in the center of it, in his trim black suit and sloppy tie, looks at home here. It’s done Noct a world of good, getting some space for himself outside the Citadel.

The new living arrangements come with several specific unfortunate downsides, however. Among them: the time between coaxing Noctis from bed and him walking through the door to the Council’s chamber has dramatically increased.

Ignis glances him over, with a critical eye.

He looks half awake, still. His hair has been gelled, but there’s a certain sloppiness to the way it’s been teased into its peaks and valleys. His face is washed, but the concealer and eyeliner the prince sometimes takes pains to apply is conspicuously absent, abandoned in favor of a few more minutes in bed. The tie knotted at his throat, a beautiful silken blue, looks as though it’s been arranged by a five year old.

“Honestly, Noct,” says Ignis, and steps forward to straighten it up.

His fingers slide against the silk; his touches are brisk and businesslike. But he’s aware of Noct’s eyes on him, that curious shade of night-sky blue. He’s aware of long lashes that truly don’t need the help of the eyeliner. He’s aware of the way Noct’s lips curve up at the corner into a smile, fond and familiar.

Suddenly, Ignis isn’t certain when the chubby toddler he played with as a child turned into this young man before him, who looks every inch the dashing prince from the pages of a fairy tale.

“You do it better, anyway,” says Noct.

Ignis steps back and admires his handwork; the tie is crisp and even, and Noctis looks very much the young gentleman.

“There,” he says. “That will serve.”

It will more than serve.

His Highness has a photo shoot for a popular girl’s magazine next week. Ignis makes a mental note to ensure they fit this tie into the wardrobe.

It complements the blue of Noct’s eyes quite nicely, indeed.

===

They’re in the middle of training when Noct loses the shirt.

Gladio doesn’t blame him; it’s hot as hell, and they’ve been going at it for damn near an hour and a half. He stripped out of his own at the start of the session, and he’s still sweating buckets.

But Noct hardly ever ditches his.

If Gladio had to guess, he’d say it probably has something to do with the mess of a scar halfway down the kid’s back. It’s pretty badass, honestly, but he there’s no telling what’ll set someone off.

Whatever the reason, Noct keeps the shirt on, most days. He hasn’t taken it off in training for – hell, probably almost four years now.

He was a scrawny scrap of a thing, last time Gladio saw him without it, but those days, it looks like, are long in the past.

He’s filled out, that’s for sure. The shoulders are broader, and the abdomen is all lean muscle. However much Gladio gets on him to lay off the pizza, he doesn’t need to. Sure, he’s not ripped. Gladio knows for damn sure he can bench press four times what Noct can pull off, easy.

But Noct’s trained in just about every weapon in the armory, and it shows. He’s built like a gymnast, all sleek power.

It’s a good look on him. No wonder his fan club’s having its three year anniversary next week.

When Noct glances up and catches him looking, Gladio gives an unimpressed snort.

“Gonna have to step up arm day,” he says. “Can’t have the crown prince flexing with those noodle arms.”

“Noodle arms,” says Noct. “Right.” There’s a flash of blue, and the biggest great sword in the Armiger flickers to life in his hands. It’s as long as Noct is. When they started, he could barely lift it, but now he falls into his stance, massive blade out before him, head tipped up in challenge. “That sounds to me like an invite to knock you on your ass.”

Gladio feels himself grinning. He calls up his own sword in one hand – uses the other to crook his fingers, the world’s universal come-get-some gesture. “Bring it, princess. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

===

The Accordan ambassador is tall and amiable, and entirely too familiar with the prince.

At dinner, he’s seated to Noct’s left, and he spends the meal leaning in closer than is proper. After, he blames the drink; Lucian wine, he claims, is far more powerful than what he’s grown accustomed to.

Ignis, who counts himself something of an expert on vintages, knows very well that the alcohol content from most Accordan wines is much higher, but for propriety’s sake, he presses his lips together and says nothing.

After the meal, King Regis and his son retire to the lounge to entertain the visiting diplomat. There are certain concessions in the upcoming trade deal that His Majesty hopes to lay the groundwork for, off the books.

Ignis won’t be needed for the remainder of the evening. He’s free to retire to his own quarters, and nothing pressing requires his attention. It could be one of those rare few early nights, if he so chooses.

Instead, he lingers in the grand hall, seating himself where the tour groups pass to and fro, during daylight hours. Now, the there are no curious eyes about to see the sights. Now, the Citadel is nearly empty.

He’s not certain what he’s waiting for.

He idles there far longer than he can excuse as fancy, tapping notes to himself neatly into his phone for tomorrow’s meetings, for want of anything better to do.

That’s where Gladiolus finds him. The man’s in a suit, hair slicked back. He had a tie at one point, but it’s been removed from its spot around his neck, crammed into a pocket haphazardly.

“What,” says Gladio, slowing to a stop before him. “You don’t have anywhere else to be?”

“Not at the moment,” says Ignis, primly, and taps in the last of his notes before looking up.

Gladio sprawls onto the bench without waiting to be invited, legs spread casually in the manner of ill-behaved thirteen-year-old boys. Ignis spares him a lingering glance.

“Never seen you not in a rush to do something or other,” says Gladio, bemused.

“There’s nothing wrong with keeping a tight schedule.” Ignis adjusts his glasses, though truth be told they don’t need it. “What of yourself? It isn’t like you to linger after hours.”

Gladio lifts one big shoulder and lets it fall. “What, can’t a guy feel like hanging around?”

It would be hypocritical for Ignis to argue the point, and so he doesn’t. He only opens up a new document for his three o'clock with the minister of finance and begins tapping in something new.

He’s written barely two words when his phone buzzes.

It’s a text from Noct, and it reads, “you still around?”

Ignis replies immediately: “I am.”

There is a moment’s pause, during which Ignis pretends to add to his notes but makes no alterations of any value. Then a new text arrives. “can you come here pls.”

He’s on his feet before he’s finished reading, turning toward the elevator that leads up to the higher-security levels of the Citadel.

Gladio says, “What’s the rush?”

And Ignis, thoughts on the Accordan ambassador blaming the wine, says, “Noct,” and his tone is a bit tighter than he intended.

Perhaps Gladio can read his inflection. Perhaps his posture, more closed off than usual, gives him away.

But Gladiolus is on his feet an instant later, falling into step beside Ignis as he makes for the elevator. “On my way,” Ignis taps into his phone, as the doors slide closed behind him.

They arrive at the king’s lounge barely five minutes later. Ignis knocks on the door, brisk and businesslike, and calls out, “Highness?” in a voice loud enough to be audible through the elaborate paneled wood.

There’s a pause, and then Noct opens the door.

He’s decidedly more disheveled than he was half an hour ago. His hair is askew, and the knot of his tie is sloppy. But more than that, his eyes are flat and guarded, in the way they get when he’s upset about something.

Ignis takes in the scene: a room empty of King Regis, empty of anyone else save the Accordan ambassador leaning casually back against the couch, a glass of half-drunk scotch in his hand. His face is redder than it was before, and he looks a touch disheveled, as well.

And Noct. Noct catches at Ignis’ cuff and stares up at him, and then toward Gladio, standing there in the hall. His grip is too tight, and his fingers are trembling.

That tells Ignis all he needs to know.

“Terribly sorry,” says Ignis. “I’m afraid the Council has announced an emergency meeting. His Highness is required elsewhere.”

Then he holds the door wide and says, “Gladiolus, if you’d be so kind as to see the ambassador out?”

He doesn’t think he imagines the way Gladio’s eyes linger on Noct. He doesn’t think he imagines the tightness in the man’s jaw. “With pleasure,” says Gladio, grimly.

“Highness,” says Ignis. “Shall we? The timeline is rather pressing, I’m afraid.”

Noct nods, and lets go of Ignis’ sleeve. He says, “Lead the way.”

He follows Ignis out into the hall, toward the Council chamber. They walk in silence until they reach the first turn in the hallway. Then Ignis changes his route, circling back around to veer toward the Citadel’s private suites.

It takes them just shy of five minutes to reach Noct’s old room. It’s maintained in his absence, for when an official function runs late and he wishes to stay over instead of returning to his apartment.

He stands there in the doorway, looking somewhat harrowed, until Ignis says, “If he tries to reschedule, I’ll shift his appointments around until his ship sails. After he’s safely off our shores, the authorities in Accordo will receive a request for a new representative.”

“Thanks,” says Noct. He swallows. “My dad had to beg off. His leg gets bad, you know? But I thought, it’s just groundwork, right? I’m okay at negotiating.”

Ignis waits for the rest. He hopes that Gladio was rather less gentle than usually warranted, in seeing the ambassador out.

When the silence stretches too long, Noct says, “He got kinda handsy. I would’ve punched him out, only I thought dad wouldn’t appreciate a diplomatic incident.”

Ignis feels a strange swell in his chest at the words. He says, “The right ties in the Accordan media make certain diplomatic incidents all but disappear, you’ll find. As it so happens, I have the right ties in the Accordan media.”

“So you’re saying I should have punched him out.”

“I’m saying,” says Ignis, tone more fierce than intended, “that it would have been no more than he deserved.”

Noct thaws a little, then. The guardedness slips from his eyes, and from his posture. He looks like he means to reply, but Ignis’ phone buzzes before he can. “Go on,” says Noct. “It’s probably Gladio.”

It is, in fact, Gladio.

“How is he?” the text reads. “Does this guy need to accidentally fall down the stairs before I cut him loose?”

Ignis stifles a smile. “Your Shield,” he says, “is considering something of a diplomatic incident of his own.”

Noct leans over to look, with a huff of something very nearly a laugh. “Call him off. And tell him I’m fine.”

Ignis taps his reply into the phone and then slides it into his pocket again. “Are you?” he says, when he looks up.

“I am,” says Noct. But the longer Ignis stares, frank and even, the less Noct seems able to meet the gaze. “I just didn’t expect it, you know?”

Ignis takes a breath in and lets it out slowly. It’s a rhetorical question, but he finds himself answering, anyway. “Nor should you have had to.”

They stand there for a moment, in silence. At last, Noct says, “Thanks, Specs.”

“I would say any time,” says Ignis, “but frankly, I’m hoping we’ve never cause for a repeat occurrence.”

Noct smiles, wry and crooked. “You and me both.” He turns from the door, toward the couch where he used to play video games at twelve years of age, and sits himself down on the indent that still indicates his favorite spot. “Hey,” he says, almost as though it’s an afterthought. “You mind giving me a ride home, when we get out of here?”

“Not at all,” says Ignis. “Although I suspect we’d best wait for Gladio. Unless I miss my guess, he’ll be along shortly.”

Gladio is along shortly, and he brings with him some choice words about the Accordan ambassador’s parentage. Ignis adds a few thoughts of his own, decidedly less crude but every bit as cutting.

By the time they see Noct from the building, through the meandering back hallways of the Citadel and into the private attached garage, that shaken, uncertain look has been chased from his face entirely.

#ffxv #Noctis Lucis Caelum #ignis scientia #gladiolus amicitia #drabble

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thechocobros · 7 years

Text

Her freedom

Day 3 - LUNYX WEEK ✧ Gestures of love

Couple: Lunafreya Nox Fleuret/Nyx Ulric

Words: 3746

Summary: Once she arrives in Insomnia, the Princess has to struggle with her own desires for freedom.

It began as a silent presence, always dancing around her. A voiceless companion quietly watching over her, maybe too silent for her taste.

Lunafreya would have liked to speak with him, at least enough to know about the strange, new reality surrounding her since her arrival in Insomnia, but she never did. She didn’t even know his name and when asked why, he simply shook his head, looking away. It was then that she realized: a simple Glaive wasn’t allowed to speak with the holy Princess Oracle. Not only did idle chatter not have a place in the young Oracles schedule, but it would be looked as having been improper, considering she was the beloved bride to be of the King of Kings. Familiarizing with other men would have created gossip for sure and the royal family simply couldn’t allow that. Yet in spite of this, Luna persisted in cultivating such a dangerous desire.

She couldn’t wrap her head around her fascination with him. At least a dozen other Kingsglaives and Crownsguards were assigned with her security for her duration in Insomnia. But he remained the only one able to capture her attention. His appearance was interesting and appealing, that much couldn’t be denied. Braids and tattoos adorned his body but they couldn’t hide his Galahdian origins, nor the small scars on his face revealing the battle veteran that he was. And Gods was he handsome, but Luna wasn’t one to not know what handsome was supposed to look like. Ravus was a very good looking guy, Prince Noctis was a looker as well. Even the future kings entourage was full of dapper men. Having grown up as royalty she had been surrounded by good looking men her whole life so no, it was not his pretty face that allured her most.

It was something else.

But she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

————————–

Until one day, it dawned on her.

He and a couple of other Glaives escorted Luna from her apartment to the Citadel. She was supposed to participate in a counsel meeting that Prince Noctis would miss leaving Luna charged with taking his place. Since arriving in Insomnia, Luna became accustomed to her fiancée laziness so she didn’t complain much. Instead she actually found herself enjoying that part of the day, since it conveyed the impression of having some control of her life.

The mysterious Glaive - charged once again with her security - opened the door of the car signaling for her to get in. Swiftly entering the car, she couldn’t help but indulge on how tall he was as he stood next to her. Eyes constantly observing him in silence from the safe distance of her car seat, hidden behind dark glass. After helping her in, the Glaive turned to his companions, a chubby man and a pleasant looking brunette. And there, it happened: the perfect, professional mask of the detached soldier crumbled down, leaving space for his true being to show. A warm and utterly beautiful smile, glowing eyes fueled by a fire which slightly colored his cheek, sparked by an electricity flowing fluidly throughout his body. His whole being blossoming, ever true in that moment, shining warm and bright like the sun. When compared to his radiating light, the Oracle felt so cold and dim.

“Save some of that warmth for me too” she whispered, fingers eagerly touching the glass, iching for a taste like a child yearning for sweets in a candy shop. The crash of the car door shutting sprung her from her intimate thoughts, bringing her back to reality as the engine grumped and roared taking her away.

——————–

After that episode, she couldn’t watch the Glaive anymore without wishing from the bottom of her heart to see him smile again.

Sadly, her hopes remained unfulfilled. Luna guessed that man was a pro. If protocol said to not interact with the royal member he was guarding, then he would oblige. Just to be cautious he wouldn’t even look at her or get too close. It was clear he was there only to work and it appeared as though all his humanity was reserved for moments outside his guard duty. Or at least, that was what Luna believed.

She had been in Insomnia for two months already but she still didn’t catch his name, and it started to frustrated her. Actually a lot of things were frustrating her: being far from home, forced into the busy schedule of the kingdom, being obligated to wear a mask the whole day in order to avoid letting others know how much she suffered, not being able to choose her own destiny. Sometimes it was too much for the young Oracle to endure, and soon she would finally cave into her emotions.

———————

That day it rained all over Insomnia.

The clouds were a dark grey, water falling down from the sky like an unstoppable waterfall. Shivering in her white sweater, Luna moved near the desk and looked outside, dealing with boredom for the first time in what seemed to be forever. She was supposed to go to the gardens that morning to meet with some politicians from the minor regions of the kingdom to conduct deals and who knows what else. Rain ruined her schedule of course, so she stayed in her apartment, waiting for the bad weather to pass.

She hated being busy but she hated having the time to think even more. Thousands of memories of her rotten adolescence came back to her mind, tormenting her soul as they always did. She knew that her present didn’t offer any hope for a better chance either. In Tenebrae she was the former Princess and at least her role of Oracle guaranteed her a certain freedom, but now in Insomnia she was nothing but a puppet whose wires were moved by superior forces. An empty shell molded to appear sophisticated, pure, and beautiful at all times. It was in Aldercapt and Regis’ interests to clip her wings not because she posed as an obstacle for their plans, nor to draw the attention of the gods upon themselves. They simply wanted to play the part of the ostriches, hiding their heads underground in order to ignore prophecies and omens which said she would been queen of Tenebrae one day. However, both Regis and Aldercapt would be gone soon in any case, and when this would happen, she would remain alone with Noctis on top of the world, things having changed. But in the mean time she had to wait.

In spite of the calm she was used to displaying on the surface, Luna wasn’t very patient. She felt so frustrated and craved action. But most of all, she craved justice.

She wanted to see the people who hurt her suffer the same pain they put her through. She wanted her freedom again, to be queen, she wanted to rebel against the Gods that forced her into slavery since the mere age of four.

Even if surviving everyone’s attempts to kill her and become queen was not her destiny, she would have to make it happen since that was the only purpose of her long waiting.

The only price she had to pay in exchange for justice was to share a bed with her childhood friend, but she hoped she would get used to that too. She got accustom to far worse things after all, like oppression, sufferance and abuse. Sleeping with a husband like Noctis may have been pleasant after the first few nights. She did care for him after all. Or at least, that was what she hoped. Sadly enough, the truth was that in rainy days like these, she felt that was a price too high to pay.

Noctis was a dear friend, but the thought that ‘they’ chose him for her made her stomach churn. Maybe spite was her only motivation, but she didn’t want to be forced into a marriage of interest. She wanted the freedom to choose and experience something different and new. To indulge in whatever she wished for her own happiness and for some reason the Glaive’s smile popped up in her mind, hurting her feelings even more.

She rarely allowed herself to cry for the freedom she knew she couldn’t have. But that day, as she watched the rain pouring down on the large windows of her room, her tears fell ever so silently, streaming down her porcelain face.

Maybe the weather was to blame…

Or maybe she was putting too much tension and stress on her own shoulders and she needed a minute to let herself go. Either way she cried, sobbing uncontrollably like a child lost and afraid. She tried her hardest to be silent but it was to no avail, and so she stood there, hoping nobody would intrude on the vunerable Oracle.

“Lady Lunafreya?”

Of course someone had to knock on the door at that very moment. Luna quickly wiped the tears away, sniffing, trying to pull herself together again.

“C-come in” she shakily responded.

The large doors of her suite opened, revealing two Glaives hastily walking towards her.

One was the brunette girl, a mage named Crowe. She was the only one who was permitted to speak with her on rare occasions. The other one was the Glaive with the heartwarming smile, professional and detached as always.

Luna wished to dig a hole and bury herself in it, such was the embarrassment she felt in showing herself in such a miserable state. There was no way that the duo didn’t notice her pale, redened expression reavealing that she was crying not two seconds ago.

“I-I am sorry” Luna said, standing up, breathing deeply. “What can I do for you?”

Crowe seemed puzzled by the sight of the sad Princess but proceeded anyway. She nodded, bowing at the same time, speaking with great respect.

“We need you to write a small letter for the deputies you were supposed to have met this morning, asking them to reschedule for another meeting. Two gentle and formal senteces would be enough, they just need you to write it with your own hands. The secretary will take care of the rest. After that, we shall escort you to lunch with the royal family.”

Luna looked lost for a moment but quickly gained the energy to answer: “Of course.”

Sitting at her big desk she prepared herself to do what was ordered of here as always.

The mysterious Glaive placed himself next the window behind Luna, while Crowe gave the Princess a couple of documents, explaining what each one was for. Even if she was good at paperwork, Luna still found it pretty annoying, especially in that very moment. She just wanted to go back to crying alone.

“Sign here and here.” Crowe said like nothing happened minutes before, her voice a gentle whisper. When she finished, she continued: “I’m going to deliver it to the Captain and will come right back, your Highness. Just go on with your letters in the meantime.“

The brunette shot a nod to the other Glaive, leaving him in charge of the Princess.

In a matter of seconds, Crowe was gone and Luna was left alone with the man who haunted her dreams these past few weeks.

She really wasn’t in the mood for more emotional torture, so she just tried to ignore him, ending in failure every time. He was silent like a tree standing behind her, yet she could feel the electricity he emanated. She could feel his presence, his aura, and it was addictive. Maybe she was just weakened by the weather or her previous breakdown, but she found it extremely hard to sit still in her chair. Focusing on her letters was begining to prove to be almost impossible.

“I…..” she started, raising her head to look at a point in the distance in front of her. She didn’t hear him move, so she assumed he didn’t care for whatever she was trying to say. What was she trying to say? Even she didn’t know. Her thoughts were confusing and disconnected.

She merley bowed her head again, starring at the letters in front of her. Words she already wrote turning blurry. Something wet escaping her eyes, falling onto the paper.

Oh no.

Please no.

No tears now, she pleaded with herself, hastily trying to hide them, wiping them away from her face.

“You can wait outside, Glaive.” Her harsh tone was betrayed by her shaking fingers and shallow breaths. Luna waited a second, hoping he would have obeyed but when he didn’t she quickly raised her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I said you can leave.” This time she tried to sound more serious and she succeeded. The Glaive turned around and stepped ahead. She could hear the movement in the air and the delicate swish of his movements. Luna expected to see him walking out the door, leaving her alone, free to melt in her own sadness.

Surely she didnt expect to feel his hand touching her hair, gently moving strands away from her cheeks, revealing the crazy mess she was. Of course it surprised her, because there was no professionalism in that simple gesture. If he couldn’t speak with her, it was heavily implied that he couldn’t touch her either. But at the same time, the way his fingers adapted to the form of her face felt so right. And since she stupidly dreamt about his touch for weeks, maybe it made sense if she welcomed his somehow familiar caresses. She immediately closed her eyes, like there was nothing wrong in enjoying the touch of a Glaive she knew nothing about. His glove smelling like consumed leather, his fingers like soap and it was more than just pleasant. It was….Soothing. Slowly washing away the pain, loosening the unforgiving grip stress had on her heart.

“It’s fine to cry sometimes.”

It was the first time Luna heard his voice and it was so beautiful it echoed in her mind for seconds before she could answer. She had to look up at him certain that such a warm tone must have matched a similar expression. As a matter of fact, the usually cool Glaive was ready to break every rule forced upon him by giving into the weakened Oracle, smiling shyly and audaciously at the same time. And that was it. That was the warmth she craved. The unexpected gentleness that tore the brick wall between them, bringing them closer and pushing them to connect. Now that the bond was finally created, it would prove to de difficult for both of them to suffocate it again.

“I-I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” The Glaive encouraged, reaching for the other cheek, gently cupping her whole face to make her look at him. “Your'e doing great, Highness. C'mon.” He delicately pointed at the letters again and smirked, arching his eyebrows.

Luna couldn’t help but bit her lip.

“It’s not about the letters, it’s…”

“I know.” And she was certain that somehow he truly did know. The truth and sincerity in his eyes were proof enough. Luna reached out for a tissue and worked a few seconds on putting herself together again, all under his attentive gaze. When she was finished, she looked at him again, not sniffing anymore.

“May I ask your name now?” The Glaive’s smile grew larger and shrewd.

“Well, you’re gonna get me into trouble if you do.” Even if she was still exhausted by the crying, Luna knew she almost got him and couldn’t afford to give up now. She knew she wouldn’t have another chance and so she reached for his hand, which was resting on her neck and squeezed his fingers, raising her big blue eyes at him. This must have had some effect on him, because he immediately let his walls down. Sighing loudly he looked at her and confessed: “Nyx. Nyx Ulric.”

Luna’s expression sweetened.

“It has been a long time, Nyx Ulric.”

The man kneeled down allowing their faces to be on the same level. His grey eyes were sparkling, swirling blue, looking for a good way to formulate a response. All the while Luna admired his tattoos and scars from a close distance.

“You must promise me you won’t tell the Captain. Or anyone for that matter.”

“And you must promise me you will continue to break the rules everytime I ask you to.” He shook his head, in amazement.

“I’m so fired.” Luna bit her lip in triumph. It was clear as day that the Glaive was not worried at all about the possible consequences of his actions. Maybe he wasn’t such a man of duty after all. “Now, can you please finish writing those letters so Crowe doesn’t cut my head off once she comes back?”

Luna nodded and turned towards the desk again, but she didn’t let Nyx’s hand go and she didn’t intend to anyway. Nyx didn’t protest either. On the contrary, his fingers kept slipping back and forth against her palm, tracing invisible marks on her delicate skin. It was distracting but Luna managed to finish her letters anyway. When Crowe came back, Nyx quickly jumped away from the Princess, right in time so the mage wouldn’t notice the inappropriate proximity between the two.

———————

Their hands coming together was their first contact, the first gesture of love, but it wouldn’t have been the last. Now that they broke the ice, their fingers wasted no time in starting to look for each others every single time they had the chance.

For example, when Luna left his apartment and had to use the car, Nyx started to open the door earlier than usual, just to let his fingers quickly slip between hers, accompanied by the most beautiful smirk of complicity. And during his guard duty, Nyx opened the door to her room like the gentleman he was. She proved herself extremely able to squeeze his hand unnoticed and this caused the Glaive to procure a flush on his cheeks every single time, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. Or like that time when they finally found themselves alone again, this time in the gardens near the Citadel. It wasn’t a stroll that would have taken place in her normal schedule, yet she insisted, so that Drautos didn’t have any other choice but allow to the Princess to do what she wanted, with the single condition to be accompanied by at least one of his Glaives. Luna even pretended to be offended, so she could have a word in the choice of the soldier. Nyx should have been outraged by the Princess’ ability of manipulating the Captain, but he found himself following her in the gardens anyway. Her pace was getting quicker and quicker as she sneaked under an aisle made of roses, so thick that the shadows inside it transformed the sunset into night. He wanted to tell her to slow down, but he followed her without uttering a single word. He knew what he would find within that garden. First her hands, then her open arms, and finally, her kiss.

It smelled like the roses that surrounded them, feeling warm, long, and forbidden.

Nyx pushed Lunafreya towards the wall made of rose bushes, locking her hands in his, in the vain hope of keeping things under control. With the Princess so close, standing there on her tiptoes, he felt like he was eating forbidden fruit. A figure so beautiful that not even the best poetry would have been able to describe her. Reaching for his lips like she was looking for air to breathe, he found having her like this just irresistible. There was no way he could keep the situation under control.

“Dammit, Princess”

“Language, sir Ulric.”

“You really want to see me get fired.” Luna bit her own lip before bitting his once again, enjoying the Glaives muscles giving up to her. She grabbed his hands, placing them behind her before cupping his face, feeling his beard under her delicate touch, exploring every detail with calm, lingering on those smiling lips which were igniting warmth within her.

“No, I can’t have that. If you are going to be fired, how would I see you again?”

He pulled her closer and thought, if he had to be punished for what he was doing, he figured he would go big. “Yeah, in that case you’ll need to find another stranger to kiss. Another Glaive maybe? Almost everyone in the department would sign up for it you know? You should see them fighting over the assignment for your guard.”

“But you’re always the one assigned with my safety.” Nyx raised an eyebrow.

“And now you know where my bruises and scars come from.” Luna laughed, surprising herself. How long had passed since she last laughed?

It was fun speaking with him, he had a pleasant wit which was rare to find and Luna was glad to discover it. There was so much she wanted to learn about him. His qualities, his flaws, his preferences, his problems, his past, his present. She wanted to know it all, certain that there couldn’t be a better book to read than the one he was providing.

She looked at him for a moment, sighing audibly, closing her eyes. She embraced his neck, indulging in another deep kiss. This time she widened her mouth, allowing his tongue to conquer every inch of her. Without even noticing, her forehead had frowned and her movements turned sad. The intensity he put in that breathtaking kiss made her realize the consistency of her feelings, so she spoke them out loud:

“I don’t want another Glaive, Nyx Ulric. There’s something about you I have yearned for since the very first moment I met you and I want to understand what it is. Please, don’t let me go before I have a chance to know.”

Nyx couldn’t find an immediate answer to such an honest plea, so he looked at her mouth agape, caressing her cheek with his thumb laughing.

“This is just crazy!”

Luna mirrored his smile, laughing with a hint of relief.

“Well, I can’t help with it. It’s the first misdemeanor in years for me.” A small dimple appearing right where his small tattoo was.

“I can teach you a lot about that.” No better promise could be made, since she was eager to finally taste some freedom. And that he was. Her freedom.

“Good.”

#lunyx #final fantasy xv #kingsglaive #lunafreya nox fleuret #nyx ulric

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beauvoyr · 7 years

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Lazy People’s Club for the Sleepy and Tired | 13

flowering | child of cosmogony

Pairings: Noctis/Reader Genre: Friendship/Romance/Friends-to-Lovers Tags: Fluff, Humor, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, Abuse, Torture, Asphyxiation, Murder, no beta we die like men, pre-canon a.k.a before FFXV WARNING: This chapter contains murder and violence. Chapter Rating: M Crossposted on: AO3 Summary: Rules to join the Lazy People’s Club for the Sleepy and Tired: 1) One must love sleep. Sleep is love. Sleep is life. 2) One must be tired. Physically or emotionally, both are acceptable. 3) One must love video games. Halfhearted interest in video games will result in immediate termination of membership.

Fortunately, Noctis falls into all three categories.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: White, too, can be corrosive, just like acid.

what happened to mother? you can’t say, for you do not know.

she fades into a distant blur, one of the many paintings hung in the halls of your head. sometimes, your mind is a treacherous friend playing tricks on you. you’d hear her last scream, hidden behind a door. you never dared to open it; if you do, you know you are intemperate, letting your feelings best you at this game for two. so mother remains, at most, locked behind the door. schrödinger’s cat, both alive and dead at the same time.

should you ask byron to quench your thirst?

no.

father’s lesson is still etched on his skin in long, raised lines you memorized under your fingertips. twelve on his front, five on his arms, and many more on his back. you’ve ruined him, you know. the remnants of these angry red lines have faded off into pale pinks on white over the years, as though branches of cherry blossoms bloomed on his skin. something so grotesque shouldn’t be so beautiful, even as you gingerly run your fingers across the patterns. whenever you do, byron stiffens under your touch like he’s afraid you’d dig your nails into the hatch welts.

he doesn’t know your touch is reverential, each brush an apology too late to be given.

and the lingering guilt in your heart paves way into something else.

“YOU AND NOCT REPENTED YET?”

Gladio is a merciless master. In this training room, he is the commander of the battlefield. Noct being a prince doesn’t mean shit to him, as long he knows how to dodge a blow and barrel into safety behind the Shield. Hardy as he is, he’s still got a weak spot somewhere in his heart when the feral glint in his amber eyes softens, coming across you and Noct, sitting together on your knees after getting banished to the farthest end of the hall. Your expression is certainly sorry enough, having repented to Hell and back as you rub your raw knees, and Noct is. Well. Kinda still working on the whole ‘repenting’ part.

“I can do three hours,” Noct grits out, deliberately cocking a brow in challenge. “You up for it?”

And Gladio’s casual smile morphs into something along the cynical lines of you little shit.

Just as quick, your hand flies out to smack him square in his bicep with an affronted, “Prince! Stop! I’m already sorry enough that I’m late…don’t drag me into this.”

Noct’s answer is a light elbow to your side, his grin taking on a criminal edge. “Your fault. Three hours should be good, hmm?”

“Spare me…I can’t even feel my legs anymore, is this normal?” Gladio catches your murmurs buried by your face in your hands. Your voice is certainly apologetic and he knows you’re not the type to piss him off on purpose, but Noct is just the devil sitting on your shoulder. An unrepentant, filthy devil wielding a trident for a spork.

Noct smirks, flippant. For some reasons, he looks oddly triumphant of himself, like he’s reveling that he can last longer than you. Which is technically cheating, in Gladio’s books, ‘cause Noct’s got years of punishment to back his credentials—and this is only your first day, for crying out loud. “It’s only normal when you can’t feel anything from waist down,” Noct says, his smirk turning savage. “If you can’t feel your legs, that means you need one more hour.”

There is a high note tucked somewhere in your following groan. “No, stop, please. Gladio, I’m sorry I’m late, I’m sorry I made His Highness late, I’m sorry we’re late—“

Honestly, you’re kinda pathetic like this.

With all due respect, you could still be King Regis’ illegitimate child or secretly some poetically forgotten Astral and he’d still think you’re pathetic. All the years you’ve been doing with your books developed none of your muscles. Gladio squints a little, hoping to find something to prove him wrong. Nope, not an inch. Ah well, he can’t blame you, not when your situation’s a bit weird like one of those stereotypical romance novels of noblewomen held captive since birth, just waiting for roguish warriors to rescue them. And now that you’re all ‘rescued’ by none other than nth-time Champion of Punishments, Prince Noctis, well—now what?

“Suck it up,” Noct drawls, lips all lazy smiles. “You’ve got 54 more minutes to go.”

Mumbled between your fingers, you resign your fate to the greedy prince. “Gods, I—I’ll do my best, Prince. I think.”

That gets him gloating more than ever, always a sucker for people obediently obeying his command, feeding his Ravatogh-sized ego. “Good.”

Well—now, Gladio guesses, it’s high time to put you out of your misery. “All right, knock it off. Noct, quit bullying the new kid on her first day.” He claps his hands, subjected to a moody glare from the little punk ass prince since Gladio obviously ruined his fun. “Architect guy, listen up: First rule, don’t be late. Noct can demonstrate what happens when you’re late, since he’s pro at this.”

And Noct, the pretentious prince who thinks he's hot shit, rolls his eyes. “Seniors are pros anyway.”

“Whatever.” Gladio’s way beyond holding up the conversation every time Noct gets all mouthy, being the smart-ass he is. He only holds up two fingers for emphasis. “Second: Don’t expect me to go easier on ya just ‘cause you’re a girl, got it? I’ll adjust your training regimen to start off with the basics, like building on your stamina and strength and flexibility. Nothing too hard, just somethin’ to get those muscles to work. Work hard and you’ll be as good as Iris in no time. All clear?”

You head bobs up and down fervently, wide-eyed. “Got it.”

He nods his approval. Good. You’re off to a pleasant track record if you keep this up, since you’re obviously preinstalled with strong self-discipline, ignited by your own initiative to better yourself for Noct. You look like a decent student in the long run, already managing to survive through two hours on your knees—and then there’s Noct, who’s already stretching out his legs and attempting to massage some life through them. He gets you to unfold your legs too, receiving all pained grunts and suffering moans when Noct taps your thighs, just being the asshole he is. Provided you don’t follow Noct’s bad influence, Gladio supposes you’ll survive through your training regimen with all your limbs intact.

…which brings him to rule number three.

“Third rule.” He clears his throat, drawing your attention to him once more. “If Noct’s being an ass, just punch him.”

“So if you’re being an ass, she gets to punch you too?” Noct asks, sounding all the more impressed with himself for thinking that up. “‘cause I’m pretty sure it goes both ways.”

“Can it, Prince Charmless.”

Little Prince Charmless scoffs at the injustice, nudging you in the rib, even if there’s an awkward reddening of his ears. Yep, he’s trying hard not to show Gladio’s jibe got under his skin, but the proof is right there. You only emit a long-suffering sigh, burying your face deeper in your hands. Nope, too damn late to escape your fate if you’re looking for a way out. Once someone gets involved a little too deeply with Noct, they’re usually stuck in the ride for the long haul, and then some. Noct, the very definition of guiltless and unrepentant right there in the dictionary, hasn’t shown you the fullest extent of his arsenal of assholery yet—oh, Gladio can’t wait for the day you’re gonna be moaning into your hands again as you lament your fate to the Astrals, ‘cause the good stuff is just starting with a bang.

“All right, kids, enough of that talk.” Gladio thumbs over his shoulder where the steel brackets display an array of daggers, swords, broadswords and polearms masterfully crafted from hardwood. “Noct, go do your warm-ups. I gotta have a little chitchat with our resident Architect right here. Now scram.”

Oddly, Noct doesn’t move. He’s regarding Gladio coolly under hooded blue eyes, arms crossed. “About what exactly?”

Unfazed because he’s the bigger person around here, both literally and figuratively, Gladio whistles low under his breath, sassing Noct’s huffy arm-crossing thing. “Didn’t know I needed His Highness’ express permission to talk to her.”

“Yeah,” Noct asserts, like the sky is blue and chocobos can’t fly and you’re all his. “I brought her down here so she’s my responsibility.”

Responsibility, what was that again? Gladio feels his eyebrows shooting up fast enough to launch into outer space. Noct being irresponsible is an ancient prophecy everyone and their grandmas heard of, but Noct being responsible is definitely not written anywhere in the Cosmogony, nope, not even a little footnote tacked at the end of the last page. What is he, some sort of feudal-era dad marrying off his daughter or something? The absurdity of the mental image gets Gladio chuckling a little.

“Responsibility is a big word, Noct, gotta be careful with that,” he points out. “You sure you wanna take responsibility over her paperwork, about two or three whole stacks of ‘em?”

That gets Noct decolorizing faster than expected and he’s all too happy to jump to his feet. “Gonna go get my warm-ups done. See ya.”

And that’s that. Noct betrays you just as easily, stalking off in the direction of the weapons. Gladio’s chuckling dissolves into barking laughter, colouring Noct’s nape with that same awkward red from earlier. Dropping on the polished floor, he snorts at Noct’s direction. “Heh, he freaks out on the big stuffs all the damn time. Chickens out the moment someone says the R word. Don’t let it offend ya, kid.”

“Not offended at all, don’t sweat it,” you answer, plain. There’s a bit of an improvement though, your tone is no longer as monotonous as a machine, sometimes ending in a breathier note, or dropping significantly whenever you’re distressed. None of that robotic rubbish whatsoever, probably thanks to Noct’s constant meddling in your life. “I know His Highness is a busy man, even if he looks all irresponsible. I just wanna be there to support him and the kingdom. It’s my duty as an Andronicus anyway, so it’s no biggie.”

Gladio huffs under his breath and scratches his cheek at the bit on the Andronicus. And that’s another matter altogether when it comes to your lineage. “Yeah… about that, I wasn’t joking about the paperwork. We’ve got whole stacks of them, standard security stuff on your background.” He sees you readying a rebuttal, all the more ready for your responsibility, and he holds up a hand to stop you from going further. “Hold your chocobos. Your situation’s a little difficult than the rest of the usual stuff we’ve got. Y’know what I mean?”

Of course you do, he knows you’re smarter than the average brat out there. The placidity in your eyes is deceptive, gazing unflinchingly into his. With each syllable, your lips curve, adopting a change in your languid lilt. “I’m aware of my unique predicament. I’m always doing things behind father’s back anyway, so it’s not a surprise if he finds out sooner or later. He can’t stop me.” Almost to yourself, your eyes trail aside and you murmur, “He’s long lost the power to control my life the moment I came to the Citadel. He knows he’s losing this war I waged. We’re now playing against time, that’s all.”

That’s—well, a little unnerving to hear.

Slack-jawed, it takes a moment for Gladio to dissociate the groaning, moaning mess curled up apologetically earlier from this conniving creature splayed before him. All lashes lidding low, examining a raveling thread on your thighs with the apathy of a queen, despite having uttered words an average twenty-something wouldn’t dream of a lifetime. How easily you switch depends on the matter, going from the ungainly girleen into this Machiavellian lady in mere seconds. As much as you paraded yourself as a harmless being, there is no denying the Andronicus inside.

And the Andronici are some of the most impersonal, inhumane nobles serving the Lucii Kings.

Gladio shuts his mouth with a hard click, getting his head in the game. He leans forward with a look meant to daunt those who’ve heard of the Amicitia, but you remain unconcerned. “What makes you so sure you’re gonna serve Noct?” he presses on. “What if your dad overrides your decision to become the next head of Andronicus, kid? You got backup ideas ready?”

Something about your illusory indolence feels off, gets his gut feeling roiling inside. “I already have plans in store,” you say. “Don’t worry about it. I won’t involve His Highness in my own mess, you have my word.”

Always answering things in a vague, roundabout way like what Noct complained when he first came across your existence, huh. Unless he resorts to brute force, he doubts he can wring anything from you without breaking an arm or two. Or ringing alarms somewhere else in their pentagonal friendship cycle. Still, as long as you’ve got Noct’s wellbeing as the number one priority in that pretty little head of yours, you’re entitled to your own secrets. You can deal with Quintus however you deem fit, since it’s your domestic problem to begin with. Stepping into someone’s familial crossfire isn’t exactly outlined in his job scope as Noct’s Shield anyway.

Putting an end to this, Gladio pulls himself up and points at you to stay. “Well, your document’s gonna be highly confidential stuff since we’re working against your dad here, so I’ll just bring it up to my old man, Clarus Amicitia, in case you don’t know who he is. Be prepared if he wants to meet you.” He pauses, then finding it appropriate to tack on a grin just for the sake of fucking around with you. “Personally.”

He doesn’t expect you to laugh but you do, a small, high sound that catches him off-guard with the brilliance of your smile.

LATER ON, Gladio chances a glance at your sealed envelopes. All six stacks bear the same name, marked at the top right hand corner in a careful cursive. Andronicus, and nothing more.

“the prophecy speaks of a king,” quintus utters, low. “a king who vanquishes eos’ illness. the true king.”

seated behind his impressive desk, against a curtain of crimson, he is the very picture of an imperator. well, byron supposes people do call him quintus the compeller for the very same reasons. standing near a suit of armour, byron pours some gourmet tea as he tries to tune out quintus the same way he tunes out a scream: by stabbing until the scream turns to squelches. he fashions his expression into one of apathy when he brings over the tray, setting it on the edge of the carved desk.

quintus does not wait for him to usher a cup at his direction; he takes as he pleases, tinkling china against china harshly after a deep sip. “what good will there be for a true king to emerge when niflheim is more than ready to snuff us out come tomorrow? rather than worrying about the impending darkness, i’d rather if his majesty would renew his efforts on reestablishing the military.”

this, byron inquires with careful curiosity. “reestablishing the military, sir?”

“he believes it to be futile effort.” quintus clicks his tongue, ridiculing the king’s trite choice of words. he sets down his teacup so sharply until it chips at the edges. “i respect him but i beg to differ, as this is a matter of life and death. our people are dying outside the old wall. daemons, mts, monsters, you name it, we have it. dissolving the military and rebranding it as the crownsguard is a foolhardy move executed by none other than the late king mors’ father. are the people beyond the walls not the people of lucis as well? they, too, deserve the lavish sense of security insomnia affords. if we cannot provide them the crystal’s protection, then we can surely offer them the reassurance of our military’s strength, no matter how little we may have. by ignoring their plights, by letting the imperials run free on our lands, we have abandoned them—no,” he bellows, tensing, “we spat on their faces.”

interesting. byron hums under his breath, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with his sentiment. quintus seems content enough to continue his spiel of spite after refreshing himself with polishing off the lasts of his tea, and it has byron all too pleased to pour another cup.

“the kingsglaive may exist to handle our external crises, wars, riffraff, but tell me: how will we survive without them? those serving under our banner are none other than commoners with an aptitude in magic—they live outside the walls, yet, the king forsakes their villages, their tiny towns, just to keep insomnia safe. if we do not protect them, who will protect us once the last glaive dies? no,” quintus shakes his head, fingers laced tightly together, “i will not stand for this any longer. what my ancestors have failed to finish, that is to grant the outsiders equal rights to safety and revolutionizing their technology, i will strive to accomplish during my reign as the head of the andronicus, down to my very last breath.”

how moving. is this the very same man who left his speech on byron’s skin in long, red lines? spoken like a true man of the battlefield, one who operates insomnia the same way one operates a cadaver. he is attempting to reanimate lucis’ corpse by removing its decaying internal organs and swapping them with cables and switches. all the problems infesting lucis will be systematically tackled in stages, starting from the advancement of the army, right until the protection of its people. yet the problem lies with the king and his councilmen, and it is an obstacle quintus cannot resolve without challenging the king himself.

one cup turns to two, and two turns into three. with each cup, byron finds his thoughts swimming deeper and deeper until the dregs are all that’s left in the pot.

“YOU SEE, I DON’T LIKE MESS.” Byron begins, all conversational as he pulls latex gloves over his hands. The elastic snaps when he ensures they are snug around his wrists, and he smiles in satisfaction. “Whenever I see something messy, I get migraine. Long, horrible migraine, like someone sawing my brain. Do you ever feel that?”

A muffled cry.

Byron’s eyes crinkle into crescents at the pathetic sound. “Wonderful, I’m glad you understand. You must forgive me for my crude methods, of course, because it makes for easier cleanup when I’m done. Saved me from another migraine, good chap.”

There is a certain container wedged between blocks of steel that Byron calls his own. Nobody comes to these abandoned industrial dumpsites because who wants to deal with all the acrid stench and squelching maggots underneath their boots? Rusted cars missing their engines and wheel-less trucks are stacked one atop another, a brown stream of waste constantly seeping through decaying bags. Noxious fumes permeate the air, a permanent reminder of his origins: The streets, the sewers, the tin roof for Percival’s hideout and moldy, peeling walls.

Plastic crinkles under his weight, step by step to the table.

In here, everything is clean and white. White plastic tacked to the metal walls, white plastic over steel surgical trolley, an array of knives with white handles arranged in too-straight line. White is easy to stain. He’d know this very well, of course, since he’s been blessed with the very same whiteness. White is beautiful, pristine, the very shade representing purity. Yet, with just a fleck of colour, white stains.

Another muffled scream, and Byron raises his head.

Strapped on a rickety wooden chair, a weasel-looking forty-something man appears to be struggling in his binds. The Informant is trying to escape. Oh dear. He can’t have that, can he?

“It is ill-advised to escape,” Byron breathes out, tipping his chin. Too stoic, too blunt, and too smiling. “You know I’ll come and find you wherever you are, and I’ll make it more painful in our next meeting. Please, for your own good, stay quiet. I dislike rowdiness.”

Goodness, that gets the man thrashing more than he expected, the cloth gag barely muffling all the please and no and stop stop stop stop. Eyes almost bulging out of their sockets, sweat raining his receding hairline, he looks at Byron in what seems to be a mixture of contempt and terror. Really, he should decide on an emotion and channel it properly instead of delivering this half-assed excuse of an expression. Even his apathetic keeper managed better than that.

Byron heaves a heavier sigh, shoulders drooping at the sight. Something pulses faintly at the back of his head. “I gave you your warning, and you chose to disregard it. Very well.”

In theory, cleaving a human involves a body and a knife. Two simple objects readily found anywhere with varying levels of difficulty. In practice, it gets a little more complicated than that. It starts with the selection of tools, finding the best fit for the job. A screwdriver is to stab as an axe is to decapitate. But before all the excitement turns his nerves into jitters, he wants answers. And he wants them now.

“There is a certain dog I’ve taken to feeding, you see, for it is such a wretched, pitiable thing until I can’t bear the sight. In return, this dog carries news for me from far and wide. It’s been the utmost help, of course.” Byron reminds him, latex fingers squeaking over the stainless steel of the trolley. “However, I realized that this certain dog keeps running with his tail between his legs between two masters. A dog certainly has to be loyal to only one master, don’t you think so too?”

He catches the man vocalizing a quiet fuck from his throat.

Ah yes, bingo. Byron’s smile is painfully static as he traces absentminded circles on the tray, watery greys in his eyes turning molten steel. “You didn’t think I’d catch on, did you?”

More cursing, and the man thrashes harder, shaking like he’s got a seizure from just sitting in a chair. His perspiration is rank and Byron has half the mind to skin him just to get rid of the smell, but playing with food is very bad manner for a butler like him. Everything has to be done with clean precision, since he loathes leaving a mess behind.

“How long have you been in this business again?” Byron poses a rhetorical question, knowing the answer better than the man himself. “More than two decades, am I right? You’ve clearly underestimated the people you worked with. They might’ve not noticed your transgressions, but,” he bends at the waist, staring straight into the ruddy redness of the man’s eyeballs, bopping him lightly on his grimy nose, “I did.”

The Informant howls in his face, shivering, tears dampening the gag around his mouth. Awful sound, Byron can’t imagine what it’d be like without the handy cloth muffling his cry. The man breathes hard through his nose, lapsing into hysteric fits and kicking his bound limbs as if they’d come loose like a charming soap opera on the television. It’s useless, he knows that much, but maybe he held a faint hope in his heart that Byron’s overlooked something critical in a moment like this, like the knots are loose or the rope is frayed at the edges. Hope, he can keep hoping all he wants before Byron cuts his life out of him.

Straightening, Byron considers his choices, alternating glances between the knives. Should he go for the standard kitchen set, or the heavier butcher’s piece? Of course, each tool comes with its pros and cons. One is delicate, suited for carving initials into skin, and the other holds only one purpose: To hack meat into cubes. Coming to a decision, he hums and selects the latter. Cold and hefty in his hands, the perfect weight in its build. He runs a thumb over its blade, letting it glint under the fluorescent light.

Please please please stop is scattered between pleas for mercy and cries of apology, and the poor soul might run dry from tears if he keeps yowling like this.

Unfortunately, that is not an answer.

“Careful,” he cautions, lifting the blade to the light, examining its make under blinding whiteness. “The more you cry, the harder I’ll make it for you to die.”

As though Byron’s warning is a hammer to his chest, The Informant heaves and sputters, choking under the gag, swallowing all the noises he made with great effort. The container drops into silence, an overall improvement to the situation, save for stifled sniffling. Good. He likes it better this way. Dropping to his knees, Byron casually drags the knife up the length of the man’s feet—ah, he’s gone ahead and flinched from the cool metal, and now the knife nicked itself right in his flesh. Blood wells up and runs down the plastic. The Informant whimpers, biting off his cry in desperation.

“Have you heard of the death by a thousand cuts? No? That’s okay. Here, I’ll show you, though—“ Byron stops short with a soft laugh, “mine will contain a slight variation to accomplish my mission. Do forgive me for being unable to stay true to the original.”

A butcher’s knife is not meant to saw through meat. There’s no harm in trying anyway, so Byron sets to work. He drags it up and down across the little toe like he’s playing a violin, streaking steel in scarlet. At the back of his head, someone screams. A mindless hum, so he ignores it. The flesh gives way so easily under his ministrations, slowly but surely, and soon enough, there’s a satisfying friction once the blade reaches the bone. Here, Byron supposes, is where his experience tells him to hold enough pressure just to get it to yield. Tedious job, murdering someone. Wouldn’t recommend it to anyone searching for a pretty Credit.

Putting his bountiful knowledge to the practice, Byron grips the hilt tighter and applies just enough pressure with every push and pull of the knife. A raw scream, eyeballs rolling back, jerking with every grate. Please no is back again, this time punctuated by heavy sobs tearing out of his chest of how I’ve got a wife and my kids are gonna starve without me and bla bla bla, Byron’s heard this shit before, heard this too many times on the dull phonograph, seen the heavy wife scolding two scoundrels drawing on one of the many walls near the squatters, and then she gathers them into her arms with a weary sigh and—

—a satisfying crack, and the little toe rolls on the plastic.

Oh. He must’ve applied more pressure than he thought. That won’t do.

Fuck it hurts rips from the man’s throat, Martha Joseph Alvin is recited as final prayer, and Byron feels the pulsing in his head budding into the beginnings of a migraine and why does the damn man care so much for his family when Percival never gave a fucking shit whether Byron’s got anything left in his hands? No fucking mother to coddle his cries, no fucking father to catch his back, no fucking friend to care if he’s not breathing six feet underneath Duscae, turning into fertilizer for the wildlife. Nobody gives a fucking shit about him, not even Quintus, not even—

He raises the knife high and brings it down, a butcher and his meat.

Crimson all over the plastic, such satisfaction, but it’s not enough. Half of a foot is on his chopping board, the white of the bone peeking through meaty red. It’s not fair Byron’s going through this shit alone. Should he amputate the man just so he’d suffer Lavinia’s fate in Titus Andronicus? Cleave off his tongue, sever the joints of his arms and legs, leaving only his torso behind? Someone should suffer the same fate, shouldn’t they? Someone tangled too deeply in the Andronici’s mess deserves to live through the very same tragedy, don’t they?

Yes, he decides in morbid fascination, they should.

The knife is raised high once more.

WHITE, TOO, CAN BE CORROSIVE, just like acid.

o'er rotted soil, under blighted sky a dread plague the wicked has wrought. in the light of the gods, sword-sworn at his side 'gainst the dark the king's battle is fought. from the heavens high, to the blessed below, shines the beam of a peace long besought. "long live the line, and this stone divine, for the night when all comes to naught."

cosmogony: 15:2, nadir.

YOU ARE SORE ALL OVER thanks to the brutal beating of your first day. So sore from your third rep until you marvel at how dedicated Noctis can be, never breaking out of his stance as he took on Gladio in training. By the time you’ve wrapped up your set of push-ups, vision blurring and head spinning, he’s still parrying Gladio’s unforgiving strikes, quicker on his feet to match Gladio’s hulking brawn. He bursts in and out of the fight—warp-strike, he calls it—as flickers of magic drift around him like shards of broken mirrors, illuminating the floors in fractured blues.

Now, seeing him sprawled over the stretch of your bed sheets and comforters, he is an entirely different being from the aggressive prince prowling the training halls. Here, he is the lazy prince, one who conquers sixty percent of your land and demands more than fifty percent of your pillows. A conqueror through and through. If you listen hard enough, you can hear a small buzz in his breathing. His beautiful, expressive eyes are closed, dark lashes a stark contrast against his porcelain skin. Arm half-raised over his head and another resting on his chest, the comforters long gone and kicked off his body, tangling around his ankles.

Limber limbs, agile body, an unrelenting strength.

Your king is a pretty, pale prince, all ink spattered on snow.

Sitting up halfway, you unravel the twists and turns of his comforter and gently draw it over his body, letting the familiar heaviness cocoon him. It falls in the dips between his legs and arms and neck, but you’re careful enough to smoothen the fabric in all the nooks and crannies to ensure nothing’s exposed. It won’t do to have him catching cold limbs in your workspace, hindering all his princely progress if he falls ill. You’ve barely finished tugging the comforter over his feet when he shifts under you, rustling the sheets.

“Mmmh?” A voice thick with sleep. Noctis struggles with holding up his head, the hand over his hair catching a long yawn. “What’re you doing…?”

Patting the finishing touches to his feet, you drop onto the last forty percent of your land with your pillow. Comfort can be subjective when it comes to layered sheets playing the part of a makeshift mattress, but Noctis hasn’t complained thus far. The thought has you burrowing deeper into your own nest. “Nothing, Prince. Go back to sleep.”

Sleepy as he is, he still studies you how one reads a menu, head all full of delicious thoughts—and perhaps still basking in the afterglow of delicious dreams. The beautiful blue of his eyes are the skies across Galdin Quay, resting heavily on your face. So beautiful, you catch your fingers almost touching perfection. “You sure it’s nothing?”

No. You lick your bottom lip to divert the thought, ducking your head when Noctis drops his gaze to the flit of your tongue, staring at your spit-shiny lips. All traces of sleepy blue are erased, waxing interest in its stead. Interest that you are unwilling to entertain, lest he demands your thoughts. “A thousand times yep.” Shoving your discomfort into the distance, you turn your back to him. Face buried in your pillow, you await suffocation to claim you into slumber. “Gonna get some sleep, see ya.”

“Hey.”

Noctis is saying something, inexplicably intent on preventing you from having the last word.

You pretend you’re fast asleep, emulating an even breathing just to get him to stop. What other choices do you have left? This is bad. You should sleep. Sleep always rids you of your apprehension the same way Byron rids you of your nightmares. Sleep should soothe your aching calves and twitching thighs, a restful balm meant to rejuvenate those who are weary. Sleep should distract you from this—whatever it is you’re thinking, whatever it is the prince wants to do with you.

“Hey,” he tries again, a touch louder this time. “Your hair is in my face.”

You give a start—really? Only to realize a second too late that he’s nowhere near your hair, nowhere close enough to breathe down your neck. What he’s looking for is the startled jerk just to see if you’re awake, and you fell for it. Drat. Knowing he’s bested you this time, you clear your throat and tighten your hold on the pillow. “Turn the other way round then, Prince.”

“Don’t wanna,” he says, voice gone quiet. “You turn around.”

That’s unfair. That’s unfair because he knows you can’t say no to him. Who are you to deny what the prince wants?

Resigning to your fate for the second time today, you finally turn again. Noctis is still where you last saw him, lying on his side, the comforter you pulled hanging off his shoulder. It gets your fingers scrambling for your own, tugging the weighty cotton over your head, leaving only a loose gap around the edges of your face. Trying to find something to distract you from thinking about the weight of his gaze, or the lazy drag of his eyes from your lips to your neck. Trying to string a sentence or two about something—anything, as long as he doesn’t look at you like this.

After a while, he snorts inelegantly. “You look like an egg.”

A what?

“An… egg?” The words are already out from your mouth before you’re consciously filtering them.

Noctis mimics what seems to be wrapping his head from a blanket of air, a live demonstration of his meaning. “Yeah, an egg,” he explains matter-of-factly, dropping his hand to the sheets once more. “Y’know, hard-boiled egg. That stuff. Your comforter’s all white and your face is just—“

“—the yolk,” you finish for him, almost incredulous, almost borderline wanting to smother him under your pillow if you could. Here you are, worrying if he’s read your thoughts, and he comes up with this? “Really, Prince? An egg?”

“Yep.” Remorseless, curling his bottom lip, nodding all the same. “Got a problem?”

Incredible. All you can do is to gawp at him, wordless. An egg, really? An incredibly specific egg—a hardboiled egg? With your face for the yolk? Precisely at that point in your life, you realize Noctis can be quite trying at times. Is that why Gladio was grinning all morning long? Just waiting for you to be suckered into his same experience? You’re not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, seeing how your morning routine tumbled into a disaster with him by your bedside, hauling you to an unannounced training session, and then tapping your thighs when you experienced excruciating pins and needles from sitting on your knees for too long.

If today’s a sneak preview for your future, who knows what’s in store many more weeks after?

Trying to gain a semblance of rationality, you nod—then shake—before settling on a nod again. “Yeah. Yeah I’ve got a problem. Your comment failed to crack a smile on the Egg Queen's face. That was ineggscusable. Good night, Prince.”

“What.” Noctis deadpans, obviously not expecting that to backfire on him. “Want me to snap a pic for proof? You gotta see it to believe it.”

Yanking the rest of the comforter over your face, you decide it’s best to spend the rest of your evening with a nap.

“Go to sleep, Prince. If you'll eggscuse me, I bid you a very good night.”

[tbc.]

Notes:

this chapter isn’t particularly my favourite and a few things felt awkward/misplaced, but i think my editing skills have gone down the drain and i couldn't particularly make anything work. ( ´△｀) i’m sorry sometimes my writing just goes down under and doesn’t wanna come back up. i’ve been awake for the past 31 hours now and i’m absolutely planning to pass out after this.

but yes, thank you for still sticking around and reading this update! and thank you for sending in messages and asks on my tumblr about my current job, even though i couldn’t reply much on time (especially with the asks) while i was away abroad. it’s been really nice chatting with some of you readers and you kind anons as well ❤ i’ll be called for another flight sometime soon seeing how november/december schedule is really packed (holiday season actually stands for…horrible season), but i’ll still do my best to have a consistent update (or update you readers on the status on my tumblr).

i hope life treats you well ❤ here’s a preview on the next chapter!

PREVIEW:

As usual, Noctis doesn’t seem to exist in the equation. Not that he’s surprised, he’s long classified Byron as one of those cynical bastards thriving on treating others as though their collective intelligence is on par with five-year-olds. Scoffing under his breath, Noctis folds his arms over his chest and follows you this time around, letting you lead the way to your room. Byron is all fancy bows as though he’s mocking Noctis for some reasons, throwing the door open with an exaggerated flourish and shutting it behind him once they’re all safely inside.

°˖ ✧◝(○ ヮ ○)◜✧˖ ° and also just because i was editing chapter 23, have a super-future preview of chapter 23 as well!

PREVIEW | 23:

“You wanna tell me what it feels like to have someone else on top of you?” Noctis murmurs.

#Noctis Lucis Caelum #ffxv #final fantasy xv #noctis x reader #noctis/reader #final fantasy xv fanfic #noctis #gladiolus amicitia #Gladio #the next chapter will have byron vs noctis #and it's pretty much one of the chapters i laughed while writing #yeah those were the days #thank you for sticking around dear readers!#lazy people

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starsncyanide · 7 years

Note

Yoooooo heard requests are opeeeen~ :') Will you please do a prompto/reader where the reader finds out he's an MT and it looks like she's mad but she's just upset he didn't tell her because she'd be 100% supportive of him no matter what. I'm sorry if this is-- weird idunno!! >_> sorry if you've done this before too

Hey there! It’s totally not weird I have seen people ask for similar things before but I’ve never written it so I would be happy to do so for you! :)

This turned out way longer than I meant it to?? I hope this is something like what you were thinking of. It was a little hard for me to figure out how exactly to write this.

————

It had been about six months since you had started officially dating Prompto Argentum. Even though it had been much longer than six months that you have had a massive crush on him. It was pretty much impossible for you to talk to him or get near him though so you always kept your distance just admiring him from afar. By some random stroke of luck though you had run into him (literally) in Lestalum. You were never the most graceful person and you were late for work and had ran right into him. It was pretty embarrassing but of course he thought it was cute and the two of you started dating almost immediately.

You had taken up a permanent residence here in the city now and anytime Prompto passed through with his group he made sure to make time to see you. Having a long distance type of relationship was difficult but when you did get to see him it made the time the two of you spent together much more special. He had messaged you to tell you that they would be in town for a few days and you were excited to see him again.

You made your way down to the center market area where you had arranged to meet up with them. Seeing them all walking toward you a large smile came across your face. Of course you were always happy to see the other guys but it was your boyfriend you were really excited for. As soon as they got a little bit closer you skipped over to Prompto and gave him a hug.

“Hey Y/N.” He said as he hugged you back but it wasn’t in his usual bubbly tone. You pulled back from the hug and looked at him confused.

“What’s wrong?” You asked automatically knowing something was up.

“Ah…What? Nothing. What would be wrong?” He said hugging you again in an attempt to change the topic. “Can we go eat, I’m starving.” You nodded and Prompto put his arm over your shoulder walking with you. The two of you followed the others toward one of the restaurants near by staying toward the back of the group. You snuck a glance at him as you walked just knowing something wasn’t right.

The group and you all sat at a table sharing stories of what you had been up to since you had last seen each other. It was nice to catch up but you couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong. You were a self conscious individual and you were pretty sure the feeling you were having was that Prompto was planning to leave you. That was the only explanation your mind could come up with for why he was acting so strange. You had spaced out of the conversation a few minutes ago thinking of all the terrible situations that could happen until Prompto got up saying he would be right back. You watched him walk away feeling confused and a little hurt. You put your elbow on the table resting your chin on your knuckles watching him walk away with a sigh.

“Y/N, I can’t help but notice you’ve been much more quiet than usual, Is everything alright?” Ignis asked you being the observant individual that he was.

“I don’t know, You tell me.” You snapped and then realized you had given him a bit of an attitude. “Sorry Ignis,” You apologized. “I just…Don’t know why he’s acting so weird.”

“He’s uh…Just got a lot on his mind.” Noctis said trying to ease the tension. You looked down at your lap trying not to let your eyes fill up with tears.

“He’s going to break up with me, isn’t he?” You said shakily.

“What? No, That’s not it at all really, I promise.” Noctis said but you were pretty sure he would lie for his best friend. You looked up at them all with a very forlorn face.

“We should tell her.” Gladio said sternly putting his arms across his chest.

“No Gladio, That’s not our place.” Ignis scolded.

“Well, Prompto’s sure not going to do it, Kids got no balls.”

“Shut up.” Noctis kicked him from under the table.

You watched them all arguing and felt your face getting hot.

“Tell me what?” You demanded. It wasn’t like you to be so stern but you didn’t like secrets.

They all looked at each other knowing what consequences they might face from tell you what had been bothering Prompto. He had already said he wasn’t planning on telling you but at this point there was really nothing they could do to get out of this. You weren’t going to let them without telling you.

“It seems Prompto recently found out the origins of where he was actually born.” Ignis proceeded to say trying to politely say these words without coming out right about anything. You looked at him confused. Prompto had never mentioned to you before that he wasn’t born in Lucis even though you had divulged some big secrets to him.

“And? That’s it?” It wasn’t that big of a secret. Certainty no reason to be acting so out of character for him.

Noctis sighed looking at Gladio. “This is your fault you know. If he asks I’m totally blaming you.” Gladio shrugged not really caring. He cared about Prompto’s well being and didn’t think he should be hiding things from his girlfriend.

“He was born in Niflheim.” Noctis said leaning back on his chair.

“Except he wasn’t actually born…more created.” You looked very confused at him.

“I…I don’t get it. What exactly are you saying.” You wished they would just hurry up and get to the point.

“He’s a clone, he was created to become a Magitek.” Gladio finally came out and said it. You looked at them all for a moment with your hands shaking. You heart was racing and you felt like running away.

“And…he wasn’t going to tell me?” You asked them and were met with all of them shaking their heads. Prompto had just returned to the table and everyone except you looked at him. He went to sit back down next to you but you stood up.

“What’s wrong Y/N?” You looked up at him and for the first time he saw what it looked like to see you actually angry; Furious even.

“Prom…” Noctis started but Gladio interrupted him.

“We told her. Since you weren’t going to.”

Prompto looked back at you, his face much paler and sad then you had ever seen but you couldn’t feel bad you were still too angry. Without another word you started walking away. It didn’t take long for Prompto to find you since he knew your favorite spots in the city, right near the water.

“I get it…If you don’t wanna keep dating but I couldn’t let you just walk away knowing I might not ever be able to talk to you again.” He said as he approached you sitting beside you on the bench you were on, your knees huddled up to your chest.

“What are you talking about?” You asked him feeling shocked that he even thought you were considering leaving him.

“That’s why you left isn’t it? You probably can’t even stand the thought of dating some who…someone…like me.” He said, his bottom lip quivering slightly.

“You dummy.” You said in between breaths trying to choke back tears. “I would never leave you because of that.”

“You…You wouldn’t?” He said shocked.

“No of course not! I will always support you no matter what. You should know that by now.”

“Well then why did you run off?” He questioned.

“I was upset that you weren’t going to tell me.” Tears were flowing freely from your eyes now since you had been holding them back for awhile.

“Oh…I…” Prompto looked down. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I was scared if you found out that you would never want to see me again. Keeping it a secret seemed like a better idea.”

“Prompto.” You wiped your eyes looking at him and he looked up to meet your gaze. “I love you.” This was the first time you had said these words to him. You always thought he would be the first one to say them but you needed to let him know now. “No matter what or who you are. Or where you come from. I don’t care. I love you.”

His lips finally curled into a smile. The first genuine smile you had seen him give since he got here. There was the Prompto you knew and the one you fell in love with. He grabbed you quickly pulling you into a tight hug.

“I love you too.” He said and you smiled into his shoulder. He backed away from your hug to give you a very long, very passionate kiss. No more words needed to be said for the time being as you snuggled up against him on the bench gazing out at the water. You knew this was where you were meant to be.

#prompto x reader #requests #final fantasy xv #prompto argentum #writing prompts #still taking requests

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chocobro-hijinks · 7 years

Text

Chocobros comforting you after a bad day

Noctis:

it’s been an awful day, you just want to sleep but you’re too worked up it’s just not happening

you go to his place because you don’t want to spend another minute drowned in your dark thoughts

you find him in his room, stretched on the bed watching something intensely blue on the mounted tv

he tries to get up but he’s having a bad day as well, spine and hip and knee hurt too much, he reaches for you to come to him instead

he says it was a good day sparring with Gladio, but right as he was cleaning up he twisted himself wrong and agitated old injuries

you kick off your shoes, slip out of bulky jackets and get up on the bed with him

he welcomes you in his arms with a chuckle and rubs your back lightly, he melts back into the bed and you make yourself comfortable on his warm chest

you watch the salmon documentary for a bit but it doesn’t distract you from the frustration boiling in your gut

“Can i rant to you real quick?” you suddenly say to his drowsy face, “it’s dumb but i really wanna get it out.”

the first thing he does is pause the video and sit up as best he can, he holds your hand and nods for you to go on

you tell him all about it, about the awful thing that happened, how you couldn’t just speak your thoughts in that moment, how you wished you said this or that, how you hate being put in those positions yet they keep happening

he listens carefully, humming his understanding every few pauses and rubbing your hand with his thumb when it seemed like you were getting lost in the rage

you start feeling better the moment you’ve gotten your thoughts out, but you feel like you should apologize for bothering him with the little things when he’s in much worse pain

before you say it, he hugs you tight and tells you how glad he is that you tell him these things without any reservations

“I’m so used to people tiptoeing around me, especially when i’m like this,” he gestures to the knee he has on a pillow, “but this is how it should be, normally. i’m glad I can be there for you, too. makes me feel like i’m really helping, like i can still do something.”

you hug him tight and thank your lucky stars that you’ve been blessed be in the arms of the sweetest boy in all of Lucis

prompto:

it started out on one of your usual daily texts, he mentioned something unfair that happened with one of the kingsglaive during training

you couldn’t help but launch into a long rant about something similar that happened to you today as well

after walls and walls of text you scroll up and realize he hadn’t said anything in a while even though he was online for all of it

filled with a mixture of embarrassment, hurt, regret, and rejection at his silence, you write “you don’t seem interested so just never mind!” and stop checking your messages for the rest of your work day

once the fury simmers down into regret you worry yourself into a knot over the last thing you said

the more you think about it, the more hurtful it was to aim your anger at your usually attentive sweetheart

it feels like nothing will ever be right again, you skip meals and go home feeling miserable and alone

Prompto opens the door for you with a brilliant smile, he hugs you tight and welcomes you back as if nothing was wrong

his eyes are glossy and his face is all flushed, you can instantly tell that he’d been trying not to cry, pretending to be unaffected

you can’t stop the barrage of tears at the sight, he just looks so hurt and it’s your fault!

you hug him tight and apologize repeatedly, refusing to let go until he understood how sorry you are for hurting him

“it’s okay honey,” he cries too, “it’s just a misunderstanding! I know you get really passionate about justice!”

he’s just happy you still want to to be with him and hug him like this!

turns out he was being talked to by someone important, he couldn’t just ignore them and look at his phone even if he really wanted to

you insist on making it up to him, though, and you go out for his favorite dinner place followed by ice cream in the Crow’s Nest

you can’t help but be grateful that this beautiful sunshine boy wants to be with you as much as you want to be with him, it takes hard work but that’s something you’re both good at

Gladiolus:

someone at work got hurt and you ended up in a very bad mental place

you reply to his good morning text with “sorry, something happened at work, i’ll text back later”

within the hour he was at your workplace in a fitted business suit, face tight with concern, refusing to leave before he saw that you were okay

you’re usually reserved in public but the mere sight of him filled you with so much relief you couldn’t help but throw yourself into his arms and hide away from the world in his arms

“Baby are you okay? i brought the car, we can go wherever you need.”

you tell him you’re fine, it was a coworker who was injured but you were there when it happened

the whole traumatic scene followed by the stress of the paramedics and the eventual emergency meeting to assign blame was just a big clusterfuck of a bad day

he demands you take the rest of the day off and nobody is brave enough to contest the angry muscle man who can carry a magic sword like a parasol

you tell him all about it in the car on your way home and he listens with all the focus he could muster while driving

you apologize for interrupting the important international meeting between Lucis royalty and Accordo’s prime minister, it was a big day that he planned a lot for and you tried not to cause him worry by making the text simple and short

it did the exact opposite lmao

he tells you it’s fine, there are a hundred others who could take his place around the king, and Ignis wouldn’t leave the prince’s side, not even to let him pee

it makes you laugh, and suddenly the world is right again

“At least you’re smiling again, had me real worried back there.” he’d finally let him self relax against the seat, and set his free hand on your knee

you can’t wait to get home and get a proper tight engulfing hug and a good cry in his chest, it might not help your coworker but it will certainly help your mental state

you know he has to go back to the politicians right away, but that’s okay, his arms are always around you when you need him and that’s all that matters

when he’s done he’ll give you more hugs, and hugs always escalate into cuddles and makeouts, you might even find yourselves a better way to relieve stress tonight

soon you’ll be too wobbly and spent to make food, dinner will be takeout and you’re all up to ordering his favorite gourmet ramen bowl with all the toppings that could fit

Ignis:

you come home and find him in the living room finishing work on his laptop, he’s so focused he doesn’t even turn to look at you while welcoming you home

you don’t attempt any further communication, instead, you head straight to your bedroom to get changed

you just want this day to end

a moment later he’s there in the room with you, treading lightly into a casual conversation

your answers are short and shallow, you really didn’t feel like talking right now and didn’t he have work to do?

life was always stressful for both of you, but to see him busy with more work when home was supposed to be the only place you could have him to yourself suddenly ticked you off

it wasn’t the first time and you’re usually okay with it, today, however, you were already at your wit’s end

the last thing you want to admit is that you were jealous of a spreadsheet

“Darling, are you quite alright?” he’d give you personal space of course, always the gentleman. “Have I done something to upset you?”

the heavy walls you put around yourself instantly crumble at the hesitation in his voice, he searches your face anxiously when you finally look at him

here you are with the best thing that to ever happen to you, and you’re too caught up in your own insecurities to cherish it

so you let your head down and have him hold you in his arms, his shoulder was the only place you could let yourself be vulnerable and cry the stress away

it wasn’t fair how safe he made you feel just by holding you, how will you ever survive if one day he had to stay at work overnight??

“shhhh,” he’d hum in your ear, not to silence, but to pacify, “you’re so wonderful and brave to have held it in until you got home. it’s alright now, you’re safe, i’ll take care of you. oh sweetheart, my sweetheart...”

you end up on the bed with your head on his lap and his fingers in your hair, when you’re finally done crying yourself dry, you admit that most of the stress is caused by how much you missed him

he admits that he’s not too familiar with the whole physical affection aspect of relationships yet, but will work harder to eliminate some of your anxieties

he shows love with acts of servitude more than words or touches, with better communication you will eventually find middle ground where both of you are comfortable

it warms you up to know he’d already made dinner while waiting for you

you ask him to help you make chocolate souffles as an apology for the meltdown, he tells you he doesn’t need apologies but would love nothing more than to accept your sentiments

you know he loves teaching and cooking, and in that tiny kitchen you’ll find several ways to squeeze yourself between him and the counter until he’s smiling again

#ffxv #ffxv headcanons #chocobros #noctis lucis caelum #gladiolus amicitia #prompto argentum #ignis scentia

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the-daemons-huntress · 7 years

Text

dawn.

Spoilers alert!!

She didn’t know exactly what time it was when she arrived in Crown City: maybe it was about four a.m. or around that, but it was almost impossible to establish it.

It had been 10 years since the last time when Iris, looking up to the sky, had met the sun’s light; it seemed like it had been an eternity since prince Noctis was gone, such as his existence had been erased from the world. The dawn that woke up the girl in her house in Cape Caem every morning was gone too.

At the time she was only fifteen years old and she had never imagined a future where the darkness would take control of her life…and also the countless creatures which lived in the the darkness: her brother Gladio had always warned her about those monsters and their cruelty – he called them “daemons” – and she had always been afraid of them.

Iris had never thought that she had to earn a living by killing those beasts that filled her worst nightmares.

«In your opinion, are they still alive?» Talcott’s voice broke the silence among the group. Iris, wearing her huntress clothes, turned towards the boy with white hair and shook her head. «I don’t know…I hope so.» overcome by her thoughts she sighed and then a hand was placed on her shoulder, pressing it the right amount to encourage her.

«Come on, little girl, you know those guys. They had been through much worse.» Cindy, Hammerhead’s mechanic, spoke to her with one of her usual cheerful smiles, but this time her carefreeness seemed to be stopped by fear. How could they blame her? Even Iris, that had fought the most ferocious and dangerous animals with no hesitations, felt like a child that’s afraid of the monster under her bed.

«It’s not over yet.» Cor reassured the two women, indicating an exact point in front of him with the right hand; Iris followed his arm’s direction with her gaze and she saw the royal palace in the background, the road opposite to it destroyed and scattered of junks and other signs of the catastrophe.

Her stomach started to hurt and she hoped with all herself that her brother and his friends were safe.

«They’re gonna be okay. Yeah, they’re gonna be okay… They’ll always be okay…» she started to whisper with gritted teeth, to reassure herself. After all, what could happen to them? Nothing, right? They were too strong and expert to be overpowered by some daemons.

«Let’s go. If we want to avoid any unpleasant encounter, we must get moving quickly.»

Iris looked at the royal palace again: their destination. She sighed. «Okay…let’s go.»

It took a lot more than planned to get to the large open space in front of the high building that overlooked the entire city: the road which permitted to arrive to it was completely infested by all kind of monsters – Iris had never seen so many monsters all together – and, seeing that the huntress and Cor took two undefended and inexpert people with them, they couldn’t risk and hinder them to do everything in a hurry.

Unfortunately Iris regretted it very soon.

The sight in front of her eyes was frightful: remains of dead daemons were accumulated one on the other, in an aggregation of pointed teeth and strange parts of their bodies. The darkness seemed like to be evaporating from those corpses, rising up to the dark sky without lights.

“Should be any minute now,” she thought. “The dawn is close.”

The four guys stayed on guard to avoid any survivor monsters from the battle, but when Iris arrived at the centre of the square she felt like the world had collapsed and crumbled under her feet, swallowing her in an endless abyss.

Near the girl, Talcott started to shudder like a leaf in the wind; Cindy brought an hand to her mouth and she pulled back, too shocked to say a word. Iris saw Cindy’s eyes filled up with tears and she felt sorry for her: after all, Cindy had lost her parents when she had been a baby, Cid was near to death and…and then this one. Her family had fallen apart like a vase thrown to the floor.

On the palace’s stairs there were two bodies in two puddles of scarlet crisp blood. When she came near them and she identified her best friends, the nausea became stronger than before and the taste of bile crowded her mouth; in fact, she had to swallow many time to “calm down”.

Slowly, step by step, she arrived at the first body: Ignis lied on the floor in a strange position, such as his body was ripped apart and then they filled the pieces in; the scars on his eyes had been opened again and they were bleeding, while his dark glasses were near his head, with the broken lenses and the setting dent.

Iris saw another body a few feet away and there was Cindy near it; she came near the blonde girl and she knelt down, leaned a hand on her shoulder shook by sobs.

Prompto was in a bad shape too: his freckled face was riddled, full of bruises and deep scratches; the lower lip was broken and he had the mouth full of blood. But the rest of his body was intact, except for some injuries on his skin.

Suddenly Prompto moved: he desperately gasped for air, he started to cough blood and then he opened his beautiful sky blue eyes.

«For heaven’s sake, Prompto!» Cindy cried out, more shocked than before, picking up the guy’s body on herself to help him to breath better. «What happened?» Cor arrived, but Prompto’s attention was only on the woman who was holding him. «I’m…I’m sor-I’m sorry…»

«Sssh…it’ all right. We’re here.»

«Cindy…»

Prompto’s cheeks were wet from the tears and his voice trembled for the effort of breathing. Iris would have done something to help him, but she was paralyzed. She had never been in this kind of situation.

«Noctis is…he’s…» he tried to sit down, but the forces suddenly abandoned him. He fell again on the floor, moaning for the pain and grinding his teeth; he was refraining from screaming. His breath started to become heavier but, when it was about to running low totally, he pointed at the end of the stairs…and his chest stopped moving.

Cindy began to weep holding the lifeless body of the young man and just then Iris’ gaze stopped on the king’s guard’s back: a very deep injury, maybe caused by the sword of one of those giant daemons, was on his backbone, which a thick rivulet of blood was flowing from.

“I can’t believe it…”

Prompto was the youngest one of the three guys and he was dead, killed by the wickedness which had invaded the entire world. She saw how desperate things were becoming and the knowledge that she couldn’t do anything, that she had to stay on her seat and wait, was consuming her slowly.

At that point the concern hit her like a speeding car: where was Gladio? What happened to her brother? Was he still alive?

She had to find an answer to her questions immediately. She stood up, leaving the mechanic alone with her pain, and she looked around to find Gladio: she was sure that he would show himself as always, holding her with his strong arms and reassuring her.

«Iris.»

«I-Iris…» Cor and Talcott’s voices interrupted the river of thoughts that had been flowing her mind. She jumped. «Come…come here.»

The two men were bent on the point indicated by Prompto and they were watching something. The fear of discovering what was that “something” filled her heart. She couldn’t walk well, but she dragged herself with heavy steps; she was breathing with difficulty, like someone had put a boulder on her chest.

When she saw her brother’s body in that state, she fell on her knees, the lips and the eyes gaping for the shock: his face was fine – except for the two scars on the eye and on the forehead, his distinctive characteristics – but his big sword had been thrusted with an unprecedented violence in his abdomen. She couldn’t believe that the daemons could reach these levels of sadism.

The view of his brother in that state was too much for Iris: she turned around and she threw up all the bile that, since she had arrived at the city, had started to come up through her throat.

The huntress fell on the ground, while the tears began to glide on her cheeks and the sobs began to shake her body; she hid her face with the hands and she commanded the two men with a: «Leave the sword.»

«Iris...»

«LEAVE THE SWORD.» she cried out with all the voice that was in her body and she continued to scream even after, while Talcott enclosed her shoulders with an arm. But she pulled him away in a bad way. «Don’t touch me!»

«Talcott, go to Cindy.»

«But…»

«I said: go to Cindy.»

Iris followed Talcott with the gaze while he was moving and then she resumed to hide the face in her arms not to see Cor extracting the sword from Gladio’s lifeless body. The smell of blood arrived at her nostrils and she was tempted to throw up again, but she could refrain.

She’d often asked herself: “Will I survive alone?” but she had never believed that the answer would arrived so quickly. If only she’d known, she would have prepared herself… but what was she going to do without Gladio’s guide?

Who would tell her to follow her dreams without fear? Who would give her a kiss on her cheek every time they met? Who would give her Iris’ favourite flowers without fail? Who would teach her how to fight, but above all how to live?

The abyss that had swallowed her was already closing on her head, preventing her to see again the light…but in the end, what was the point of seeing the dawn without her brother?

Shattered, with her heart broken and the chest hurt, she dragged herself to her brother’s corpse until she stood above him. He had a peaceful expression, like he had finally found his peace. Perhaps dying wasn’t so bad, after all. What’s better than dying with your best friends, fighting for what you believe in?

«Gladdy…» she whispered, bowing her head until she rested the forehead on Gladio’s, while the tears glided on the man’s face. «Why…why did you leave me? I still need you.» the ribs hurt so bad, as if someone started to pounder her chest, and her sight became blurred for the ache.

«You’ve always said that I was the strongest and the bravest of the entire world, but…you know that I was like this just because you were close to me?» she sobbed, sitting down near his body and begin to brush his face with her fingers.

Gladio wasn’t dead, he couldn’t be. As long as Iris was alive, the memory of Gladiolus Amicitia would remain alive. Nobody would forget his and his friends’ sacrifice. The sacrifice of his brothers.

«What’s the point of seeing the dawn if you’re not with me? Who will make me laugh like when I was a baby? Who will carry me on his shoulder even if I’m too old? Who will intimidate and growl against every boy that approach me?» she cried, foundering her fingers into her brother’s long hair, moving some locks of hair from his dirty forehead. «Who will reassure me during a storm? Who will harbour me in his bed and who will hug me when I’m afraid? Who…who will make every day better than the others with a smile?» she gasped, hugging his body and holding it to her strongly.

But nobody could bring back her brother… not even the King of Lucis or the Oracle.

Iris looked at the sky and she saw it: the black of the night was abandoning the sky to make way for a warm yellow mixed with the orange and it would become the brightest sky blue that she had never seen before. She saw it, she saw the sun raising up over the royal palace and she understood that Noctis made it.

It was finally over.

But she didn’t smile. She wasn’t happy and she didn’t have the forces to be grateful.

The world had got its light back, but Iris’ had just lost it all.

#iris amicitia #final fantasy xv #final fantasy 15 #ffxv #ffxv spoilers #cor leonis #talcott #cindy aurum #prompto argentum #gladiolus amicitia #ignis scentia #ignis stupeo scientia #noctis lucis caelum #prince noctis #cid sophiar #clarus amicitia #i'm sorry

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