(ffxv) promptis; prompto gets a nighttime visitor.

. .

Prompto startles awake. He blinks blearily around his bedroom, trying to figure out what woke him. His parents were away again, and he had fixed the leaky faucet in the bathroom last weekend, Moogletube how-to videos open on his phone and swearing under his breath when he ended up spraying water all over his pajamas. It's still dark out, and he's always been a light sleeper, but---

A shadow moves at the foot of his bed. Prompto grabs the nearest thing--his alarm clock--and throws it.

"Ow!"

"Noct?!"

"Fuck, dude, why is your aim still so good at balls am?"

Prompto sits up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

The Noctis-shaped blob moves, coming around the side of the bed. "Couldn't sleep. Also your home security sucks. I'm going to get Gladio to come over and do an inspection for you." Some rustling as what Prompto assumes is Noctis' jacket and shoes are discarded. Then a familiar weight joins him on the bed.

Sighing, Prompto shuffles over to make room for his best friend. "This neighbourhood is safe and my window's pretty darn hard to reach unless you have magic Crystal powers and can warp. Do I have to text Iggy that you're here? I do not want to wake up to the Crownsguard knocking down my front door."

"Already texted him," mumbles Noctis. He tugs at the blankets, wiggling until Prompto huffs, relenting his grip. "You're warm."

"And your fingers are freezing, as always." Prompto finds Noctis' hands in the dark, holding them both between his and rubbing them gently. "Nightmare?"

"Nah. Just the regular old insomnia."

Prompto hums. He yawns. "Want to talk?"

"No, it's fine. Just let me leech off your warmth. Go back to sleep."

"Okay. If you need me... just wake me..."

Slightly chapped lips, still chilly from running across the city at two am, press against Prompto's forehead. "Thanks. 'Night, Prom."

Prompto means to say goodnight back, but he's already drifted away, safe in the knowledge that the house is not so empty anymore.

Let the Sirens Sing Me Sleep

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Category: Gen Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia & Noctis Lucis Caelum, Noctis Lucis Caelum & Ignis Scientia Characters: Noctis Lucis Caelum, Gladiolus Amicitia, Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum

Summary: Noctis Lucis Caelum is tired. He’s always tired. There is a reason he enjoys sleeping so much. Sleep is the only time he can ever truly be free from the weight resting on his shoulders.

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Noctis Lucis Caelum is tired. He’s always tired. There is a reason he enjoys sleeping so much. Sleep is the only time he can ever truly be free from the weight resting on his shoulders. When he is asleep, his mind can let go of everything. He can forget that he hardly ever sees his dad. That the king is dying. That war is on the threshold. That everyone in his life is there because of duty, because of necessity. That his entire life is monitored. That no one outside of the Citadel can be fully trusted. That when he thinks too hard the panic attack is crippling in a way his wheelchair never was.

The prince is tired. Ever since the maralith attack, his body has been weaker and more prone to pain. Curling up in bed is safe and a comfort when no one else can give him any.

Not that Ignis does not try. But there is only so much he can do and only so much Noct is willing to ask of the advisor who already gives so much of himself. What Noctis really wants is his mother back. Unlike his dad, she always had time to snuggle with him on the bed. She would wrap him up in her gentle arms and sing to him so that all he could focus on was her.

But his mother is no longer here, and lullabies are not a luxury for an aging prince, even if Ignis would be willing to indulge him. And so Noctis takes his comforts where he can.

Noctis Lucis Caelum is lethargic. He wears himself thin by day and passes out by night. Even in sleep, he can no longer forget. Nightmares plague him like a sickness. The king is gone, and his dad will never be there to comfort him ever again. No longer a prince, the weight is crushing, to the point that every step takes that much more effort. He’s so tired, so overwhelmed. Each day it only grows worse.

It was raining when he heard the news. Thankful, for the rain hid his tears from his friends. The thunder hid his gasps as the grief choked him. He chose to sleep on the edge of the tent that night so that only Ignis was close enough to feel his trembling. It was not a surprise when he awoke wrapped in his arms, or when Ignis rose and made no mention of what had caused the cuddle session. Ignis was always kind like that.

Gladio has a new scar. Not uncommon, but this one is large and too close for comfort. The cut runs diagonal all the way across his chest, straight over his heart. Noct’s own clenches painfully tight.

“You asshole,” he chokes out, a mixture of anger and dread.

Gladio glares at him, arms crossing. “Really? You’re gonna give him the third degree? I did this for you, ya know?”

Noct balls his fists and sucks in a deep breath, as hard as it is. His thoughts are circling in that way Prom says his always do. It’s the slippery slope, Ignis calls it. One thought leads to another, one bad outcome jumping to the next. “You could have died!” he shouts.

“Now listen here,” Gladio snarls, face hard.

He sees Gladio stumbling in agony, the cut in his chest running deep. Blood dripping and dripping, thick and dark. Gladio crying out as deamons swarm on him in his weakened state. He tries to whirl on them but his footing falters on the wetness of his own blood and he misses. They cut into him again. And again. His chest is still bleeding, even more now. A birdlike deamon grips at his chest with talons sharp as needles and rips, until flesh and what lies beneath comes spewing out.

He chest hurts, as if he’s suffering the imaginary injury, and he clenches a fist there as he sucks in shallow breaths.

“Gods, damn it.” Suddenly, Gladio’s anger softens at the edges and his hands grip at his shoulders. “Noct, calm down. I’m fine. I’m right here.”

He can hear his voice, but it’s muffled as if it were coming from under water. He can see him there, whole and safe, but it’s overlaid by the image of his body being devoured by a horde of deamons.

“Noct!”

He blinks, chest sucking in large gasps of air, as strong arms squeeze at him. His hands come up to Gladio’s back and his head nestles into his neck. He wants to cry but he won’t let himself, not in front of Gladio. He allows himself to stay as he is for only as long as it takes to stop trembling and his breaths to come normally again.

When he does move out of the embrace, he glares at his shield. “Don’t you ever do something so stupid ever again.” Gladio opens his mouth in protest. “That’s an order.”

His shield grinds his teeth and bows his head. “I swear it.”

Noctis Lucis Caelum is numb. Everything has gone to shit and he is as good as powerless. Thinking only makes him feel like shit, so he does everything he can not to. He sits in his seat on the train refusing to move a muscle. He’s too tired to move anyway. He stares unseeing at Ignis and Prompto across from him. Prompto fuses over Ignis constantly, but Noct remains unaffected by it. Even the dull stab of pain from his grip on the ring of the Lucii eludes him. There is only sleep and detached sitting. That is until Gladio finally snaps. The shield’s hand is big and strong as it tugs on his shirt collar.

“You seriously just gonna sit there and pretend everything is fine?”

It takes a while for the words to process. When they do, despite his intentions, he slides down the slope. Nothing is fine. Insomnia is destroyed. He is supposed to be a king. Luna lies beneath the waves. Ignis will never see again. The weight is crushing, crushing at his chest, at his lungs. He can’t breathe.

Gladio shakes him and Noctis thinks his ribs rattle. He lets himself be shaken, tries to become numb again. Perhaps then he can find his breath again.

“Look at me!” Gladio demands.

He is in his face now. He looks so angry Noctis could cry. It’s so hard not to, now that he isn’t numb. He curls down on himself as much as he can with Gladio there in his space.

“If you can’t look at me, then look at Iggy. You think this is hard on you? Think about what he’s going through.”

Noctis doesn’t know what he means. He is looking at Gladio. There is the sound of a seat cushion which must be Ignis rising.

“Gladio, stop this. It was not his fault, and you know.”

“So, what? We let our king avoid his problems? That ain’t helping anyone, and you know it.”

Prompto’s the one to protest this time. “Stop being a dick! It’s a defense mechanism. You say he won’t look at you, but do you even see the state he’s in? Look at his eyes.”

Gladio must, because his face falls, hold loosening. “Shit.”

Noct still hasn’t processed this all yet. His mind is too busy remembering Luna and Ignis bleeding on the cobblestones and seeing Ardyn’s cackling face from atop his throne. He’s pulled forward, and suddenly, strong arms are around him. The thoughts are still there, but he feels warm and safe.

A hand strokes through his hair like his mother used to. “Noct, shit, I’m sorry. Breathe, just breathe.”

He does. In and out until his chest feels less hollow. Until it feels like he has lungs again. It takes much longer for the thoughts to pause. When they do he finally realizes it is Gladio, who was so pissed at him, that is holding him so protectively now.

“Sorry,” he finally says.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” says Ignis.

“Yeah, buddy. You don't have to shoulder this all alone, ya know.”

The words make him lighter, but it's Gladio he wants to hear from.

“Fuck, Noct.” He hasn't let go. He's holding on tighter now, actually. “I'm the one that should be apologizing. I went off to prove myself as your shield but then I went and failed. They're right, this is my burden as well, and I've done a piss poor job. Here you were suffocating in it and all I did was push you deeper. I have no right calling myself your shield.”

“Gladio,” Ignis begins in his caring chastising voice, but Noct cuts him off.

“Yeah, you screwed up. You failed as my shield.” Gladio flinches at the words. “Good thing all I want right now is my friend.” He can feel the tension drain from him. “Can you just be Gladio and I just be Noct? At least for a little while?” It comes out weak.

“Yeah.” His voice sounds choked. He wishes he could see his face, but he can't so he closes his eyes.

Nothing has changed. He's still tired, oh so tired. Sleep still calls to him, but maybe the thoughts are quieter. As if someone else is taking the worst of them before they reach the surface.

Uuuuuuh art dump for Poor Wayfaring Stranger, by lithos_saeculum, a great FFXV Mt!Prompto fic! Like I said before, I’m mildly obsessed...now with more Dad!Cor doodles ;v; Prompto needs to learn alot about the world, I love reading about those around him helping him...some favorite scenes and some rough designs for some OCs in the fic as well! More detailed explanations in the captions! ^^ 

Mosquito Huntress (Chocobros x f!Reader

I hate mosquitos, you hate mosquitos, we all hate mosquitos. This drabble is dedicated to the hundreds of mosquitos that died on my Korean dorm room wall at the hand of my  left Adidas sandal :3. 

Noct’s was inspired by true events. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

↞Noctis↠

It was the most horrendous sound. A sickeningly high pitched buzzing that vibrated among your ears at a rapid frequency. It pierced the veil of your dream and forcefully drop kicked you back into the waking world with a start. Just as you regained consciousness an electric clap in the darkness caused you to jolt, almost kicking the sleeping bag off your form. A shadow blocked out the dim moonlight that filtered through the ceiling of the tent.

Noctis’ eyes glowed like sapphires and shown with such an iridescence that meant he had just conjured up magic. Indeed, the clasped hands that were held a few inches above your head emitted a faint blue hue.

“Noct, what are you doing?” You drawled, the close proximity of the light within his palms to your face caused your eyes to squint in irritation.

“I got it.” He whispered victoriously, blinking a couple times in anticipation of your reaction.

“Got what?” You asked just as a large yawn engulfed you.

“The mosquito.” He grinned, shuffling to the door to the tent. He unzipped the zipper just enough for him to wiggle his hand outside, discarding the evil bug. Before you could speak up, Gladiolus’ violent snore ripped through the silence of the night from the far side of the tent. Prompto sleep-kicked the man in the stomach, offering a brief moment of tranquility before the disturbance would inevitably make a comeback.

“Did it die a painful death?” Your voice was devoid of sympathy and the seriousness on your face made Noctis chuckle as he sat cross legged next to you.

“I zapped it before it could land on your face. It died a quick death, sadly.” He stated in a hushed tone, gently brushing flyaway hairs from your forehead.

“What a shame. Still, well done.” You praised, reaching up to give his cheek a few lazy pats. He leaned into your touch, so much so that your drowsy limb flopped down onto the ground.

“What were you dreaming about?” He inquired softly. He was uncharacteristically chatty at this time of night for a boy who needed at least two naps daily.

“I was being serenaded by a beautiful man.” You grumbled. You were still peeved you were abruptly whisked away from the gentle, moonlit guitar strums and the man’s ethereal voice.

“As beautiful as in real life?” Noctis mused his lips curling into a smug smile. Your eyebrows knit in confusion.

“The man from my dream is real?” Your fatigued features contorted as your half asleep brain actually contemplated being able to manifest dreams into reality.

Noctis scooted so close to you that his leg was bushing against your side. He leaned down and stopped when his face was centimeters from your own, whips of his hair feathering your cheeks.

“He’s right here.” Noct stated lowly, his tone as smooth as the sea that resided within his eyes. Their serene waves were beginning to lull you to sleep.  

“No he's not. Ignis is on the other side of the tent.” You replied cheekily, now unable to keep your eyelids from falling. Before Noctis could respond you tugged on the fabric of his tee shirt and dragged him back down into the sleeping bag. You may have been exhausted but you always had enough energy to tease your prince.

↞Prompto↠

It was hot. Painfully hot. The kind of hot that once the humid air left a wet kiss on your exposed skin it clung to your form and every surface in the sun-exposed living room. The heat was slowly sizzling you alive and you were beginning to feel like a shrimp in a hot pot. A blonde shrimp was nestled atop of you, pressing your clammy body further into the plush sofa. His gentle puffs of steamy breath seared your neck and his limbs encircled you, involuntarily incubating you. The electric chattering of the fan and the low hum of the unattended television masked the otherwise curdled silence of the room.

Slowly rising from your slumber just as the sun was rising in the morning sky, you became fully aware of just how sweltering you were. And no matter how much you loved cuddling with your sunshine, he needed to get off of you otherwise you would dissolve into a pool of sweat. Wiggling around under him, you groaned when he clasped onto you tighter, burying his face further into the crook of your neck. You gave an exasperated sigh and now felt even stickier than before. You began to push him off once more, this time a bit more forcefully, when you saw it. The unwanted visitor stood out against the pale skin of his back like Gladiolus at your high school dances.

So you did the only thing you could do to ensure it wouldn’t escape. You smacked his back. Hard . The clap of skin on skin resounded through the apartment and caused a few pigeons to anxiously fly off their perch outside of the windowsill. The rapid flapping of wings was immediately followed by Prompto’s squirrel like squeak.

“WHAT’S WRONG?” His voice ascended to octaves that seemed impossible to reach. He was now very awake, disoriented, and in pain. He shot up to straddle you, sinking back onto your hips and reaching up to clutch the point of impact. There was a deep red mark already blossoming on his shoulder blade. Your eyes held pity until you saw the tiny daemon dust the skin of his upper arm.

“PROMPTO ITS ON YOUR ARM!” Your manic tone only skyrocketed Prompto’s anxiety. He recoiled when you leaned over to deliver another powerful hit. The poor boy was trying to grasp if he was still asleep and experiencing a nightmare.

“WHAT ARE WE AFRAID OF AND WHY DO YOU KEEP TRYING TO HIT ME?” He exclaimed on the verge of tears.

“MOSQUITO!” You rapidly pointed to just below the sleeve of his tank top, the dark spot illuminated by the warm bands of sunlight. Prompto let out a sound resembling a duck being squeezed.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU WARN ME SOONER?” His limbs were in a jelly-like frenzy as they slapped every exposed surface on his body. In the fray, it had strategically darted away from the hurricane of body parts but made its appearance once again when the storm had calmed.

“IT’S ON YOU NOW!” Prompto wailed, causing your eyes to grow wide.

“WELL THEN GET IT OFF ITS GOING TO SUCK MY BLOOD!”

“I DON'T WANT TO HIT YOU.” He whined, shifting apprehensively in his seat. He brought his hand inches from where the mosquito rested on your clavicle but hesitated before the glistening skin.

“I HIT YOU BEFORE ITS OKAY, IT EVENS OUT!” You encouraged, scooching closer to him so your knees touched. You craned your neck to give him a larger area to work with.

Reluctantly, Prompto’s palm came into contact with your collarbone a little too gently. You shot him an amused smirk.

“That was weak.” You said. He rolled his eye and when he removed his hand, the mosquito had been vanquished. You both exhaled a steamy sigh of relief.

Suddenly there was a brisk knocking at your door. After exchanging wide eyes, Prompto padded to the entryway. Before opening it, he discarded the carcass into the trash bin and gave his hands a few thorough wipes against his sweatpants.

A very tiny, unamused woman was standing in the hall. A lit cigarette hung lax from her right hand while the other rested on her hip. He blinked a couple times, unsure of what to say.

“Do I need to call the police or is yelling ‘It’s okay, hit me’ a kink of yall’s?” She said as more of a statement than a question, her voice gravelly. When she exhaled, a large puff of smoke blew into Prompto’s now reddened face. He tried to dodge it unsuccessfully and coughed before explaining.

“Uh, no, to both. We’re fine. We were just-” Prompto started, struggling to battle the creeping mortification brought on by the woman’s assumption. She abruptly held up her hand, cigarette dangerously close to Prompto’s mussed bangs, and turned to walk back to her apartment.

“I don’t need a detailed description of what you like to do in bed. Just keep it down.” She imparted, her voice cracking like and unpaved road, leaving Prompto a sputtering mess.  

A week later, the whole floor of the apartment complex was convinced you and Prompto had an affinity for bug and bug killer role play. It would take you several months to live this down.

↞Ignis↠

“Darling come to bed.” Ignis’ command was more of a sweet invite than an instruction as he was far too drained for anything else. It had been a longer day than usual at the Citadel and all poor Ignis wanted to do was feel the sweet embrace of sleep.

“No.” You retorted stubbornly, not wavering from your defensive post next to the bookshelf. There was no way you would be able to go to bed with that thing watching you, waiting until the vulnerability of sleep overtook you so it could feast upon your blood.

“Please.” He pleaded, his level tone turning into a slight whine by the end. This was the seventeenth time he had asked you. Yes, Ignis was keeping count.

“No, not until it tastes my blade.” You spat, eyes narrowing as you tried to focus in on the tiny intruder’s location.

“You are unarmed my dear.” Ignis’ lips curled into a smile. He discarded his book on his lap and resigned to watching your antics. If he couldn’t stop you, he might as well enjoy the scene before him.

“My hands are my blade.” Your statement was quickly drowned out by a yelp as the mosquito fluttered off the wall. Your body contorted in ways Ignis never knew it could to avoid any possible contact with the creature as it floated a little too close for your liking.

Ignis snorted at your response, lightly biting his bottom lip to swallow a chuckle. You looked more focused on killing this spec of dust than you did hunting a coeurl. No matter how silly the situation was, the glint of determination in your eye and over exaggerated reactions had Ignis regarding you with adoration. He adjusted his position against the headboard, satin sheets pooling softly downward to reveal his bare chest. His hair was still damp and mussed from his shower and thin frames laid low on the bridge of his nose. If you weren’t so preoccupied by the mosquito you surely would have been more than distracted by his appearance.

You circled the room and randomly hit any surface that harbored any substance that vaguely resembled a mosquito. When you accidentally slapped your thigh instead of the side of the wardrobe Ingis’ melodic laugh broke the tense air. You shot him a glare that could melt ice and stuck out your tongue.

Just as he was going to coerce with you once again, the small creature buzzed just under the rim of his glasses. He silently followed the bug with his eyes until it landed on the nightstand next to the bed.

“It’s over here.” Ignis gave you the tip, gesturing to the tiny dot resting on the mahogany.

“Smack it!” You screeched, excitement flooding your veins at the proposition of a peaceful night’s sleep.

“No.” Ignis said smoothly. He was always one to push your buttons. Even though he could end this ridiculous hunt with a single swipe of his palm, he felt teasing was a much more entertaining option. You gasped at his betrayal.

“You’re the one who wants it dead, not me.” Ignis responded innocently, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Come on, the minute its dead I’ll come to bed.” You pouted, attempting to bribe him with cuteness. Ignis shook his head and pursed his lips. It took everything in him not to start laughing again.

“But I’m so comfortable.” He dragged out each syllable, flopping down and spreading out so he took up the entire surface of the bed. His eyes resembled the greenery of rolling hills against the horizon as they regarded you from under his eyelashes. They almost made you forget about the task at hand. Letting out an annoyed whine, you turned your attention once again to your prey.

You thanked your crownsguard training for the lightness of your feet as they padded silently against the wood floorboards until you were within smacking distance. The moment your hand met the nightstand with a satisfying crack, a triumphant smile spread across your face. There was no way it could have survived that hit.

“I take that as a fresh kill?” Ignis questioned and propped himself up on his elbow.

“Yes, add another to my kill count.” You turned towards him, still beaming, and held up your palm to show him the bounty of your hunt. You playfully shoved your hand near his face, giggling when he struggled to push you away. He laughed, grimacing when it got a little too close to his cheek.

“Lovely, darling. Now go wash your hand and let's go to bed.”

↞Gladiolus↠

The air conditioning revved to life with three crisp clicks once your sweaty fingers tiredly turned the dial to the max setting. Your corner of the vast training room was now gradually flooding with a frosty breeze that prickled your clammy skin with delightful icicles. A satisfied sigh left your parted lips, thankful to be relieved from the stickiness of hand to hand combat. Your butt was practically glued to the bench as you let the polar vortex cool you down. The grunts of other training Crownsguard members and the slams of bodies hitting the padded mats were muffled by the pulsing in your ears as you gingerly patted the sweat from your neck and face with a towel. A few paces from you Prompto laid sprawled out on the floor, his chest heaving with heavy breaths.

“Don’t get moody, Prompto. She manages to overpower me half the time too.” Gladiolus nudged the deflated blonde with the toe of his boot and flashed you a cheeky grin.

“I know, I know. But the only one I’m ever able to take down besides the new trainees is Noct.” Prompto sighed dramatically.

“Well, that’s not a challenge at all.” Gladiolus snorted and passed you a water bottle, the condensation feeling lovely against your clammy palms.

“He might be easy, but he cheats by warping.” You added, rising from your seat to stand directly in front of the air con. The rush of cool wind felt heavenly on your back.

“Exactly.” There was no emotion in Prompto’s voice. He turned his head agonizingly slowly to look at you, gaze empty. You choked on your mouthful of water at his melodrama.

After taking a few generous swigs from his own water bottle, Gladiolus sauntered over towards you. Rather than standing next to you, like you expected, he grabbed your arms and moved to stand behind you. The action stole the euphoria of the synthetic wind and you whined in protest. He stretched his arms out on your shoulders and rested his chin atop your head.

“Well lately the only one who’s been kicking my ass is Iris. Besides the Marshall, of course.” You coughed as you wiped the droplets of water from your chin with the back of your hand. A giggle bubbled from your chest when you felt Gladiolus tense.

“Oh yeah, she’s getting good. It took her even less time to take the big guy down last week.” Prompto chuckled, vitality slowly flooding back into his system. Gladiolus visibly shuddered and released you from his hold to walk back over to the mat.

“She’s getting too good.” He mumbled as he rolled his shoulders.

“You wanna fight her next time instead of me, Prom?” You suggested jokingly. Gladiolus snickered, making Prompto faintly kick in Gladio’s general direction.

“No thank you. I’ll stick to the 15 year olds and Noctis.” He huffed as he pulled himself off the ground. His movements were like a piece of tape being tugged off of the floor painstakingly slowly. Once Prompto had vacated the training space, Gladiolus threw you a playful grin. He got into a fighting stance, his knees bent and arms angled for combat.

“Ready for our spar, baby?”

"Wait." You stated, attention on the corner of the air conditioner. Gladiolus squinted in the direction of your gaze.

"I will NOT train with this uninvited guest watching me." You declared, slowly rounding the corner of the machine. Prompto let out a quiet huh while Gladiolus shook his head.

“She really hates mosquitoes, doesn’t she?” Prompto asked rhetorically, fanning the sweat from his face with his hands. Gladiolus smiled fondly when you untied your shoe and attempted to use it as a killing device.

"Mhm. Honestly, I think her determination is pretty adorable." Gladiolus responded, not taking his eyes off you.

"Gladdy-" You whined when your target flew too high for your hands to reach. “I need your help.”

You beckoned him over with haste and he padded over with an amused glint in his eyes.

"Give me a boost, it's too high for me to reach." You tapped his shoulders and gestured for him to get down.

“What do I get in return?” He asked rather innocently. Your eyebrows shot up, expecting something more suggestive.

“I’ll treat you and Prompto to ramen when we’re done here.” You proposed, holding the shoe at eye level.

“Hell yeah!” Prompto cheered from the towel rack.

“Done.” Gladio hummed in excitement and knelt down so you could climb onto his shoulders. Gladio maneuvered you as close to the metal box as he could without ramming your knees into the side. You smacked the top hard with the sole of your shoe and turned it over for inspection.

“Hah! Die, bitch.” You roared happily, pressing a triumphant kiss to the top of his head. He squeezed your thighs in return and lowered you to the ground.

“My little mosquito hunter.” He cooed, smushing your cheeks together. “Now come on, let’s get this spar over with so I can get some free ramen.”

"Fine, but if I win Prompto has to fight Iris next week." You smirked.

“Sounds like a deal.” He agreed, winking at you as he got into position.

“This isn’t consensual!” Prompto’s protests were quickly forgotten in the throws of combat.

Hello! I've just discovered your whumpy FFXV fanfics and oh my gosh I absolutely adore your writing and ideas! I love a whumpy Prompto story! I've looked over the whump bingo and I think Prompto and "Strapped to a bomb" would be a really interesting/whumpy story! Of course please don't feel pressured to write this if you don't want to and I'm so sorry if this comes across as rude. I hope you have a lovely day!

Ah thank you anon! Don’t worry it definitely doesn’t come off as rude :3 I’m really happy you’ve enjoyed my writing!

Decided to try someone kinda new with this, going with Cor’s pov for the first time, so hopefully that will still be somewhat enjoyable eheh

BTHB #6- Strapped to a Bomb

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV

Characters: Prompto Argentum, Cor Leonis, Nyx Ulric (a little bit)

Whumpee: Prompto Argentum

Word count: 2568

Warnings: none

This work can also be found on ao3 :3

Cor lets his eyes finish skimming through the document in his hand. Then he throws it onto his desk along with all the other documents he’s read through and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. It’s been a very long, very uneventful day. Glancing at his watch, Cor is relieved to find there’s now only a little over an hour until he can leave. Though of course then he has to make his way through the traffic of the streets surrounding the Citadel, which is always a nightmare at this time of day. Now with the furrow between his brows made even deeper than usual, Cor returns to the paperwork. He’s moving on to what he thinks should be the last document in the pile when heavy breathing and rushed footsteps sound through the otherwise empty corridor.

"Marshal-"

"What." Cor's voice is tinged with irritation. This better be damn important for someone to barge in right at the tail end of his workday.

"You’ve been summoned at the entrance," says the breathless recruit. "it’s something about your son."

It doesn’t even take a full second for Cor to react and be up on his feet. He grabs his jacket and phone and hurries out of the office along with the recruit. Not that it’s out of the ordinary for Prompto to come to the Citadel, whether it’s Cor he’s coming to see or Prince Noctis whenever he’s around. Normally he would just let himself in though, and that along with the frantic look on the recruit’s face - no, something has to be wrong.

"What’s the situation?" Cor asks, not bothering to look back and just assuming the recruit is following him as he strides down the hall.

"I don’t know, I was just told to get a hold of you quickly." Comes the answer from behind. Cor almost has time to get annoyed at the lack of information, but the recruit keeps going. "Glaive Ulric and Glaive Altius are there already, and when I left they'd started working to evacuate employees outside of the Glaive."

Cor curses under his breath. Evacuation of the other employees? He trusts Nyx and Crowe enough to make that call, but since they have it has to be something serious. Cor enters the elevator and taps his foot impatiently on the floor, infuriated by how slow the descent is seemingly going. His mind races through all the different possibilities for what could be going on, and how Prompto could be involved in it.

The familiar dingand the sound of elevator doors opening cannot come soon enough, and the second it does he's on the move again. It takes him almost no time at all, though still too long in Cor's mind, to make his way to the doors at the main entrance. From the vantage point there he can already see parts of what's going on. Further down the staircase are multiple glaives already at work. Cor recognises Crowe where she stands at the side, gesturing to the people around and obviously in the midst of the evacuation work. He spares a short moment to send the recruit, who is still following behind him, over in her direction with orders to assist in the evacuation work. Then he sees Nyx, standing a bit further down, and then finally he sees a familiar tuft of blond hair. Prompto is talking to Nyx. Cor can't hear what they're saying as he makes his way towards them, but he can tell from meters away that something is wrong with Prompto. It's the way he's holding himself, tense and unnaturally stiff in his movements.

When Cor is close enough, he sees Prompto’s eyes widen, and his mouth opens in a silent plea. Cor lets his own expression soften some and sends him a reassuring nod. It’s at least intended as one, but he’s not sure it helps. Prompto still looks so very scared, and it pricks Cor’s heart painfully. He's about to turn to Nyx, to demand an explanation as to what's going on, but his attention is caught by something else. Peeking through behind the half-open zipper on Prompto's hoodie is some foreign object.

"Open your hoodie Prom, let me see that." Cor says. His mouth feels too dry all of a sudden, but he keeps his voice low and calm despite it. Prompto shifts uneasily but complies. With two shaky hands he fumbles a bit with the zipper, eventually getting it up. What reveals itself is a jumbled mess of wires and various cylindrical objects in black and grey, all fastened together with tape and zip-ties, strapped around Prompto's stomach like a horrid belt. It's most definitely home made, but there's no mistaking it. Cor recognizes explosives when he sees them.

"The hell-" Cor hisses. Though he immediately regrets that and cuts himself off when Prompto shrinks in on himself as if the curse is directed at him. Worry and disbelief swirl around in Cor's stomach. He turns his head to Nyx so fast his neck nearly twists. "What's going on here?"

The look on Nyx's face mirrors Cor's own emotions, and the crease to his brows deepens as he answers in a hushed voice. "Crowe and I found him standing here just earlier, says someone put that," and he motions with his head towards the device. "on him and dropped him off here with orders to go inside. He didn't see their faces."

Now anger flares up in Cor along with all the other conflicting emotions. Someone had dared to put a godsdamn bomb on his son. Cor feels his body tense up, and his hands balling into tight fists. He wants his hands on them, to make them regret ever thinking they could touch Prompto. But that will have to wait, Cor knows it. The top priority has to be getting that thing off of Prompto safely. He bites back another curse by pressing his lips into a thin line and wills himself to loosen the fists, though the tension still lingers in them.

"Bomb squad?" He asks.

"Already called, should be here any minute." Comes Nyx's answer, and Cor nods. He'd rather they were there already, but pushes that thought aside, they'll just have to wait. He then turns his attention back to Prompto. His son's eyes are wide and fearful, darting in between Nyx and Cor. His hands clutch the ends of the hoodie hard but even then, Cor can see them trembling faintly. Now that nobody's talking anymore, he suddenly becomes aware of Prompto's breathing. How strained it is, coming in short, shallow gasps. As if he's trying not to breathe at all.

Now every part of Cor's body urges him to rush to Prompto's side. To reassure him and tell him that everything will be alright. He knows he can't do that but takes one calm step forwards regardless. "Prompto-"

"No!" Prompto gasps, jerking back a step and stumbling slightly. It catches Cor completely off guard, and he stops dead in his tracks. Lifting his hands in a placating manner.

"Wha-"

"Don't come closer, please." Prompto's voice is barely more than a whisper, but to Cor it seems he might as well have been shouting. "If- if it blows, I don't want to hurt you."

Cor feels like he's just been hit in the chest with something hard. This isn't how things are supposed to be. Prompto, his sunshine, should not have to be this scared- for himself or for Cor. Cor sucks in a sharp breath, and despite what his brain is screaming at him to do he takes a step back to where Nyx is standing. It takes considerable effort to keep his voice calm when Cor speaks up again. "Okay, okay. Prompto look at me," he urges, trying to hold his son's gaze intently with his own. "I'm going to be fine, and you're going to be fine. Do you understand?"

After another moment Prompto nods weakly, even as his eyes glaze over with unshed tears. Cor sighs, and wonders what on earth is taking the damn bomb squad so long. He's about to turn to Nyx with this same question when, as if on cue, Prompto's breath hitches and his eyes fixate on something over Cor's shoulder. He turns around and there, finally, he sees a group of about seven or so men and women prepped with armoured suits making their way down the staircase. It draws some stares and gasps from the few not in the Glaive who are still there, but thankfully the evacuation work has come so far that there aren't many around.

Cor lets his shoulders sag ever so slightly in relief as the woman who seems to be in charge of the group comes over to him and Nyx. They exchange a few words and what little information they have on the situation, and she nods in affirmation and begins her work. Ordering three of her people to secure the streets and immediate surroundings to the bottom of the staircase, and the rest to come with her as she movies calmly towards Prompto. Cor tries to send him another encouraging nod, but he looks possibly even more terrified than before. The wide, unsure eyes and trembling lips are not something Cor wants to see on his son's face ever again if he can avoid it.

"They," Prompto tries, but it comes out more a choked gasp than anything else, and he hurries to try again. "they said not to touch it." The words almost trip over themselves in the rush to get out, and Prompto sends Cor a pleading look. Almost desperate as members of the bomb squad are getting closer to him.

"These people know what they're doing, kid." Cor urges on, thankful that his voice carries such authority and doesn't betray any underlying worries. "Let them help. I promise it will all be fine." Anything else is out of the question, he thinks, but he doesn't say that. Instead opting to take on as soothing and confident an expression as possible.

Prompto nods again, but doesn't look any more convinced, letting slip a tiny whine when the approaching bomb technicians are close enough to touch. The woman orders the hoodie to be removed, and her associates make quick work of it. It's close to torture, Cor finds, having to stay where he is and only watch. Prompto stays stiff and unmoving as the hoodie is removed and thrown to the side, where Nyx goes to pick it up. In the clutter of people now around him, Prompto looks like a forlorn kitten, fixed to the ground and scared to move in any significant way.

"Timer?" asks the woman loudly.

"None ma'am." comes the answer.

At this the woman turns her attention back to Nyx and Cor. "We're sure it's timed?" She asks. "No chance it could be remote controlled?"

Cor opens his mouth to answer but to his great surprise, and the woman's too it seems, Prompto beats him to it. "It's timed," his voice shakes slightly as he speaks. "they said so when they dropped me off… f-fifty minutes." he stammers, then his voice dies down again.

A moment of stunned silence goes by, then the woman curses loudly. "You should have said so sooner!" She snaps. Cor sees how it makes Prompto shrink in on himself and hears his stuttered apologies. They need to figure out how much time they have left, and the last thing he wants is for Prompto to panic now. So he takes a careful step forward, intent on getting Prompto's attention away from the lady.

"Prompto look at me!" He implores loudly, cutting Prompto off in the midst of his train of apologies. "Just look at me. I need you to tell me how long you stood here before anyone arrived, can you do that?"

"I- 6 maybe 7 minutes, I think." He answers, swallowing hard. Cor nods at him again then hastily checks the time on his phone. It's been almost 30 minutes since he left his office, though to him it feels like much longer than that. Still, that doesn't leave them with much time, only a little under 20 minutes. Cor relays the information out loud, to which the woman nods and goes back to her work, not wasting another second on talking.

Through all this Prompto has been keeping his eyes locked on Cor, exactly as told. So Cor sees it the second he returns his attention to his son. That now with the working hands of multiple people back around his waist, and the knowledge of just how long he has left until an eventual untimely death- a little under 20 minutes, it's all too much. Cor can see it all swirling around in his head, can read it in his face. It's one of the effects of having cared for someone from when they were a small child, Cor knows his son, and he knows the breaking point is coming.

"Prompto," he begins softly, "keep your eyes focused on me, okay? Only on me, ignore anything else." Prompto nods, chokes out a sob, and lets the first few tears come. Cor sees them rolling down unhindered, and the wet streaks they leave on freckled skin. "It's okay," he hushes, barely even noticing that he's taken a few more steps towards Prompto. "you've been brave today. Now just let us fix the rest, okay? It'll be alright."

Cor keeps speaking softly like that for what somehow feels simultaneously like an eternity and no time at all. The tears are still running down Prompto's face, but he's managing to keep his attention mostly on Cor and not on the rest of the situation. It's working exactly how Cor was hoping it would. When, after some time, the bomb loosens from around Prompto's waist and movement surges all around it catches Prompto entirely off-guard. But not Cor. Cor rushes forward the second he sees that the explosives are removed and Prompto is being shoved away from them for the bomb squad to finish their work, and when Prompto stumbles Cor catches him. Relief floods through Cor's body like a breath of fresh air, and he wastes no time before dragging Prompto a few secure steps back. He's holding his son, and it's okay now.

Prompto cries for another while, not at all surprising given the rush and tension from the day, but he's at least safe. In a move uncharacteristically tender for Cor when they're anywhere other than the privacy of their home, he runs his hand through his son's soft hair and places a gentle kiss on his forehead. "You're okay Prom, you're okay."

The two are awarded some peace and quiet before Nyx comes to check on the two of them and provide them with the news that the bomb has been properly taken care of. When he does Cor gives him a grateful nod. He knows it's time for him to take Prompto home, but before that there's one last thing he needs to do.

"Make sure the security footage from today is thoroughly checked." Says Cor, his voice every bit as serious as the situation calls for. And now it's Nyx's turn to nod, knowing without needing to be told what he's on the lookout for. "I want them found and identified."

Bloody Marble

Bloody Marble

WC: 440

I wrote this at 3 am, so apologies if it sucks😗 or doesn’t make much sense

Life was a nightmare, ever since you were born. Because of you being the child of the Infernian, you had been prosecuted and shunned by both Astrals and humans. All except for one man: Verstael Besithia. He had been the first human to willingly approach you where you were confined with your father. But that was only because he hadn’t known Ifrit had a child locked away with him.

When you met Verstael, you had introduced yourself as the Infernian’s daughter, and almost instantly he was intrigued. He had asked you any and everything under the sun, curious as to why you were exiled with your father. Surely, someone as young as you hadn’t done anything wrong, at least not to incur the wrath of the other Astrals.

“Being the Infernian’s child is reason enough, dear Verstael,” you had told him, a sad smile on your features. He never left your side after that, always willing to lend a helping hand. It was so … strange, a human helping you. You had been the outcast for so long you had forgotten what affection had felt like -- the last human giving you affection having been your mother.

But he was patient with you. And before too long, you were showing affection in return.

***

You were suddenly afraid of the man that stood before you. You could hardly recognize him anymore; he had been so overtaken by miasma that he was disintegrating before your eyes.

A gunshot rang out, and the man you had fallen in love with fully disappeared, leaving only his clothes behind. Regardless of the man still in the room, you collapsed next to the remains of your beloved, tears dripping onto the harsh concrete.

“Who-who’re you?!” the blond boy yelled, pointing his gun at you. As you looked up to him, your breath caught in your throat. He was a carbon copy of Verstael from when he was young, and before you knew what you were doing you were on your feet, reaching out to him.

The boy shrank back, tightening his grip on his weapon, and you stopped. He wasn’t your beloved, you had to remind yourself. No matter how damning the evidence seems to be.

“What is your name, young one?” you finally asked, taking a few steps back and watching him relax slightly.

“Pr-Prompto,” he replied. “What about you?”

“My name does not matter, young one,” you hushed him. “You wish to go home, yes?”

“How did you--”

“That doesn’t matter, either,” you cut him off. “What matters is I can help you.”

“Why?”

“Because we all have a home we wish to return to.”

Satum Novum Chapter 5: Revelations of the Heart FFXV Gladnis

<Previous Chapter 4

The blond seemed to be demanding an answer, not that Gladio was going to give one, but Prompto had begged an interesting question.  

“I wouldn’t say that.” Gladio defended.

“Ah come on, you let him sleep in your cabin when we picked him up.   You stayed with him the whole time while he was resting.  Not to mention whatever the heck was going on earlier today, when his head was resting in your lap!” Prompto enthused.  “I’d say that means you like him.”  

“I wanted to make sure he was alright. There’s nothing wrong with that!”

“Gladio, admit it.” Prompto sighed. “I mean it’s obvious he likes you too.”

“Wait, you think so?” He asked quickly.

“Oh emm geee you’re terrible.  Go check on them again, it’s been a few hours since we left the island.  Maybe Ignis woke up and needs something, like another hug.”  The blond added with a smirk.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me blondie, I thought we were friends.” Gladio huffed.

“We are! I’m your wing man and I can’t stand here and watch you mess this up.  Go be the nice guy I know you are and sweep him off his feet.”

“Dork, I’ve already done that, twice.”

Rolling his eyes Prompto turned back to stare out the window.  He didn’t say anything else but Gladio could tell he had a smile on his freckled face.   The kid was enjoying his teasing, but he did make a good point.  He should go check on their guests.

--

Rolling over, Noct tried to figure out why his bed had shrunk when everything came flooding back.  He’d been kidnapped and rescued.   Popping his eyes open revealed a small but clean cabin with two bunks.   Ignis was in the other one and in a deep sleep.

The prince had never seen his advisor in such a state.  The man did look comfy though, the t-shirt he was wearing was three sizes too big and sliding off one of his shoulders.   Even his mouth was parted slightly, he was clearly exhausted.  

Noct was in a funny place mentally, he was tired but not enough to go back to sleep.  Maybe he needed to eat more.  He remembered Gladio had fed them so there must be food somewhere.  He got up slowly and thankfully Noct had enough energy left to walk properly, albeit slowly.   A thought occurred to him that he should tell Ignis what he was up to.  The advisor would probably wake up and freak out if he wasn’t there.

However, he would need to wake him up to do that and he felt bad even considering it.  Noct’s memory flashed back to when Ignis had literally passed out earlier that day.  His advisors face had gone slack and he looked so lost.  The prince didn’t want to interrupt his sleep but he figured he could at least try.

He shuffled over to Ignis’ bunk and gingerly sat on the edge.   “Iggy?” He called out softly.  If Ignis was lightly sleeping, though Noct doubted it, he would hear his name being spoken.  The advisor didn’t move a muscle. He tried again but a little louder.  This time Ignis moved an eyebrow ever so slightly.  “Can you hear me?  I’m gonna go get some more food so don’t worry okay.”

Noct waited to see if this would garner another response.  He was about to give up when Ignis narrowly cracked open his eyes, revealing two tired green eyes.

“Hnnggnn.” Was all he managed to produce in regards to speech.

“Don’t wake up the rest of the way, I’m safe and I’m getting more food okay?” He tried again.

“Mmmhmmm.” Was the response.

“Rest, I’ll be back.” Noct finished as he made a point to tuck the blanket around Ignis’ shoulders better.  This seemed to do the trick and he closed his eyes.  Noct waited a minute to make sure his breathing would even out, signaling he’d fallen back asleep.  It took ten seconds at most and Ignis was conked out and lightly snoring.

Now he had to figure where to find more food.  Pulling the door open slowly he stepped out into the hallway and looked around.  Unsure of what direction to go, he turned right and hobbled along using the wall for support.   He’d opted to leave his boots behind as his socks were thick enough to cushion his feet.

When he saw a pair of stairs leading up to a brighter area he got excited.  Fresh air sounded really good right about now.   However, the second he stepped on the bottom step a shadow appeared at the top.

“Hey are you alright?” A deep voice asked.

Noct was waiting for his eyes to adjust but the voice sounded similar.  The accent was off but it sure sounded like Clarus.  Oh, right Gladio had been there when he’d been rescued.  “I’m good, um – I’m hungry again.”

“Oh that’s an easy one, can you follow me?” Gladio asked.

Noct nodded and slowly walked upstairs.  He hated having to go so slow, but his body was protesting every movement.  Clarus’ son lead the way down another hallway and finally into a larger room.  He saw a kitchen and he immediately got excited.

“I can cook you something or you can pick what you want.”  Gladio offered.

“Are you a good cook?” Noct asked curiously.

“Prompto doesn’t complain.”

“Um – I don’t mind if you cook, so long as you don’t add vegetables.”

Gladio laughed and shook his head.  “No sweat off my back highness, have a seat and I’ll see what I can do.”

Thirty minutes later and Noct was chowing down on a yummy steak with fries.   This was just what he needed.  “Do you think I could sit upstairs for a little bit?”

“Sure I don’t mind, do you want to be on the bridge with Prompto or by yourself?”  

Noct thought back to other man that had been with Ignis when he was rescued.  A shock of blond hair and friendly demeanor were coming to mind, as Noct reminisced.  “Will he mind me crashing if I wanna sit on the bridge?”

“Nah, so long as you don’t mind the nonstop talking.”  Gladio added as he cleared the dirty plates away.  

Smiling Noct shook his head and stood up.  “Lead the way.”  The prince was a little nervous about trying to make a new friend, but he figured it was worth a shot.  Five minutes after Gladio introduced them, Prompto was chattering away like he’d known Noct for years.

It was refreshing to have someone ignore his title and treat him normally.

--

Gladio watched as Noct started to open up to his friend.  Prompto was an easy guy to talk with so that helped.   It only took five minutes before he felt comfortable enough to leave them alone.   “I’m gonna go check on Ignis, page me if you need me.”

“Sure thing big guy.” Prompto replied.

Gladio continued on his way towards Ignis’ cabin.  He wasn’t sure what good it would do to check in on the man.  He was supposed to be sleeping not taking visitors.  By the time Gladio was standing in front of the cabin door, he decided to knock once and then peer in to make sure all was well.

Of course after his knock nothing happened, Ignis was sleeping!  So Gladio slowly and quietly opened the door.  The advisor was out cold, resting comfortably under the blankets.  Well that was easy, his job was done.  However, Gladio kept standing in the doorway staring at Ignis, willing him to wake up.

Finally after a few minutes he gave up and turned to leave.  He had almost closed the door when he heard a small noise.  It had come from inside the cabin and Gladio pushed open the door once more.  Ignis appeared to still be asleep but his face seemed different, it wasn’t calm and relaxed anymore.

Gladio wracked his brain trying to figure out what was wrong.  Then it hit him like a ton of bricks, Ignis was having a bad dream. His only experience with nightmares was Prompto.  The kid would yell and cry it was intense.  Thankfully they’d lessened considerably since the blond first arrived.

Now as he watched Ignis quietly battle with his inner daemons, Gladio had to figure out how to wake him up.   Taking a seat along the edge of the bunk Gladio tried calling his name.   The first time didn’t elicit a response but the second time Ignis sucked in a breath and turned his head.  The advisor’s eyes were still closed but it seemed as though he was struggling to wake up.

He groaned and rolled over towards Gladio.  “I don’t want to die.” He whispered.

“Ignis, hey wake up.  You’re safe, you’re not gonna die.”

The advisor opened his eyes at Gladio’s statement and looked at him. “What happened?”

“You’re safe and so is Noct, we are headed back to Altissia to catch the bad guys. Remember?”

He paused and blinked a few times.  “Oh, yes that’s right.”

“Did you have a bad dream?”

“I was out at sea again, except you didn’t rescue me so I was drowning.”

“Shit that’s scary, but you’re safe and not out at sea.” Gladio offered trying to help.  Ignis seemed so stressed by the dream and Gladio wasn’t sure how to help. Thinking back on how he’d had to learn to deal with Prompto’s nightmares, he asked another question.    “Um – do you need a hug?”

This caught Ignis’ attention right away.  “You don’t mind?” He asked with wide eyes.  “I think that would be very helpful.”

Without answering Gladio extended his arms and pulled Ignis upright and into a hug.  His body was hot and Gladio could feel Ignis’ heart pounding as they embraced.  Taking a deep breath Gladio decided to try something a little more and began rubbing the advisor’s back.

“Mmm –.” Ignis mumbled from where his head was buried in Gladio’s shoulder.

“Do you have bad dreams very often?”

“No thankfully, I fear the stress of my current situation has affected me negatively.” Ignis answered softly as he swung his arms around Glaido’s neck and squeezed.

“Someone trying to kill you and your best friend would do that.” Gladio surmised with a small nod.

“You feel good.” Ignis added after a moment.

“So do you.” He answered without thinking.  Shit, what did he just say?  He wasn’t the one that needed comforting, Ignis was. The advisor didn’t react and didn’t move away, maybe he hadn’t heard him.

“Thank you for being so kind.  I really can’t express how much it means to me.”

“No thanks needed I’m happy I could help.”  Gladio replied honestly as he held Ignis close.  The feeling of muscles and limbs shifting slightly caused Gladio to panic, was Ignis pulling away already?   Instead the advisor tipped his head back to look at Gladio directly.    He didn’t say anything but held Gladio’s gaze with light green eyes.   They betrayed his true condition, exhaustion, despite their beauty.  

Gladio was sure if he was questioned later, he wouldn’t have an answer for what happened next.  Maybe he was caught up in the moment. Before he could stop his brain, he’d squeezed Ignis even tighter and leaned down to kiss him.  The man in his arms melted the instant their lips connected.

The first few kisses were chaste but it didn’t take long and Gladio could feel Ignis’ tongue seeking entrance.  He parted his lips with a moan as they intensified the kiss.   Ignis’ slender but strong fingers were pulling at his hair.  A lightheaded feeling had taken root in Gladio’s head as they kissed, it was euphoric.   He never wanted this moment in time to end, it felt so good.

A broken sigh caught Gladio’s attention next as Ignis pulled away.   “I – I feel – dizzy.” He finally conceded in between breaths.

“Me too, but I think yours might be amplified by losing blood yesterday.” Gladio quipped.

Ignis laughed softly and leaned in again to rest his head on Gladio’s shoulder.  “Don’t let go.” He pleaded.    “I can’t – I can’t – I need you with me.” He tried.

Gladio thought he might understand the surge of emotions Ignis was going through, as he was experiencing something on a similar level.   “I’m not going anywhere, I won’t let you go.”

“Please.” Ignis begged again.  “I need you.”

As they sat there Gladio tried to pour of all his emotions into the hug.  He wanted Ignis to know he was safe.  A small nagging thought in the back of Gladio’s head finally surged forward.  Ignis needed to rest, and this current activity was hindering that.  “Hey Ignis.” He tried gently.  “You need to get more sleep.”

Ignis instantly squeezed harder and whined.  “I don’t want to be alone.”

“I don’t want to leave you; I want to hold you while you rest.” Gladio tried to explain as they sat tangled together.  It took a minute before Ignis answered with a small nod of his head.   It was a slight struggle to get situated in the bunk.  The advisor didn’t really want to relinquish his hold, and neither did he if he admitted it.

Finally though, after he’d managed to shed his shoes, he got them both comfortable.   Ignis was safely situated between the wall and Gladio’s bulk.  “Is this good?” He asked as Ignis glommed onto his body like a starfish.  

“You don’t have to stay after I’ve fallen asleep – I understand if you have work to do.”  Ignis admitted sheepishly.

“Shhh I’m stayin, you feel so good right now and I think we could both do with a break.”

Ignis released a deep breath; the advisor had been worried about his answer.  That pained Gladio a little, he wasn’t going anywhere.   Leaning down he kissed the top of Ignis’ head as he snuggled further into the covers and against Gladio’s body.

This had been an unexpected development.   He knew they’d be discovered like this, Prompto would have a field day asking questions and trying to get the down low.  It was worth the good hearted ribbing; Gladio couldn’t help but feel something special when he was around Ignis.  Now, at least, he knew the advisor felt the same way.

>Next Chapter 6

Day 4/31 from Whumptober(2018). Prompt 10: Bruises, Cross-posted to Ao3, dA and Fanfiction.net. Words: 1k +. Disclaimer: I own this fanfiction but not the characters or game they’re from.Notes: This is after day one of Crownsguard training. Extra: Because of very bad things happening at the time, writing motivation was gone. This chapter is, in part, dedicated to @vigilantgay for him making this possible, having given my writing will again. Friend, always know I love you, and am grateful for you being in my life! <3 Summary: Prompto collapsed on the couch with a pained groan, unsuccessfully finding a suitable position to ease the pain from the too long day, giving up after a minute to focus on the plain ceiling instead. This was one of the rare times he was grateful for the silence of the house, allowing him to wallow in his unhappy thoughts without interruption. That morning had been the first day of Crownsguard training and it had been a disaster. The blond knew he was fast, agile, not the weakest -not exactly- but he could not see some hidden talent in himself waiting to awe and surprise anyone there.

Prompto collapsed on the couch with a pained groan, unsuccessfully finding a suitable position to ease the pain from the too long day, giving up after a minute to focus on the plain ceiling instead. This was one of the rare times he was grateful for the silence of the house, allowing him to wallow in his unhappy thoughts without interruption. That morning had been the first day of Crownsguard training and it had been a disaster. The blond knew he was fast, agile, not the weakest -not exactly- but he could not see some hidden talent in himself waiting to awe and surprise anyone there.

He had been knocked down, screwing up the most basic defensive and offensive stances. Prompto wanted to blame it on his nerves- having some distraction making sure his bar code remained hidden, taking a huge enough risk even being there. It had already been painfully obvious he stood out from most of the other trainees with his freckled skin and bright, blond hair. Shutting his eyes for a minute, Prompto recalled Gladio having warned him how intense the training was(for important reasons), with the first day being evaluation. It would be another couple of days of before some were weeded out and the rest continuing onward to further training. The Instructor had mirrored Gladio’s words after training was done, with more than a few of them having fresh bruises and aches to carry home with them, using the ugly marks to decide if they could handle future, more intensive training or drop out early.

While the Instructor had kept the same tone with each of them, it was hard for Prompto to not see the mans eyes, feeling as though he could read the Instructor’s thoughts when he was being addressed; that Prompto was a waste of time, only there because of the prince’s influence, only set to let them down before the next few days were up.

On the thoughts of Noct, there was a half-truth there. Prompto had known about Noctis’ upcoming marriage to Lady Lunafreya, that Noctis would be leaving and it felt like there was a growing weight on the line of their friendship all to close to snapping, ending it if something was not done soon. Neither of them wanted to lose the close bond built over the last years, but Noctis would have to leave soon to travel to his upcoming wedding. Noctis would have retinue consisting of Gladio, Ignis, leaving one spot open. Noctis had been upfront about wanting Prompto to come with him, not seeing how at the time. It was unspoken as to why, but gave the blond an idea.

At first, it did not go over well.

Noctis being worried over Prompto’s safety, while Prompto pushed back he could handle it. He had been running everyday possible for years now, not being a stranger to the dangers of being the prince’s best friend, and wanting to continue being friends. If they were separated now, it was anyones guess when they would see each other again... After some more discussion, Noctis still had his concerns, but believed in Prompto. The blond determined to not let him down. He carried that with him even now, yet still beating himself up internally for what he had no choice but to assume was the start to a failure.

Taking a pause, he moved around a little more on the couch, the movement aggravating the pain further, offering no real relief still, only making a headache come on. Pain killers were upstairs, Prompto knowing he should make his way up there for a shower(which would be far more helpful than continuing his own internal pity party) and prepare for the next morning.

Noctis had faith in him like no one else had before. Not even his parents believed in him like Noctis did, and now of all times their support would have been welcomed. Once again, Prompto was all too aware of the heavy silence the house contained. His parents prioritizing their work over him like always, making it clear they did not support his attempts to join the Crownsguard, stating it was too dangerous and reminding him of his bar code as if he hadn’t thought on it every day of his life, the black ink being a barrier between him and other kids for most of his life until Lady Lunafreya’s letter changed everything for him.

Well, it wasn’t like they supported his friendship with Noctis, telling him it was unsafe, leading them to have one of their biggest arguments back then. Constantly ensuring his ink was hidden away but never knowing or being told the real reasons why. It gave him more than a few nightmares over the years, including the fear of losing the one person that genuinely cared about him if he found out.

Even by now Gladio was someone he could consider a friend, but the shield was definitely nowhere are close to Prompto as Noctis is. Rolling over that, Prompto had realized Gladio hadn’t discouraged him from trying to join, only warning him how the first day would go and making it painfully clear there was nothing easy about what he was trying to get into. Of all of them, Gladio would know the best, being trained since he was a kid for a job Prompto did not envy.

A custom chime from his phone rang out, the ever familiar noise to let him know it was Noctis, the sound both warming his heart and causing some minor dread at the same time. Noctis probably wanting to know how day one went since he was not allowed to be present during their assessment and training sessions for his own safety.

A second tune rang out, and the blond could only guess what Noctis had known by now. Their friendship was no secret, Prompto knowing at least some of the other trainees would assume he would get off easier since he was Noct’s friend. It was not the truth, but Prompto was not an idiot, knowing how it looked on the outside.

Getting closer to six pm, Prompto eased himself up to reach for his phone(sucking a sharp breath on the pain the movements caused, letting it out slowly on sitting up) on the little table in front of the couch, smiling at the messages from Noctis.

Forcing himself to stand and move, he went on to reply to Noctis about the experience, hiding his own worries about the potential failure. Heading upstairs, Prompto knew tomorrow would be weapons testing, not holding his breath, but not left without some hope and fresh determination that maybe doing okay with one of them would make up for the disaster today had been.

Tomorrow was a new day.

How do you think Noct would react to Prompto pushing him out of harms way but taking a fatal blow meant for him?

Hi anon! I think Noct would be upset but not totally surprised. He knows everyone in the party would take a bullet for him, Prompto included, but that doesn't mean he's okay with it. His entire insides freeze up with horror as Prompto pushes him out of the way. Someone's screaming. He dimly realizes it's him.

Noct is a good warrior, so he snaps back to reality. If Gladio or Ignis are around he orders them to go help Prompto, assuming he can't do so himself. But at the same time Noct really starts to lose it. Remember how he got after Luna was stabbed? It's similar. He totally wrecks whoever or whatever hurt Prompto.

After the battle it's all about making sure Prompto is okay, getting him somewhere safe. He's still really upset which makes him snap at the others at first, even though he doesn't really mean it. This is one of those times being the prince/king sucks the most. He has to continue thinking about other responsibilities when all he wants to do is take care of Prompto. His entire chest feels broken and achey, like a window that got kicked in. The support of Gladio and Ignis really will come in clutch.

Assuming the blow actually is fatal? Noctis isn't okay. He's not okay for a long, long time. Every waking moment feels like a nightmare he can't wake up from. He hates himself for even meeting Prompto, for putting him in harms way. If Noct is older he is still able to maintain somewhat of a public front. If he's younger, his behavior is similar to after Luna passed away. He's full of so many regrets for things he never got to tell Prompto. If anyone (like Ignis) tries to talk to him about it he does not respond well.

If Prompto lives Noct is gonna want to be by his bedside 24/7, even though he can't be. He's got other duties to attend to, so he's probably away when Prompto first wakes up. He rushes back as quick as he can. Seeing Prompto sitting up in bed, pale and battered but smiling, sends him to a halt.

Noct lets out something halfway between a chuckle and a sob. "What were you thinking? You scared me to death."

29. Come over here and make me. — with Noctis x Fem!Reader if possible 👌🏽💜

A/N: I’m sorry this took me so long! I’ve been trying really hardto come up with a scenario and this was the best I could do. I hope it’salright!!!!

If anyone else would like to request another drabble, the list is here!!!

Pairing: Noctis X Fem!Reader

Rating: MWarnings: Love scene. I am not tagging it NSFW because I don’t want tumblr to flag it so I’m just putting it under a “Keep Reading”

Tagging: @catsorfries @final-fantasy-xv-nut @whatanodyssey

If you wish to be tagged just send me an ask with yourusername or send me an IM! ^.^

Requests are open! If you want a head canon for FFXV orDevil May Cry (not the reboot) send me an ask!!

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As you sat around the campfire with your four travellingcompanions, you felt the rumblings of hunger in your stomach. Ignis wascurrently working hard on dinner and you had asked him several times if heneeded help, but he always declined politely. The last hunt had been anightmare to say the least. A heard of dualhorns had been causing trouble fornearby farmers. While the reward was quite generous, the bruises all five ofyou now sported made you wonder if it would be worth it.

“I ache all over.” Noct, your boyfriend of the past two months,groaned.

“I ache in places I didn’t know I had.” Prompto replied.While you wanted to empathize with their pain, your own bruises throbbingpainfully, you were far too exhausted to voice your own pain. But part of itwas you felt as though you had to keep up with them. Being the only girl of thegroup definitely made you feel out of place and you couldn’t help but worrythat if you complained, they all would think you couldn’t keep up.

Noctis was the only one who knew of this fear of course andhe easily dismissed it. He promised that you all looked out for each otherregardless of strengths or weaknesses or gender. He promised you didn’t need tofeel like you had to keep up, it was no bad thing if you couldn’t and you alldeserved breaks now and then.

“Tomorrow we will sleep in a motel or caravan.” Gladiopromised and Prompto sighed happily.

“Soft beds, baby!” He breathed, his head tilted back andeyes closed. A small smile played on the corner of his lips as he thought offlopping down into the sheets of a warm, soft bed.

“Dinner is ready.” Ignis’s soothing voice chimed in makingall four heads perk up, exhaustion forgotten. After the boys got their bowlsand you got yours, you all sat down to eat and you dug into the veggie medleystew. However, you noticed that Noct was picking apart his stew and you sighed,shaking your head. Ignis heard you and glanced your way, before noticing you werestaring at Noctis. He saw Noct separating the vegetables from the rest of thestew and let out his own sigh.

“Noct, you need to eat your vegetables.” Ignis admonishedand Noct frowned.

“You know I don’t like these.” Noct protested and Ignisgroaned.

“You ate them the last time I made it.” Ignis replied.

“Just to try them. I didn’t like them so I’m separating themout.”

“Noct, come on. Eat your vegetables.” You finally spoke upand Noct gave you a childish pout.

“Come over here and make me.” Noct replied, earning aflat look from you. You remained quiet as you took one last bite of your mealbefore standing and setting the bowl on your chair. Everyone watched as youwent over to Noct, grabbed him by the back of his head and kissed him fiercely.As you kissed him, you nipped his lower lip, making him momentarily forgetwhere he was. When you pulled away, Noct was dazed as the rest of the boys satin surprised silence.

“For every dish you eat with vegetables in it, I will dosomething favorable for you in the bedroom.” You purred in his ear so only hecould hear. Noct’s eyes widened as you let him go, going back to your meal. Theother boys looked back and forth and were quite surprised to see Noct eat hisvegetables.

“What did you say to him?” Prompto asked making you smirk.

“Oh just a few sweet words. Sometimes all you need isencouragement from your girlfriend.” You replied with a smirk.

The next night you all checked into a motel. Ignis, in hiswisdom, put you and Noct in a room at the end of the building with Gladio (whocould sleep through explosions) on the other side. After your shower, you cameout into the room to find candles lit all around the room. Two arms encircledyour waist and you leaned against your boyfriend as he nuzzled your neck.

“All this for me?” You asked with a smile. Noct gentlynipped at your skin below your ear making you moan softly.

“Well, you did say that if I ate my vegetables you would dosomething favorable for me. I’m pretty eager to see what you had in mind.” Noctpurred. Remembering your words from camp before, you giggled and turned to facehim. All he wore was black sweatpants and you knew it was to make things easieron both of you for tonight.

“I did promise, didn’t I?” You purred and kissed him, gentlyleading him over to the bed as you nipped his lower lip. His hands went to thesash on the robe you wore, but you stopped him.

“Ah-ah-ah. No touching. This is all you.” Your voice wassoft and sultry as Noct gave you a curious look. Gently, you pushed him into asitting position on the bed, your hands running over his chest as you kissedhim once more. Noct moaned softly against the kiss, spurring you on. Slowly,you trailed kisses and bites down his jaw as your hands moved over his pecs,then his abs, then gently teased him by touching just above the waistband ofthe sweatpants.

“(Y-Y/N).” He stammered as your mouth closed over a nipple.You knew what you were doing. You knew exactly how to get him aroused and howto get him to a begging mess. But that wouldn’t be tonight. Tonight was allabout rewarding him. Your fingers hooked into his sweatpants and pulled themdown and off, his cock springing free already hard.

“Already eager for me, hmm?” You purred and pecked his cheekbefore getting on your knees. Noct watched you, already panting softly.

“What can I say? You know what you’re doing.” Noct repliedmaking you giggle. A groan escaped him as your hands wrapped around his cock,pumping gently.

“Mmm you’re so big, Noct.” You purred as you licked him frombase to tip. Your only response was a choked moan as Noct’s head fell back, hiships weakly bucking up.

“Th-Thought this was a r-r-reward?” He asked, looking at youagain as you smirked.

“You’re right. It is. I just can’t help but tease you whenyou make such cute noises.” Noct blushed at your words, but his embarrassmentwas short lived as you took him fully into your mouth. He let out a loud groanas he felt your tongue swirling around him. It was then he got an idea.

“Hey…Hold on. Come up here a minute.” Noct said making youpull off of him. He moved up on the bed and lay down, making you come up withhim. Gently he maneuvered you so your hips were over his face and your face wasover his cock.

“This can be my reward.” Noct said with a smirk making youblush. His hands pulled your hips down, his tongue snaking out and giving you along, tantalizing lick to your folds. A moan escaped you as you pumped his cockbefore taking it back into your mouth. As you did, Noct’s mouth went to work,latching onto your clit and sucking making you moan. Your moans sent pleasantvibrations through his cock making him moan softly in response. This was newand you were liking it. Sucking on his cock, you began bobbing your head,taking all of him into your mouth that you could as his lips and tongue workedyour clit.

It didn’t take long before both of you reached orgasm, hisseed spilling into your mouth as your body tensed above him. You licked himclean as he did the same for you before pulling off him with a pop, moving soyou could lay beside him and look into his eyes.

“Enjoy your reward?” You asked with a smirk. Noct chuckledand pulled you close, his hands undoing the sash of your robe.

“I did. Guess I should eat my vegetables more often if I gettreated like that.” Noct chuckled, his hand stroking your thigh. You kissedhim, moaning against his lips as you tasted yourself on them.

“We do have the rest of the night and Gladio is a heavysleeper. Up for round 2?” Noct asked making you smirk.

“Always.”

Despite the comfort of the hotel bed, neither of you got adecent amount of sleep that night.

Teenagers do not always make very good life choices

also i’m running out of room to include the part numbers. gonna have to ao3 this thing soon

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12

Ardyn straightened, his face a nightmare of yellow eyes and oozing miasma, his mouth a rictus grin. “A party,” he murmured. “I’m afraid I’m not dressed for one. I’ll see you soon, Noct.”

Noctis flung the entire Armiger at him once more, but Ardyn was already gone, his body dissolving into daemonic wisps and vanishing into the shadows. In his place, the ground boiled with miasma, more bussemands rising up from the ooze.

“Prompto!” Young Noctis shouted from somewhere behind Noct.

Noctis turned to see a large black Kingsglaive tactical van skid to a stop in the center of the street, the back doors swinging open. Young Noctis leaned out, clinging to the sidebar with one hand, the other reaching for Young Prompto. The boy staggered to the van, bare feet leaving bloody footprints on the pavement. Noctis followed, the bussemands on his heels, catching up in time to help boost Young Prompto into the back of the van. Adult Ignis leaned out, grabbed Noctis by the arm, and hauled him in as well.

“Daemons?” Ignis asked.

“Bussemands,” Noctis confirmed. He called a magic flask to hand and flung it behind him; fire blasted the area and the bussemands screeched in pain. But even as they died, more daemons burbled up from the shadows. Bigger ones, the sword of an iron giant and the scythe of a reaper gleaming in the flickering streetlights.

“Go!” Noctis called toward the front of the van. He threw another flask as he yanked the doors closed.

The van jerked into motion, roaring away from the daemons. Young Prompto collapsed against Young Noctis, who pulled him deeper into the van, settling him next to him on the bench seat running along the left side of the van. Young Ignis, Young Gladio, and Adult Ignis sat on the opposite bench, the younger two leaning around Ignis to peer worriedly out the back windows. Noctis took the last open seat on the left-hand bench, on Young Prompto’s other side. Up in the front, Gladio sat shotgun and Prompto was driving. Prompto glanced over his shoulder at Noctis. “We good?”

“Yeah,” Noctis agreed. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Wait, what about the daemons?” Young Gladio asked. He half-stood, hand flexing as though he wanted to summon his sword and attack.

“Getting the four of you to safety is more important right now,” Ignis said calmly. “We’ll inform the Crownsguard - they will cordon off the area until sunrise takes care of the issue.”

Young Gladio’s jaw tightened, but he sat back down sullenly. Prompto drove them out of the factory district, onto the well-lit highway that ran around the outer edge of the city. Noctis leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he tried to catch his breath after all the running and the adrenaline rush.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Young Noctis murmured to Young Prompto. “It’s okay, we got you.”

Young Prompto’s answer was unintelligible; lifting his head, Noctis saw that Young Prompto was curled half into Young Noctis’s lap, face buried against his chest. Young Noctis hugged him close, a familiar grim light in his eyes: he was furious that his friend had been hurt. Still, all things considered, Young Prompto wasn’t as badly injured as Noctis had feared. Spectacular bruises blossomed along his bare chest and arms, and his feet were scraped raw as though he’d tried to brace himself against the pavement and been dragged by the daemons, but nothing serious. Nothing like—

(Prompto hanging limp from a torture rack in the cold cells of Zegnautus, bloody and beaten, despair in his eyes and bruises in the shape of Ardyn’s hand on his throat)

Noctis shoved the memory away. He’d failed his own Prompto a few weeks - ten years - ago, but he’d saved this teenage version. He wouldn’t let Ardyn touch any version of Prompto ever again.  

“Hey,” Noctis said. “Uh, Prompto.” Adult Prompto glanced at him in the rearview, but Noct’s attention was on the younger version and he turned back to the road. Noctis touched Young Prompto’s shoulder gently. “You’re going to be fine. You did great back there. Just… just breathe, okay?”

Young Prompto nodded, though he didn’t sit up. His right arm was tucked close to his stomach protectively, his left hand wrapped around his wrist, and Noctis remembered abruptly that Ardyn had sliced off the wristband which hid his barcode tattoo. Knowing Prompto, that was probably bothering him at least as much as the injuries.

“Ignis,” Noctis said, and both Ignises looked up. “Ardyn took a knife to Prompto’s wrist. His right wrist,” he added, and hoped their younger selves would believe the clarification was only for the benefit of the blind adult Ignis.

Up in the front of the van, Prompto flinched, his expression tense and closed in the rearview. Gladio reached across and gripped Prompto’s wrist where he held the steering wheel, fingers wrapping over the barcode there. Prompto didn’t relax, exactly, but leaned into the touch. Something was clearly going on with them, something more than just Prompto being hyper-sensitive about the barcode, but at least Gladio seemed to have it under control, whatever “it” was. Noctis could deal with it later.

He turned back to Ignis. “Do we have any bandages?”

“Kingsglaive tactical vans are stocked with medical equipment sets,” Ignis said, already leaning down to feel under the bench seat.

“Over here,” Young Gladio said, and hauled a large metal box around into the space between the bench seats.

While he and the Ignises - Igni? - cracked open the kit and began sorting out its contents, Noctis coaxed Young Prompto’s wrist away from his body, careful to keep the barcode covered with his own hand. Young Prompto stared at him with wide, terrified eyes, but let him do it. Noctis wasn’t sure if it was because he trusted Young Noctis enough to outweigh everything else, or if he was simply too scared to protest. Noct knew just how brave and competent Prompto could be, but this eighteen-year-old kid hadn’t even been through the abbreviated Crownsguard training the adult version had received before they’d left for Altissia. He was just a normal high schooler who’d had the misfortune of befriending a doomed prince.

“Any other injuries?” Ignis asked.

“His feet are bleeding,” Young Noctis answered. Young Prompto blinked and looked down at his feet as though noticing the scrapes there for the first time. He swallowed hard, looking suddenly green; Young Noctis tightened his arms around him.

Ignis handed Noctis a roll of thick gauze. “Take care of that wrist first,” he said.

“I’ll take care of his feet,” Young Ignis offered, and slid down to sit cross-legged on the floor of the van, a pack of sterile cleansing wipes in hand. He tugged one of Young Prompto’s feet into his lap and began cleaning off the blood and gravel.

Noctis turned back to Young Prompto. Meeting his eyes, making his voice as reassuring as possible, Noctis said, “I’m gonna wrap this, okay?” Hoping the boy would pick up on his double meaning, he added, “It’s nothing to worry about. You’re fine.”

“We’ve got you,” Young Noctis added.

Young Prompto nodded, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out in a shuddering sigh. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I’m okay. I’m good.”

“Good,” Noctis repeated. He wound the gauze around Young Prompto’s wrist, hiding the barcode from view. The boy noticeably relaxed once it was covered, shifting so he could look around the van, though he stayed leaning against Young Noctis’s side. His eyes lingered on Adult Ignis and Noctis, and he opened his mouth to ask a question, but gasped in pain instead as Young Ignis did something to his foot.

“Apologies,” Young Ignis said. “This is going to be rather uncomfortable for a few minutes.”

Young Noctis leaned forward to peer down at him over Young Prompto’s shoulder. “How bad is it?”

“Not as bad as it appears,” Young Ignis said. “But there's quite a bit of debris that needs to be cleaned out before I can bandage the foot.”

“I tried to get away,” Young Prompto said, his voice wavering and his eyes darting from Noctis to Young Ignis and Young Gladio as though afraid they would be mad at him for it. “I didn't know what… I thought—”

“You did great,” Noctis assured him. “That's exactly what you do if a daemon grabs you. You fight back.”

Young Prompto nodded shakily, then made a tiny swallowed sound of pain, his whole body jerking. Young Ignis murmured another apology but didn't stop working on his foot. Young Noctis frowned, then untangled an arm from Young Prompto and dug his phone from his pocket. “Here, we can play a game or something.” The phone’s screen was dark, and he thumbed the power button, adding absently, “We had to turn off our phones when we picked up the van - we kept getting those Crownsguard alerts that ignore silent mode.”

Noctis realized half a second before the phone came online what was about to happen, but it was too late. Sure enough, the phone rang almost the second the screen flashed to life. Young Noctis frowned in annoyance. “It’s my dad,” he grumbled, and accepted the call.

“Noctis?” Regis demanded, his voice tinny over the phone but loud and worried enough to be audible even though Young Noctis held the phone to his ear. “Son, where are you? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Young Noctis answered. He didn’t quite roll his eyes, but his tone made clear that he wanted to.

“Where are you?” Regis asked again. “The Crownsguard say you're not in your apartment, and no one can reach Ignis or Gladiolus either.”

Young Ignis looked abruptly guilty. So did Young Gladio, and for a second Noctis was thrown by how much emotion this younger version of his stoic, stony Shield showed on his face. Ignoring them both, Young Noctis said, “They're fine, they're here with me. We had our phones off.”

“So I noticed,” Regis said, dryness overcoming the worry for a moment. “For the third time, son, where are you?”

It was Young Noctis’s turn to look guilty, enough to break through the carefully-crafted air of teenage indifference. Noctis sighed, reached over, and plucked the phone from his younger self’s hand. Putting it on speaker, he said, “They're with us. We got them out of the Citadel when the alarms went off, just in case it was Ardyn. Speaking of which,” he added, before Regis could interrupt, “Ardyn went after Prompto - this time’s Prompto. Daemons broke into his house and trashed it, and more showed up in the factory district after we got him away from them. You’ll need to send Crownsguard to deal with them, and to protect the Argentums’ house.”

A long silent pause. Noctis could picture his dad's expression, the distant blankness he wore when he was especially upset. Finally Regis said, carefully calm, “I asked you and your companions to stay in the suite in the Citadel.”

“We did,” Noctis answered. “Then daemons attacked. It was clear the Citadel wasn't safe anymore.”

Regis sighed. “And you appear to have abducted my son during your escape.”

“They didn't abduct me,” Young Noctis cut in, offended. “We knew something was up, and we went to find them.”

“Nevertheless,” Regis said. “Noctis - Prince Noctis - you need to return immediately. With daemons attacking the Citadel, we need to get you to a safe house. It’s too dangerous for you to be roaming about.”

“No!” Young Noctis said sharply. Everyone in the van looked at him in surprise - even Adult Prompto, blue eyes flicking up to the rearview for a second before turning back to the road. Even Young Noctis seemed startled by his own outburst, his mouth snapping shut.

Regis said, a little too calmly, “What did you say, son?”

That familiar stubbornness settled over Young Noctis’s face. “No,” he said to the phone. “Dad, I’m sorry, but I can’t go hide in a safehouse.”

“Why not?” Regis asked. Noctis remembered that voice all too well, that tone that meant his dad was disappointed in him. Even all this time later, even knowing this wasn’t his dad, not really, the sound of it made his stomach twist into guilty knots.

If Young Noctis felt the same way, he didn’t show it. “They told me what happens,” he said, his voice getting louder and more upset as he spoke. “They told me about—about the real prophecy. What I have to do.”

“Noct—” Regis started.

Young Noctis cut him off. “If I only… if I only get two years—” He took a deep breath. “I’m not gonna spend them sitting in school or working a summer job. I’m gonna do whatever I can to fix things.”

“That’s not—” Regis tried.

“Luna dies, Dad!” Young Noctis yelled into the phone. “You die. Insomnia’s destroyed. Iggy goes blind. If there’s anything I can do to stop any of that, I have to try!”

“Noct,” Young Ignis said sharply. He’d stopped working on Young Prompto’s foot and was staring at Young Noctis with concern in his eyes.

Young Noctis flinched, looking down at Young Ignis. His eyes were wide and he was breathing hard; Young Ignis put a hand on his knee. On the phone, Regis took advantage of the interruption to say, “Noct. I understand you’re upset, but—”

Young Noctis’s head whipped back to the phone. “No you don’t,” he snapped. “If you understood, you’d have told me, you’d have told me the truth—” His voice hitched and he bit off whatever else he’d been about to say.

Silence from the phone for a long minute. Regis said quietly, “I’m sorry, son. You’re right, we should talk. Come to the safehouse, and we’ll—”

“No,” Young Noctis said. “I’m gonna fix this. Then we’ll talk.” He took the phone from Noctis’s hand, his head bowed but his jaw set stubbornly. Over Regis’s protests, he said quietly, “Love you, Dad,” then hung up and powered down the phone.

Not!Friday Fanfic Friday

I keep thinking today’s Friday, so have a fic :P Have a dose of Thursday angst and humour, sprinkled with hurt/comfort.

And yes, I did turn my physio experiences into Noct’s. Also, exercise is great for mental health. Can’t recommend it enough. That whole runner’s high thing is legit... although it’s swimmer’s high for me because I’m not allowed on the treadmills ^^;

Physio helped.

Physio gave him strength.

Physio wasn't supposed to be easy.

Physio was supposed to make him better. That's why it hurt.

Those were the laws according to Gladiolus Amicitia.

"Ten more seconds, Noct," Gladio said.

Noctis swallowed every complaint.

"The burn's good for you."

Only an actual sadist would say that.

"Hold it. Don't let the shaking bother you. That’s just your muscles doing their job."

The Plank sucked. Especially after an entire cycle around the gym including weights, cardio and stretches. The plan was to rebuild his body's strength and stability. Noctis knew it helped; previous rounds of intense physiotherapy always helped in the past, but that didn't make it easy. He was definitely gonna feel this tomorrow. His back and bad leg had been especially troublesome lately, the combination of incredibly damp spring weather and another growth spurt conspiring to render him immobile. Which meant no combat training, just muscle strengthening and attempts to regain his pre-growth spurt flexibility. Because every time he grew, it brought a new set of challenges, undoing all his hard work.

And after a week out of school due to the chronic pain, Noctis would do whatever it took to escape the Citadel and get back to his normal life.

Gladio’s voice pulled him back to reality. "That's a minute."

Noctis didn't let himself collapse to the floor. That would hurt way too much. That said, he reached a certain point of lowering down when his arms just gave out on him. He hit the mat and groaned. No more today. He knew this pain. It wasn't the type that faded after ten minutes’ rest. This was the type that stayed unless tackled with medicine or magic and minimal amounts of movement. And given that Dad was busy and Noctis' control of healing magic sucked, it would be pills and bed for him. Unless this got any worse. Then he'd have to take one of the potions reserved for his worst days.

"Don't stay down there," Gladio said. "You'll seize up."

Gladio was right, but Noctis had pushed his body to its limits today. Sure, it was kinda stupid to go so hard, but he needed out. Also, the physio really had helped. His pain wasn't as bad as last week. His recovery times were faster than before. And he was actually able to do an entire circuit of the gym without stopping halfway through. Improvments for sure. Which meant his body needed to get it together so he could go back to school. He missed hanging out with Prompto; messaging wasn't enough.

"Can you get up?" Gladio asked in a serious tone, rather than the one used when he'd successfully parried one of Noctis' more ambitious, and ultimately doomed, attempts to kick his ass.

Pulse pounding in his throat, Noctis knew he wouldn't be getting to his feet alone. He shook his head.

Gladio held out a hand. "On three?"

Noctis took Gladio's hand. As promised, Gladio eased him to his feet. Noctis gingerly tested his bad leg. Not bad. Not exactly great, but it'd take his weight. Sort of. Like maybe a third of his weight. If he limped.

"Deep breaths," Gladio said. "Don't want you passing out on me."

Noctis took a breath. Okay, good. He didn't feel so dizzy now. He resisted the urge to lean into Gladio. He was sore and exhausted, the worst points of pain pulsing to the beat of his racing heart.

"Alright, we gotta go to the table. Work some of the issues out of your back."

Noctis restrained all complaints, mostly because they wouldn't be words but weary and embarrassing weeping instead. Gladio's deep tissue massages always felt great after he was finished. Unfortunately, they were pretty painful to endure, especially when his back had already hit its lowest point.

"Just focus on how good it's gonna feel once I'm finished," Gladio said. "You can take some meds then too. You know we have to - "

"Find the worst spots, I know." That way, Gladio could adapt the exercise programme. Slipping out of his t-shirt, refusing to dwell on the scar now exposed for all to see, Noctis settled on the massage table and enjoyed the brief relief being off his feet brought.

"Breathe, okay?" Gladio said. "Deep breaths. Focus on the end goal."

"You would've made a great motivational speaker," Noctis said.

"Hah hah."

Head turned to the side, Noctis watched Gladio grab a few essential oils to help with muscle tightness and swelling. They smelled amazing, and if Noctis focused on those, it took his mind off the pain. That, and the sound of rain washing over the window beside him. On a clear day he'd have a great view of the city, but today it was all lost to fog.

"Ready?" Gladio asked.

Noctis swallowed his fear. "Yeah, ready."

What followed was forty minutes of having his muscles, joints and bones pummelled. When Gladio found a particularly knotted muscle, he stayed with it until he was satisfied he'd worked it out. Noctis tried not to shudder when Gladio's hands and elbows worked over the scar. He hated the feeling of other people touching the gnarled, bumpy flesh. He barely liked touching it himself when he showered. Patches of it were completely deadened, but others? Sometimes he had nightmare of accidentally catching his fingers in it and clawing his way through his own ragged flesh until -

"Growing really doesn't agree with you," Gladio said, working in a particularly painful area in Noctis' lower back.

Tears sprung to Noctis' eyes. "I'd stop it if I could."

"Nah, you can deal with a bit of pain if it means you gain a few inches."

Right now, Noctis wasn't sure he agreed. And every time Noctis tensed or forgot to breathe, Gladio reminded him to relax.

"I know this sucks. Would you believe me if I told you your back's a lot better than it was at the start of the week?" Gladio asked.

"Yeah, I believe you," Noctis gasped when Gladio caught a particularly bad patch.

"Breathe," Gladio said.

Noctis gasped like he'd surfaced from deep water. "Trying."

Gladio never mentioned the wobble or crack in Noctis' voice.

Eventually, as promised, Gladio used gentler motions to soothe away the pain. By the end, Noctis was jelly. Sleepy, achy jelly. With maybe just a few tearstains on his cheeks.

"You wanna take a nap here?" Gladio asked.

He could. He really could. Except as comfortable as he was, it wouldn't feel so good later when he woke up cold and unmedicated. So instead, Noctis accepted a warm blanket and a helping hand. With Gladio's support, he shuffled back to his rooms. There, Ignis had already left out water and medication, giving Noctis the options of mild meds, powerful meds, and the specialist potions created for him by Dad and the doctors. Noctis went with option two. Ten minutes later, clad in fresh sweats and bundled under a fresher blanket, Noctis slept. And when Gladio woke him a few hours later for food and more stretches, Noctis had to admit this whole exercising thing was working. Slowly, sure, but he could feel the improvements. Soon, he knew, he'd be back to normal.

Still, it was nice to be able to settle on the couch in the parlour with a hot water bottle and feel relaxed rather than tense and uncomfortable. He checked his phone and replied to what looked like Prompto's live-messaging of another day at school. Come back soon, Noct! I can't take this boredom without you!

Noctis smiled and replied. I'll be back soon. Then you can copy from my notes again.

Isn't it your royal duty to help those less fortunate than yourself? We can't all be geniuses.

Noctis snorted.

"What?" Gladio asked.

"Prompto said I'm a genius."

"How'd you convince him of that?" Gladio asked.

"By actually doing my homework," Noctis replied. And getting top grades. Nothing less would suffice.

"Yeah, having Ignis around to make you do things sure helps your grades."

Noctis glared at him. "Ignis doesn't do it for me."

"Sure he doesn't."

"He doesn't! He's way too busy."

"Oh, so you would get him to do it if you could?" Gladio teased.

Noctis grabbed a pillow and threw it at him.

Bad idea. Pain rumbled down his back.

Noctis ignored it. The pain didn't compare to the sight of the pillow hitting Gladio square in the face. Definitely worth an extra ache or two.

"Oi," Gladio said. "You must be feeling better if you think you're gonna get away with that."

The pillow came back, smacking Noctis in the face. He fell back, laughing through his pain.

Gladio got up from his seat, grabbed the pillow from Noctis' lap, and gave his hair a ruffle. "It's good to see you're feeling better."

"Yeah," Noctis said. He looked up at Gladio, fist held out. "Thanks."

Gladio bumped his fist against Noctis'. "Any time."

Gladio Fluff Week Day I

cuddles/being read to or sleeping in fist day of @gladiofluff and ou boi I fucked this one up. So much clear tape because the paper teared like everywhere. My pens kept bleeding into the paper. This is a mess D: I imagine that our dearest boys have trouble sleeping after Noct got sucked into that crystal. Having nightmares about him and each other dying and stuff, being depressed over how things are. So gladio started to read his sappy romances or small fantasy novels before bed so he’s dreaming about blond elves and mage-iggys instead and, when they are together, he would read the book to ignis and prompto, so they all have a full night’s rest for a change. Do I need to mention that they really love it when they can cuddle up to their big guy and listen to him talk about magisters and city elves?

Mirror, Mirror [Short Promptis Fluff]

Title: Mirror, Mirror Rating: T Link: on Ao3 WARNINGS: Chronic pain/fatigue discussion? Summary:  Noctis and Prompto temporarily find themselves in one another's bodies thanks to a mysterious spell. It's not quite as fun as Prompto might have hoped. Notes: hi this has nothing to do with White day but I followed the Body Swap prompt so it totally counts, right?

Prompto is in pain.

It's not the same sort of pain he might be accustomed to after a battle. He's not bleeding, not even bruised. As a matter of fact, he came out of the whole ordeal relatively unscathed. All of them did. With the exception, of course, of the spell. What the hell kind of magic was that, anyway, that would leave him in this state?

Ignis and Gladio had both assumed, for a short time in any case, that they were pulling some sort of prank. It wasn't as though it would be the first time Prompto and Noctis had teamed up with some grand scheme to get a laugh or two out of confused faces and momentary panic. This, it was apparent after some careful questioning, was not that.

And so Prompto sits in the tent, a harsh ache running from hip to ankle, entirely unrelated to any recent encounter. Entirely courtesy the fact that, despite his constant insistence of his identity, his body was presently that of the crown prince of Lucis.

It's a miracle, probably, or maybe just a good call that Ignis decided they would make an early day of things while they waited out the effects of the spell. Prompto is sure he wouldn't have been able to handle a day of traveling in his current state. And now, he's staring all big eyes and uncontained misery at Noct. It's unsettling. It's like looking in a mirror. Except the mirror doesn't reflect the way he's hunched over, wincing at the tight agony in the base of his spine. The mirror doesn't show the way he cringes whenever the dull throb of pain makes its descent down his leg. The mirror doesn't account for the fact that Prompto is not Prompto for the moment, to any outside appearance.

"Are you okay?" Noctis asks Prompto, and he asks it in Prompto's own voice, which is another one of those uncanny moments that makes the room feel a bit like it's spinning and the world as a whole feel largely dreamlike. Nightmare like, as it turns out.

Prompto doesn't respond immediately. There's a strange sort of guilt that comes with these sensations. He thinks about Noct, day to day. They walk for miles on some of them, if they're out picking up hunts or running errands. They don't often have the luxury of a proper shower or a healthy amount of rest. He tries to recall, has Noctis ever complained before? Has the occasional pained expression ever crossed his face, unspoken and disregarded? Prompto's mind is hazy, blank, and he's sure it's got nothing to do with the cursed magic.

"Been better, dude," the words, the cadence, they're all wrong. Prompto knows Noct's voice as well as he knows his own, but it sounds distorted and wrong coming from his own throat. It sounds bizarre speaking his own words, voicing his own thoughts.

Noctis, admittedly, doesn't look quite so miserable. He's making a crawl on all fours to get closer to Prompto. It's a little bit clumsy, but not by much. They're just about the same height, a similar build… hell, for Noct this is probably a relief. Prompto feels that strange wash of guilt again and his head sinks.

"It's not that bad, is it?" Noct is attempting some encouragement, though he seems aware that it's falling flat. He sits at Prompto's side and bumps their shoulders together and for a moment it almost feels like there's nothing strange at all. Prompto tries to pretend that this really is just a hit he hadn't noticed Noctis take. But he plays at the hem of the shorts and there's no sign of bruising. It's all muscle and bone in agony, not split skin, not recent bumps and scrapes.

"Is it always like this for you?" Prompto wants to come up with more tact, but he doesn't quite manage it, "the pain, I mean." Maybe it's not a good question to ask. Almost certainly, he doesn't really want to know the answer. He's pretty sure he already does, that he's maybe always had some sense. His hazy memories about Noct ever commenting, ever showing signs, are they simply a block he put in place? Was it just easier for him not to notice when his best friend—the guy he's unquestionably been long in love with—was in a constant sort of pain? He thinks he knows the answer to that too. A new sort of pain springs to life in his chest.

"Oh." Prompto watches his own face fall courtesy of Noctis and that strange spell and it makes his whole body feel tight and tense and terribly uncomfortable. Apparently his distaste for seeing Noct in any sort of distress carries over regardless of what body he's occupying. He wishes he could take back the question. Noctis is moving away now, crawling behind him. "Yeah, more or less. I mean, some days are worse than others, but it's never really not there."

Prompto nods and he tries not to look quite as upset as he feels over that fact. He doesn't like to think of Noct this way, just living with this sort of pain. It's not overwhelming, but it's impossible to ignore and it's entirely foreign to Prompto. He's been sore here and there, sure. He's had an injury or two that he's walked off, especially back before this trip, when he was spending more time running. But this is different, maybe in ways he can't entirely explain, but markedly and obviously so. And he hates it.

"Hey." He hears Noctis's—no, his own—voice close behind, just against his ear. A shiver rolls through his aching spine with the heat of breath on skin and for a moment he's able to ignore any other sensation. It's a strange sort of blessing. "It's not that bad. I mean, it sucks, but it's always been like that. You get used to it, learn how to ignore it." Noctis really does sound so casual about it all that Prompto is set off guard yet again.

He can't imagine just living with this, setting it aside, focusing on something else. He thinks about the time Noct spends napping in the car, or the mornings when waking him is like pulling teeth. He recalls sitting back on the couch in Noct's old apartment, playing a game or watching a movie, just to feel the weight of his head resting on his shoulder. And suddenly that seems so obvious, such an easy response, because hurting in this way is exhausting.

Prompto thinks about saying that, but his attention is shifted instead to the sudden warmth of hands against the small of his back. Noctis hikes up his shirt and he works his thumbs with an expert sort of care so they pinpoint the exact point of most pain. Of course, he would understand. Better than anyone, in fact. After the initial stiffening, the instinct to pull harshly away from the potential of more pain, he melts beneath the touch. It's soothing and easy and it has him sighing out some relief.

"Thought you hated being touched like this." Prompto blurts out the point before he can think better of it, but he hears laughter in response, feels it where Noct has his chin rested on his shoulder.

"Nobody really knows how to do it right. Ignis isn't bad, but it's kinda weird now, y'know? I don't really want him touching me that way." Noctis continues kneading in, offering more pressure than Prompto ever would have assumed to be pleasant. But it does feel good. It—almost—feels like proper relief. The ache dulls beneath the touch and Prompto thinks he can understand, if this were something Noct had any real access to, how he could live with it. But that isn't the case. Ignis isn't in here night after night working the ache out of Noct's spine, crawling again so he can start working hands down his leg when he's finished there. Prompto is warm around the cheeks, flush for sure. He thinks for just a moment that it's a shame, really, that he's wearing Noct's face for the moment. It must be such an appealing look.

"Well, who do you want touching you?" It's another question that Prompto is sure he should have thought better than to ask, but he has the hint of a smile curling at his lips when he does and he can't bring himself to feel all that bad about it. Noctis smiles too, with Prompto's face of course, and there's a strange sort of fluttering in his belly.

The sensation is more than odd, bordering on disconcerting. Prompto can't help but think of all the confidence he doesn't possess when he does possess his own body. He thinks about all of his worries over the thick dusting of freckles or the lopsided way his smile holds or how his face still looks all fat and round at the wrong angles. But when it's Noct in there, when it's someone else in possession of that personage… Prompto tries to brush the thoughts aside. It's far too much for him to consider along with everything else.

"Well." Noctis is acting—Prompto thinks, in any case, that it's an act—as though he's very well focused on the act of massaging down to his calf. He has a brow furrowed and he seems to be avoiding saying just what's on his mind for a moment or two. They're both fighting at smiles and Prompto, at least, at a fit of laughter. His muscles tense up a little and it makes his back ache again, but once more he's starting to understand how Noct learns to set that all aside. "I guess the bright side here is now you'll know exactly how."

There's something so endearing in the cautious way that Noctis speaks. Prompto couldn't mistake that voice for his own if he tried. It's in the low, slow way that the words form. Like he's taking a bit more thought than Prompto could ever manage to muster up before he's saying them. He still sounds like Noctis, and he's still capable of evoking all those butterflies, all those skipped heartbeats and warmed cheeks and it's bizarre as much as it is anything else.

"And you'd rather have me gettin' you all loosened up than Ignis?"

"Do you really have to ask?"

They both laugh at the exchange, the easy teasing that they fall into even when every other aspect is just the opposite. Prompto is still off-kilter, still left reeling over whatever magic has been clinging to them for the better part of the day. But with Noctis there, experiencing it just the same, it somehow doesn't feel so bad. With their jokes still landing, their talk still just as easy and natural as it's ever been, it's hard for Prompto to be too worried.

Ignis had, after all, been so certain that the spell would pass at any moment. Gladio had still looked at them with the sort of skepticism that said he was only going along with the idea that they weren't pulling one over on the two because Ignis was convinced otherwise. There was no great concern, not yet, and that made it easier.

Understanding Noct a little bit more? That makes it easier too, on the surface. In other ways, it's painfully, unspeakably hard. He still can't quite reconcile the fact that Noct is in such constant pain, that he's simply learned to live with it. And he can't quite look forward to the magic wearing down, when there's that part of him that understands this is the first time in a long time that Noctis hasn't been contending with the aches.

It's all too easy to get lost in those thoughts, and maybe all too obvious at the same time. When Noct's hands stop moving at his leg, there's a pause, where they're rearranged until they're close, until their breath is catching and mingling and Noct's forehead is pressed against his. It's just a moment, where Prompto's eyes are falling shut and the pain is forgotten in favor of plush lips and a flavor he can only accept as his own.

And then it all shifts.

It's subtle, maybe. It's the lifting of tight muscles and aching joints. It's a quiet jumping in his chest and through his body—really and truly his body again. It feels a little bit like missing a step, or like falling in a dream only to jerk awake beside your bed. It feels good, for a moment, with the sudden relief from whatever pain still lingered, any careful massaging be damned. Then it feels awful, because Prompto is looking in Noct's eyes and he knows what's hidden behind them.  

"Don't give me that face." Noctis smiles at him when they part and he nudges his shoulder again. "You know how to help now, so no sitting around feeling bad for me." Those words come out seriously and Noct's face hardens a little bit. That puts a jolt in Prompto's belly as well.

"You could've told me about it before, Noct…"

"Yeah, and then you'd be making that face and asking if I'm okay all the time. Ignis is bad enough about that, I don't need you treating me like I'm gonna break too." There's a certain shift in his tone, overly defensive and bordering on hurt and it makes Prompto's insides feel all harshly twisted.

"I don't think you're gonna break." he protests, "I just think you could, like, take a break now and then. You don't hafta push yourself so hard and—"

"—I don't wanna take a break. And I do have to push myself, whether you or I or anyone else likes it. Kinda comes with the king territory." Noctis's expression softens after he cuts Prompto off, when he sees the way his mouth parts but no words quite make their way out. "Listen. You're totally conscripted as my personal masseuse now, so don't look all sad and helpless." His hand travels and wraps around Prompto's and that's something of a good feeling, if not enough to wipe everything else away.

"It's just… not fair, y'know?"

"Yeah, I know." Noctis agrees Prompto's admittedly childish sentiment. "But there's no way around it. Trick is not thinking about it. So it's probably a good thing I have some really nice distractions, huh?" Noctis squeezes Prompto's hand again and that fluttering returns to Prompto's chest when he leans close once more. He feels the soft brush of lips along his jaw and that is a proper distraction indeed.

"Yeah. Pretty good." He agrees. And it's easy to justify making a lot more of them, knowing what he does now.  

Prompto: “Please don’t stab me with that thing; I’ll get tetanus if I survive!”

Author’s Notes: Oh, man. First of all, this one was CHALLENGE MODE. Second of all, I’m so sorry, but I ended up paraphrasing the quote because when I started working on this, I wasn’t home to see it verbatim. I hope you don’t mind. Third of all, I combined this with your other prompt, “That’s not what I meant.” They’re both in there. :)

I hope this was something close to what you wanted? I tried. ^^

===

Shots

===

“Dude,” says Prompto. “Don’t stab me with that thing. I’ll die of tetanus.”

Noct gives him an unwavering look. “It’s a syringe. It’s literally designed to go in your skin. Do you see any rust?”

Prompto leans forward to peer at the syringe. “It’s hiding,” he says at last.

“The rust is,” says Noct, tone kind of flat with disbelief.

Prompto stares at him for a long minute. Noct stares back.

“It sounds stupid when you say it,” Prompto says at last.

Noct takes a jagged breath in. He lets it out slow, and rakes his fingers through his hair. “Look. Stop me if I’ve got anything wrong here.”

He holds up a finger. “One. You want to go to Altissia with me.”

Want’s too mild a word. Prompto needs to go to Altissia.

Noct’ll be a married man, soon. He’ll have a wife and new duties, and way less time to waste on playing videogames with some pleb. If going to Altissia means Prompto gets an extra couple of days before he loses his best friend, he’ll take it and be grateful.

Noct lifts a second finger. “Two. To get there, you’ve got to be Crownsguard.”

They’ve been over this; Noct can’t have personal guests at the wedding because of some political loopholes Prompto didn’t entirely understand. It sucks pretty hard, honestly. Having Prompto enlist was the best way around it, so he filled out a metric ton of paperwork, took a few crash courses in hand-to-hand combat, and got measured for his fatigues.

Prompto can think of worse jobs than putting his life on the line to keep Noct safe.

“Three. You already finished training. You’re getting sworn in this weekend.”

Prompto squirms. “Yeah,” he says. “But –”

“Which brings us to four: that can’t happen if you don’t get a clean bill of health. And that means…”

Noct waits. Prompto bites at his lip.

“I gotta get my shots,” he says at last.

“It’s just a vaccine,” says Noct. “Look, the needle’s tiny.”

Prompto knows. He’s looking at it, but there’s something about the way it catches the clean, white overhead lights that turns his stomach.

What’s he supposed to say? Sorry, dude, can’t come to your wedding? Sometime I have these dreams with brushed steel tables and latex-gloved hands? Sometimes these faceless assholes hold me down and stick me with needles, then cut me open while I’m screaming, and I wake up and hide in the space between my bed and the wall until I calm down?

Prompto opens his mouth. He closes it again.

Even if he wanted to say it to Noct – and he doesn’t, cause it will come with questions Prompto’s not ready to answer – the nurse standing there beside them, looking 180% done with the whole situation, kills that idea dead in its tracks.

Prompto swallows, and holds out his arm.

“Yeah,” he says. “You’re right. Go for it.”

The nurse, a middle-aged man who has gone from pleasant to plainly impatient over the course of the last twenty minutes, says, “It’ll just be a minute. Why don’t you sit down?”

So Prompto hops up on the exam table, and his skin crawls, because there under the crisp white paper, the brushed steel is so cold it burns against the back of his legs.

His head’s kind of reeling, swimmy and strange. His palms are sweating.

The nurse lifts his arm, and Prompto looks away, toward Noct. He can do this. He has to do this, cause how shitty of a friend would he have to be to get through one-on-one training with Gladio only to tap out because of a little needle?

He can feel the metal slide into his skin, a single point of shivery pain. The sides of his vision are going grey.

“There,” says the nurse. “All done.”

There, thinks Prompto. All done. You can stop being a baby any second now.

But he’s cold all over, and the world’s tipping sideways – or maybe, he thinks belatedly, he is.

He puts his hand back, to catch himself – misses the edge of the table. He gropes at air and finds nothing. Then suddenly, like magic, there are arms around him, hauling him back upright.

“Prompto?” says Noct’s voice in his ear, tight with alarm. His hand is clasped around Prompto’s, close and steadying, and that – that helps, a little.

“This isn’t that uncommon,” the nurse is saying. And then, to Prompto: “Put your head between your knees.”

Prompto doesn’t, but Noct’s on the job – presses down on the back of his head until he’s bent nearly double. The world’s unsteady and distant, and Prompto just breathes for a minute, eyes closed.

He can hear the nurse in the background, talking. To him, or to Noct? He isn’t sure. He feels like he’s stuck in a nightmare. The metal table feels like a brand against his skin.

“Think I’m gonna puke,” says Prompto, and there’s a rustling, and a scrape, and then a trash can is pressing up beside him.

He doesn’t puke, but it’s a near thing. He sits there for maybe ten minutes, until the words Noct’s saying start to make sense again.

Noct’s hand is on his shoulder, rubbing little circles, and Noct’s voice is in his ear, saying, “Hey, we’re all done. You’re doing fine.”

Prompto sits up, shaky and uncertain. It must’ve been a while; the nurse is gone.

Noct must see the look on Prompto’s face, because he says, “There were other patients who needed help. I said I’d stay with you.”

Prompto nods, and the motion makes him feel like his skull is a cracked egg. He slides down off the exam table – wobbles a little, and lets Noct catch him.

“Sorry,” he croaks.

“Hey,” says Noct. “Don’t. Everyone has dumb things they’re afraid of.”

Prompto feels himself flush, a guilty burn that sears across his face. “Some Crownsguard material, huh?”

“That’s not what I meant,” says Noct, grimacing. “I just mean –” He pauses. His eyes track sideways, the way they get when he’s embarrassed about something. “You went through with it cause you wanted to stay with me, right?”

Prompto nods, hesitant.

“Seems like the best Crownsguard material I could ask for.”

Prompto feels something in his chest turn over in slow motion.

He’s still shaky on his feet, and he almost passed out in the hospital getting a routine vaccination. His best friend’s still getting married in two months, pretty much killing whatever hope he’s ever had of them being more than friends.

But when Noct smiles at him that way, that slanted smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes, suddenly things don’t seem so bad anymore.

“Thanks, buddy,” says Prompto. “I’ll do my best.”

Bad Blood

By the same author of “First Impressions” who wishes to remain anonymous 💖

The first time he ran away, Leo Caelum was nine. He slipped behind a table of spun sugar roses and shucked off the jacket of his new suit, draping it over a bust of the fifteenth queen of Lucis. It was his second time at the Citadel, and he and his siblings had been told--at length--that it was supposed to be the an important step in cementing Noctis Lucis Caelum's status as the new crown prince. They had to be on their best behavior. No pranks. No jokes. No fighting. Behind him, Leo could hear his little sister's voice, a snarling shout that echoed down the hall. "I'll show you bad blood, you low down, no good, scum sucking  bag of--"

Well. So much for that. Leo looked down at his hands. His fingers were smooth and uncalloused, aristocratic hands, a scholar's hands. He'd worked to keep them that way, even when his little brother silently urged him to shift, running alongside him in the soft grass of their home. Clara called him fussy, but Leo didn't mind. He liked fussy things, like sewing, or ironing, or cleaning his side of the room so the window shone and his bedsheets were folded straight as an arrow, right where they were supposed to be. It was nice, knowing that everything had a place. Knowing where they fit, and where he fit with them. Bad blood. Leo left the Citadel through a side entrance, polished shoes scuffing on the gravel path beyond. He hadn't meant to snap at Regis. It's just that he was being so smug, playing up his role as eldest with annoying little comments about how Leo was too young to know this or that or her or him, even though Clara was right there and she knew even less. So maybe Leo raised his voice a little. Maybe he stamped his foot, even though his mama had coaxed him out of the habit years ago. And the man in the blue suit, the one with a weak mustache and too-wide eyes, had looked down at Leo and lifted a corner of his lip in a sideways sneer. "It's a shame," he'd said, "that even the royal pack is not untainted." Regis straightened like a shot, gaze flicking to Clara. "Excuse me, sir?" "I mean no offense, young man," the man said, with a jerky little bow. "But it's clear that even years of conditioning is not enough to allay the savagery of a Niff. In the end, bad blood will out." "Our mama's from Besithia," Clara said. The man's brows rose. "Yes," he said, in an idle tone. "But your... brother... is one of the Accursed's bastards, is he not?" Leo opened his mouth to protest, then looked to his older brother. Anger tensed every line in Regis' body, but there was something strange there, too. Something shifty in the way he wouldn't look Leo in the eye. "But I--" Leo said, and gasped as Clara threw off her diamond-studded cardigan and smacked the champagne glass out of the man's hand. The man was probably fine. Leo knew Clara wouldn't hurt him, not much, not when Daddy was in the other room. Leo tripped down the plaza in front of the Citadel and headed for the aqueduct, where manmade streams used to irrigate gardens down below. Now, they just served as another piece of the old city, a relic of another age that served no purpose. He climbed up onto the first arch, letting his feet dangle. He'd heard of the Accursed. He was the man who started the Omega War, the week-long conflict that centered on the abduction of a member of the royal pack. His parents didn't talk about it, but Leo and his siblings weren't fools. They knew that even now, there were some days that Mama Prompto had to wake up early and go outside, stand under the sky with Mum Ignis beside him, talking soft. Some days when Dad went all quiet and strange, and Mama would shy away from him, eating dinner in the clubhouse with Daddy. Times when they'd hear a shout from Mum in the night, and Mama's whispers of, "I'm here, Iggy, I'm here. He doesn't have me, I'm here." But Leo had never thought... He'd never... He untied his ponytail and twisted a clump of dark red hair in his fingers. Sure, he looked... different, from the others. But he thought maybe he took after Dad's grandfather, maybe, or some distant relative. He thought he was an Amicitia like Regis, a member of a proud, noble line, tracing back centuries. If he wasn't... How much was too much bad blood? Was it like a poison? Would it take hold of him one day, turn him twisted and terrible, make him into that unspoken nightmare that haunted his parents? If he was, how could they stand him? How could they even look at him, knowing he... knowing that he could... "Easy, kitten. You'll pull your hair out at that rate." Leo turned to his dad, broad-shouldered as a giant in his suit, dark hair tied back. The scars on his face shone in the lamplight, and the stone of the aqueduct ground together as he heaved himself next to Leo. "Serenus said you'd be by the water," he said. "You wanna tell me why you ran?" Leo twisted his hands together, and his dad wrapped a large arm around his shoulders. "Come on, Kit," he said. "Don't leave me in the dark." The tears came in a flood, hot and fat and horrible, and Leo hunched in Gladio's hold. "I thought you were my dad," he wailed. "Of course I am," Gladio said. "Have been since you were born." "But I'm not a...! I'm a..." Leo rubbed at his eye, and sniffed wetly when a black handkerchief was shoved in his hand. "He said I was a bastard. One of the Accursed's, like you see in town sometimes. <i>Bad blood.</i>" His dad was silent for a long minute, still holding him. "Ain't no such thing as bad blood," he said at last. "Blood ain't what makes us. Who was the first person to hold you, when you were born?" Leo coughed. He'd heard that story before. "You." "And who taught you how to shift?" "Mama." "And who took care of you when you were sick, and made breakfast for you every morning, and taught you how to hunt, and read, and..." "Sew?" Leo added. His father winked at him. "And sew. I know we didn't tell you, kitten, it's just that in the end, it didn't really matter. He was never your pack, and pack is stronger than blood. I've always been your dad." This was almost worse. Leo couldn't stop crying: He'd crossed to a foggy, twisted-up state of misery that peeled back the years, making him feel small and painfully heartsick. He climbed into his dad's lap, never mind that he was too old for it, and wrapped his arms around his neck. "That's alright," his dad said, running a hand over his long red hair. "You let it out." "I'm ruining your suit," Leo sobbed, and his father shook his head, crooning softly. "Suits don't matter," he said, and pressed a kiss to Leo's temple. "But you do."