#but he said ''fuck that'' because noctis mattered more to him as a person

[glaivenoct]

NyxNoct OTP Asks Pt. 3/3

Finishing up the rest of the OTP ask emojis sent in by @hearthredmage :)

Part 1, Part 2

Scheduling this again because by the time I finish answering these it's late as hell lol. I think this might be the longest one of them all? Oops?? But these were so much fun to answer! If anyone still wants to send some, my inbox is always open!

💝 What do they love about each other the most?

Alright, time for Brina to get grossly sappy - and this is definitely gonna be more than one thing because !! it's hard to narrow things down to just one lol

Noctis loves Nyx's humor, even when it's dumb or makes Noct roll his eyes at him. He loves Nyx's patience and understanding. He loves his dimples and the little wrinkles that happen at the corner of eyes whenever he smiles or laughs. He loves Nyx's ears, because he just thinks the way the tips of them point a little outward is cute! And they happen to be Nyx's only ticklish spot >:3

But I think one of the things Noctis loves the most about Nyx is his rogue spirit. Except it's not just about being a Hero and throwing orders aside if it means saving people. It's about Nyx being unapologetically Nyx, which I think is something Noctis looks up to while being a Prince and having to present a certain image of himself at times. It's about the way Nyx can come in with this confidence of "This is what I believe in and I'm going to fight for it no matter what anyone says" - because that kind of attitude goes right back to their relationship too. Those moments of doubt where Noct questions whether or not this love is meant to be, or if they'll be ripped from each other by royal expectations or some fucked up version of fate (fuck canon, that never happened fight me).

"Let them try," would be Nyx's response every damn time. Nyx is that person who will make something work even when the odds are stacked against him. Even if that something is love. He loves unapologetically, and sometimes Noctis just has to take this moment to process just how much he loves that about Nyx.

Now for Nyx -

Nyx loves the sound of Noctis' laugh. He loves those sapphire colored eyes. The little beauty marks near the corner of his mouth and above one of his eyebrows. He loves how non-formal and genuine Noctis is and how much of a nerd he can be at times. He loves how much heart Noctis puts into the things/causes he cares about.

This next bit is essentially a copy and paste from one of my fics oops lol. But I mean!! I think it's probably one of the best ways I've ever described Noctis + the way Nyx sees him. And this is 10000% one of the things I could easily say Nyx loves the most about him -

One of the most beautiful things about Noctis is his heart. His divinely golden heart that, despite seeming larger than life, is not to be handled without care and consideration. He loves deeply and conveys it in subtle ways that only those closest to him may recognize. He holds himself to the highest standards if it means doing his loved ones proud, making them happy or keeping them safe. Where he struggles to find strength in himself some days, he finds it in them.

All of that is the reason why Nyx wishes he could give Noctis the dang world. I've said this before and I'll say it again - Nyx wasn't looking for love when Noctis came around. So when he did come around, he took Nyx's heart by storm.

👓 Who googles everything?

Noooooct! I don't think this one needs much explanation, I just think it's cute to imagine Nyx talking to himself out loud, trying to figure something out and in like 5 seconds Noct's already pulled up the answer for him. And Nyx just has that "Oh, right. The internet is a thing." moment lol. Not that Nyx isn't capable of googling things lmao, Noct's just faster than him. Or maybe it's about pride and not needing to resort to the internet first :p

🌙 How do they comfort each other when they are helpless to do anything about the situation?

I feel like this can kinda go hand in hand with what they do for each other when they're stressed (which I think I answered in the First part of these?). But also, Nyx will be extra big on the cuddles. There's times where Noct's in that "no talk, just cuddle" mood. Noct'll be in that oversized long sleeve he stole from Nyx's closet. Nyx will make them both mugs of hot chocolate and he'll turn on some cheesy movie they can just relax to together. And usually when this happens Noct ends up falling asleep on him. So it's mostly about making sure Noctis has that safe space to burrow into.

Noct - this is gonna sound like the last fic I wrote/posted lol - likes brushing Nyx's hair out for him after a shower. He'll let Nyx lay his head in his lap and kinda just massage his scalp, run his fingers through his hair (touch!! they're both so big on touch!!!), and maybe after some time Noct will play one of his games. The whole time Nyx will have his head in his lap, watching Noct play, asking him questions and stuff just out of curiosity. Something as simple as that is comforting and relaxing for Nyx. And a lot of times he'll fall asleep like that, watching Noct play. Comfortable, cozy and quiet safe spaces for the both of them!!

🍂 What is an inside joke they have?

*rubs hands together* I've waited for another excuse to talk about this heh. Listen!! The on going inside joke these two have between each other is Noct loving Nyx's butt more than he actually loves Nyx :p

It started from this very simple text exchange one night when Nyx was working late on guard duty and Noct was back at the apartment waiting for him -

Noct: I miss your butt 🍑 Nyx: Just my butt? Noct: I miss you too I guess 🙄 your butt mostly tbh Nyx: 🤨 you love my butt more than you love me Noct: it's a nice butt and I haven't seen it all day. hurry uppp Nyx: lol my butt will be home soon Nyx: Brat Noct: :3 ❤️

Every now and again Nyx will just get random "I miss your butt" texts, and sometimes Nyx has to stop himself from snickering too loud. Does Noct grab Nyx's butt when they kiss after a long day of barely seeing each other? Absolutely. Not every time, but absolutely!!

#nyxnoct asks #nyxnoct #i love these two.. so much ;u; #thank you again friend!!

[nightowlfandom]

Noctis Lucis Caelum- Anything For You

CHECK OUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

More Final Fantasy content....YYYYYYAAAAYY

Leggo

...

“Good girl.” you smiled as the yellow feathered Chocobo ate from your hand. “Eat up, you need your energy.” you scratched the top of her head as she squawked gratefully.

“Y/N are you still here?” the farmhand, Faye emerged from the stables to find you. “Do you not have any other plans?”

“Trust me.” you began to laugh. “I’d much rather scoop up giant bird poops than deal with my personal life right now...or lack thereof.”

“Well isn’t that somethin- Is that the crown prince I see?” she looked past you which made you follow her eyes. “It is?! Prince Noctis on my Chocobo farm. Quick! How do I look?” 

“Like a farmer.” you laughed in reply. “Perhaps get the shit off your boots.”

“Damnit! I should have worn my new ones.” She began wiping the bottoms of her shoes against the grass. 

“Faye, he’s just a prince. I don’t know what’s so great about him anyways.” you rolled your eyes. “He seems like an asshole from what I’ve seen of him.”

“You’ve never even met him.” she put her hands on her hips. “Maybe you’ll like him!”

“Sure, whatever you say, Faye.”  you laughed. “That’ll happen.”

...

“Ugh why are we here anyways?” Noctis rolled his eyes as Ignis pulled up to the famous Chocobo farm.

“Because!” Prompto snapped in reply. The blond male didn’t even wait for the car to fully stop before he jumped out. “The eggs are supposed to be hatching today and I want to be the first to capture a picture of those featherless faces!”

“Of course.” he scoffed. Noctis liked Chocobos, sure. He just didn’t think an idea of a good Saturday morning was to spend the day at a bunch of dirty, smelly, stables, for a bunch of unhatched eggs no less. “Great.”

“I suggest you fix your face, the farmhand is here.” Gladio grunted, hopping out of the car. “Wouldn’t want to hurt her feelings.”

“Whateve-” Noctis turned his head towards the loud squawking when his eyes landed on you. You were feeding a random Chocobo while talking to that farmgirl who ran the stables. “Woah.” he felt his heart flutter. Who were you?! He heard you laugh from where he was and felt his heart stop. Your laugh, it was beautiful.

“Yo? Who is that girl?” Noctis scrambled out of the car, nearly falling on his face. He tried desperately to fix himself up. “Specs?”

“I believe she frequents the shops not too far from here.” Ignis replied in his usually cool manner. “I believe she is also a friend of that Dino character we run into from time to time.”

“No way. Her?! Friends with that-” Noctis shook his head in disbelief. He found it impossible to walk forward. Gravity was stopping him. He didn’t even notice everyone else walking ahead of him. He had never seen you around before but he wished he had. “Woah....”

...

You were still chatting with Faye when a group of guys ran up. One of them held a camera and looked as if he were about to explode. You had no time to register the camera flash. Good think he captured your good side.

“I AM HERE FOR THE EGGS!” he declared. His abrasiveness surprised you. Was he talking about the new hatchlings? 

“Ummm-” Faye looked scared. “You here to volunteer?”

“Heck yeah I am!” he explosive blonde looked as if he was about to piss himself from excitement. “I WANT TO HOLD YOUR CHOCOBOS!”

“Alright! Keep your pants on. Follow me. Y/N, you’ll be good here right?” Faye asked, seemingly frightened by the giddy young man. 

“Yeah.” you stifled a laugh. “I’ll be just fine here.” you shook your head as the man ran full force for the stables. You were about to go about your business when a black haired boy stumbled up to you. “For a royal, you’re pretty clumsy.” you stifled laughter.

“Huh?!” he looked taken aback. “You know who I am?”

“...I mean aren’t I supposed to?” you turned back towards the Chocobo. “Prince Noctis?” you tried to hold in your distaste, but he caught up on it instantly.

“Is there an issue with me-”

“As a matter of fact there is. Don’t think I didn’t notice that face you were making when you pulled up with your friends.” you cut him off. “Big and bad prince man can’t be seen around a few Chocobos?”

“Oh, no that’s not it at all.” Noctis tried to explain himself in the best way he could. 

“Then what exactly is it?” you turned towards him again. “I mean really?”

“Okay so I admit my attitude isn’t the best-”:

“So you admit it?” you held back harsh laugh. “Hm, It’s a start.” you shrugged.

“I mean, you aren’t really giving me a fair chance. You only know me from the papers.” he explained. “You don’t really know me as a person. For all I know you could be a stalker.”

“I am no a stalker!” you looked him up and down. 

“I wouldn’t know that.” he winked. “So maybe we both have it all wrong.”

“And what do you wanna do to fix that, go on a date or something?” you scoffed.

“Yes!” he replied honestly. “Let me prove I’m not some asshole!”

“Is it that imperative that you go out of your way to prove to me that you aren’t an asshole?” you raised a brow.

“Yes!” he nodded quickly.

...

You boredly sat at the restaurant table. He was late. 15 minutes to be exact. 

“I knew this was a load of-” you prepared yourself to stand up when a man frantically rushed in.

“I’M HERE!” Noctis yelled, grabbing the attention of the other patrons. He practically fell into the chair right across from you. 

“Nice of you to show.” you sat back down. You decided to humor this guy. “Care to explain?”

“Sorry! Stupid Prompto gave me the wrong address and...woah...” he nearly drooled all over the place seeing you in your tight black dress. “You look...amazing.”

“Sure I do.” you scoffed. “I’m sure I still have dried up chocobo shit in my hair,” you turned away from him, feeling your insecurity creep up on you, tons more than usual. “But thank you.” you relaxed in your chair.

“No I mean it! Even when I saw you...I thought you were beautiful.” he expressed.

“Really?” you paused to look him in the eye. 

“Really.” he smiled. “You’re the best looking girl here.” 

“I definitely don’t believe that...but thank you.” you said shyly. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. 

....

“What about that one?” you pointed to a random star.

“That one, there’s a legend that it’s a parallel version of this world.” 

You both sat at the edge of the lake, staring into the moonlit sky. After dinner, Noctis had taken you to the docks on Galdin Quay. 

“No way. “You stared at the star in wonder. “How many worlds do you think there are?”

“Infinite, my dad says so.” Noctis replied. “All different versions of us doing different things.” he smiled to himself. “Maybe there’s a version of me that...is actually proud to be a prince.” he glowered. 

“Maybe there’s a version of me whose the royal instead.” you nudged him. That made him chuckle a bit. 

“If that’s the case...I’d be happy to bow down to you.” he flirted. He looked back at the sky. “Try that one.” he pointed.

“I know that one.” you beamed a little. “There’s a legend called the Lover’s Star, if a couple sees it on their first date...they’ll be together forever.” you mused romantically. It was only then you had realized your fingers had laced into Noctis’s. 

“Maybe today was our lucky day.” he winked. After a second of silence, you decided to confess.

“I was wrong about you.” you said honestly a while. “I think you’re pretty amazing, Noct.” you chuckled. 

“So...” he smiled deviously. “Are ya gonna say I’m sorry?” he mocked.

“You wish. You’re still a stuck up prince to me...you’re just not an asshole prince.” you stuck your tongue out at him. “You’re not like most guys around here.” you shyly looked away from him you dug your toes into the sand. 

“Well I’m not from around here.” he replied. “You’re different from everyone around here. You’re not all into me because I’m The Prince Noctis- that’s all I want. I want someone to see me for who I am...not what I am.”

You shyly kicked your legs in the water, looking at the ripples in the water.. “I’m glad I could be that person for you Noctis.” you smiled.

“Guess this means you’re gonna be part of my team now?” he bit his lip. “You’ll be my...ummm...I’ll think of something.”

“I look forward to it.” you giggled. 

“Hm for now...come here.” he winked, gently holding the side of your face. Noctis kissed you. You felt your senses go off. You instantly grabbed his face, kissing him back.

...

You fell back on the hotel bed, refusing to disconnect from a feverish prince throwing himself at you. He kissed you with urgency, as if you would disappear before his eyes. He tore a rip up your dress hastily. 

Your tongues clashed together as you kissed, the air was getting heavy. You helped Noctis out of his jacket. Your dress had turned to ribbons and your panties weren’t too far behind. 

“N-noctis..” you hissed, feeling his hands explore every inch of your body.

“You feel even better than I imagined you would.” he kissed your bare stomach. “You’re so beautiful.” he moaned. It was like you were the goddess, the royal, and he was the peasant.

You felt shy under his gaze. He stared up at you, biting his lip. “I don’t think I can wait...” he groaned. “A-are you okay with this?”

“God, yes.” you mewled as he kissed your thighs. 

“I wanna worship you.” he moaned, ghosting his lips over your center. You shyly stared down at Noctis who looked up at you with a shit eating grin. 

He sunk his tongue into you, lashing against your pussy. You instantly grabbed a fist full of his hair. You and him both were a mess. Hisses and prolonged moans escaped your lungs along with his name. You were sure the people in the next room could hear you. 

Noctis crawled over you again, a predatory glare in his eyes. He bit his lip, staring down at you. “You’re so fucking cute...”

...

“I’d do anything for you.” he moaned against your lips. “I’ll take care of you for the rest of my life.” he whimpered, his thrusts growing sloppily. He bucked his hips rhythmically, your bodies moving and grinding in sweet friction. His cock twitched inside of you as he grew near his release, but he wanted to wait. He wanted to cum to the sounds of your cries and screams. ”Gonna make you my queen and w-we’ll rule together until our hearts give out baby. F-FUUUCCKK.”

“Noctis.” you croaked. Hearing his words in your ear made you hiss in delight. This alone caused him to dig his nails into your sides and thrust even deeper into your heat. You didn’t know what else do you but let a stream of cries escape your lungs. 

“I love it when you say my name.” he grunted. “Say it again.”

“N-noctis.” your insides lurched as you tightened around his length. “I wanna- I’m gonna-”

“Again.” he barked. “Never stop saying my name. Never say another man’s name!” he sank his teeth into the crook of your neck. “You’re mine, baby. You’re all mine.” he growled.

“Noctisss.” you arched your back. “F-fu-” you whimpered, at the impact. “S-shit!”

Noctis yanked himself from you, spraying his cum all over your stomach. Shortly before, you came too, feeling your water run down your leg. He fell forward, burying his head into your neck. “Baby, I’d fucking do everything for you.”

You shook under his body, whimpering at his gentle touches. You felt him kiss your need lovingly as you both drifted off to sleep.

...

#noctis x reader #noctis lucis caelum #noctis lucis caelum x reader #ffxv x reader #ffxv imagines #ffxv lemon #ffxv scenarios #final fantasy 15 #noctis final fantasy #x reader #noctis imagines #noctis lucis caelum imagines #noctis smut #noctis imagine #ffxv headcanons #imagines #x readers #multifandom

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[renohasbigtits]

Omg your Iggy mpreg headcanon is so gooooddd! Will you consider to do another Iggy mpreg headcanon which takes place in the true ending?

Mpreg Ignis (Final Fantasy 15: True Ending Version)

AHAAHAHAHAH! I can’t believe that people really like the Mpreg Ignis Headcanon! Thank you so much!

Something you guys have probably noticed by now is that I’m not a huge fan of the true ending.

Not saying it’s bad, I just don’t like how:

•Noct dies

•Iggy is blind

•Ravus dies

I also don’t agree with the assumption that the alternative ending is a “happier ending” because Luna is still dead.

But I digress, I don’t think the ending is bad. it’s just not my favorite ending.

But I will do it. I will give the people what they want!

To make this one different than the Alternative ending this one will have;

•Ignis is Blind :(

•Noctis is dead (also Ravus)

•Ignis has his own restaurant because of course he should!!!

I guess this takes place two years after The light is restored. Idk you change that if ya want to.

Apologies if it’s similar to the Alternative version, I did try my best to make this one different!

Yes it’ll albaby’s are default Female but you can change it if you want to!

Alright alright, less talking, Let’s go!

(this does contain Mpreg =Male Pregnancy. Don’t like? Don’t read!)

•Look

•this man is a lot of things (hotter than satan is one of em.)

•but happy isn’t really one of them rn.

•Just broken up with his long time partner.

•things aren’t going well for him...

•than suddenly he’s getting sick!

• certain smells bother him, he’s throwing up every morning.

•it’s gotten to the point where he can’t really cook anymore at his restaurant. And he now has to supervise.

•not that it’s a huge issue since there are other amazing cooks there to help but Ignis does not like sitting on the sidelines.

•than a female co-worker, Shannon, asks Iggy what’s wrong, he tells her that he has a “strange illness”

•she asks what the symptoms are

•tiredness

•morning sickness

•Smell sensitivity

•Mood swings

•than she starts giggling.

•”Ignis, I’m a chef but I’m also a Mother of 3 kids.”

• “What are you imply, Pray tell?”

•”I think your Pregnant. You have the classic symptoms.”

•Ignis was dumbfounded. 𝘞𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘵?

•He made a Doctors appointment.

•After what feels like 𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴, The Doctor comes back with the results.

•”Mr Scientia, The results are in. You are Pregnant! Congratulations!”

•Ignis was not one to be speechless but this...

•he wasn’t sure what to do!!

•he wasn’t sure if he was ready for Parenthood.

•He was Blind and he couldn’t never see what his child would look like.

•or, if it was the right time....

•so he turned to his friends, Prompto and Gladiolus, for help.

•Prompto had to ask if Iggy’s joking

•he wasn’t obviously

•Gladio asks if Ignis has tried to get the other parent involved.

•Ignis did tried to do that.

•it didn’t go well...

•the other parent outwardly admitted that they did not want to be in the baby’s life.

•Well Fuck

•Poor Ignis (someone hug him 🥺)

•Prompto and Gladiolus, being the best friends they are decided then and there, that there gonna help Ignis, no matter what decision he makes.

•Shannon, the coworker in question, steps up and offers Ignis tips on pregnancy, since she knows it can be stressful, especially with your first one.

•Ignis really appreciates it.

•she’s also leads when Ignis has a doctors appointment or is too sick to be there.

•8 Weeks: Ignis + Pregnant = Moody Ignis

•Little things bother him more than usual.

•Ignis almost Lashed out Prompto because he did something that annoyed him.

•Shannon assured Prompto that this is just a mood swing and that he didn’t mean it.

•at this point, Ignis and Shannon have started become close due to the fact that she’s basically has become his right hand man (or woman)

•Her helping more also has taken any stress Iggy has had about it off his chest.

•Ignis couldn’t be more greatful.

•12 weeks: a small bump has started to show. So adorable!

•And of course, ya know Prompto is gonna take SO.MANY.PICS of Ignis’s bump growing.

•he’s gonna scrapbook it (rip his sd card tho)

•lris already has started making baby clothes. Girl clothes.

•15 weeks: You thought he was a mom before? Oh you ain’t seen nothing yet!

•he acts real fatherly (or motherly) to the youngest employee at the restaurant.

•good thing to because the poor guy is always a nervous reck.

•he has talent but very little confidence. So Ignis assuring him, helps a lot.

•Shannon is now basically his iggy’s real hand man (or woman)

•she helps, even when Ignis’s there.

•not just in work, but in his pregnancy too (I swear. I did not mean to create a character)

•giving him tips, things to help him, with baby supplies to buy. She’s the real mvp.

•(let’s skip a little)

•20 Weeks: Ignis has already started to feel her move. It 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 his heart. (I’ll see myself out 🚪)

•All joking aside, he was genuinely touched (that wasn’t a pun. I swear!) by feeling her kick.

•At this point, Ignis had already found out it’s a girl. (Again, you can change it if ya want to.)

•much to lris’s delight.

• THATS IT! HE’S MAKING A BUN IN THE OVEN! (>:)

•lord take the wheel....

• he tries to control himself, when it comes to his strange cravings (like pickles with peanut butter?? Wtf???)

•but he gives in when no one’s looking.

•𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘯 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘰

•”I Noticed Ignis.”

•”I don’t know why you are referring to.”

•25-28 weeks: he’s already getting bigger (don’t say that to his face tho.)

•if you think his work is being put on hold while being very pregnant, you clearly have never met Ignis.

•of course, he is being a little more easy on himself. Not walking around as much and Shannon makes a lot more decisions (with iggy’s trust)

•but he is a workaholic, so he’s working til he takes maternity leave.

•(I’m really trying to add Gladio to the story but lol)

•Prompto is already getting a new sd card cause he’s taking SO.MANY.PREGNANCY. PICS.

• “Prompto, if you don’t take any unnecessary pictures, you wouldn’t have to buy another sd car-

•”I AM NOT DELETING ANY OF THIS PICS MR MOM!”

•32 Weeks (I’m trying not to make this boring lol): He’s still working!!

•Ain't nothin' gonna break-a my stride, Nobody gonna slow me down!

•Shannon starts to get a bit worried.

•”Sir. I believe that you should take a break. Please”

•Ignis looked at his right hand and smile. “I should. Thank you Shannon.”

•36 weeks: He feels 𝘵 𝘪 𝘳 𝘦 𝘥

•his poor swollen feet :(

•thankfully, lris is secretly planning a baby shower.

•Everyone is coming.

•Shannon distracting him until she’s called to bring him over.

•when Ignis sees this, he’s tears up.

•"𝘪𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘕𝘰𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦."

• he gets so many adorable gifts.

•Prompto gets him a Chocobo Plush (classic)

•Gladio gets him a toy dagger. This son of a Bit-

•”Hey, you are never too early to start training!”

•Shannon got him a baby mobile.

•lris gotten him more baby clothes. Yay....(Am I the only one who can’t stand getting clothes as a gift?)

• lris had made an adorable cake. In his mind, Iggy admitted that she was as good as he was.

•this mf still working around the restaurant from his office.

•”Igg-Sir. Can we talk?”

•”Yes Shannon. And you can call me Ignis, were mutuals.”

•”Ignis. Promise me that when you enter in the third trimester, that you’ll take maternity leave. You’ll need to prepare for your baby.”

•Ignis was taken a back a bit. Yes, her concerns were valid but he didn’t wanna put everything on Shannon.

•”Ignis, I know that you don’t wanna put everything on me but...but you need to Focus on your daughter. You need to prepare.”

•”I-“

•”I’ll handle it. I know what I’m doing.” She smiled.

•Ignis chuckled back. “Really?” Getting up from his chair.

•”Well.” She left while looking back. “I have learned from the best.”

•Ignis laughed. He did taught her well. “Alright. I will. Thank you Shannon.”

•”don’t thank me si- Ignis. I’m just doing my job.”

•honestly Shannon has been a great support system for Ignis. Not just because she knows a thing or two or three about pregnancy, but she really has stepped up.

•Ignis considers her a great friend.

37 weeks: 9 months. He now has to get ready.

•it’s his last day at the restaurant. For awhile anyways.

•it’s actually really emotional. The employees are sad that they won’t see him for awhile but are happy that he’s taking time to be ready on fatherhood (**cough cough Motherhood cough cough**)

•To Ignis, There like a family, a family he gained when he lost so much.

•his eyesight

• and Noct

•After they’ve closed, they celebrate.

•Ignis and Shannon smiling at everyone.

•”I’m proud of you Sir.”

•Ignis smiled back. “Really?”

•”Yeah. Your the bravest person I’ve met.”

•”How, Pray tell?”

•”You may be blind but you certainly don’t act like it. You 𝗡𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥 let it stop you. I’m- I’m really proud of you.” She choked up. 

•Ignis looked at her with his Emerald eyes and she looked back.

•”And I’m proud of you to, Shannon.”

•(let’s cut to the chase. Oooo. Foreshadowing.)•

•38 weeks: Ignis wonders how much his blindness will affect his daughter.

•he wasn’t lying when he said that his senses have grown. He basically doesn’t need any help.

•not that he wouldn’t have either way, but he doesn’t wanna be a burden on anyone. Including his daughter.

•Sometime during the day, Iggy starts feeling pain down his back.

•it wasn’t too bad, so he went on with his day.

•but the pain got worse.

•so bad that he started doing his deep breath’s.

•(y’all what it is!!)

•(weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee woooooooooooooooo 🚑)

•(that will never get old xD)

•The midwife tells him to get to the hospital, NOW!

•This is it.

•he has to be cut open....

• She was here.

•Ignis holding his daughter for the first time. Well, he broke down.

•he couldn’t see her but he was there to her hold her. He is there for her.

•”Hi Darling. I’m your Father.”

•she suddenly stopped crying and stared at his bad eye.

•After a week, hes able to take her home.

•And oh, If you thought Prompto took too many photos of Ignis’s pregnancy belly....oh boy.

•he immediately starts taking many, MANY MANY, Photos of her.

•she actually looked confused.

• Gladio joking said “so, when are we going to train her?”

•Ignis later made his food cold, on purpose later that night.

•Shannon got to hold her and fell in love with her immediately.

•”feels like holding my son for the first, all over again.” She said teared up.

•Over the years, She has grown to being a shy and a adorable little girl.

•She’s so helpful during work and is popular with the staff. They treat her like they’re siblings.

•She always tries to help Ignis’s blindness. Guiding him around.

•”Watch where your going Daddy.”

•Even tho, he can get around just fine. It warms his heart that she tries to help him.

•Of course, Ignis wishes that Noct could have Met her. Even once.

•but somehow, he believes that Noct is watching her in heaven.

•Noctis is so proud of his friend.

Wow! So long! Well I hoped ya like it. I hope the true ending version is just as good as the alternative version.

I thought it would be cute that he would have a restaurant. ^~^ Gladio got the right idea 💡

Also I did not mean to create a new character, Shannon, but eh why not? I grew attached to her over the story (she sounds like a like Karen but she’s a good Karen. I promise.) and who knows? She might show up in other Headcanons 😉

Also whether you ship her with Ignis, is up to you. Hehehe. I don’t blame you tho.

Anyways, I hoped who requested this, liked it 💙💜

#final fantasy 15 #final fantasy xv #ff15 #ffxv #ffxv episode ignis #mother ignis #mama iggy #mama ignis #father ignis #mpreg headcanons #mpreg ignis #ffxv mpreg #final fantasy 15 headcanons #final fantasy xv headcanons #he’s already a great mom so he deserves his own babies #older ignis #tumblr #final fantasy #ignis scentia #ignis headcanons #gladiolus amicitia #prompto argentum #noctis lucis caelum #gladio #noctis #I accidentally created a new character #ffxv oc

[sleepingprinceoflucis]

Noctis's Love interest isssue

(Rant,may trigger some people about their ships???)

So,although(like in many instances) the FFXV fandom likes to ship whoever they want with whatever they want-when it comes to canon,despite the obvious bromance and closeness of the main four;the only actual official outcome when it comes to Noctis's Love interest is Lunafreya.

Yes,Noctis is close to his personal guard.but canonically,they are just that.close friends.Ignis was assigned to Noct as a caretaker since he was extremely young,Gladio earned respect for Noct as it was explained in Brotherhood and because of his family's honor he's naturally driven to protect Noctis.As for Prompto(who i will adress since an awful lot of people seem to see him as having a crush on Noct(be it returned or one-sided)),he's officially Noctis's best friend who has sided with him from childhood,and who clearly respects and loves him(not from a romantical view,in canon at least)

So why would people ship him with quite literally everyone?(aside the obvious answer that's usually the answer for most fandoms;Girls simp gays),well i can't speak for everyone but i hope to know i'm not alone on this....

Luna is not a good love interest.

Sure,from a simple standpoint,she's actually the perfect love interest.she's kind,it's shown she heals the sick and is adored.She's strong and determined,she went through with the rituals knowing it'd kill her.she loves noctis,as she's willing to die to see his destiny complete and she's clearly far from annoyed at her marriage to him.....BUT GOD IS SHE BORING-

Aerith,for example.She was a good love interest for Cloud!(in the book she's officially marked as his love interest,and i'm not going as bias,i'm going as canon)She had a good personality,she was entertaining,she made us feel sad,happy,she made us laugh and FEEL things!especially in the remake-!

Here is what Luna did;Exposition

She was here for cutscenes AND NOTHING.ELSE.

Not to mention 99% of her apparition was just pure angst thrown at your face.and she died almost as soon as she appeared.

Luna is great wife material,she's just not good CHARACTER material.You can't get attached to her(unless you romantically like her i guess in wich case good for you) but for players she was just an NPC and nothing else.a plotpoint.

So what other fish is there in the sea for Noct besides Luna?

Most people would say Prompto.Wich honestly if you look at their interactions purely from surface seems legit.But again-two characters talking to each other doesnt automatically mean they want to fuck each other's brains out.

Noctis and Prompto have-well.A best friend relationship.And yes,you might think it looks romantical,and hell,if you want to see it that way in your fanfics,go ahead!they dont harm anyone and if it helps you fele better,you do you!but this post is for discussing canon,so let's look at it from a non bias standpoint.

Noct and Prompto surely show a close relationship.Prompto often playfully nags Noct who,though showing irritation is clearly amused more than anything.hell sometimes they have strangely romantical or sexual moments.and that's normal.

Maybe i'm the only one with a best friend-nay,just friends in general like this.but we often jokingly treat each other like this.sometimes you make an oddly questionable comment or action-but since they're your friends,you both laugh it off!because you both know it wasn't intentional since you both don't have romantic interest in each other.you know it was,well,a joke!and they all clearly laugh these scenes off.in cutscenes,Prompto sometimes slaps Noct's ass,in wich he jumps to stare at him and they just smiles and laugh it off along with the others.

So,what about Prom actually seeing Noct as more than a friend?a onesided crush wouldn't be that shocking right?maybe he's hiding his true feelings behind all that laughing...well,officially,as far as we know,no.But Prompto is known for hiding his true emotions behind his happy go facade...but,the thing is,he doesn't love Noctis.not from a romantical point anyway.It's proven many times that Prompto cares for Noct and wants to make him happy-but at the core of this,he approached Noct because Luna asked him to,and he only did once he ahd enough confidence to do it.Prompto's intimidated of Noctis,just as he says in his interaction at the motel,he feels too mundane in comparison.he's self conscious,but he's not in love.

So what about Sarah?if you played the TERRA WARS crossover event,you know exactly who i mean.

Sarah,officially(again) does not seem to be in love with Noctis,but the characters in that event seem to be pushing them to that idea.Sarah and Noctis couldn't exactly be together in any case(as,tiny spoiler,Noctis leaves after the event ._.),but in the small amount of time they spent together

THERE WAS MORE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT THAN LUNA AND NOCT EVER HAD

Noct and Sarah faced so much and changed so drastically in so little time.They were far from getting along at first,but after a little reminder,they immediately fell into place and seemed to match each other perfectly.However i don't think Sarah and Noct love each other either.I am bias to this ship,as i really enjoyed their interactions and evolution,but,from a non bias view;Sarah is not a love interest.The Hiso seem like they'd be thrilled for their two heroes to unite in this way(as they are 'children' and seem to see Sarah as their caretaker/mother,it wouldnt be shocking that they'd want a father figure to stay too.),but Noctis simply doesnt seem to see Sarah that way.He was attached(maybe too much),but he didnt show much classic Noct embarassment.

Now to leaving us with Cindy.there's not much to adress here.Cindy is clearly jokingly flirty even as just a character(i doubt her design was an accident).But Prompto is clearly the one with a crush on her(not that he doesnt have a crush on literally every woman in this darn game).Noct shows amusement at best when interacting with her.Cindy's simply far from a love interest,she's the granddaughter of his father's friend.As simple as it gets.

What of Iris then?she certainly canonically had a crush on Noct.....well the simple answer to if Noct returns that love is simply:HE DOESNT EVEN NOTICE IT.

Somehow,Noct is more dense than a fish when it comes to Iris's affection.He barely even notices or aknowledges her crush.When Gladiolus asks him to give Iris flowers to cheer her up-he doesn't even understand why it matters who gives it to her.he's just.....he just doesnt get a clue.

Now there is...ONE....love interest left that frankly you wouldn't expect..

The FFXV VR PROTAGONIST

Now,i'm not sure if a lot of people played(or are even aware) of this game..but god does Noctis crush hard on the player in that experience.I'm not quite sure if that game is canon or simply a fun little spin off,but Noctis is definitely not oblivious or embarassed in this game.

I played as a female,i'm unsure if his interactions to you change with your gender,but i'll safely assume that they don't.Seems it seems unlogical and just a waste of time to make seperate interactions.

Minor spoilers for FFXV vr???i guess???but its not really plot so you're fine.

So,if you haven't played this game.You incarnate a hunter;specifically,you hunt Daemonfish.your first 'hunt' is more a prologue.the actual first mission drives you to a small lake where Noctis is fishing,alone.you approach him and he has a friendly smile.you make small talk about why you're here and the entire time he's always in a happy mood and is strangely warm and genuine to you(wich if you know anything about Noct,is NOT like him at all.)

As you fish,he fishes besides you,making joking comments or encouraging you.When you fish enough to call on the Daemonfish,a cutscene starts and Noctis is trying to protect you of all things.he stands in front of you,ready to fight despite not knowing what he's going to face.you kill the beast and a cutscene starts of the two of you at a campfire near the lake.Noct is impressed at your display and he shows genuine excitement at your hunt before Ignis calls for him to come home-however,before he leaves,he offers for you to meet his friends.

There are many instances like this.here are some other noteable ones;

-Noctis asks Cindy about your house's location to visit you himself.he doesn't bring anyone-he knocks,you open,and he hangs on your couch until you head out.at wich points he asks if he can come with you.

-in the car,following these events,as you arrive he makes small talk and rests his arm on your backseat

-he then AGAIN tries to protect you from a daemonfish

-by the end,you pass out from a giant daemonfish,in the rain.as your loose consciousness-the last thing you can hear is cindy stopping a car,Noctis running out and crying for you to wake up.

So in conclusion,NOCTIS,of all people,was abnormally friendly(and we all know he's a damn emo bitch to every NPC he first meets) to a total stranger,put his life on the line to protect said stranger(who was a hunter,and in so,who he knew could defend themselves),tracked down that person's adress to visit them,insisted on hanging out with them more and CRIED WHEN HE THOUGHT THEY DIED

YOU KNOW WHEN NOCTIS CRIED IN THE GAME?!

[Spoil]

O N C E,AND IT WAS WHEN LUNA(his canonical love interest in the game) DIED

Now logically we can put all of this on;they wanted the players of the Vr game to have a GOOD experience and interaction with noctis and the gang so they made him friendlier and interact with the player more.

Maybe-actually probably.But it can't change he shows behavior that's extremely simmilar to Luna's.He blames himself for being unable to save the people he loved many times.so him protecting someone he just met can very much be him refusing to loose someone he just met and got attached to so early on.you both meet and bond over fishing-Noct's only and favorite hobby that no one seems to share with him(besides Navyth but he's like 80)

So to make this short..

Noct literally has a better and more interesting relationship to a customizable player character and a godamn fictional crossover Protagonist.

I cried when Luna died-okay?i was sad...BUT ONLY BECAUSE NOCT WAS SAD BECAUSE I FELT -999 ATTACHMENT TO LUNAFREYA.PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD BUILD HER CHARACTER INSTEAD OF JUST SAYING "she is love interest..and...she is..perfect wife material..and..that is her character"

#lunafreya is not a compelling character im sorry ok #rant #ship rant #ffxv #ffxv noctis

[thechocoboos]

Hey, if you're not busy, could we see how the boys would handle a s/o who's prone to anxiety/panic attacks?

ho ho this hits close to home!

Warning: Anxiety

Headcanons: The Bros with an S/O with Anxiety

Noctis:

Noctis, while he understands the feeling, he’s also the one who’s the least sure about how to handle panic attacks and anxiety

As the prince, he’s had his fair share of anxiety at times, but he still has no fucking idea how to go about helping it

He’s also dense as a fucking rock sometimes, so it took him a little while to recognize your pattern of anxiety and how you behave when it happens

Even then, it took an explicit explanation from you for him to actually realize what was happening

Noctis isn’t quite sure what to do, but he definitely does his best

He has an overall calm feeling about him, maybe it’s from how chill he is, or maybe it’s just everything rolling off his back, but he’s nice in that he doesn’t ever make you feel anymore stressed or anxious

And when you are anxious, once he learns to recognize your signs of anxiety, he becomes really good at trying to help you without bringing too much attention from anyone else

His go-to thing is to try and get you away from others or whatever it is that’s overwhelming you, and he tries to give you time and quietness

He’s also the one who likes to give you long, comforting hugs when it gets bad and who tries to tell you that everything is okay, and that everything will be okay

He ends up going to Ignis for coping mechanisms, and of course, Ignis raises an eyebrow and begins with, “... If there’s anything… bothering you, Noctis, we can always find you a therapist--”

And Noctis has to shake his head and be like, “Nah bro it aint me--”

That topic does spark an idea, and Noctis realizes that he’s the crown prince who can afford anything he wants

And he knows he’s honestly not too great with trying to help you himself, but he has the means to help you get proper help

So Noctis gets you to therapy! Somehow he convinces you, and he wasn’t pushy or pressuring about it either

He’s not super great at helping you find coping mechanisms or anything, but he’s gentle and understanding, and his, for lack of a better word, “chill” demeanor makes it easier to cope at times

Sometimes, it is nice to have someone you trust sitting next to you or understanding that you need a moment, and Noctis and his overall calm demeanor at times can be soothing and feels supportive and comforting

He’ll hold your hand or hold you, his arms tugging you close and the sensation of his chin on your head or his thumbs rubbing circles against your skin can help ground you

Prompto:

Prom gets it. Like, he fucking Gets It

It didn’t take him long to recognize signs of anxiety/panic attacks when he started spending more time with you, but he wasn’t sure of how to approach the topic without being awkward or causing even more anxiety

He knows that it’s not something easy to talk to people about all the time, so it definitely takes a while before he brings it up

When you two finally talk about it, Prompto is probably out of all the bros, the most understanding of it, simply because of the anxiety that he’s dealt with in his own life

He already new a bunch of coping mechanisms--breathing exercises, distraction exercises, various ways to help prevent panic attacks or anxiety from building up too much

He’s also the one who knows what shit to not say; he’s not about to say, “everything’s okay, you’re fine, it’s not too bad--” because he fucking knows that you know that, and knowing that and saying that doesn’t make anything better (@ noctis)

He’s not always the best at realizing when you might have worse anxiety than normal, so he always, always tries to check on you (as subtle as he can, which admittedly isn’t much, but he did make up code words for you two to use!)

Prompto will pull you away from people and sit with you to try and breathe with you

He reminds you to breathe, he holds your hands and listens when you try to talk through your feelings, he reminds you that your feelings are valid and that he’s there for you

He’s also pretty good at distracting you from your anxiety if it gets too much

Grounding techniques??? He knows ‘em all!!!

Sometimes he either picks up on your anxiety and it can rub off on him, and admittedly, when you’re both having massive anxiety, it’s a bit of a wreck

Eventually though, he learns that at times like that, it’s just best for you two to go home and have some quiet time--maybe with each other, maybe not--to try and ground yourselves or calm down

Other times, Prom might not realize at first that you’re having anxiety or a panic attack, especially if he’s super excited or caught up in something

However, he always makes it up to you and when he does realize that your anxiety is skyrocketing or building up at all, he is very quick to try and jump into action to help you cope or get you somewhere less stressful

He even tries to plan around your anxiety, as in, if you guys really want to go to the mall but you have social anxiety or crowded areas make your anxiety worse, he tries to plan to go on days and at times when it’s less busy

He’s not always logical about it, and it doesn’t always work, but he tries, and that attempt is more than so many other people will do, so it really means a lot

He also has the urge to try and help you feel better, but he’s bad at realizing that there are a lot of times when he can’t help, just because there’s not always a root cause (it honestly kills him during those times, he feels so awful knowing there’s nothing he can do)

Ignis:

Ignis was quick to realize, too

He didn’t realize it was anxiety at first, but he did know that something was up

And he’s also quick to discuss it with you

He’s gentle when he asks about your anxiety: how long it’s been going on, what your triggers are (if you know them), what coping mechanisms work best for you, etc

He does try to subtly ask how it might’ve developed, but he never pushes for an answer and understands if you don’t want to dwell on it (and apologizes for pushing any boundaries)

Iggy just wants to understand as best he can, in an effort to try and help you out as much as he can

He keeps an eye on you for any signs of anxiety attacks or panic attacks or anything, so that if your anxiety does flare, he can whisk you away someplace else to try and help alleviate any stress and anxiety

He knows that sometimes there’s nothing he can truly do to make your anxiety go away or to help you feel better, and while it does kill him, he tries to accept that, knowing that if he were to aimlessly fret over it constantly that it could make it so much worse

Ignis is a man of research! He does sooo much research to try and find coping mechanisms, possible triggers like caffeine, and all sorts of other stuff

Like I said, he knows that he can’t always help, but if he can, he definitely will

And make no mistake, this man will tear hell apart to get you safe and somewhere safe for you

And if you ask him to back off or give you space? He gives it. No ifs, ands, or buts, unless your safety is at risk

Similar to Prompto, Ignis does what he can to make plans during times/days when things are less busy for you

Except, unlike Prompto, Ignis’ plans usually work out better

Iggy is also the most subtle about helping you, which honestly makes things so much better

You don’t want everyone else to know about your business or your anxiety, so having a S/O that is actually subtle about helping you makes you feel better about it sometimes

Gladio:

Honestly, Gladio is the one who probs needed the most time to try and accept/understand the whole anxiety thing

He’s the kind of guy who’d try to “teach” someone to not be afraid of shit so that’s probably the mindset he has when you first approach him about it

And it was in fact, that mindset that led to a huge fight, an almost-breakup, and actually caused a lot of anxiety and panic attacks

It took both Cor and Ignis trying to explain the deal of what anxiety is and what not to do for Gladio to finally get the deal about it

Gladio feels guilty about he first handled it for years tbh, but you forgave him when you saw how hard he tries to help you when your anxiety flares or when you have panic attacks

Gladio grows to understand that sometimes anxiety makes it so hard to make decisions and being pushed for decisions/to do things makes it worse, so he’ll often man the helm of decision making when things get tough (like you can’t decide where to eat or what to buy or order at a restaurant, so he’ll ask you if you’re in the mood for smth that he knows you like)

He also can make himself the most intimidating person to get others to leave you alone when you guys are out and about, just for enough time to get you somewhere you feel safer or more comfortable at

After a little bit of time, he ends up being surprisingly very observant about your anxiety and can usually start to tell that your anxiety is getting worse before you even notice sometimes

Sometimes when you have anxiety and just want to hide from the world to try and make it go away, or are shaking so bad and can’t make it go away no matter what you do, he’ll just lay down with you and stroke your hair, taking deep breaths to try and help you breathe again

Sometimes seeing your anxiety or panic attacks makes him feel scared too, just because he knows there’s nothing he can do to make it really go away, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try

#ffxv #final fantasy xv #ffxv ignis #ignis scientia #ffxv prompto #prompto argentum #ffxv noctis #noctis lucis caelum #ffxv gladio #gladiolus amicitia #headcanons #ff15 #final fantasy 15 #Anonymous

[absolutelynoct]

I'm so sorry you're dealing with all that. I hope you're doing okay and I wish you well dear 😘 As for a prompt... Protective with my favorite ship, Promptio? Anyway, take care of yourself

[hello! the stress is fairly settled now -hopefully- and thank you so much for your concern, dear! I am happy to oblige with this prompt, and I really loved writing it! Please be warned that there is brief foul language and homophobia/bullying in it, but I promise there is nothing graphic ^_^; I hope you enjoy!]

Prompto had been so grateful to be dating Gladio. Grateful and excited and elated. Every time he thought about how Gladio liked him the same way, his stomach fluttered like there were thousands of butterflies dancing around a million chocobo feathers drifting in the air. It was too beautiful a feeling, and he hoped it always would last.

A lot of people doubted the seriousness of their relationship, especially since Gladio was a known flirt, but Prompto knew better. Prompto had seen him flirt with people he found attractive before they started dating. Then he saw Gladio try and flirt with him and stumble through his words like he had been tongue tied. Prompto had never seen that side of him, but he was more than happy to know that even the great Gladiolus Amicitia could get flustered with someone he liked.

Happily, Prompto made his way to the Citadel training grounds to surprise Gladio. It had been a few weeks since they started dating, but they had known each other for so long already. As soon as Prompto graduated high school, Gladio asked him out. Right now, Prompto was training to join the Crownsguard, but he had a rare day off. It didn’t matter. He wanted to see Gladio sooner rather than later. He knew that Gladio would be training with Ignis and Noctis, but there were rare instances that Gladio would train on his own to hone his skills as the Shield.

Turning the corner, Prompto paused and took a step back before he could be seen. There was a team of people surrounding Gladio. It looked like members of the Kingsglaive. They were laughing, and at first Prompto thought that they were Gladio’s friends. But then he heard what they were laughing about, and he clenched his fists in a rage.

“So the prince’s Shield is a fag?” one of the men said with an incredulous laugh. “How many times have you tried to fuck the prince?”

There was silence from Gladio as they laughed at him, making Prompto’s stomach churn uncomfortably. He felt so angry as they continued a barrage of insults, his mind racing. They were bigger than him, stronger than him, and no doubt able to really beat him up. But he couldn’t let them get away with this. Gladio didn’t deserve it. Gladio was gentle and kind and full of laughter and love. Prompto couldn’t just let them do this to him.

“So what if he is dating a man?” Prompto demanded as he stomped over to them angrily, standing in front of Gladio with his hands folded across his chest defensively. They stared at him in surprise, none of them knowing whether to laugh or to cry. Gladio was probably the most surprised of them all. “You all are just jealous that you haven’t gotten laid in so long that your dicks are about to shrivel up. Seriously? What year is it? You know what, I’m sure my personal trainer, the Lord Marshal, would be happy to relay this to his boyfriend, Captain Drautos.”

The men suddenly seemed to remember that it was an open secret that Cor and Titus were dating. As they made awkward noises, they gradually disbursed, none of them wanting to continue their harassment in light of the reminder. Prompto glared at them until the last one was gone, only turning to Gladio with concern when he knew that they weren’t coming back. Gladio was looking at him in both shock and amazement, a grin spreading across his lips as he pulled Prompto into a tight hug.

“Thank you,” Gladio breathed as he held him. “I couldn’t say anything because I’m the Shield and have to be above it. But I wanted to kick their asses so much.”

“I’ll-I’ll do it for you,” Prompto managed through his blush, his arms wrapped around Gladio’s torso. “I’ll protect you, Gladio.”

“How did I end up so lucky to have you, hmm?” Gladio asked, pulling away just enough to gently tilt Prompto’s chin upwards. Prompto stood on his toes as Gladio leaned over and kissed him, both of them forgetting their pain and fear for a moment in favor of their joy and love. “I love you, Prom.”

“I love you, Gladio,” Prompto replied, his heart racing. This was the first time Gladio had said it, but Prompto knew it was such a natural part of him that there was nothing else to say. 

With a shriek of delight, Gladio scooped Prompto up into his arms, flinging him halfway over one shoulder as they made their way out of the training grounds. No one would mess with Gladio. Not while Prompto was around.

#ffxv #Final Fantasy XV #ff15 #final fantasy 15 #promptio #prompto #prompto argentum #gladio #gladiolus #gladiolus amicitia #gladio amicitia #tw brief homophobia and bullying #prompt request #amitiel writes

[bramblepeltao3]

Oh hey part 2 of ? of this AU of an AU of an AU because I’m an adult and there is no one to stop me.

---

“The chronic fatigue isn’t going anywhere any time soon, but that’s okay. There are plenty of accommodations that can be made for him. I’m putting in a requisition to make the palace grounds wheelchair accessible, and if it doesn’t go through immediately I’ll just be an annoying bitch until it does. They’re getting rather sick of me up there.” Del tapped her pen on the desk, swiping on the tablet through her most recent notes. She didn’t need them, but they made her look more important and organized. “Otherwise, his physique is finally catching up to that of an average, healthy teenage boy. Though I’d appreciate it if you’d lighten up a bit on the strength training, it’s taking energy from his academics.”

Aranea stared at her from the other side of the desk, looking far off into space.

“Aaaand, you didn’t hear any of that, did you?” Del huffed.

“I did. I was just thinking….sorry about how I’ve been acting.” She crossed her arms, looking Del in the eye. “I didn’t trust you, kinda still don’t, but it’s nice to see Prompto happy again. He’s always been like a little brother to me, so, guess I got a little overprotective.”

Del felt a stab in her chest, and forced a quick smile to hide it. “I mean, isn’t ‘overprotective’ in your job description?”

“True.” Aranea relaxed into her seat. “I still don’t get your motives, but you seem like your concern is genuine. So, at least we both have that.”

“My motivations are to treat my patient until he doesn’t need me anymore.” And who knows where she’d go after that? Maybe a long vacation feet first into a volcano. “Call me idealistic, but I’m a doctor. I want to cure the sick and heal the wounded. It’s not much more complicated than that.” It was way, way more complicated than that.

And the shield could tell.

She stood up, leaned over the desk until her face was inches away from Del’s.

“Trust me, Doc, I wanna believe you.” Aranea smirked, noticing the deep red rushing over Del’s cheeks. “But I’ve been around the block here too many times. And this time, I’m not letting anyone get the jump on me.” She stood back up with a knowing glare before turning and leaving.

“Wait-” Del shot up, knocking her own chair back. 

“Oh, and the strength training was Shortcake’s idea. He insisted, actually. You want him to study ancient Altissian history instead, take it up with him and his tutor.” And she was gone, the door closing right behind her.

Del leaned a little more heavily against her desk. Maybe...maybe Aranea should know. Maybe she could help, really it couldn’t hurt could it? 

But what if she told Prompto, or what if it changed how she looked at him? What if Verstael found out? She remembered the first and only time she crossed her father so blatantly. 

No. No one needed to know. She’d just take the suspicion and blame in stride and continue her work. She already had one confidant, stressful as he was, and that would just have to be enough.

---

“A treaty?” Cor asked, looking at the young and panicked delegate’s assistant. “You can’t be serious.”

He nodded. “Marshal, Sir, the ambassador was very direct. Niflheim wishes to broker peace with Lucis.”

Bullshit.

“He wasn’t clear on the terms yet, he only said he wished for His Majesty to speak to their Emperor. And they’d like to send their prince to Insomnia as part of a goodwill tour.”

Cor felt his stomach drop. “They want to send their sixteen year old recluse over here?”

“Sir.” Monica spoke up. “I was listening on the call. It would seem they want to forge diplomatic relations between our future monarchs. I couldn’t say if it’s genuine but…”

It made sense. Noctis and Prompto were both sixteen, both royalty, and both set to inherit a generations’ old war. It was in both country's interests for the two to meet and start some sort of friendship now, if they were ever going to see peace within the next century. But inviting Imperials right into their own homes, just waltzing right through the wall like it wasn’t made specifically to keep them out. 

The risk and reward were both intense.

“Then I suppose we’ll have to inform His Majesty of this development.”

The prince of Niflheim walking through the doors of the city; Mors was surely rolling in his grave at the thought. But then, the latest intel on the boy stated he was still having health troubles despite obvious improvements. So it stood to reason that any delegation that came with the prince would have to include…

“And discuss negotiation tactics.”

---

“No way. No fucking way.” Del yelled before colliding her fist into the punching bag. She didn’t often engage in physical training, but desperate times called for desperate measures. She needed to be at her best both mentally and physically if she was going to see her work through. She couldn’t keep relying on the chancellor to protect her forever.

“You’re not being asked, you’re being ordered.” The man who couldn’t be more than an intern on the chain of importance said, unflinching as she continued to pummel the bag swinging from the ceiling.

“He’s not fit to travel that far. I’m not signing off on those orders, it would be a breach of ethics. And you can take that back to your Emperor. I don’t give a shit.” 

“Refusing to sign will be noted as an admission of failure in your duty to tend to the prince’s health.” He stated flatly.

She gave one last hard punch before turning to face the man.

“Excuse me?” Del seethed. “Letting him travel for days on end on a train, a boat, over a desert and into a city full of people who want him dead would be a failure of my duty.” 

“I don’t pretend to know what it is you do, Doctor, I am merely stating a fact. So once again, please sign this release form.” The man was unnervingly lacking in emotion.

“You can shove that form right up yo-”

“How dare you speak to a lady of the nobility with such impunity!” A voice from behind cut her off. A voice she knew. 

Oh Gods. Not this guy.

“Do you have even the slightest idea in your thick skull who this woman is? Because if you did, you would surely show more respect.” The kid, dressed in his dorky high school gym clothes with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, intruded into the adult conversation.

“I am speaking to the prince’s personal physician, Doctor Besithia, and she is refusing to comply with the Emperor’s orders.” The man replied as if this was a completely normal thing to happen. 

“Loqi, I swear to the fucking Gods, what are you doing?” Del rubbed her hands between her eyes. It was only a matter of time before she’d run into this guy again but she really hoped it wouldn’t be this soon.

“There is no need for the doctor to sign a release, she’s going with the prince to Insomnia.”

“Ha! Okay, wow, this is certainly not the correct venue for either of you to be making these decisions for me.” She said, standing there in her gym shorts and sports bra, sweaty and red. 

“His Imperial Highness put me in charge of the delegation, I’ve already made arrangements for you to be part of it.” Loqi said with unearned confidence. “You have nothing to fear from the Lucians, my lady, Highwind and I will be there to protect you.”

“I’ll have to draft a new form then.” The man muttered before leaving.

“Yeah, whatever, okay, what delegation? What the fuck is even going on and why out of everyone possible were you put in charge of it?” What she really wanted to scream was why was this guy put in charge of anything involving her?

“The Emperor wishes to broker a peace treaty with the Lucians, and plans to send his highness prince Prompto to act as ambassador.” Loqi said, making a show of averting his eyes from her.

“Oh, okay. So the prince who has no experience with foreign relations or, well, being around more than three people at a time is going to go into the heart of the country we’ve been at war with for decades, and you’re in charge of the whole thing?” Del asked.

“That is correct, my lady.”

Del sighed. “So it’s a death trap.”

“My lady I can assure you no Lucian will even so much as touch you during this tour. Not even their Immortal. And I welcome him to try.”

“Oh Gods you’re still on about that, fucking shit, dude.”

Ten years ago Delphia made the biggest mistake of her life. She’d been sent away to a strict private academy after her father discovered the second biggest mistake of her life. And there, she met Loqi Tummelt. A boy one year below her who was creepily obsessed with Cor Leonis. And one day, in an attempt to make him shut the fuck up for just one gods damned minute, she’d made the mistake of telling the kid she’d met The Immortal.

“Yeah, he’s an idiot and not that impressive like at all, so can you please cool it with this weird obsession?” She remembered telling him.

She’d been extra mean on purpose, as she did with everyone she met during that time, to make sure he’d never want to speak to her ever again.

But this kid, this freaking kid, all he heard was ‘I’ve met your weird rival hero’. And that was it. He refused to leave her alone since.

Medical school was nice specifically because he wasn’t there.

But now he was here.

Great.

He made a show of looking around, seemingly to make sure they were alone.

“I know your secret, my lady, and though I cannot begin to understand I will protect it with my life.”

Her what?

“I didn’t mean to overhear, but whatever reason you must hide the truth of your birth, it doesn’t change who you are.”

Her WHAT?

“I’ll show you, Princess Delphia.” He whispered. “Soon, I’ll prove to you and everyone else once and for all my true strength. And then, I’ll finally be worthy of taking your hand.”

HER

WHAT

Del instinctively pulled both hands up to the sides of her face. “Okay, first off all it's Doctor. I am Doctor Besithia to you. I did not bust my ass in school to not be called Doctor. And whatever it is you think you overheard, you didn’t. I’m not a-”

...Loqi was the one who eavesdropped on them all those months ago. He heard her call Prompto her brother. And that was his takeaway. 

Fuck.

FUCK!

“You little shit, you were eavesdropping on me.” 

“Your secret is safe, I swear it. Now. Please be packed and prepared to depart for Lucis by this coming Sunday. The journey will be long, and we’ll require your expertise to ensure the prince’s safety.” He bowed. 

And he left.

And after a moment, finally alone in the quiet walls of the gym, Delphia screamed.

---

Prompto could scream. A whole week spent preparing himself mentally for this trip wasn’t enough. He just could not account for the absolute rush of emotion he would feel stepping onto a train for the first time.

It hadn’t even begun to move yet. 

But it’s what the train represented that mattered. His second chance. His more certain future. His tiny little taste of freedom. It was all here, packed and loaded on to this train. This was something he knew he could never, ever forget.

But just to be on the safe side…

“Hey Nea, say cheese!” He chirped before taking a perfectly terribly timed selfie.

Aranea blinked before frowning at him. “Alright, whose bright idea was it to give Shortcake a camera?”

“Uncle Ardyn!” Prompto said, full of joy. He rarely got to see the chancellor but when he did the man was always bringing him the best gifts.

Doctor Del looked at him with surprise from across the train car.

“Ooh, Del, gotta get one with you too!” He slid over next to her, lifting his camera. “Smile!” Prompto said before clicking the shutter.

“You’re in high spirits today.” Aranea looked at him with a smile.

He shot back up, standing between the two of them. “Yeah, I’m just...I’m really optimistic. I know this trip is gonna be great.” The destination, well...that was left to be seen. He felt a rush of embarrassment wash over him, like everyone in the train car was staring at him. Probably because they were. 

“I’m glad you’re well enough to enjoy this, Prompto.” Del said, also smiling.

Okay, now he was super embarrassed.”Couldn’t of done it without you girls!” He said, pointing at his doctor and his shield.

...the much older than him doctor and shield who were full grown women he just called girls.

“I-I mean…”

“Sit down, Shortcake, you look like you’re gonna pass out.”

He did so, and took some time to look out the window as the sound of steam releasing hissed and the train began to move with a jolt. The scenery began to move past him, faster and faster, until he thought they couldn’t possibly go any faster.

And then somehow they did.

It wasn’t long before the motion began to sit wrong in his stomach, and he thought perhaps he should spend some time going through the enormous notebook of intel that was handed to him just this morning.

He opened it and looked at the first page. A dossier on Lucis’ prince. Noctis Lucis Caelum. He was only a couple of months older than Prompto, which was a relief. If he was way older or younger this would’ve been a weird visit. He turned the page and suddenly, he was face to face with him. A photograph of prince Noctis: dark hair, mysterious eyes, an obvious build of muscle and good health.

Prompto felt himself begin to sweat even on this air conditioned train. Who was he fooling? While he’d spent the last eight years bed ridden and alone, this prince was surely doing what princes are supposed to do. Training, studying, a perfect skincare routine, maybe he was even good at art and dancing! Noctis just looked like the perfect model of nobility.

And here was Prompto. Pale skin, droopy hair, red dots all over his face, weak, talentless, and far behind in anything academic a prince should be skilled in by sixteen. He frowned at his reflection in the window. This was a mistake. Surely, it had to be. He couldn’t even compare to Noctis. The Insomnian court would take one look at him, laugh, and send the delegation back. Then they’d just wait for him to take the throne one day so they could easily overthrow him.

That’s exactly what was going to happen.

His downward thought spiral was interrupted by the sound of the train car door slamming open. The leader of this mission, General Loqi Tummelt, stepped in. He was still dressed in his military finery even though they weren’t due in Lucis for a long while yet. He seemed like that kinda guy though, the sort who took a lot of pride in his heritage and rank. No wonder his father trusted him with such a precarious mission!

“Your Imperial highness, ladies, or journey has-”

“Doctor.”

Prompto looked over at Del, who had interrupted the man with little regard for his status.

“We’ve been over this. Address me as doctor before my gender, please and thank you.” She frowned.

“Yeah, actually. You’ll address me as Commodore, Tummelt. Unlike Lemon Tart over there, I’m not even a noblewoman. So get your shit together before you open your mouth again.”

Prompto felt like he might just shrink from the awkwardness taking place around him.

“Just Prompto is fine!” He blurted out before realizing how stupid that was.

Loqi took a long breath before continuing. “Doctor. Commodore. Just Prompto. Our journey has begun. In due time we will be upon our enemy’s doorstep. And then a true battle of wits will begin. Be sure you’re prepared for anything.”

“Oh, is that all?” Aranea asked.

“Wow dude, very helpful.” Del sneered.

“Like we didn’t already know that.”

“Fucking useless, this guy.”

“I cannot believe you addressed the prince like that.”

“Get it together, Loqi.”

“Yeah get your shit together Loqi.”

The two women shot insult after insult at the general with no regard whatsoever for his rank of station. It was...terrifying.

Loqi cleared his throat. “I’ll be in the first cabin should you require my assistance.” He said before leaving back from where he came from.

A tense silence settled in the air that threatened to choke him out. Prompto felt that familiar tingle of anxiety creeping up his spine, about to reach out and burst through in tears until he heard Aranea begin to laugh.

And then Del started laughing.

And then both of them were laughing harder.

“Can you believe that guy?” Del asked, rubbing at her eye.

“Gods, he is such a pain in the ass.” Aranea smirked.

“You’re telling me, I went to high school with him. Cannot believe he somehow made it this far.”

“Oh you’ve never heard of failing up? Pretty common around here.”

These women were brutal. They were mean, and sharp, and cut right through whoever was in their path without remorse. 

“Hey, Prom, you doing alright?” Aranea asked. “You’re looking a little pale there.”

“Oh!” Del jumped from her seat and sat next to him, putting a hand on his forehead. “Are you nauseous? Motion sickness is common on trains. I packed some dramamine in my bag, let me just-”

These women took no one’s shit and demanded respect where it was due. They were ruthless.

And they were both like older sisters fussing over him with care and…

Huh.

“I’m okay, really.” Prompto said. And he was.

---

Cor steeled his nerves one last time. The delegation was on their doorstep. They were either about to usher in a new era of peace, or make the biggest mistake in Lucis’ entire history.

But also the little kid who was really mean and shitty was all grown up and part of it. 

Cor had to figure she wasn’t that much different from her younger self. From what little intel they could scrape, she’d pissed off her father at one point. In retaliation she’d been banished away to private school in Gralea, got her act together, and got into medical school easily as a legacy applicant (Though her grades were part of the intel. She didn’t need that family name to get into whatever school she wanted.)

The most surprising thing in that whole file, however, was that she’d applied to the Insomnian Medical Institute. There were only so many foreign students accepted every year, and she was most likely disqualified because of her name. The irony was immense.

“Everything’s in order here. Status, Drautos?” Cor asked through the mic on his ear piece. The glaive had their orders, the crownsguard theres. The need for hospitality was great, and security even greater.

Everyone was playing their part. And that included Insomnia’s own civilians. It appeared the population was split in half in their opinions: one side embracing the idea of peace, one calling it a hoax and threatening violence upon the visitors.

Regis had made it quite clear they intended to greet the prince of Niflheim as a guest. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Free and clear, standing by.” Cor’s colleague reported into his ear. 

He crossed his arms behind his back, standing by his king’s side. On the other, the prince was reluctantly in his own royal regalia which did not quite fit him as well as his father had hoped.

Scientia had done his best.

Their intel on the prince was lacking, of course. Hard to get much information on someone who rarely left his heavily guarded room. But Cor knew enough. He knew where that kid came from. And he knew the woman who had been photographed again and again at his side.There was hope. Just a little.

There was always the chance Prompto was nothing more than a puppet, an unwilling actor in a show meant to destroy everything Cor held dear.

So vigilant he stayed, with a small layer of hope on top.

He hoped that little kid was still the rebellious little shithead who denounced everything her parents stood for and was ready to burn everything down.

That would work out quite well.

[fallintosanity]

What are your thoughts on 7 Remake’s ~controversial~ ending? It’s been a few weeks now since I finished and I legit feel like I’ve journeyed through all 5 stages of grief and finally landed on Acceptance 😅

haha that’s fair! I have a lot of thoughts about the remake, but they’re coming from three different angles. 

(Spoilers under the cut obvs; also this got fucklong even after I cut a bunch of non-ending-related thoughts, and I apologize to those of you on mobile)

From the POV of someone who played and loved the original

Overall, I really enjoyed the remake, ending and all. I replayed the OG prior to the remake’s release, finishing literally four hours before the remake became available in North America, but it had still been months since I did the Midgar parts so it wasn’t too immediately fresh in my mind. Still, I was impressed by how faithful the remake is to the OG for the vast majority of the game. They noticeably cleaned up a few things, like Tseng slapping Aerith, which didn’t age well or stopped making sense with regards to the greater Compilation, which was nice to see. But they also doubled down on some of the ridiculousness of the original. I can’t tell you how much I cackled when the Hell House showed up, or how many times I said to my fiance in joy/disbelief, “They really managed to fit that in!” 

I also love all the little nods to the greater Compilation. I saw one interview excerpt from like... 2015 or 2014 or something that said the Remake is considered canon to the Compilation, and the content of the Remake itself suggests this. While some of the cameos could be considered nothing more than cameos (as much as I love Kunsel, I don’t think his name being dropped means anything other than that they needed a name and wanted to give a nod to him), there are other clear hints that Crisis Core and The Kids Are Alright, at minimum, are canon to the Remake. Hojo mentions “S and G type” SOLDIERs, i.e., Sephiroth-type and Genesis/Gillian-type. (Roche is a G type I am not taking arguments on this point) The description of the Buster Sword says it carries the hopes and dreams of those who came before, implying more than just Zack (i.e., Angeal). Zack’s scene right before he charges the ShinRa army is shot-for-shot the one from Crisis Core, which could have just been a nod, but the fact that he also says the same lines as the original is telling. There’s a lot of lore loaded into those lines. Leslie and Kyrie are both from The Kids Are Alright (which makes me wonder if the third ShinRa half-brother is floating around somewhere). You could make an argument for Before Crisis being partially or completely canon to the remake as well, since someone mentions a previous assassination attempt on the President, which happened in BC. 

But now we get into the issue of whether Advent Children is canon to the remake, i.e., the ending and the thing you actually asked about. ^^; This is where I’m more torn. My initial reaction to the ending was “Oh crap, we went from FFVII-Remake to Kingdom Hearts - oh shit now we’re in Advent Children - oh fuck now we’re in fanfiction-land.” Which... is definitely not what I was expecting from the ending of Part 1. 

On first playthrough it feels a bit like they overplayed their hand with Sephiroth in the ending: “everyone wants a Sephiroth fight in a FFVII game, so we’ll give them a Sephiroth fight”. I’ve seen a lot of complaints about the fact that Sephiroth appears in person in the Midgar sequence, when in the OG all we see of him before Kalm is the aftermath of President Shinra’s murder. I do think Sephiroth’s appearances prior to the ending were done well - the writers clearly intended to emphasize Cloud’s mental issues, and Sephiroth is too big a part of them to ignore. His appearances prior to the top of Shinra Tower both serve as a bone tossed to those who wanted to see him in the remake, and set up the Cloud-Sephiroth relationship a lot earlier and in more depth. You can see how utterly terrified Cloud is every time Sephiroth is around - even sometimes frozen into immobility. Depending on how things go with the Kalm flashback, this may also help cue new players in to just how wrong things are with Cloud. (After all, a SOLDIER First shouldn’t be afraid of another SOLDIER First, should he?) But the final fight against Sephiroth, or at least, a clone wearing Sephiroth’s face, felt premature, out of place, something that’s only there to appease people who wanted to fight Sephiroth now. 

Aside from the Sephiroth thing, I’m reserving judgment a bit on the ending as a whole. On the one hand, I’m deeply curious to see where the story goes from here, and how the writers use their newfound freedom (more on that in a minute). On the other hand, I don’t want this to turn into Kingdom Hearts 4, and I don’t trust Nomura in that regard, especially after all the bullshit that went on with KH3, Verum Rex, and FFXV/versus 13. I love Nomura, but like George Lucas, he desperately needs someone to rein in, edit, and shape his ideas.

I’m also not sure how I feel about all the theories being thrown out there - such as that at least one of the Sephiroths we see is the one from after AC, somehow flung back in time to fuck things up; or that the OG was, 999-style, Aerith seeing into the future and now in the remake she’s taking control to put everything on the path she wants. They’re interesting, for sure, and I think that with careful handling, it’s possible Squenix might be able to pull one of them off - but given what I know of Squenix (again, more on that later), I don’t trust them to do it well. I am, to be blunt, very concerned that later installments of the remake are going to turn into an incoherent tug-of-war between those who want to be faithful to the original, and Nomura’s desire to inject weird Kingdom Hearts nonsense everywhere. 

I say this with all the love to Kingdom Hearts, but it’s a very specific kind of story and it’s not what I want to see in my FFVII.

On a writing meta level

On the meta level, I’m fascinated by the choice to go with the whole Whispers/Arbiters of Fate thing. I don’t know how much of that is pure Nomura-injected BS vs how much was a deliberate choice by the writing team, but for right now I’m going to assume it was mostly a deliberate and unanimous choice. 

I’ve seen a lot of other Remake opinions along the lines of a reluctant, “I guess they had to put the Whispers in there because a perfect remake wouldn’t have been satisfying to everyone. There’s always someone who would have complained.” I... don’t think that’s entirely true. Like, yeah, sure, someone’s always going to complain if it’s not a pixel-perfect remake, but based on the overall satisfaction I’ve seen from OG fans (including myself) regarding the parts that are true to the original, I think Squenix would have done just fine if that was the path they chose. And given how much attention they paid to making most of the game into a nearly-perfect recreation, I think the writers knew it. 

So why’d they go the whole Whispers route? 

My guess would be that the writers were giving themselves freedom, on a meta level, with the Whispers. It’s a way of both poking fun at, and solving, their own dilemma: do we make a perfect, hi-res copy of the original? Or do we change things to make it our own? 

The “change something to make it your own” is a longstanding trope when someone new is put in charge of something old. You see it in everything from Disney live-action remakes to new managers who change their employees’ routines just to “make an impact”. Most of the time, these changes are neutral / un-impactful at best, or outright frustrating / terrible at worst. I wonder if the Remake writing team wasn’t fully aware of this, and possibly tangled up in knots internally about how to handle it. Would it be seen as a bad, “make it their own” change to have Tseng not slap Aerith? What about adding Chocobo Sam, Madam M, and Andrea Rhodea to the Wall Market sequence? What about the changes to how the Avalanche gang reacts to Cloud, now that we have full animation and voice acting and it’s clear Avalanche has no reason to want to keep him around except for Jessie being horny on main? Where’s the line? 

I could see the Whispers being the writing team’s way of making sure they stay in line where it’s important, while also giving themselves the freedom to make the updates needed to allow the remake to work. They’re kind of a meta nod to the audience, a “don’t worry! If we get too far out of line, the Whispers will bring us back.” In that sense, the entire ending where you (the player) kill the Whispers and free yourself (the player) from destiny is you giving the writers permission to continue making those small changes. 

In FFXV, almost the entire ending sequence is a cutscene: Noctis on the throne, being murdered by his ancestors and descending into the spirit realm. But there’s one single quick-time event in there, one point where the player has to take action and push a button. It’s not even difficult, and on the surface it seems pointless. Except, if you don’t, Noctis lives. (Trapped in purgatory maybe, but he’s still there.) If you never push that button, Noctis doesn’t sacrifice his spirit and those of the Lucii to destroy Ardyn and wipe the Scourge from Eos. By asking - requiring - the player to push that button to commit that final act, the game makes the player complicit in Noct’s sacrifice. It’s a powerful moment, and similar to what (I suspect) the Remake writers intended with the Whispers. 

Because they could have left the Whispers in forever. They could have had them be a continuous presence throughout all episodes of the Remake, a little reminder that no matter what tweaks the writers might make to update the story, to “make it their own”, the Arbiters of Fate will ensure things are on track. That things will play out exactly as in the original. But by asking the player to destroy the Arbiters, the writers are asking for the player’s permission to make changes. And by killing the Arbiters, you’re granting it. Because, just like you can keep Noctis alive by not pushing the button when prompted, you can keep the original game more-or-less on track by never stepping through that portal, never killing the Arbiters. But if you do step through that portal and go through with it, you’re agreeing to accept that things might change, thus freeing the writers from the constant double jeopardy of changing things vs keeping them exactly the same. 

On a business meta level

As cool as (I think) that all sounds, the bigger question is, can Square Enix actually pull it off? And here’s where I start to have my most significant doubts. After the FFvs13/FFXV debacle and the hopeless mess that was KH3, I do not trust Nomura to tell a coherent story, even if it’s supposedly a retelling of an existing, well-known story. I don’t know anything about the inner workings or politics at Square Enix, other than that there are politics at play, so in fairness to him I can’t really say it’s because he himself is bad at telling a story, or just doesn’t have the support he needs to convey his vision well. But that gets into other issues with Squenix. We know their last several major games have had long and troubled developments. Someone way more attuned than me to the Japanese video games industry can talk in depth about why; all I know is that it happened (is happening?) and that it’s something of a miracle the remake came out as well as it did. 

On top of that, I’m a bit concerned that even if Squenix can get (and keep) its shit together, it might be up against external forces that constrain how it can tell the story of FFVII in the present. For example, from what I’ve heard, the reason Crisis Core never got ported the way so many other games did, and the reason Genesis Rhapsodos has never been seen outside it and a Dirge of Cerberus cameo, is due to image licensing fights with Gackt, Genesis’s face model. CC established Genesis as a key player in the events leading up to the original game’s story, and enough hints have been dropped about CC in the remake that, like I said earlier, it appears to be canon. But if Squenix can’t reach an agreement to use the character again, they might be trapped in a corner where they either have to completely rewrite the parts of the story involving Genesis, or dance around his existence. 

And on top of all that, it’s just expensive and time-consuming as hell to make games on the remake’s scale. Everyone expects the PS4 to be retired by the time Remake Part 2 comes out, which is going to pose huge logistical issues for releasing it. Squenix has been having a rough time of it lately, from what I’ve heard - are they, as a company, capable of handling all those logistical issues? I don’t know, and that makes me nervous. 

Still, they did do a remarkable job with the remake overall, even grappling with the pandemic around the launch date. So maybe they’re getting their shit together again, and things will be smooth sailing from here. We’ll have to wait and see. 

#anonymous #final fantasy vii #ffvii #ffvii remake #spoilers #meta #sanity replies #sanity talks a lot #tumblr massively fucked up the formatting somehow sorry

[amarabliss]

Oaths and Hearts - 11 (Ignis Scientia/Reader)

So this is a crossover between FFXV and Dragon Age Inquisition.

You fell through a rift into the fade fighting the demons you swore to protect your world from. When you popped out you were no longer in the lands of Ferelden instead trapped in Insomnia. The gracious king allowed you to say recognizing power when he saw it. One thing led to another and now you were part of the procession of the prince to his wedding years later. Before the final battle, after years of fighting, losses, and love…your friend…your king…Noctis has asked you to change it all…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

You sat with your eyes closed against the steel of the airship. You didn’t like it. Flying that is…there was no connection to anything, and it made you feel off balance.

You focused on feeling the cold steel imagining it was earth…perhaps a mountain…you had traveled enough of them in the last few months to remember how the cool stone felt at night. It helped a little…but turbulence was a cruel bitch…

“Dammit…” You muttered wiping a hand over your face before opening your eyes.

“You know…mediation works better when you’re calm.” Your eyes snapped up at the white-haired man sitting across from you. He stared back unapologetically.

“Fuck. You.” You growled at him.

“Language…you call yourself a lady…” Ravus smirked as he pulled out an apple, something that had been making your stomach churn daily, and took a big juicy bite out of it.

You stood to your feet clenching your fists at your sides as you opened your mouth to speak, however, you didn’t get the chance to as Aranea stepped, “Alright…calm down. One lightening storm was enough in this rig. Ravus, take yourself and the fruit to the cockpit.”

“Happily…” He stood up taking another obnoxious bite.

You growled again stepping toward him, but Aranea stepped in your path, “Let it go…”

“He does it on purpose!” You snapped at her, “He knows exactly how I feel about the smell!”

“I know, and I will talk to him, but I can’t have you blowing a gasket when we’re 20,000 feet in the air again.” She told you sympathetically, “And it’s not good for you or you baby to get so worked up.”

You clenched your jaw a hand went reflexively to your belly. Six months pregnant…almost…you had been on the run for four months and you were losing count between getting sick and moving around so much. Never staying in one place for too long for fear of being noticed.

Four months of small check ins from the man you loved. No conversations, just account transfers to take care of you, while he helped Noct get the rest of the royal armory and blessings of gods. You felt so alone among soldiers who only wanted to protect you for the profit it gave them…mostly.

You took a deep breath trying to relax, “…please tell me we can call him, even just a word…”

Aranea frowned shaking her head, “No…they’re supposed to be reaching the capitol in the next week or so. They had to take a few pit stops along the way…I wouldn’t want to risk alerting the empire to their location, when they are this close.”

“I’m sick of waiting around…” You shut your eyes making a face a wave of pain erupted in your back, “There has to be something to do.”

“What is it?” The Commodore stepped closer to you concern evident in her posture.

“He’s kicking a lot today…I don’t think he likes being this high up.” You leaned against the wall making a face.

“You should sit…I’ll get Wedge to come take a look at you and we’ll figure out where we can land…” Aranea told you as she stepped away, “I’ll get you some tea too…”

“No! No tea! Your tea is…gross…” You called after her as you stepped toward the chairs.

You made a face taking a deep breath as you stopped halfway shutting your eyes tightly putting a hand on your side, “Dammit…buddy come on…you gotta give me a break.”

“Give me your hand…”  You opened your eyes seeing Ravus holding a hand out to you.

“Why would I give my hand to you?” You took a deep breath in through your nose as another wave of kicking ensued.

He stared at you for a moment before stepping toward you. You stepped out of his way only to see him follow you. You glared and then tensed as his hand found your back as he scolded, “Quit…dancing around and let me help you.”

“Ravus…you have never once offered to help me…” You stared up into his eyes standing firmly in your spot as Ulric began kick boxing with your kidney, “And despite you volunteering to be an escort because you feel you owe me in someway for helping your sister…we aren’t friends…”

“No, we’re not, but…” He sighed helping you over to the chairs, “I remember when my mother was pregnant with Luna. She would have the most painful expressions sometimes, when Luna started to kick. I promised if I ever had a child, I would make sure the mother would not be alone during such times…”

“This is not your child…” You eased yourself down before you looked at him taking a seat next to you.

“No…” He shook his head a little before he hesitantly began rubbing your back with his one hand. Warmth spread through tense and sore areas, you had forgotten how good touch felt, “but I don’t see myself ever having the chance…so I will amend my promise to the situation at hand to alleviate you of your pain.”

You shut your eyes hanging your head a little as his one hand moved up to your shoulders, “I…I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“Don’t be…” Ravus shook his head smiling a little, “All my life people have made assumptions about me. Shouldn’t expect anything different from you.”

You laughed a little letting your eyes meet his, “I know what that’s like.”

“I find that hard to believe. You have an air about you that yells ‘straightforward.’” He sniped back at you.

“Quite the opposite…Where I’m from everyone expected me to be a deranged mage hell-bent on world domination, raging and bringing forth demons to destroy everything.” You looked at him frowning as a heavy weight fell on your shoulders. You had always felt like you left Thedas vulnerable by leaving it, “But…the reality of it…I just wanted to be free…I just wanted to there to be peace, and I sacrificed everything to make sure the world was safe.”

Ravus stared at you a long time before he spoke again, “The burden of leadership.”

“Yes…it was…in the end, I don’t even know if I made a difference…there was still so much dissent against people like me.” You stared off as if trying to remember it all at once, “But I know that I left my home in good hands. I know they won’t let it fall back into the way things were.”

He stopped rubbing your shoulders letting out a sigh, “Sounds like you’ve done more then any of us here.”

You let out a sad laugh, “Oh you know just a small rebellion turned into saving the world...just an average day back home…”

“Maybe one day you can tell me more about it? Hell, maybe you can help me lead a rebellion of my own. I wouldn’t mind not being railroaded by the empire anymore.” He stood up as Wedge came over with Aranea, “If you’ll excuse me.”

You watched him walk away slowly as Wedge began asking you questions. The cogs began turning in your head. It was so simple, and it could actually work. Wedge cleared you and began putting his devices back into his medical bag away.

“…Aranea…” You stood up looking at her, “How easy is it for you to find someone?”

“Depends on the person, but I usually can find anyone with a few calls.” She eyed you carefully, “I already know where your boy toy is…and I already told-”

“I don’t want to find Ignis.” Your face hardened as you crossed your arms, “I want to find Cor Leonis.”

Her eyes narrowed on you, “Why do you want to find the Immortal?”

“I’m tired of sitting on the sidelines…” You told her before you smiled, “I need to help Ignis and Noct somehow, and I think I just figured out how.”

You sat on at a table a few days later looking out toward the meteor, no longer ignited, but still a sight to behold. This place was something else. You could not think of any other like it. No matter what was going on, Lestallum felt alive.

And hot…You hated that you had to wear this giant thick cape to hide yourself, rather…hide your baby…

“Lady Trevelyan?” You looked back seeing Cor walking up to you. He smiled when you stood up taking your extended hand, “I thought you would be with the boys. When I got your message, I half expected them to be here.”

“Yeah, no, um…” You swallowed staring at him. The way he held himself told you that he wasn’t informed on the recent events. A soldier of his caliber wouldn’t be so relaxed, “I take it you haven’t heard about the bounty on my head…”

“Bounty? On you?” He waved his arm to have you sit down again as his demeanor changed. There was the commander you knew, “But you’re unreasonably nice to people.”

“Where have you been recently? For that matter the last half a year?” You watched him sit down, “At least tell me you know everything went sideways in Altissia?”

“It’s a long story…” He sighed scratching the back of his head, “And I had heard that Noctis and Luna did get married…I was sorry I couldn’t attend.”

“Well, if you tell me your story…I’ll tell you mine.”  You grunted as you threw the front of the cape over your shoulders to give you some relief. His eyes immediately focused in on your stomach, “I’ll get to him in a minute, tell me what you’ve been up to?”

You sat and listened and everything he said was exactly what you needed to hear. After he left Caem he returned to the hunters where he met up with some former Glaive. After hearing their stories he felt it was imperative that they find as many Glaive and Crownsguard as he could to be ready for their king’s return.

“So I have been managing them. Training new recruits and protecting people along the away.” Cor watched as you pulled the spoon from your mouth returning it to the large bowl of ice cream, “We’re ready to return and take back our home when Noctis orders it.”

“That is wonderful to hear.” You smiled at him before shoving the spoon in your mouth again.

He smiled shaking his head a little, “So…you’re turn. Why is there a bounty on your head?”

“Oh, I shoved the chancellor of Neifilheim into a rift hopefully to never return again. He was a deamon and creepy…” You rattled off scraping the bottom of the bowl, “Then…there’s some stuff about time travel, it gets really complicated, but the main thing is I killed Ardyn Izunia.”

He stared at you a long time before clearing his throat, “That’s…Uh…”

“Hard to believe, I know, but it’s the truth. I’m sure you’ve heard rumors at least of my sudden appearance back then...” You told him quietly, “All of which I’m happy to explain to you, but I’m hoping we can do it at a different time.”

“Alright. You called me for a reason.” He nodded leaning forward, “What is it you want from me?”

You set the bowl down looking into his blue determined eyes, “I want to take back Insomnia.”

“We all do.” He chuckled sitting back.

“I want to take it back now.” You watched as his face went blank, “If we do it, we divide their attention. Maybe enough to give the boys time to get the crystal and get out of the empire…”

“…forgive me your ladyship, but…there are at least a thousand strong in the city of Insomnia that are soldiers…that doesn’t include the MTs or their machinery.” Cor leaned forward again looking around, “I’m not saying it can’t be done, but…it will be awfully hard.”

“That’s why I’ve come to you.” You told him quietly, “I’ve experience with this type of thing as well…maybe together we can figure this out. The Immortal and the Inquisitor.”

He stared at you again before shaking his head, “You sure have a brass pair.”

“I’m protective of my family…and I’m tired of being apart from them.” You swallowed looking away as fleeting thoughts of Ignis floated through your mind.

“Okay…I’m in…” He nodded slowly, “I’m sure everyone will be onboard.”

You cleared your throat, “Good…reach out to Aranea and we’ll get things rolling.”

“Now hold on…” He watched you stand up, “You told me why you have a bounty on your head and why you called me…but you never explained…your condition.”

You smiled at him putting a hand on your belly, “Does it really matter?”

“Call it curiosity.” He smirked up to you. It was no wonder why everyone in the citadel swooned over him with that charm.

“Well…it’s not all the exciting. It happened the normal way when a man and woman…” You watched him roll his eyes and you laughed a little. It was nice to do so. You’d been around so many stiff people the last few months it was nice to tease again.

“Who’s the father, is the question I’m begging you to answer…” He stared up at you as you adjusted the cape again to cover yourself.

“…Ignis.” You watched as his posture changed and his face became very serious, “Cor…what’s wrong?”

“You’re sure Ignis is the father?” He stood up speaking in a hushed tone.

“What do you take me for?” You glared at him a little, “Of course I’m sure it’s Ignis…”

“You’re coming with me.” He began looking around as if he was on a detail.

“Cor, what is going on?” You pulled your arm back when he tried to take it.

He looked into your eyes as he spoke quietly, “Your child is currently second in line for the throne of Lucis.”

“No…how?” You took a step away from him as a sinking feeling seeped into your shoulders.

“Ignis…” Cor stepped with you suddenly becoming extremely overprotective of his charge in front of him, “is Noct’s older, half-brother.”

Your eyes widened as you suddenly became very light head, “…wha…”

He caught you as began to fall helping you back to the table you had been sitting at, “Take a second…”

“Does he know? Do they all know?” You stared into his eyes as mild panic began to set in.

“No.” He shook his head taking your hands in his, “No one knows. Regis only told Clarus and myself. The information would have passed to Gladio and I’m certain Noct and Ignis when the time deemed it…necessary.”

“Necessary…why? How?” You suddenly began to feel sick, “This…why?”

“Regis and Aulea were having trouble conceiving a child. They worried enough that…” He sighed hanging his head, “That they invoked an old tradition where they ask their closest retainers…to bear a child of Lucian line.”

“Regis…and Ignis’ mother….” You frowned a little, “Oh my god…”

“It sounds bad…but it was considered an honor and with the medical advances we have now it’s much less intimate and more a duty…” Cor looked at you sympathetically, “It was close to Ignis’ first birthday when Aulea reported that she was pregnant. Regis knew what it meant. He had two heirs. Regis waited until Aulea was sure the pregnancy took then reached out the Scientias… At which point Roderick Scientia, Ignis’ father, vowed to raise Ignis as his own and everyone was sworn to never speak of it unless it was necessary.”

“And what makes it necessary now? Noct is fine…he’s going to be king…He and Luna…” You rambled quickly as you began hyperventilating.

“It’s only fine if they have a child…one day Noct will have to fulfill his duty as the chosen. He knows what that means.” Cor spoke realistically, “If there is no direct heir from him…the responsibility will fall to Ignis…to your child.”

He put his hands on your arms giving you a squeeze to try and help calm you down. “Y/N, I’m going to protect you and your child, but I’m not sure we can risk…”

“No.” You shook your head as a tear fell down your face. Finding out your child was heir to the throne was overwhelming, but it didn’t change what needed to be done, “No…we have to go to Insomnia. We have to help them…so they can come home.”

Cor let out a long heavy sigh before he stood up holding his hand out to you, “Then I suppose you’ll have to meet your soldiers. Think your crew can give me ride?”

#oaths and hearts #ignis scientia x reader #ignis scientia/reader #ignis x reader #ignis #ffxv ignis #ignis scientia #ignis scientia reader #ignis scientia imagine #final fantasy xv #kingsglaive final fantasy #final fantasy xv imagine #final fantasy xv fanfiction #final fantasy xv/dragon age crossover #dragon age #dragon age crossover #ffxv dragon age crossover #ffxv/dragon age #dragon age inquisition #aranea highwind #ravus nox fleuret #Cor leonis #noctis lucis caelum

[missbrightsky]

Bitch Is A Five Letter Word

Masterlist

Chapter 1: How to Treat A Lady

Feyre was ready to be home. She was at her studio all day; four new commissions had come in that day and she had a gallery opening next week that still needed a few finishing touches. She was ready for a hot cup of tea and her bed before having to complete a few more tasks to finish off her to-do list.

The sky was already long dark in Velaris, most of its citizens had rushed home hours before when they all got out of their work at a normal time. The wind played through the streets, nipping at Feyre’s cheeks, hinting at the coming fall and the color changes that came with it. No matter the time of year, Velaris was a stunning city but in autumn, the city became washed with red, orange, gold and every color in between. The people instead of starting to resort to dreary winter colors, somehow became more vibrant with coat and scarves and hats rivaling the array of colors you can always find at The Rainbow, Velaris’s artist district where Feyre’s studio was nestled over Elain’s flower shop.

She rounded the corner to an alley short cut that would spit her out a block from her townhome. Weaving around the trashcans and various assortment of junk that people had thrown out that day, Feyre was nearly halfway down the alley when a faint click echoed off the close walls behind her. Instead of freezing, she slowed her pace down a fraction and shifted her weight to her toes. A second, she spun over her right shoulder, a gunshot narrowing missing her left leg, the bullet now digging into the cement beside her.

“Now I’m sure that your mother taught you to never sneak up on a lady with a gun in a dark alley.” She rebalanced herself, taking in the dark smudge in front of her. A footstep scraped against the ground behind her, a warning that her path was now cut off on both ends.

“You’re right. She taught me to introduce myself first,” the figure conceded. A half step forward brought the shooter into a sliver of light. “I’m Eris Vanserra, one of the leaders in the Hyburn gang. Now you can either come quietly or I can take another shot.” The person blocking the other end of the alley chuckled darkly, ready to see her blood spatter.

“Hyburn, huh? Never heard of you, must be small time stuff,” Feyre drawled, unconcerned with his threat of putting a bullet in her.

She could see the asshole tense up; his grip tightened on the gun with a slight tremor. “Well we’ve certainly heard of you, Feyre Archeron. And your boyfriend the police chief, Rhysand Noctis, too,” Eris gritted out. “He’s been causing a few problems for us lately, disrupting supply lines, picking up our members off the streets, raiding our warehouses and we need him to lay off.”

“The boss thought maybe seeing his pretty, little girlfriend bloody and begging on her knees would be the trick to stop interfering with our business,” came a voice behind her, the second figure finally spoke out.

“And so here you are, ready to steal me away like a thief in the night,” she said. “Well alright, let’s get this over with.” Feyre bent over to drop her bag on the ground, it was carrying her sketchpad and she didn’t want to have it damaged. Eris’s eyes flashed with brief confusion but decided it was his property to be concerned about.

He tucked the gun back into his waist band, stalked towards her and reached out to grab her arm. Just because she had agreed to come with them, doesn’t mean he still can’t have his fun.

As he was reaching out, Feyre dodged under his arm, brought her foot up and kicked him square in the chest. Eris landed flat on his ass, knocking a trashcan over in the process.

“You. Fucking. Bitch,” he grunted, out of breath from the kick and fall. He snapped his fingers, signaling to his partner to grab her while he got back up.

She allowed the other to approach and sensed his arm coming over her right shoulder. As it crossed into her field of vision, Feyre reached up and grasped his forearm with both hands, bringing it tightly against her chest before he had the chance to wrap it around her neck. She stomped hard against his insole and whipped her hear back, his nose letting out an audible crack and spurting blood. She released his arm as he stumbled back, swearing under his breath and choking on the blood running down the back of his throat.

“Looks like the chief managed to find a spit fire, let’s see what it takes to put it out,” Eris growled, back on his feet and ready to put the bitch in her place. Feyre cocked her head, urging him to advance, a grin splitting her face.

He lunged forward, fist swinging for her jaw. Feyre again dodged the obvious attack, countering with a punch to the jaw herself, and then using the momentum to follow up with a kick to the side.

Not willing to be easily winded again, Eris twisted to let the kick glance off his side and captured her leg in his grasp. He yanked Feyre forward, ready to wrap a hand around her neck. She pushed off the ground with her other leg, bringing it up around his head to settle her weight on his shoulder. She wrapped her arm around his neck and brought her elbow down hard on his nose.

Eris released a roar, reaching up and grabbing what he could of her, wrapping his hands around her sweater and hair and threw her down to the ground. Her back and head connected with the ground, stars flashing in and out of her vision, struggling to fill her lungs with the cool night air.

Eris chuckled, spitting blood onto the ground. “Boss told me this was gonna be an easy job.”

“Sorry to disappoint, I don’t like living up to other people’s expectations.” Feyre let out a groan as she rolled over, bracing herself on the ground to push herself up.

“Grab the zip ties,” Eris ordered, clearly done dealing with troublesome women. He stepped closer to where Feyre laid, but he couldn’t see how her mind was racing to figure out her next steps.

When in doubt, go for the dick. Cassian’s voice echoed in her mind. He had been training with her the past two years, building up on her own years of kickboxing and jujutsu, adding in more offensive and defensive moves. He never underestimated her ability but firmly believed that if a bigger opponent was getting the best of her, throw honor away and fight dirty. Walking away was more important than pride.

Before he could get any closer, Feyre flipped back onto her back, tucking her knees to her chest. Eris was directly in front of her, unknowingly perfectly lining up her shot. Before he could realize his error, she shot her legs forward, the slight heel of her boots sinking into the soft flesh of his crotch.

Eris bellowed in pain, doubling over and stumbling backwards until he braced himself against the wall and slid down to sit. Feyre recoiled from her kick, flipping her legs over her head and springing back onto her feet from the backwards somersault. She swiveled on her heels, facing the other assailant, confident that Eris would be down on the ground long enough for her to deal with him.

“Do I get to know your name or are you just Eris’s nameless lacky?” buying her a moment to assess her next opponent. Blood was still running down from his nose, staining the crooked smile he was giving her. “Cairn, and I’m his fucking brother, cunt.” He saw what she did to Eris and wasn’t ready to receive the same treatment. He approached her cautiously, looking for an opening. She watched him with the same wariness, ready to capitalize on his nerve with being called a lacky to his brother.

He decided to start with a kick, but both he and his brother seemed to lack the common sense of not letting their opponent know what move to expect. Feyre easily stepped out of the path of the kick, catching him off balance and retaliating with a swipe at his legs, sending Cairn crashing to the ground.

“How are both you this dumb to let ‘a pretty, little girl’ get the best of you,” she mocked, the question rhetorical as neither of them were in a position to give her an intelligent answer. Not wanting her leg to be caught again, she kept her kick to his side swift and immediately darted out of the way of any wayward hands.

Eris began to scrabble at the wall behind her, she needed to finish off this brother before the other was back to causing trouble for her. At least he seemed to have forgotten his gun, choosing to want to use his own hands to defeat her.

Needing Cairn out but not dead, she opted for clipping his temple with the edge of her boot when he was struggling to his knees, leaving him to slump forward, face mashed into the ground and ass in the air.

Despite her current predicament, the pose caused a smile to play around the corner of her lips. Oh how the mighty are brought low.

She turned back to Eris, stalking to where he was still struggling to stand up, she watched him scrabble for a second, wondering what move she should use to finish him off. What did he deserve after making her long day even longer and keeping her from her bed? She likely already did permeant damage to any dreams he had at a family, saving some poor girl from having to spend her life with the miserable excuse for a worm in front of her.

“You’ll—” he strained, “you’re gonna fucking, fucking regret fighting back against the inevitable you bitch.”

“You’re not really in the position to talk at the moment. I recommend shutting the fuck up before I go back for round two down there.”

Eris let out an animalistic snarl, fantasizing of all the ways he’s going to make her scream as soon as he can stand the fuck back up. He finally found purchase on the bricks bracing his back and stood slowly, resting a hand on the wall and while the other was reaching for the gun tucked into his waist band. Fuck pride, he would get his revenge on her once she was subdued and tied up back at the compound.

Feyre was not injured so much that she did see how he was going for the gun she thought he would forgo. The back of her head was starting to throb and all she wanted was to be home.

Just as his fingers were grazing the handle, she rushed forward and twisted the arm that was reaching for the gun, twisting it further behind his back. Feyre swung her leg around and kicked the back of his knee, sending Eris careening to the ground again, his knees cracking against the cement and she shoved her body into his so that his head struck the wall that used to be his support.

Blood was now streaming down his temple, but Eris still clung onto consciousness. Not wanting to give him another opportunity to go for his gun, Feyre yanked it from his pants and leveled at his forehead, finger resting lightly on the trigger.

“You don’t have the guts,” he wheezed out, hatred glowing in his black eyes. She might have kicked his ass but he was sure she wouldn’t pull the trigger.

Feyre leaned in to look into his slowly shuttering eyes, “Then you don’t know who you’re dealing with.” Her face was cold. Uncompromising. Inhuman.

Fear finally bloomed in his face, his cheeks draining of color, realizing that his boss didn’t know shit about who he had wanted brought in.

Feyre flipped the gun in her hand and whipped the edge of it against his temple and Eris’s body slumped completely to the ground. Satisfied that both of her attackers were sufficiently knocked out or could be easily rendered unconscious again, she tucked the gun into her waist band and walked back to her bag. Pulling out her phone, she scrolled to her boyfriends’ name and pressed call.

“Hello, darling,” Rhys answered on the first ring. “Are you home? I promise I’m almost done at the precinct and then I’ll be home to cook dinner.”

Feyre smiled at the sound of his voice. Despite obviously being able to care for her own wellbeing, it was nice to have someone to share a life with.

“Not quite yet, I had a bit of a run in with some of Hyburns’ thugs,” she said lightly, not wanting to scare him. “Could you send a squad car to come pick them up at the alley between 5th and Veritas?”

There was silence on the other side of the line. “Babe?”

“ARE YOU OKAY?” the words came out so loudly, Feyre had to yank the phone away from her ear to avoid permeant hearing damage. “I’M ON MY WAY.”

She could hear doors slamming and the yelling of orders and the stomp of boots coming from the other side of the call. Not wanting to have her eardrum nearly shattered again, she put him on speaker phone and cast an eye over her now captives, not wanting them to give her any surprises.

Hoping to calm Rhys down a bit, she spoke slowly and clearly, “Yes babe, I am completely fine, just a bit bruised up but I knocked both of them out.”

A light huff came through her phone’s speakers. At least he still had enough humor in the moment to realize that his girlfriend is not defenseless. He may have been a cop for eight years and then the chief of the 1st precinct for the past three years but he knew Feyre could even put his well-trained ass on the ground when they spared.

“Of course they are.”

Sirens began to blare on his end. “I’ll be there in less than five minutes, think you can manage to keep them under control until we get there?”

“Just exactly how many people are you bringing with you to pick up a few, knocked out, low level thugs?” she quipped. “And yes, I think I can handle them for a few more minutes,” answering his question before he repeated himself. Rhys is many things that she loves but being a bit of a control freak when he was in chief of police mode was not at the top of her list.

“I’ll see you soon, darling.” He didn’t want to let her go but he needed to focus on making it around the late-night traffic and answering the questions that were coming through his radio.

“Love ya,” Feyre responded. Ending the call and leaning against the side of the alley, finally able to take stock of any damage done to her body and catch the rest of her breath.

Where Eris had slammed her to the ground was sure to start bruising soon but she has had worse over her years of training. What had started as a way to work past the trauma her ex Tamlin had inflicted on her became a fun way to work out and exert any of her life’s frustrations in a healthy manner.

It’s where she met Cassian who saw her beating the shit out of a punching bag and mouthed off to her that she couldn’t take the real thing. A few minutes in the ring later had both of them on their ass, calling the spar a draw and critiquing each other’s techniques along with trading friendly barbs. From there they met bi-weekly, trading moves and pushing each other to see who could end the round the fastest.

Currently Feyre held the record at 26 seconds by using Cassian’s distraction of a scandalous comment to put him flat on his back and pressing her knee into his chest. He claimed she cheated using a literally dirty trick but she threw his words of ‘whatever it takes’ in his face, citing when he used a similar trick when they first started training together.

It was actually the first day that Rhysand had accompanied Cass to the gym. Feyre took one look at the tall, blue eyed man and knew she would be unable to focus on their sparring session that day. Cass noted her distraction and in the middle of the round commented that Rhys was single and, out of all of his brothers, only had the second biggest dick size. The insinuation from Cass that Rhys would be more than happy to back up the claim caused her to trip midway of her finishing move, giving Cass the perfect opening to put Feyre on her stomach.

The wind had whooshed out of her and she was unable to do anything but lay there for a second, her mind reordering around the comment and the world around her. A tanned hand came into her eyeline, offering a way off the sparing mat with little effort. She wasn’t thinking when she grabbed the hand, thinking it was Cass extending an apology for the trick.

But of course, that wasn’t his style and instead of meeting amber eyes, navy blue ones greeted her as she was effortlessly pulled up. Rhys’s smile was practically feline, ready to spout some line about Cass not being the only guy being able to put her on her stomach, but the depth of her blue-gray eyes halted the line on the tip of his tongue.

They both stood there staring at each other like idiots until Cass had started harassing them to just get a room or even the alley out the back of the gym. Both had flushed and broke eye contact. Rhys held out a water bottle to her and she accepted it with a soft thanks. That day they parted ways in front of the gym, their phones heavy with each other’s numbers and the anticipation of the coming late-night conversations.

Sirens approaching broke her out of her reminiscing, her mood lifted by the memory of first meeting him and the thought that she was about to see him.

A glance to both sides of alley showed the approaching red and blue flashing lights of patrol cars. And as the vehicles came into view of the narrow ends, accompanied by an ambulance or two, which she hoped was not for her because she was honestly fine.

Next Chapter

#actoar #feyre #rhysand #feyre x rhysand #cop!AU #sarah j maas

[gwiiyeoweo]

Umbra sends Noctis way, waaaaay into the past and into Somnus' own bed. Well, the second part he did himself.

Pairing: Noctis/Somnus Rating: Explicit

The Royal Lucian genes are a helluva thing. 

When Regis once remarked how similar his son looked to his father Mors, Noctis thought it was pretty common and definitely nothing out of the ordinary. If his biology classes taught him anything, it was that grandchildren can bear a striking resemblance to their grandparents compared to their parents. Noctis had only seen Mors through news articles and the grand portrait adorning the Hall of Kings, its walls dedicated solely to the everlasting frames of royals past. He couldn't really see how a gray-haired man could look so close to 15-year old him, but when he Moogled a younger snapshot of Mors he almost mistook the old photo as himself.

There were definite similarities in bone structure and hell, even that tiny mole near the corner of their mouths. 

But this? This is like staring into a straight-up reflection.

He’s literally looking up, eyes half-lidded and face twisted in pleasure with a touch of pain, but through the haze of heat lighting up his body and mind, Noctis can’t help but think of the irony and plot twist and — 

“You’re thinking again,” Somnus reprimands, voice just a mark away from a growl, “of something other than me.” 

As if in punishment, the man digs his fingers into Noctis’ thighs — just another set of marks to add to the blooming bruises along his wrists and the curious rough circles on his collarbones and neck — and hoists his hips up into a better angle to slam himself into. 

It does the trick. Something like fire and lightning, something like magic hits Noctis in all the worst and best ways, and he scrambles for purchase, hands flinging up to claw at the pillows as he arches his back and keens.

He’s learned that Somnus can be gentle in his own ways, if one overlooks the narcissism that veils his true heart — a heart that, beyond blood and family and love, treasures his people and will tread through fire and sacrifices if (when) necessary. But the young king makes for a rough and merciless lover. With every brutal thrust, he draws out a sob and smiles ever the wider for it, Noctis’ wanton cries a sweet music to his ears. He only slows when he has Noctis babbling his name in an incoherent string of stammers and gasps, rewarding him with a soft kiss to his temple before he picks up the unrelenting pace again. “Much better,” he purrs, watching the way his near-copy writhes and sings with a gaze that scorches.

Noctis will admit, that fucking his great-great-great-great-whatever grandfather was never on his agenda; though given the many generations separating their blood, they were probably just as related, if not less, as he would be to Ignis or Gladio, considering how their families were borne out of the Caelum line to begin with. Hell, being transported all the way to this ancient Lucian era was a minor surprise to this fork in the road. The night before they set off for Ardyn and Insomnia, to reclaim the throne and bring back the light, he asked Umbra for a last trip down memory lane, only for the dog to throw him ages further and in free fall thousands of feet up. Good thing he was used to falling by now, and he was never more thankful to still have his warping powers and the Armiger. 

Except, he sort of screwed himself over by warping right in front of Somnus Fucking Lucis Caelum. 

‘Shiva’s tits, ’ he couldn’t help but think, not out of fear or anxiety but because Somnus looked exactly like he did when he was still twenty. He thought he must have landed in a time before all that… shit went down between the two, before Ardyn turned saint turned martyr trying to foolishly save the world one person at a time. Before Somnus went with the ‘go big or go home’ method and burned down anything that did so much as cough.

Before their clashing ideologies led them to clashing swords. 

He never really thought he’d be grateful for being stuck in the purgatory known as the Crystal, but it’s a perk to see their ancient history play across his eyelids like a giant home theater. 

Somnus probably shared similar thoughts at seeing his living reflection, considering the bulging eyes and the white cast across his face — which, really, would have been rather comical in any other circumstances — but it wasn’t until later when Noctis was one hundred percent sure that had been the reason, when he looked in the mirror and realized he was smaller and younger and twenty again. Because while Noctis thought he was looking at a past version of himself, Somnus was looking at a near replica of his own. Age and all, minus the hairstyle.

Without revealing his true origins and the outcome of the future, Noctis had to think on the fly, and he still curses himself for not having the same quick mind that Ignis does (Did? Would? Time travel is weird). 

“I’m a Messenger,” he said a second too fast, internally beating himself up for being so godsdamn stupid. “I didn’t have a physical form, so I took on the first one I saw. You.”

It worked out in his favor that Somnus was never a god-fearing man, a downright heretic compared to Ardyn, but that explanation was enough to satisfy him. And his ego, probably, that a demigod would choose to liken himself to Somnus’ visage. Oh, and that he currently has said demigod moaning and flushed beneath him, pliant and desperate and sobbing with ecstasy.

“Somnus, ” Noctis cries out, hands moving from the pillow to grab at the man’s arms, blunt nails leaving pink trails in their wake. 

Somnus smiles at that, wicked and slow despite the exertion that sweats down his skin and brow. He recognizes the sudden tightness around his cock, of Noctis clenching around him and his stomach straining its muscles, as well as the swell that coils within his own. 

“Hold on, pretty thing,” Somnus purrs, moving one hand from Noctis’ thigh to his cock, keeping a grip just a hair from pain but miles away from release. “Together we go.”

‘Arrogant prick, ’ Noctis thinks, despite the frustration and heat haze of pleasure filling his mind to the brim. Somnus may as well stand in front of a mirror and flirt with himself if he’s going to continue spewing words like that at someone who looks exactly like him. But he’s teetering on the edge, held back by a cruel hand and a vicious pace, and he’s desperate enough to even meet Somnus’ thrusts by rocking his own hips in conjunction. 

It’s not long until Somnus gives out, and Noctis thinks he blanks out for a moment when all he sees is white, when that same exhilaration runs through his nerves and spine and taps into something deeper than a great orgasm ever could. 

Their first time together, Noctis was stuck between fear and wonder when he came to the realization that his magic, as faint as it is ever since it had been culled by that Marilith attack, was reaching out toward Somnus’ own and that — yeah. That’s kinda weird.

He’s had sex with others before, men and women alike, some ending poorly and others fan-fucking-tastic. But that whole magic thing? Still virgin territory. The side-effects of fucking another Caelum, he now knows. He still hasn’t hashed out the details of it, though Somnus is becoming ever the wiser about it, who first chalked it up to the benefit of fucking a so-called Messenger but now has his own suspicions. A matter of time before the ruse is up and Noctis has to come clean about it all like, “Hey! I’m actually from the future and your great-times-a-hundred-somethin’-grandson. The future’s shit, by the way, cause Bahamut and all of you are dumbasses!”

But for now, Somnus cleans them up with nary a fuss about dirtying his dainty royal hands as he wipes them both down with a wet cloth, which is surprisingly soft and fluffy for their time period. Sure, he could be a dick and a half when it came to his personality, but Noctis likes to think of him as a prissy cat that actually loves cuddles and attention. Especially when Somnus drapes an arm around him and practically buries his face into the crook of Noctis’ neck, breathing in their combined scents of each other and their aftermath. 

Noctis gently rakes his fingers through the man’s scalp and stares at the ceiling of the canopy bed, wondering how exactly his new ‘future’ will play out. He doesn’t know if or when Umbra will return to take him to the present — he turns his head at every faint bark he hears, and Somnus teases him for it relentlessly — and he damn well doesn’t know if anything he does here will change the timeline anyway. But he likes to believe and hope that he can do at least something, anything to lessen the blows of tragedy when they come. 

“You’re thinking again,” Somnus sighs, though his tone is less out of irritation and more of concern. Noctis has figured out how to read these tiny differences, like how those brows like to just slightly crease when worried or how he sets his jaw when angered. His eyebrows are lowered, barely, as his gaze searches for the cracks of truth hidden beneath Noctis’ true face. Too bad he won’t be getting them, not now. “After such a rousing time, even.”

“Messenger problems.” Noctis turns his head to return the gaze, but less inquisitive and more secretive. 

“Then tell me, dear night.”

Noctis feels something funky in his chest. Which he’s quick to ignore because he definitely does not want to admit what it is. He lightly taps his forehead against Somnus’ own, craning his neck slightly to meet each other, and does his damned hardest to look at him with as much feigned honesty as he can muster. It’s gotten easier lately, to lie and twist half-truths, but not without effort. 

“One day. When you’re ready.” 

‘When I’m ready, ’ he means instead. He wants to trust Somnus, but he won’t be ready for the backlash if the worst case scenario happens. 

Somnus stares back, lips working themselves into a retort and Noctis expects an argument or a demand to know now. It wouldn’t be the first they clashed with words, Somnus standing on his pedestal and believing his birthright and lineage granted him the secret musings of the gods with Noctis standing just as stalwart and refusing to budge. But tonight instead, he harrumphs and concedes to their middle ground, closing his eyes and burying his face further into the crease between Noctis and the pillows to murmur, “It best be soon, Noctis. I am not known for my patience, unlike my long-suffering brother.”  

Noctis only manages a hum, pushing back the anxieties and what-if’s should that time come. When it comes, he corrects. He knows it’s inevitable, that the truth will rear its head one way or another. But it’s up to him on how it’ll all play out and if the results will end up in fortune or disaster. 

Right now, though, he’s exhausted — the good kind, not the fatigue that makes his bones ache and his muscles quiver — and Somnus is true to his name, pulling Noctis into sleep with his warmth and soft breath ghosting across skin. He’ll put more thought into it in the morning, come up with a more serious plan rather than half-ass snippets. Sooner rather than later, because Noctis isn’t known for his patience either.

“Goodnight,” Somnus manages through the lethargy in his voice.

“Good… sleep.” Noctis glances down in hopes of catching a reaction to his pun.

And he does, when Somnus opens his eyes for just a moment to make sure the other catches his definite eye roll. Noctis smiles at that, and he takes that image with him into his dreams.

#ff15 #final fantasy xv #noctis lucis caelum #somnus lucis caelum #kinktober 2019 #i can type

[ertrunkenerwassergeist]

Dreams of Our Past - Chapter 27

*flails around* The chapter is done! It’s the second longest so far and the second half was fighting me until the end. But I prevailed! Here’s the Link to AO3.

In which Gladio invites Ignis to dinner and he finds a dearly missed person because of Iris.

Featuring: Ignis' brand of awkwardness, the starscourge, the tempers of Gladio and Hiemi, Noctis being so very close to a mental breakdown and Somnus and Bahamut being dicks through history

Warning: vomiting, mentioned child murder

Gladio IV

8.5.755 ME

Insomnia, Ghetto

Kingdom of Lucis

The days since their meeting at the Black Saffron had been nerve wrecking and uneventful. It grated on him like nothing else. He had thought, after they had all finally decided – more or less, he was aware enough to admit – on a course of action, things would start to move again. They hadn't. And Gladio didn't like it. At all.

He stood near the door to the pitiful office of Camp No. 5 and watched the people mingling about. More specifically was he watching Prompto, who sat grinning like a loon on a camping bed, a laptop in his lap and... did something while a group of people watched over his shoulder. Gladio really hoped the blond didn't play some kind of game. He was supposed to search through the pictures he had taken over the last few days and upload them on a dummy account by the end of the day.

Here was to hoping the whole crazy plan was going to work. It was a shame Pelna wasn't here right now, but he had finally found the time to talk to his contacts, and had gone to get the ball rolling on that whole facial recognition thing.

It wasn't that things weren't being done, really, it was just that they were moving along so slowly.

Gladio felt like he was treading on the spot, not moving forward no matter how much he wished to. It was frustrating beyond belief.

Before he realized what he was doing, he had fished his phone out of he pocket and weighted it in his hand. It couldn't hurt to call Ignis, making sure the man didn't overwork himself like he was prone to do. Maybe he had managed to find something that would help Gladio figure out what he could be doing in this stinking mess. Not that is was very likely, but a man could hope.

The phone rang once, twice, then a click sounded and a cultured voice drifted through the speaker: “Good morning Gladio. Was there something you needed?”

“Barely morning anymore, Ignis”, the older snorted.

A non-committal hum could be heard. The former advisor could be very peculiar about his greetings. A voice sounded in the background on Ignis' side. It was decidedly feminine, even if Gladio couldn't make out any words.

“Oh no, it's perfectly alright, Miss Aster. I am talking to a friend. Thank you for your wonderful help”, Ignis said.

Gladio couldn't help the grin blooming on his face. “Should I call you later, lover boy?”

Ignis gave an undignified snort. “I am at work, Gladio”, he said, stressing the word work like that was the important part. “Miss Aster is a secretary within the Ministry for Civic Affairs and Immigration. I met her yesterday, when I was looking into how far along they are with evaluating the houses in the Immigration District for damages. Apparently there seems to be a filing issue of some sort. Miss Aster has been looking into it since it came to her attention. She says it goes against her pride to have messy paperwork.”

“Tampering?” Gladio couldn't help but ask.

“Very likely.”

“Damn.”

“Whoever did it was very careful. The papers are listed as filed, they obviously went over all the right desks, but they aren't where they should be. I have never seen this amount of misfiling in my entire life.” Ignis' obvious indignation would be funny, if the situation wasn't so serious. “Mrs. Custodela cannot help us with this. She has her hands already full trying to keep abreast with the camps she is looking over. After this, would you please call Camp 7 for me? Mrs. Custodela has found a plumber who is free and can take a look at their showers.”

Something in the pipes in the showers of Camp 7 had broken and now the water there had turned a muddy brown. It couldn't be very healthy.

“That's good. I'll do that. Anything else?”

“Make sure to note down who is using the vehicles you got provided with, and where they drove and how long it took to get there. Certain people have been making noise about rationing petrol. Records of the use of the vans you have at your disposal would go a long way to work against this”, said Ignis after a few moments of consideration.

Gladio jerked in disbelief. “Rationing petrol? That's bullshit! The oil production in Leide is still under Insomnian control.”

“I know, Gladio. Believe me, I know.”

“Fuck, this whole situation is a stinking mess”, he complained and carded a hand through his hair.

I need a shower, he thought with a grimace. Ignis didn't answer. He didn't need to. Somewhere in the hall a baby started to cry, followed shortly by a second. Gladio sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose. He needed to get out of here. At least for an evening. Breath some air that didn't smell of exhaust fumes or like too many sweaty people cramped into a place too small.

“How... how is Iris doing?” Ignis sounded like he wasn't sure at all, if he should even ask.

“She's not doing worse for now”, he choked out, his stomach plummeting like it was suddenly filled with lead.

“Gladio. I am- I'm so sorry.”

That sentence sounded heavy. Full of hidden meanings and implications and Gladio didn't want to hear any of it.

“Don't you dare talk like she's dead already! Because she's still very much alive”, he snapped.

A tightly controlled intake of breath sounded over the speaker. Gladio couldn't muster the will to feel bad about it. Iris wasn't dead and she wouldn't die. He was her older brother and he would protect her, damn it!She was barely fourteen, for Bahamut's sake.

“You are right, Gladio. I apologize”, Ignis said after a maybe too long pause.

“It's alright”, he sighed and deflated.

No, it wasn't alright, not at all. But Ignis was a friend – or had been a friend once – and he didn't deserve this. Pitioss, Iris didn't deserve this most of all. Why ever were the Gods punishing her like that? It had to stop.

He cleared his throat and asked awkwardly: “I'm going back home for the night to spend some time with her. Do you want to come over for dinner? Iris would love to see you again.”

“If you are sure.”

Ignis sounded so high-strung that Gladio just knew he was feeling as awkward as he himself was.

“Don't worry. I wouldn't ask, if I wasn't.”

“Then I will gladly come. Which time would be most convenient?”

“We normally eat around six since Iris gets tired early”, Gladio shrugged.

Ignis hummed in thought. “Five thirty then.”

“Fine by me”, he answered after mentally running through his to-do list again. “Just... be gentle with her, alright?”

“Of course, Gladio”, agreed Ignis. “I need to go back to work.”

“Ah, yes. Yes, of course. I'll see you later.”

“Until later.”

The call disconnected. Gladio listened to the silence of his phone for a few seconds before he sighed and lowered it from his ear to stare at it. Social graces and impulse control. He needed to work on his temper more. But for now he had a few calls to make. First Camp 7 about that plumber and then Jared to tell him that he and Ignis would be there for dinner. He had been trying to come every evening since the earthquake happened, but he hadn't always managed it.

On his first call he managed to reach Libertus who sounded just as grouchy as he had expected the man to be. Gladio had to bite the inside of his cheek as to not snap back. Instead he managed to make his way through the conversation with all the grace of a garula in a china store. Luckily Libertus didn't seem to notice. Something about two feuding Clans in one room, he had heard Crowe and Pelna say.

His second call went a bit better. He could practically hear the retainer smile as he announced his and Ignis' presence for dinner.

Now he could go outside and see how far along Tredd and Crowe were with checking over the newest delivery. Then there would be another round of phone calls between Centres 4 through 8 to see who was lacking what and to pool their resources. After lunch he would write out new timetables for those who had volunteered for various duties around here. And he would need to find someone who had experience with the whole giving birth thing, since one of the women here looked just about ready to pop.

Dinner could have been definitely worse. It had been decidedly awkward, but between Ignis practically doting on Iris within the first few minutes of his arrival and Jared's efforts to keep the conversation flowing, it had been a very pleasant meal. Everything had been fine, Iris had been laughing and moving around more than she had in weeks and Ignis had been sharing recipes with Jared.

He should have known that this wasn't going to last. Nothing good had for a long time now.

The screaming woke Gladio in the middle of the night. It took his sleep addled brain long precious seconds to realize that they were coming from his sister's room. He practically leapt out of bed and ran into her room that thankfully was right next to his. Light spilled into the dark room and for a moment his sister's shadow seemed to froth and seethe, but Gladio ignored it in search of any attackers that he could painfully eviscerate.

No one was there. No one but Iris and him.

Her screaming stopped once she saw him.

“Gladdy”, she whimpered and reached out towards him.

The sleeves of her pyjama slid back and exposed dark splotched on her skin that hadn't been there during dinner. A thin line of blood trickled down from the corner of her mouth. It was black.

“Iris!” he cried and lunged towards her, cradling her small form carefully against his muscled chest.

“Gladdy, it hurts. It hurts so much.”

She grasped weakly at his arms, sobbing. Then she went limp, her breath coming in nothing but weak bursts that ghosted over the naked skin above his collar bone.

“No”, he breathed. Desperation roared in his chest like a wild beast and stole his breath. “No, no, no, no, no.”

What should he do? No doctor or hospital they had visited since she had first gotten sick, had been able to help. There was no one here that could help her.

Oh, by the Gods, she was going to die.

The realization hit him like a slap in the face. His little sister would die before morning came, because there was no one in this damned city that...

Gladio's breath stuttered in his chest when he remembered what the innkeeper of the Black Saffron had said about his son and the woman that had come by during the meeting, when he remembered what that prostitute had told him last week.

Without stopping to consider what a colossally stupid idea this was – he could not afford to think about it, not now when his little sister was dying – he wrapped her blanket tightly around her frail body and lifted her up in his arms. She was so light he barely noticed her weight.

Why was it getting so much worse? Why now, of all times? She had been fine! Or at last not worse than the last time he had taken her to a doctor.

He didn't even stop to get dressed in something other than his sleeping trousers or to put on some shoes, and instead ran right out of the door, into the dark streets of Insomnia. In the privacy of her bed, the prostitute had described to him how he could get to this Healer, if he ever needed to.

Sweat ran down his face and back the further he ran, his breath burned in his lungs, but he didn't dare to stop. He didn't dare to do so as he ran past buildings the earthquake had destroyed, deeper and deeper into the city, through neighbourhoods that were getting more and more run down.

Iris began to shiver, despite the warm summer night. Gladio only tightened his grip and hastened his steps.

Despite the growing lack of functioning street lamps, he could see the great, broken pillar. It rose out of the shadows like a great, stony needle as he hurried past it and then turned left into a narrow alleyway. It didn't take long to reach the other side. It was nearly pitch black now. Only a few weakly glowing lanterns showed him the way, forcing him to slow down, lest he stumble and fall. He found the staircase Viti had talked about through sheer luck. There weren't any handrails, so he had to be extra careful. He did not dare hurry since some of the metal stairs creaked ominously.

Follow the lights, Viti had said, and so he started to run again towards the nearest light he could see. It was a single lantern glowing like a lonely star at the first house on the right. It hung from the ceiling in a room that was entirely open on one side and illuminated a group of chairs, metal drawers and a long table. In a corner there was a part of the wall that looked like it could possibly be a door. He just about kicked it in.

“Hello! I need help!” he bellowed into the darkness of the house, honestly not caring who he might wake.

Not a second later hasty footsteps sounded to his left. It was a teenager, his skin paler than he had ever seen a human being be, with big blue eyes so light they looked white near the pupil. In his hand he carried a lantern, its light cast a cheerful glow on everything it touched.

The teenagers eyes grew even larger when he saw the bundle in Gladio's arms, then his eyes dropped to his feet and back up again.

“My sister needs help”, Gladio repeated, pleading.

That seemed to do the trick, as the teenager gestured towards a staircase with a hasty “Follow me!” and practically leapt up the stairs.

“Healer! Healer wake up! There's an emergency. Quick!”

Gladio followed the teen down the hallway to his right until they came to the last door. Behind it was a small room with a rickety bed, a bedside table, a stool and a chest of drawers. Another lantern, it had been hanging from a hook next to the door, was lit and the teenager motioned for Gladio to lay his sister on the bed before he vanished down the hallway again, calling for Healer.

Now here, where he could finally focus on something other than running, running, running, he noticed he was trembling like a leaf in the wind. His heart beat like a fast paced drum and his breath shuddered with each intake of air.

His gaze settled on Iris. Her skin was a pasty, unhealthy white and the dark splotches had spread up her neck and onto her cheeks. Each laboured breath sounded wet and rattled within her chest. Carefully, as to not hurt her any further, he settled her down on the lumpy mattress of the bed. The frame gave a high pitched sound as her weight was added.

From outside the room he could hear doors opening and closing, sleepy voices were asking questions and hasty steps were making their way towards them. A young man appeared in the doorway. He had clearly just woken up, his startling violet eyes squinting against the light of the lantern and his long black hair a mess that hung in his face.

When the man – he couldn't be older than 20 – saw him he froze. His eyes grew large in surprise and fear, his mouth opened and closed like he was a fish on land. Gladio glowered. If he had only come to stare, he was going to beat him within an inch of his life.

“Help her!” he bellowed.

The man jerked. His gaze fell on Iris and all expression vanished from his face. One moment he stood by the door and the next he was next to the bed, leaning over his sister and looking intently at her gaunt face.

“Casto, get me a bucket and take the bedsheets for winter out of the closet. Go to Hiemi and tell her I need some of her purging tea, and bring me a bowl of hot water and a washrag”, he said with an air that made it clear he was used to be listened to and obeyed.

Not bothering to turn around and see if the teenager was listening – which he did; he ran out of the room like the Infernian himself was after him – the young man started to gently unwrap the blanket. She had grown even paler and the black splotches covered large parts of her visible skin.

Gladio would love to ask who this guy even was and what he was doing as he released a hissing breath and started cussing quite creatively, but his voice refused to work. Each new gulp of air took more effort than the last and slowly he began to realize that everything hurt. From his muscles to his feet. Especially his feet. They felt like two big, raw lumps of meat that did nothing but hurt. He ignored it as best as he could for now.

A thin hand with long, elegant fingers was lain on Iris' forehead, golden-violet sparks danced across the digits and over her skin.

Wait, this was the famous Healer?

“For how long has she been sick?”

Gladio's tired mind barely registered the question. “What?” he managed to utter after his second attempt at articulating.

“How long, Gladio”, Healer barked.

How...? That wasn't important right now.

“Nearly two months”, he managed to say around the lump in his throat.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit. By all the sulphurous fires of Ifrit's den. By all rights, she should be dead by now.”

That made Gladio's tired brain pay attention again. “Excuse me?”

Healer shook his head and reached for the bucket a huffing and puffing Casto held out towards him, bedsheets under his other arm.

“No time for that.”

He gently sat her upright, her weight lying awkwardly in his arms, and sent a wave of softly glowing magic through her. The golden and violet light washed over her like water. Without warning her upper body jerked forward and she vomited her dinner mixed with black blood into the bucket. It stank sickeningly.

Iris took big, heaving breaths, occasionally dispelling mouthfuls of junky black sludge. After nothing new came up, Healer set the bucket down beside the bed. He didn't seem to care for the splatters that had hit the naked skin of his arms and torso. They slowly turned into wispy smoke and then vanished entirely. Her eyes fluttered feverishly without seeming to notice her surroundings.

“Yeah, that's it. Everything's alright now. In and out, in and out. Yah're doing great, Iris. Everything's gonna be alright.”

While Healer was gently coaxing his barely lucid sister into regaining her breath and Casto put a garish monstrosity of a pillow beneath her head, Gladio leaned against the wall to ease the pain in his feet and to regain some kind of equilibrium. Because this Healer knew his sister's name. Gladio knew he hadn't told him and he had known his name, too, without needing an introduction. Just who was he?

“Tata?”

All eyes turned towards the door. There stood a girl. She looked to be around seven with wild, sleep mussed red hair and honey coloured eyes that gleamed golden. She looked drowsily at them and yawned.

“Solaris? What're yah doing out of bed?” asked Healer without taking his glowing hand from Iris' forehead even once.

“It's loud”, the girl complained.

Gladio's gaze wandered from one to the other and he wondered.

Healer nodded. “Ah know, little sun, but Iris needs mah help for now. If yah can't sleep anymore, could yah go down and ask yahr mati for a big glass of water? Casto, could yah look after Astra, please? Ah don't wanna've him running 'round alone and in the dark.”

Both nodded and left the room, the girl taking the teenager's hand. Gladio stared after them. He had heard this accent before, he knew he had. If he could just place where. He felt like he was missing some very crucial things right about now. Sleep. What he needed now was sleep and for Iris to not die.

His gaze settled back on her. A flittering net of golden-violet magic covered her from head to toe. It looked more like mist than a tangible thread. How was such a thing possible? Only the royal family should be the one harbouring powerful magic in this city, even the whole continent. And now here was this Healer, whose magic prickled against his skin like a Lucis Caelum's did. It would probably be more upsetting, if he was fully awake.

“What does she have?” he asked instead of all the other questions burning on his tongue.

Healer blinked at him, as if he had forgotten that Gladio was also in the room. He made a passable impression of a bowstring drawn tight. In an obvious nervous tick, Healer tugged at his hair and wet his lips.

“She's scourge sick”, he said at last, his voice barely more than a quiet whisper.

“Scourge sick”, Gladio repeated tonelessly. “You mean the black plague, curse of the Gods, the starscourge? That kind of scourge sick?”

“Yes”, came the careful confirmation.

Gladio felt his fingers flex like they wanted to hit something, if he had just a bit more energy left. “That's a load of chocobo shit”, he rasped. “The starscourge does not reach within the Wall. Everybody knows that.”

Near glowing, violet eyes shot him a deadpan stare that felt achingly familiar. He suppressed a shudder creeping up his spine. Damn, those eyes were eerie.

“Two months ago yah said? Has she been anywhere near the old crypts at tha' time?”

The broken shield opened his mouth to instinctively deny the question, but he hesitated. “I... I don't know”, he admitted at last. He tried to remember, but his head started to feel like it was packed in wool.

“Doesn't matter anymore. It's good that yah came now, but yah were cuttin' it very close. She wouldn't 'a' made it through the night. Ah can barely believe tha' she made it this long.”

With a shuddering breath Gladio leaned more of his weight against the wall. The rough plaster dug uncomfortably into his shoulders.

Steps sounded from the hallway and shortly thereafter the girl was back, two cups in her hands. One was steaming and emanated a strong smell that made him wrinkle his nose. She gave the one with the foul smelling liquid Healer, the other one she cradled between her hands.

“Thank yah, little sun”, the young man smiled. “Now, yah remember what ah taught yah? Reach for the power resting in yahr bones. No more than a spark. Take it and guide it, it knows what it's got tah do.”

The girl's face scrunched up in concentration, in a way Gladio had seen a hundred times before, in the way Noctis had looked when he had wanted something to go exactly right. What Gladio hadn't seen before was the reddish glow of her hands.

“Not so much, little sun”, corrected Healer gently.

Solaris' brow furrowed even more and after a few seconds the glow dimmed until there was only the barest sheen of it left. It seeped into the cup and the liquid it contained, until it glowed, too.

“Very good”, praised the young man and Solaris beamed. “Would yah be a dear and give it tah Gladio over there?”

“Yes, tata”s she said dutifully and held the cup out to him, standing as far away as she could manage while doing so. She was clearly skittish around strangers.

“No, thank you”, he said while looking at the glowing cup in healthy scepticism. As long as he had no idea what it was he wouldn't drink it. He swallowed, and that made his parched throat just more noticeable.

Healer clucked his tongue in disapproval. “It's jus' water with a bit of healin' magic. Sit down and drink tha'. Yah look like yahr abou' tah keel over. 'Specially with yahr feet.”

Gladio made a face, but in the end he took the cup from the girl. The liquid in it looked like plain water hit by sunlight during noon. It was kind of fascinating, he had to admit. The little girl scampered off towards the bucket and glanced into it, curiosity clear on her face. She clamped her hands over her nose and mouth with a disgusted sound. Gladio frowned. A child as young as her shouldn't see these kind of things. Healer seemed to be of a similar mindset.

“Solaris, would yah please go and get Ardyn? And after tha' ah need yah tah do somethin' very important. Can yah do tha' for me?” Healer looked at her with serious eyes. The girl nodded, face solemn. “Yah need tah go tah the other patients and tell them tha' everything's alrigh'. They don't need tah worry.”

“Ah will, tata”, she said and carefully stepped closer to give Healer a kiss on the cheek before she left the room.

“What happens now?” asked Gladio and took a tiny sip of the mystery water, as he had dubbed it in his mind.

At once he could feel some of his exhaustion leave and the soreness of his muscles easing off just a bit. He blinked in surprise. This was a bit like the potions he knew, just far more gentle in the way the soothed things. Potions and ethers made by Lucis Caelum magic were always accompanied by an unpleasant burn.

Healer answered while he carefully, drop by drop, made Iris drink that foul smelling tea. “Now ah'll start tah heal her. The scourge has been burrowed in her body for too long for me tah heal it all at once, but ah can do it. Yah needn't worry.”

“You can really heal her? How long will it take? There is supposed to be only one person who is able to heal the starscourge, and I kind of doubt that you are the Oracle in disguise.”

The deeply buried seeds of hope started to grow into a warm feeling pooling in his stomach. Or maybe that was just the mystery water.

“Yeah, but like ah said, it'll take me some time. A week at least. Ah don't just need tah rid her of the scourge, but also repair the damage it caused and tha's the truly tricky part.”

Gladio became light headed in relief. If he hadn't been sitting on the floor already, he would certainly do so now. But he couldn't help but wonder how it was even possible. The Fleurets had been blessed by the Astrals with the power to cleanse the scourge from its victims. There were no others.

“My, my, nephew. You have all of the clinic in a right tizzy.”

A man stood in the doorway with wild reddish hair that had an odd violet sheen and golden eyes. He leaned on a cane the same way King Regis did, and Gladio didn't know why, but he found that quite disturbing. Despite the stuffy and hot air he wore a long pair of trousers and a high collared tunic with sleeves that fell down over his wrists.

“She is scourge sick”, the man stated. His eyes bore a strange glint that Gladio didn't like.

Healer nodded. “Yes”, he affirmed and motioned towards the bucket sitting at the end of the bed. “Could yah get rid of tha'? Ah made her drink some of Hiemi's purging tea, so she'll need tha' bucket 'gain soon.”

“Of course, dear nephew. But if you don't mind, I would like to see how you handle this one. It's the first time I see you treat someone afflicted with starscourge, after all. Not to worry, I'll keep myself well out of the way.”

Healer's answering shrug clearly said suit yourself.

Gladio watched as the man – who was most likely this Ardyn the little girl had gone to fetch – gathered the bucket, keeping a straight face at the sickening smell, and retreated back towards the door.

“I'm ready”, the man announced with a grin.

Healer huffed, but he turned his full attention back to Iris who now looked like she had gone back to sleep. He gently rested his free hand on her stomach, right over her navel, the other still being on her forehead, and closed his eyes, his brows furrowed in obvious concentration. For a moment there was absolute silence. Then the glittering net over his sister's body retreated, leaving the room strangely dim. Not a moment later however, Healer's whole body started to glow in a golden light. It looked like a sun was trapped under his skin.

The black lines on his skin, that Gladio had thought were tattoos, started to crack open and released a burning violet light. It looked utterly otherworldly. Suddenly Gladio could believe every story Viti had told him about Healer. That he was a fallen star or an Astral, forgotten by humanity and time. There was so much power. It made his skin prickle and the fine hairs on his arms stand on end. And it seemed like Healer himself could barely contain it, he looked like his human shell was going to shatter at any moment.

Magic pulsed in time of an invisible heart, lapping over Iris and through the air like it was water breaking on a shore. The light seeped into Iris' skin, concentrating where the black splotches marred her, and with each new wave that washed over her they grew a tiny bit smaller. A fine black mist rose and dissipated within seconds.

Gladio couldn't do anything other than stare at the spectacle in front of him, even as it made his eyes burn to look directly into the pulsing light. He didn't even look away when he heard a violent hiss from where the red haired man was watching.

An especially large wave made the air shudder, caressed his skin like the softest silk and eased the pain in his bloody feet. There were quite a few cuts and a broken toe nail. He hadn't even felt it as he had been running to get his sister the help she needed. He couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped him. The magic teased over him like a long lost friend. It made something in him that had been sleeping for a long time, suddenly sit up and pay attention. He knew the feeling of this magic, had felt it quite often when Noctis had been made to practice his elemancy, even if he had never been connected to it like a proper Shield should be...

He jerked upwards. By now the magic had turned into a bright supernova with the young man and his sister at its centre. It couldn't be.

“Noctis”, he breathed, stunned.

He stood there, frozen and having no idea what he should do. This couldn't be possible. He had searched for his prince high and low and the Crownsguard and the Kingsglaive both had searched outside of Insomnia. If Noctis was still in the city and not dead they should have heard something by now. Shouldn't they?

On the other hand there clearly were people down here. Gladio hadn't even known that this place existed, and it was part of his job to know about the city's layout. It would also explain how Healer had magic. But why hadn't he recognized him then? He knew what the prince looked like! Then again, Healer had long hair and what he had thought were tattoos covering a large part of his body, including his face. And even if it turned out that Healer wasn't Noctis – which became more and more likely the longer he thought about it – this was a place he could potentially be, because no one had ever thought to look.

Had Noctis hidden here this whole time?

Why?

As if he had been heard, Healer opened his eyes. Even in the bright light of the magic they glowed like a pair of newborn stars. Gladio had to look away. White spots danced in front of his eyes. A high pitched whine sounded from where the door was located.

Slowly, oh so slowly, the pulsing light became weaker, the pressure of powerful magic in the air grew lighter. With each new wave it retreated further and further, like the changing of the tides until it was mostly gone.

The black splotches on Iris' skin had turned into mere shadows beneath skin still pale from sickness. There was a bit of colour in her cheeks now.

Healer's hands retreated and the last of the glow died, leaving the room in a strange half light until Gladio's eyes had adjusted again. Only the black lines on Healer's skin still gave off a dim iridescence, and Gladio swore there was a new one slashing across his cheek close to the nose. It made the impression that the man's humanity was nothing but a thin veil that could be ripped away to show what really lay beneath at any time. And wasn't that disconcerting?

Reluctantly, like he needed to remind himself how to move his limbs, he stood up and carelessly let the blanket Gladio had carried Iris in, fall to the floor, before taking up the one the teenager had brought in and spread it over Iris' still sleeping form. His breath came in quick bursts and he was covered in sweat like he had just completed a taxing workout. With a quiet groan he stood up straight. Finally the shimmer beneath his skin was completely gone.

“Fuck. Ah think ah overdid it”, he mumbled barely loud enough for Gladio to hear.

“You can say that again, my dear nephew. Please warn an old man the next time you want to set off the magical equivalent to a Nifasi firebomb. It would be much appreciated. You can never be sure of the consequences otherwise”, stated the red haired man before Gladio could even think to open his mouth.

There was a caution in Healer's gaze as he nodded, that set Gladio's teeth on edge and made him want to punch something. Or someone. Preferably the guy who used a cane exactly the same way his King did but moved like a was an actor playing out a drama.

“Now, go downstairs to your wife, eat something and drink some of her truly amazing tea. You look like someone who dearly needs a break and some extra energy. I dare say, it's too early already to go back to sleep again. I will look after the girl for the time being. Do not worry, I have some experience in looking after the scourge sick and know what I'm doing”, he continued as if he hadn't seen Gladio's glower.

Which he clearly had.

Healer – who was quite possibly Noctis and Gladio wasn't really sure if he wanted him to be or not – just rolled his eyes, but he took a step towards the door before he stopped and turned towards him, a guarded look on his face.

“Come”, he mumbled. “We need tah talk, and best do it now.”

Gladio didn't say anything as he followed Healer through the still mostly dark house. To be honest, he had no idea what to say. For all the questions tumbling through his mind in a never ending whirlwind since he had first seen the young man.

He wanted to scream.

He wanted to rage.

He wanted to shake the answers out of the man leading him down dark stairs.

But he didn't. If this whole mess had taught him one thing, it was that raging at it all didn't help a thing. So he swallowed the anger hissing in his mind down and sat in the chair in the warmly lit kitchen he had been indicated to.

The kitchen was a large room that was clearly well lived in and cared for with a loving hand, if cluttered to a point where there was nearly no free space left. Despite the warm summer night there was a new fire burning in the hearth that was old enough to belong in a museum. It made the air near uncomfortable hot.

Most of the kitchen appliances looked like they belonged into the 5th century ME at least. Well, there was an electric tea kettle and a few other bibs and bobs that clearly belonged into the modern age of electricity. How could anybody live like that?

As he examined the kitchen he noticed the woman standing at the counter. She wasn't very tall with a thin face and very pale skin that contrasted heavily with her long black hair. Her big eyes were of a green that reminded him of shadowy forests outside Insomnia. The long and thin tunic she wore was of a russet colour and looked more like a nightgown to his eyes.

He knew her. It was the woman that he had met at the Black Saffron the day before yesterday. Well, three days ago by now, he supposed. What was her name again? Hiemi? Wait, so the little girl had been...

She came over towards the table with a tray in her hands upon which were three cups and a large pot that wouldn't be out of place in one of the historical romances he liked to read sometimes. Now that she stood next to Healer, who had been awkwardly hovering next to an empty chair, Gladio could see that she was a few centimetres taller than him. The woman gave Healer a chiding glance that lost its bite with the fondly exasperated tilt of her smile.

“Yah overdid it”, she stated.

“Ah know”, he murmured and gave her a chaste kiss on the mouth. “Ah'm sorry.”

“No, yah're not. Now sit down and introduce me so tha' we can have this talk b'fore we've gotta go t' work.”

And Healer did just that.

He gave her hip a gentle squeeze and sat down on the chair across from Gladio while the woman served the tea and then sat down herself. There were a few beats of awkward silence before Healer cleared his throat and introduced the woman next to him.

“Gladio, may ah introduce to yah Hiemi, Dame of this household and mah wife. Hiemi, this's Gladio.” He hesitated, as if he wasn't quite sure how to continue.

Before he could make up his mind about it, Gladio interrupted him: “What in the name of Pitioss' cursed depths were you thinking, Noctis?!”

The young man flinched, his fingers dug into the wooed tabletop until his knuckles turned white and his mouth fell open with no sound escaping him.

In the warm light of the kitchen it had become very clear to Gladio that this Healer was in fact Noctis, despite all the changes. The facial structure practically screamed Lucis Caelum. There was also the magic – magic he had never seen or heard of before – and the fact that he knew his and Iris' name.

“Where the fuck have you been? Do you know how worried your father was? Still is, to this day? Do you know how the nobles are hounding him to produce another heir? He keeps refusing out of love for you and the late Queen and you sit here, healthy and alive, and play house! The King still hopes that you're alive and well, that you're coming home one day. Do you know what your actions did to Ignis? To Iris? To me? Do you-”

By the end he had been nearly screaming, ready to lunge across the table and beat some sense into his prince. If he even deserved that title anymore. But suddenly he was frozen in place. The words tumbling out of his mouth, halted on his tongue and his muscles refused to move. It was like time around him had been halted but everywhere else it moved forward like it always did. He couldn't even blink as he looked at the two people across from him.

Noctis had grown even paler than he already was, hunching his shoulders and shrinking into himself. Hiemi, the woman he had introduced as his wife – and wasn't that a whole other can of worms – was another story. Her eyes were blazing in fury as she rose from her chair, one arm held out in his direction. Around her wrist and along her forearm danced smoky grey chains. Sparks of green and yellow jumped between the individual links.

“Don't yah dare.” She hissed, her face contorted into a sneer. “Don't yah think he knows tha'? Mah husband knows the consequences of his actions quite well, knave Gladiolus. Yah bet there's a damn good reason for it, do yah understand me?”

“Hiemi”, Noctis said in a tone that was barely more than a whisper. At once her attention was on him. “Let him go, please. It's fine.”

“It damn well isn't, and yah know it! Shield or not, friend or not, he can't jus' walk in here and treat yah like this. Healer. Noctis. It's not yahr fault. Yah couldn't 've done anything different. Not with Him watching.”

Gladio listened with growing concern. What was she talking about? Who was this Him? The way he said it he couldn't be a nice guy. Noctis made a keening noise so full of old hurt and fear and guilt that Galdio would have recoiled, if he were able. The prince pressed his face into her abdomen, his hands grasped at the cloth of her tunic and his shoulders shook as if he was crying. She didn't say anything but carded her hands through his long, tangled hair with a tender expression on her face. Gladio dearly wanted to look away, shaken to his core at the scene before him.

“Ssshhhh”, made Hiemi and continued to pet Noctis' hair until he pulled away.

The prince's eyes were thankfully dry and he didn't look quite as much as an anak caught in the headlights anymore. His wife pressed his cup of tea into his hands and he took a sip. And then another, the action calming him down further.

“Now”, she said, her tone brooking no argument, “we're all going tah sit down and talk like the adults we all are. Am ah clear?”

Here she looked sternly at Gladio who still couldn't move. He wished he could point that out to her.

“Mah life, yah need tah take off the spell first”, Noctis reminded her with an amused twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Due to her pale skin, the redness in her cheeks was very noticeable as she cancelled whatever she had done with one last warning look towards him. The chains around her forearm vanished. He carefully flexed his fingers and shifted his weight, to see if everything was back in working order, but he wisely kept his mouth shut and waited for either of the two to speak first. Their short exchange had made it clear that there was more going on than he had thought – than anyone had thought – and he wanted to know what it was.

It was Noctis who started the conversation again.

“Tha' night in tha' alleyway ah was scared shitless, Gladio, and it wasn't because of tha' old drunk with the broken bottle.”

“What in the name of Bahamut's blades happened to you?” asked Gladio and watched uncomprehending, as both of them flinched slightly.

“Please, don't say His name. Down here, He can't see me”, Noctis pleaded.

“What do you mean, down here He can't see you? Wait, the He you were referring to is-?”

Gladio swallowed down the name Bahamut, but the other two knew exactly who he meant. They nodded in unison.

“But why?”

He didn't understand this at all.

“The Bladed One's still one of the Six, one of the Astrals, but His standing, from what ah understand of what Healer told me, is more tha' of the Infernian up there”, answered Hiemi and motioned towards the ceiling.

Ignis would love this.

The sudden thought made Gladio realize that he needed to get the advisor in on this. Gladio himself was in over his head. But that was for later. Now...

“So Ba- the Bladed One is some kind of traitor, a malevolent deity? What does that have to do with why you're hiding in this dump?”

Both of them bristled at his words and Hiemi opened her mouth, clearly prepared to argue, but Noctis' hand on her shoulder held her back. She leaned backwards, still glaring at Gladio like he had insulted her personally.

“It's got everything tah do with it”, said Noctis. “Do yah know the stories of the Lucis Caelums tha' had a magic different from wha' was expected of them?”

Gladio hesitated. He tried to think of the old stories Noctis had liked to read in the archives, when he had been allowed down there, but none came to mind. It was strange, since this was the main reason he had started to like reading historical romance. Try as he might, he couldn't remember a single of those stories the young prince had liked to ramble about on occasion.

“I... cannot say I do, no”, he admitted, feeling strangely ashamed of it.

Noctis just sighed. “Tha's alrigh'. They've always ended violently, with the death of the Lucis Caelum in question, and more often than not with innocent bystanders dead. There're records of Kings killing their own children tah minimize the inevitable damage they'd cause if left tah live. Dad told me the last one left to live died when he collapsed a house on top of him, also killing the people within the building and most of the bystanders. Ah managed tah find records from the Founder's time, where King Somnus decreed in the Bladed One's name tha' every child not of black magic was Bad Faith.”

Gladio gave a quiet curse. He remembered now, the sordid stories Noctis had told and had given him a sour taste in his mouth every single time. The prince seemed to have noticed his discomfort at his retellings and had stopped them after some time. It hadn't stopped him from going into the archives, however.

All of a sudden he had a very bad feeling about this.

“Please tell me you aren't one of those cases, Noctis”, he all but begged, already knowing the answer to this.

Ruefully, the prince in hiding shook his head. “If he finds me it's only a question of time before something happens. Do yah understand? Ah can't go Up because for some reason we can't figure out, He can't find me here. As long as ah'm here nothing'll happen.”

“And what of the rest of Lucis? Should it fall into chaos, conquered by Nifelheim, because you were too much of a coward?”

Noctis pressed his lips into a thin line in displeasure. “And what would you have me do, Gladio? Wait for the dragon to kill me? I've wanted to just march up to the Citadel so many times, I've lost count. You have no idea how much it hurt to stay away from all of you.”

In his ire he was starting to lose that damn accent that had been starting to grate on Gladio.

“Stop!” thundered Hiemi before the argument could escalate any further, her presence backed up by the feeling of powerful magic. “We've been talking abou' contacting His Royal Majesty for some time now. 'Specially in the last few days. The children've been excited ever since they heard we've been considering it. Healer, ah think it's abou' time we finally did it.”

“I... yes”, he relented after a few moments of silence. “It's abou' time.”

#ffxv #dreams of our past #gladiolus amicitia #hiemi is an overprotective fury #two hard headed people meeting each other #well #this could have gone better #cat's out of the bag now #gladio finally finds noctis #he could have handled that better #but also so much worse #iris has the staarscourge #and because of *plot* she's getting treatment #ardyn is having a hard time believing what just happened #he needs to sit down for a minute #my fics #the spirit writes

[the-seductive-historian]

Hi there! Are requests still open? If so, could I maybe request something with how the bros would deal with/ react to their s/o just suddenly not wanting to have sex/make love (whatever ya wanna call it) like for weeks every time the situation goes in that direction s/o just comes up with a dumb excuse, only to find out that it's because their s/o just hasn't been feeling good about themselves, like not sexy or attractive at all? Sorry if this is too long/specific or stupid...

Requests are Open !! Thank you, Anon!  It’s Not Long at all!! This is soo sweet. Honestly, I had such a great time writing this!!~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Insecurities ~ Chocobros

You felt that all too familiar feeling you hated. You felt your stomach empty and your mind cloud with the thoughts of the unworthy feeling you knew all too well. Your self-esteem was lower than it had been lately. The perfect man who you were so in love with didn’t help ease your mind. How could someone so perfect love someone so….ugh…How could he loved you when you felt as if you were never good enough. You had started to hate yourself. You knew he was often sexually frustrated. Especially that you refused to have sex with him, you knew yourself well enough to know you couldn’t handle him seeing you so vulnerable when you were already a glass figure teetering on the edge of a jagged cliffside You knew you would break down and cry if you orgasmed with this perfect vessel of a man. You felt as if he could never be satisfied with you.

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GladioHere we go again, the man you loved this big sexy hunk of tattooed man was crawling onto the bed the outline of his massive erection clearly visible through his gray boxers. He was hungry and you knew it the lust in his eyes was enough to make you want to scream. This man was always ready to fuck you into the mattress. However, You couldn’t do it for some reason you couldn’t bring yourself to touch this god-like figure of a man one more time. You wanted him…by the six you wanted him. You stared at the man crawling on top of you before you brought your knees up crossing your ankles to shield your body from the lust filled man.

“Umm, Gladdy, I ummm…I can’t I’m sick…” You coughed roughly as he stopped and ran his hand up your leg. “Best way to cure a cold is to sweat it out, babe. Trust me I can help you with that!” He said and smirked his boyish smile his white teeth making you feel even worse. “I ..cant..I..” He sighed and rolled over on his back.  "What is it now, for the past month you have been brushing me off. Did I do something wrong!? If I did you need to tell me. I..am I too rough? I can be sweeter I promise.“ He said pleadingly. This was the breaking point you could feel the tears well in your eyes. It wasn’t him he was perfect how could he think it’s his fault. It was you…how do you tell the man you love you feel too worthless to be fucked. The tears started to roll down your cheeks.

"N…n..no..” You felt yourself manage to say. His eyes widened as he scooped you up in his large muscular arms like a small child. “What is it babe, Please tell me, Gods I hate seeing you cry.” You were torn between hugging the man and pushing him away. “Gladio…I can’t okay…I’m not sexy enough..” You finally let the words out. He looked at you as he pulled you close and slowly. The man burst out into the booming laughter you had grown to love. “You’re not sexy enough?” He questioned laughing. “Babe you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen!” He pulled you close. “You can’t tell me that’s not true just look at what you do to me.” He motioned down to his cock.  You looked up at him and then back down. “I don’t know why..” you mumbled. He stared at you and then pulled you close kissing you hard. You are beautiful…you are as close to a goddess as I can get. In all honesty… I…I never thought would want to be with a guy like me. I’m big in crude and rough im not as sweet as prompto or as romantic as the other guys.“ You looked up at the love of your life confessing to you he thought you wouldn’t want him. You were so confused. "Gladdy how could you ever think that i wouldn’t want you. Your so perfect, The way you smile and laugh. How strong you are. There only one you and that’s all I could ever ask for.” He smirked wide and kissed you. “I couldn’t have described you better myself even if I tried. I love you and only you!” You looked at him realizing that he was right and that even if you didn’t see it he did. and if he thought you were perfect. well, you might as well believe him.

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PromptoYour beautiful sunshine boy smiled as you both rolled around in bed and he rolled on top of you. He brought his freckled face close and kissed you passionately as his hand slide up your arms then down over your breasts and to your stomach as he lifted your shirt and slide his hand up underneath. You paused and pulled away your hand forcing your shirt down and his hand out with it. You looked down and then sat up and curled into yourself. “Chocobae what’s wrong? D..D..did I do something wrong?” He asked concerned as he soft eyes once filled with love and passion looked at you with worry. You looked down at your stomach and held yourself tighter covering your body up more. “I just don’t…I don’t feel well. maybe we could not.” He looked at you and slumped over some.“awww, again..okay…” You felt worse as he said that you wanted to please him but you couldn’t not with you looking this way. you hated your body and he was perfectly toned and fit and nice and sexy. You almost got mad about it.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t okay!” You snapped and then turned away. He looked at you shocked and then he got up and walked away worried you were mad at him. About an hour later he walked back in to check on you only to see you standing in front of a mirror looking at your body your face twisted in disgust. He had seen this all before. It was a look he gave himself at one point. He ran to the mirror and blocked it. “No!” You looked at him shocked, “No, what Prompto?” You looked at his frustrated. “Just No! No! No! NO! I’m not just gonna stand around while you think that about yourself. You’re not whatever you think!! No matter what anybody says or hat everyone else looks like your not that! Your everything but those things!!!” He yelled at you his voice laced with panic. “You’re perfect, Your gorgeous and sexy and smart and beautiful and you don’t need to change.” He looked down and then rubbed his eyes after he grabbed onto your hands holding them tightly between his.

He was crying he looked at you and shook. “You can’t think those things. P..P…Please…If you think your anything but perfect than everything great in this world is just a load of shit. Because you’re better than anything else in this whole world. Better than any other girl, better than any food, or movie, better than chocobos better than photography better than the goddesses all put together.” He pleaded and looked at you. “I looked at myself the way you did…and I never want you to feel half of the disgust or shame I felt. because you’re far more wonderful than I could ever be.” You were crying by now both with guilt and with happiness that he thought you were so amazing. You kissed his freckle covered cheeks. “I love you chocoboo.” You smiled and said as he smiled his sunshine smile and kissed you.

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NoctisYou laid in bed as the sun shone through the curtains casting a small sliver of light over the muscles of the man you laid next to you smiled and looked at him admiring how handsome he was even when he was lazy and asleep and didn’t do his hair. You admired every inch of your prince he really was prince charming to you. He was sweet and funny and romantic and the most handsome man you had ever seen. You felt your throat tighten as tears spilled out. Your head filled with doubts that you would never bee good enough for a prince. Why does he love you? Why is he with you? You wiped your tears and got up to go make sure you didn’t look horrible for crying as you washed your face you felt a lazy pair of strong hands settle on your hips and pull you back against a hard erection cover by his pjs. He smirked and placed lazy sleepy kisses on your exposed shoulder and he smiled and looked at you.

“Mmmmm, morning princess.” He smiled and pulled you into his pelvis more as he kissed your neck. You melted some and smiled. “Morning Noct.” You said softly. He turned you around picking you up and setting you on the bathroom counter as he spread your legs enough for him to stand between them. He rubbed your thighs and kissed you passionately he began to slide your panties down as you broke the kiss he stopped. “Are you okay?” He asked softly. “No, I’m not. I just. I can’t do this.” You said looking at him. He sighed but nodded. “Okay..” He walked back to the room and put a shirt on and started to walk to the kitchen for food. You sat there kinda upset that he wasn’t worried. “Noct? Your not even gonna ask me what’s wrong?” He looked at you. “No, You don’t wanna fuck we don’t fuck. It’s as simple as that I’m not gonna make you. Is there something wrong?”

“I just don’t understand why you just left.”  You responded “I’m not gonna assume something is wrong, Babe I just thought you didn’t want to do anything. I didn’t think there was a reason.”  He said as he made a bowl of cereal. “well something is wrong, I don’t feel like I’m good enough for you. I don’t want to be with you because I feel like im just not sexy enough.” He looked at you and set his cereal down. “Why on earth would you think that?” I’m the prince and future king. I deserve the best and only the best. Why do you think I have you. Because you’re the best! It’s normal to have doubts and insecurities I have them all the time. but you have to believe that even at your worse you are the most amazing person I’ve ever been with.“ You blushed and looked down. He pulled you close and smirked. "Come on im gonna fuck you till the only thing you can think of is pure ecstasy” He picks you up and carried you to the bedroom.

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

IgnisYou were in the living room reading a book on the couch as Ignis came home he sat down next to you and he slowly wrapped his arm around you. he watched you read as he slowly kisses your neck. Ignis was not usually the person to initiate sex. however, it had been 6 months since you were last intimate and he needed you. He grabbed your book and pulled you onto his lap and he kissed you as he grinding his erection into you and pulled your hair. “My love, You have no idea what you do to me.” You blushed and moaned slightly but moved off of his lap and walked to the kitchen. “What do you want for dinner darling?” You asked trying to change the subject. He sat there confused and somewhat frustrated.

He stood up and walked to the counter. “My love, If you don’t wish to be intimate please tell me.” You looked at him and sighed. He was looked at you with concern and worry but you could tell he was tense and frustrated.  "Iggy, It’s not that I don’t want to. I want to, believe me… I really want to but I can’t.“ He nods listening to you. "Why, I need you to be completely honest with me. I want to understand.” He held your hand tightly. “I don’t want to have sex because I don’t feel like I will satisfy you or that I am pretty enough or sexy enough. I have struggled with this for a long time and I’ve been trying to change it but, I can’t. I look at you and your so smart and intelligent and handsome and you’re nearly perfect in every way. and I envy you.” He looked down and slowly shakes his head. “That’s because I was raised to not make one mistake, I was trained and conditioned like a robot. While you were playing and drawing scribbles I was learning etiquette and reciting Shakespeare. You’re not afraid of getting messy or making a mistake.  You just do whatever you want and I find that inspiring and beautiful.” He smiled at you

“I am terrified every single second of every day of making a mistake because I was raised to hate flaws and mistakes in myself and my work. I was forced to look at myself as if I weren’t good enough. Until years and years of hard work made me presentable.” He looked down. “Darling you have flaws…lots of them…your messy and you sing when you think no one is listening and you don’t care if it’s bad or good. you curl up and watch anime for 12 hours straight. You look just as beautiful when your hair is a mess and you have bags under your eyes, as you do when you spend hours doing your hair and makeup. You are imperfectly perfect! I love that you’re not a robotic flawless thing. Your human. Your you. And yout the love of my life.” You smile and laugh slightly before practically jumping over the counter to fuck your perfect man.

#fanfiction #fanfic #fandom #final fantasy xv #final fantasy 15 #ignis scientia #prompto argentum #gladiolus amicitia #Noctis Lucis Caelum #ffxv noctis #ffxv prompto #ffxv gladio #ffxv ignis #ffxv fanfiction #final fantasy xv fanfiction #ffxv headcanons #ffxv #ffxv drabbles #inspiration #insecure #insecurites #self love #self esteem #the-chocobro-historian #thechocobrohistorian

[avengers-nextgen]

Noctis II

“Where’s your brother?” Loki asked, following Sage about the tower and activating the defenses.

“I don’t know,” Sage shrugged, recalling Scout’s instructions on the appropriate pin to enter in the controls. If she was off by a number she could very well be zapped to death by a hidden gun in the ceiling.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Loki frowned.

“I mean what I said,” Sage replied, pressing the series of numbers with care. “We aren’t on speaking terms. It was his decision not mine and I’m not going to get into his business if he doesn’t want me too.”

“Let me talk to him then,” Loki decided.

“Don’t bother,” Sage frowned, “everyone’s been trying to. He won’t listen. Frankly it’s better this way.”

“What? You can’t say that. He depends on you!” Loki scoffed, matching his daughter’s stride as she made her way to another control panel.

“He’s not a little boy anymore. He can take care of himself,” Sage grumbled. “Just, drop it okay?”

— — —

“What’s going on out there?” Max questioned, looking anxiously about their cell.

“Something bad,” Enzo explained, pacing back and forth. “I can’t quite explain what the threat is but I’m worried. The way my dad talked about this goddess or something makes it seem like we’re about to enter some dooms day scenario.”

“That’s...not reassuring at all,” Max swallowed tightly, their skin covered in a thin nervous sweat.

“Right now the tension is in the waiting. We can’t do much until something happens,” Enzo sighed, “but even that scares me. Because what if that something is bad?”

“I wish I could offer some words of comfort but frankly I’m a bit terrified too,” Max croaked, seemingly able to sense the shift in the atmosphere.

“Hey, it’ll be okay,” Enzo promised, leaning against the bars to watch his friend. “I mean, maybe something goes wrong, but at lease this place is armed to the max-pun not intended-and we’re surrounded by supers. If anything we’re better off than everyone out there.”

“That’s what worries me,” Max groaned, “and you can think I’m stupid for this but I’m worried about my parents. Yeah, they suck, but they’re my family. I don’t want something horrific to happen to them. That’s not fair.”

“Listen,” Enzo reached through the bars to grasp Max by the shoulder, “I get it. My family is complicated too. But I don’t think they’ll be the target. We will. We’re the threat and as long as you don’t go to them they should be okay.”

“You’re right,” Max nodded. “Thanks. It’s unnerving not knowing what’s going on outside, you know? If you didn’t tell me these things I don’t know how sane I’d be.”

“What are friends for?” Enzo arched a brow. “I got you pal.”

— — —

“Alright, time to read up on my Norse mythology,” Scout huffed, slamming a stack of books on his desk.

“Which do you want?” Chloe asked, gesturing to a rather large leatherback book and it’s equally large counterpart.

“Does it honestly matter?” Scout whined.

“No, but I was hoping to make things less daunting,” Chloe smiled sympathetically. Both selected a book and sat down to read as fast as they possibly could.

“Notebooks and pens,” Nathaniel called, entering Scout’s room with his arms loaded. “Didn’t know how much of these you’d need so I raided a lot of the desks.”

“Thanks,” Scout smiled. “Got any gum? Preferably mint? It stimulates the mind.”

“Really? Cause I chew this all the time and I am not getting any smarter,” Nathaniel snorted, tossing the whole pack to his young friend.

“Can I help?” Penny asked, hesitantly interrupting.

“Uh...I don’t know if easing is uhm...”Scout winced trying to find a way to say as nicely as possible that perhaps this wasn’t suited for her.

“Oh, right,” Penny nodded. “Gotcha.”

“Actually,” Chloe mumbled, “you’re pretty okay at surfing the web right? Not Fox levels of good but pretty good?”

“I think so,” Penny nodded.

“Great, then I need you to look up as many news articles as possible and record what’s happening around the world. Get Arthur to help you,” Chloe instructed.

“Aye aye, captain!” Saluting, Penny ran from the room in search of the other twin.

— — —

“I really shouldn’t have ignored those maintenance messages,” Tony sighed, looking at all of the defense system statistics to realize that many were in separate need of recalibration.

“You think?” Pepper arched a brow.

“He’s got help,” Piper promised, nodding to Gen, Hope, and Orion. “Well, I don’t know so much about green bean-“

“I know enough about mechanics to maintain my own ship thank you very much. At least, before it was blow up,” Orion glowered.

“Right,” Tony nodded, “okay then. We have work to do people. We need to get this tower primed and ready for anything that comes our way. I doubt it’ll be effective from what asgardian doctor doomsday says but it’s worth a shot. Pipes you and Gen cover the third and fourth floors. Hope, you can handle the fifth and second-it requires small sizes. Orion, you’re with me and we have whatever is left.”

“Sounds good,” Gen grinned. “Got any tools?”

“Kid, I have the largest arsenal of mechanical supplies in history. Of course I have tools,” Tony scoffed, flicking a switch on his desk.

The back of his lab opened up to reveal an array of items covering the wall from floor to ceiling. “Pick whatever your heart desires.”

“How did I not know this was here?” Piper stammered, eyes wide and alight with both excitement and wonder.

— — —

“Let me help,” Bianca insisted.

“There’s not much you can do right now to help with this,” Bucky’s expression turned to one of sympathy. He and Steve were currently lifting boxes of emergency supplies down from storage.

“Well, I need to do something. I’m not just going to sit here,” Bianca frowned.

“Great,” Alex huffed, “because I need someone who has an eye for weapons to help me out with these.”

The blonde held up two large guns that looked old and unused. Well, the tech was new, but they clearly hadn’t been touched in some time. Smiling hopefully, Alex watched as Bianca’s expression softened.

“Okay, I’m in,” Bianca nodded.

“Thanks, I was worried I’d shoot my toe off,” Alex sighed. She followed Bianca down the hall to the weaponry. Alex has never really bothered going in there but the place was massive and well stocked with all sorts of equipment. “Wow. This place is huge.”

“I know,” Bianca smiled faintly, “now, what are we working with?”

Alex passed over the first gun with care. Bianca turned it over slowly inspecting it with an intense gaze. “Seems my programming might help after all. All guns have the same basic makeup. Once you know that you can handle almost anything.”

“Mind teaching me how to do this?” Alex asked.

“Sure,” Bianca nodded.

— — —

“Woah woah woah!” Peter waved his arms about as the hangar opened and a large looming aircraft descended. “Who the hell are you? This place is shut down. No visitors allowed. So turn around and go on back to your nice little hangar somewhere else. Okay? Don’t make me-“

“Shut the fuck up Quill,” Siyanda gave the man a stone cold look as she headed down the ramp. “I’m here to help.”

“Oh....”Peter winced, “my bad. We’re cool. No worries at all.”

Rolling her eyes, Siyanda left him to feel like an idiot for the time being. On her flight in she’d noticed how off everything was. The entirety of her trip had only made her anxiety worsen and her fears of what was to come escalate.

Tromping through the rest of that hangar she didn’t bother to wait for the elevator and instead marched up the stairs two at a time. Already, she could tell the entire place was buzzing with activity. It was like someone had flipped a switch demanding everyone do something important.

As if to confirm her suspicions, arriving on the ground floor was like walking into Costco on a Saturday. Weaving through the mass of people, the princess really only wanted to see one person at the moment. Finding that person took impossibly long.

Eventually, Si found Thalia lugging some large black case through the living room. The blonde didn’t notice her at first until she’d settled the case on the floor beside a few others. That’s when she was enveloped by a bone crushing hug.

“Si?” Thalia breathed, looking like an excited puppy. “You’re here! How was it? Are you queen now? What was it like? Did you get to-“

Thalia’s rambling was only silenced by an earnest kiss. Forgetting her next series of questions, she was more than happy to kiss Siyanda back.

“Okay, no love making in the living room,” Tony shivered in mock disgust as he passed by them. Siyanda only glared at the man.

“I’ll answer all your questions later, but now I need to know what’s going on here,” Siyanda worried.

“No one’s too sure what it is exactly but my uncle had some form of an explanation. It’s not quick-“

“I have time,” Siyanda assured.

“Okay. Come on, I don’t want to get in anyone’s way.” Thalia took Siyanda by the hand and pulled her off to her room.

Meanwhile everyone else was struggling to form some shape of defense to stand against a threat they didn’t know.

#avengers #avengers next gen #marvel #mcu #black widow #captain america #natasha romanoff #pepper potts #romanogers #scarlet witch #noctis #phase4

[sherniwrites]

Returning Home: Noctis Lucis Caelum

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV

Warnings: None

Word Count: 717

Character: Noctis Lucis Caelum

Note: This is a little piece for @bleucommelhiver. Thank you for being such an amazing person who helped encourage me to start writing and loves angst as much as I do. Love you fashion queen. 

Noctis x Female Reader: ‘‘You can’t just disappear off the face of this earth, make a reappearance for the holidays and think everything will be okay.‘‘

Insomnia was a sight to behold. Snow had blanketed the city, the cold chill forcing the residents to bundle up but it seemed as if nothing could stop the town’s holiday spirit. Bright lights shined, decorations and merriment were everywhere. Insomnia was bustling with people trying to finish their holiday shopping, heading to holiday activities or just spending time with their loved ones. It was a beautiful sight yet it reminded her of the hole torn in her heart.

This year would be the first holiday season after she lost her whole world, after she lost Noctis. Everyone told her it’d get easier with time, no one said they meant it’d get easier to live with the hole left behind. When she first lost him, she felt her life leave her body, she felt her blood run cold and her knees crashing from under her but at the same time she couldn’t feel anything else. She didn’t want to feel anything else. And that’s what she did, she just kept walking tall, keeping herself busy because if she stopped for long enough and realized that he was dead she didn’t know how long it would take her to put herself back together again.

She made sure however, to never let her friends see her breaking so as she looked back at herself in the mirror, her long black gown falling perfectly she admired her ability to keep her head held high and her eyes strong, to not allow herself to fall. Ignis asked her to accompany her to a holiday party and she couldn't say no to him. Turning around she surveyed the room, his stuff was where he left it, untouched with the exception of his clothing that she held close to he at night, trying to ignore the fact that it couldn’t make up for him. She quickly rushed out of the house and to the venue, ready to keep her guard up and put that fake smile on for everyone around her.

This was a mistake, flashbacks were coming and going. Of Noctis, of better times. From when they were just friends and she was helping Noctis sneak out of these events, from when they were celebrating their first holiday as a couple and their friends would conveniently help them avoid guests to have some time alone. Ignis did his best to keep her comfortable and even left the party early to drop her home when he noticed it was becoming to much.

So she doesn’t think twice when there’s a knock on her door, the boys and Iris would always stop by when they felt her slipping away. But she certainly wasn’t expecting this.

She just stands frozen when she opens the door. Noctis is standing on her front steps, a bit disarranged and beyond drained but he’s alive and staring straight at her.

“I thought you were dead.” She blurts, a little shell shocked. The missing king laughs and she nearly starts to sob right there. She mourned him, thought she lost the love of her life but he’s alive and she didn’t realize just how much she missed him.

“Can’t keep me away that easily babe.” He’s shoving his hands into his coat pocket, a smug smile beginning to form.

“You can’t just disappear off the face of this planet and reappear for the holidays and think everything will be ok.” She felt tears run down her face as her voice cracked and his heart broke for her.

“I know I’m sorry but I promise I will explain everything to you. Just let us be happy for the holidays. Please.” Noctis was pleading to her. She knew she should get some answers first, that she should step back and analyze this situation but all that matters right now is that he’s alive and he’s home.

She regained her footing and practically tackled him, his hands flying out of his coat to catch her before they both end up on the floor. He’s kissing her before they both can realize it and it’s everything she had missed and craved for and more.

“Fuck, I missed you so much.” He pulled away pressing kisses all over her face.

“Let’s go inside Noct.” And he’s nodding and pulling her into their home before she finished her sentence.

Tags: @creative-frequency @c-qcat @singlebecauseofthechocobros @owldearest @lucianhuntress @toastyfiction

#Noctis Lucis Caelum #ffxv #ffxv fanfiction #oneshot #fluff #holiday prompts #final fantasy xv #final fantasy imagine #final fantasy fanfiction #Final Fantasy #noctis x reader #ffxv noctis #noctis one shot

[beauvoyr]

Lazy People’s Club for the Sleepy and Tired | 18 & 19

flowering | 18 & 19

Pairings: Noctis/Reader Genre: Friendship/Romance/Friends-to-Lovers Tags: Fluff, Humor, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, Abuse, Torture, asphyxiation, no beta we die like men, pre-Omen trailer route, pre-demon Noctis Chapter Rating: M Crossposted on: ao3 Summary: Rules to join the Lazy People’s Club for the Sleepy and Tired: 1) One must love sleep. Sleep is love. Sleep is life. 2) One must be tired. Physically or emotionally, both are acceptable. 3) One must love video games. Halfhearted interest in video games will result in immediate termination of membership. Fortunately, Noctis falls into all three categories.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: What kind of friend is he anyway? The shittiest, lowest kind. The kind that’d fuck your mouth with your head to the wall, that’s what. The kind that’d press his fingers over your ribs like a pianist over his keys, memorising the erotic way you shudder under him. The kind that wants to substitute your pillows just so you’d hold him instead. Exactly the shittiest, most fucked up kind of friend.

XVIII flowering: gluing eggshells together

loud voices are never good omen. byron favours speaking in soft tones with underlying firmness that warns those unprepared never to challenge him. shouting marks an unworthy man and it is a level he strives not to stoop for as long as he lives.

in this house of statues, he knows nobody speaks to you. save for the outsiders, your lecturers, the manservants mute themselves in your presence should they encounter you. your commands are acknowledged by way of a bent waist, head lowered, mouth stitched shut. hearing voices carried from your room right into the hallway is a phenomenon that has byron picking up his speed twofold, careful enough to balance the tray of tea and tidbits as he marches into your room, nary a knock.

“twenty, and that’s final.”

unless your room had transformed into a haggling hypermarket overnight, it sounded like an unfair deal coming from quintus. truly a rare sight to see father and daughter gathered in the same space, byron takes a moment to pencil the details in his mind. you, besieged, behind your desk with your fingers woven through your hair, shutting your eyes, shutting out the world. quintus, machiavellian, a proud figure in the heart of your room, unsmiling, uncaring. it has byron stepping aside when quintus gathers himself after seizing victory in one of the many wars he fought for lucis, even if it’s a war he waged with his very own daughter.

locking the door behind him, byron deposits your teatime tray and strides to your desk. you’ve curled in on yourself, legs drawn to your chest, all balled up on your chair. a hatchling truly unprepared for the world beyond the fragile shield of your eggshell. the pathetic sight makes byron drop on his knees before you, gloved hands unraveling the knot of your legs to be placed on the floor once more. “milady, what’s wrong?”

“everything.”

he doesn’t need to see your face to hear the tears in your voice. “everything, milady?” he tries again, softer, resting his hands on your twitchy thighs. “what did your father want from you? twenty of what?”

“not twenty of what.” your head shakes, arms that are shielding your face gradually dropping to unveil a face full of forlorn, reddening eyes brimming with unshed tears. “twenty, byron, twenty.” you stop, sucking in a deep breath, trying to pull your legs to your chest once more—only, byron has his hands on you and he fights your desperation to curl in on yourself again. “—let me go, byron—“

“not until you tell me twenty of what, milady,” he breathes, tone going softer than before, barely lined in warning. “now, tell me: twenty of what.”

you could’ve kicked him, planted a foot in his face if you struggled hard enough. break his teeth, break his nose, break everything for all you care. but you don’t. all you do is to look at him, helpless, hair mussed up, broken, choking low in your throat, lost, tired of fighting your frustration. “twenty,” you cry out, voice cracking, and byron’s fingers dig into your thighs at your next words: “father’s marrying me off at twenty.”

IT HAD ALWAYS BEEN THE same routine in any council meeting. Councilmen and women alike, dressed in their regal uniforms, discussing Lucian politics in this chamber. Sunlight streams from high above the paneled walls, bringing light to the ebony carvings on crystal chandelier. Fire from two elaborate torches lent feeble warmth in this air-conditioned place, not that Ignis minds it. Even in his waistcoat, he barely feels the cold. Ballpoint skittering across feint-ruled paper in an elaborate script Noctis had long deciphered under his tutelage, Ignis pens in points from today’s discussion for his charge’s digestion.

Hands clenched, Quintus’ jaw barely rocks with each heavy blow of his word. “We cannot dismiss the fact that each day brings us closer to Niflheim’s machinations.”

Gentle-faced Estelle, Countess of Cimlain, is never known to raise her voice in the presence of the king. But her voice is clear as her stand on the matter. “We’ve discussed this time and time again, Andronicus: We will not reinstate the military. There is no need for them in this world, as Lucis is taking a peaceful stand against the war.”

—heated discussion, Ignis amends his initial monologue, pen skittering faster to keep up with the exchange of dialogue.

“My dear Cimlain, you say it’s peaceful only because you get to sleep soundly on your bed each night, blissfully unaware of the wars our Glaives wage against the Imperials,” Quintus remarks with barely a twitch of his wispy brows, knowing his words brought forth a round of shifty eyes hiding their guilt. “Believe me, if His Majesty permits my presence on the battlefield, I would have done the job myself.”

King Regis holds up an authoritative hand to silence any retorts from red-cheeked Estelle, regarding Quintus with the apathy of one whose ear had been plugged with this debate for many years. “Your place is not the battlefield, Andronicus,” he reminds him. “Your health takes precedence above all else. It’s best you spend your years waging your wars behind a desk instead.”

“Marshal Leonis commandeers the Crownsguard and Captain Drautos, the Kingsglaive.” Quintus nods the king’s way like a sleepy man nodding off at a boring meeting, entirely disregarding what he said. “Your Majesty, I’m not asking for much. I merely want to reestablish a small fraction of militia, starting with conscripting our young Insomnians to join the fray. The great Solheim was not built in a day, and I’m not expecting much from these men,” his hands wave about, eyes drifting from one face to another, taking in their expressions, “but give it time and it will surely flourish.”

Lukas clicks his tongue, earning an eyeful from Quintus. He is not known for his kindness, and it shows in his words. “We can all see that you are hungering for the power your family has lost, Andronicus.” His moustache bristles. “We do not condone Niflheim for their cruelty, yet it seems you are keen on letting Lucis tread the same path. You will be the downfall of our kingdom, mark my words.”

Ignis stops penning at that point, knowing the downwards spiral of the meeting has just begun.

“It truly isn’t a fruitful meeting without our friend Lukas resorting to ad hominem,” unsmiling Quintus says, ignoring the verbal lunge for his heart. “Because I care more about the result of our meeting, I choose to disregard the useless nonsense you spewed, and instead, focus on how to solve the problem we face.” Without much pomp, he turns away from the fuming man, facing a weary Regis. “Majesty—“

And he stops. Eyes screwing shut. A thumb on his temple. Pained.

A fresh wave of murmurs spreads through the chamber behind a hand to the lips. Ignis would’ve leapt to his feet if this occurrence was the first of its kind, but he’s lost count of it as the years trickled by. Headaches, dizzy spells, migraines, standard signs of a man overworking past his limits, past his age ordained. For all the cruelty Quintus inflicted upon you, he is but a mortal in the end. A helpless old man even in the face of the reaper himself. Capping his pen, Ignis quietly observes as Quintus’ forehead is slick with a sheen of sweat, soundlessly battling his agony. And, ever friendless, nobody moves to aid him through his personal war.

King Regis, the benevolent man he is, leans forward in urgency, settling a steadying hand on Quintus’ shoulder. “Dizzy again?” he asks to a soundless Quintus, who neither nods nor shakes his head at the question, eyes still shut. But King Regis knows. He holds up another hand to the rest of the Council, marking the end to the meeting.

As Ignis sweeps his belongings into his briefcase with the rest of the apathetic crowd thinning out, he hears faint murmurs from the king himself.

“What did the doctor say?”

AT THE END OF YOUR third rep of push-ups, the subtle burn in your upper arms whines for you to stop. Not the awful kind of burn, but the kind of burn where it feelssatisfying. Sweating enough to fill buckets for rainy days, the bridge of your nose slick in perspiration, shirt plastered to your back. Even the slightest twist has your muscles aching, crying for mercy. Gladio’s ruthless, that’s for sure, clocking in enough counts for you to pass out if you aren’t thoroughly prepared with your warm-ups. It hurts when he manhandles you just as easily, demonstrating his raw strength and power over you, a reminder that it took him years to get to where he is now: A Shield to Noctis.

But the ache lancing through is real. All sharp edges, knives cutting your nerves. This ache isn’t anything like your innards you eviscerated, this ache comes from an entirely different reason altogether. It reminds you that you’re very much alive, living and breathing with Gladio stretching you to your toes, big hands on your shoulders to put you in place, to put up with the pain you agreed. Your throat scratches with all the sounds you make, from tiny squeaks to big yelps, pushed past your limits with Gladio’s amber eyes promising you that this is just the beginning of what he started.

“C’mon, ass up,” he swatted your back one time, just because he caught you drooping unsteadily in your planking. The sheer difference in size between you and him meant that one: He swatted you and it hurt, and two: It had enough strength to collapse your elbows and introduce your face to the hardwood.

Of course, Gladio remedied it with a hastily barked apology, bear paws wrapping around your hips to hoist you up once more, and he might have left a handprint Byron pointed out before your shower. But you liked it. Liked how each session ends with your lungs wheezing and your knees bruising, liked how Gladio cards his hands through your damp hair like a proud brother, always encouraging your every move—liked how he praised you even if it’s for the pettiest of things.

Good job for holding out longer than ten minutes.

Good job for those five extra stretches.

Good job for not puking.

Good job, lil’ lady.

You distinctly remembered making a face at that. “Little lady?”

“Yeah, ��cause you’re one,” he supplied helpfully, looking like it was the most natural nickname ever. At your persistent staring, Gladio stops practicing his broadsword swings and shrugs, lips twitching. “What’s a man gotta do to get your real name? Just T. Andronicus or that Quintus Guy’s Daughter or Quintus’ Whatever ain't gonna cut it down the years.”

“How about Kaliva?” you proposed, sounding hopeful. “That’s pretty close too.”

The look Gladio threw you was an answer enough, returning to his sword swings once more. “Yeah, no. No name, no change.”

Well, at least you tried. If anything, it’s a lukewarm reassurance to hear him inadvertently confirming he hadn’t snuck his nose into all six of your private envelopes signed in your name.

The heavy double doors creak open, effectively bringing you out of your musings on your behemoth of a trainer. Gladio had run out earlier, babbling something about picking up someone and instructed you to stay put as he threw on a jacket and left. In the middle of your cool down stretches, you couldn’t help but to crane your head over your shoulder to spy on your new visitor. Is it Nyx again? The cheeky Glaive liked to pop in and out of his rounds, smirking at how you panted through your regimen. On days he felt gracious, he’d share tips on how to maximize your core muscles, and on not-so helpful days, he’d cross his legs at the ankles, leaning against the wall and chuckling at your wilting planking.

Your jaw almost unhinged when Gladio steps in, bringing with him a man the size of a boulder. Distinctly aged, his salt-coloured hair and shaved jawline is reminiscent of an obelisk in a museum. All regal poise, spine straight. Age is something he wears handsomely, despite the hardened finish of his eyes. Your gaze trails over the soft leather and gilded trims on his robes, memorizing the regal way he holds himself. Despite the difference in his ensemble, this is a variation of a getup you’ve seen father wore before.

He is man you certainly shouldn’t mess with.

Pulling yourself to your feet, you fold your hands over your thighs, bowing deeply. Manners first. “Good evening, sir.”

“At ease, young Andronicus,” the man commands, and you know you’re right if he’s the one calling you that. He comes to a stop with Gladio hovering closely by, eyes raking you from head to toe. You must’ve appeared disheveled, sweaty, awful for a first impression, but he says nothing of it. “I’ve heard of you from my son. Received your papers, in fact.”

So this is what Gladio talked about, the trial by fire. Realising the severity of the situation, you allow yourself absolutely no chance of being mistaken as a diminutive doll all shy and reserved, for he is part of the Royal Council. And men in the Royal Council surely must be statues in serving the king. You should do well to reflect your part too. “I’m glad you did, Sir Clarus. Gladio did mention that I should be expecting a visit from you sometime in the future.”

A curious light shines from within his granite grey eyes, a hand thoughtfully placed on his chin. He seemed to have not heard you at all. “…I must say, I wasn’t expecting to meet the controversial child of the Andronicus like this. Your existence had been a rumour, all this while.”

For you, it brings only the tritest of smiles. “Are you surprised, sir?” you say, all too aware of how he quirks a brow at your impudence. “I know how my father had repeatedly discredited me, just because I’m female. He has no plans to allow me to lead the House, but be rest assured I will.”

“Bear in mind, there is a fine line between confidence and arrogance. Confidence will take you to places beyond your imagination, but arrogance will only serve to narrow your vision,” Clarus warns, making neither distinct disproval nor approval at your proclamation. “I mean no offense, of course. From a simple glance, I can see nothing of Quintus in you. But your words cut just as sharp as his.” He pauses, seeking your eyes in a resolute stare, a predator staring down a prey. “You aspire to best your father and become the next Andronicus serving His Highness Prince Noctis, yes?”

Hearing Noctis’ name from Clarus’ lips brings back that same nausea from before, nausea blooming in your heart. He’s testing you, you realize. “Yes sir. And I won’t stop until I will be the next in line to serve His Highness. That has been my dream from the start.”

At this, Gladio makes a face, eyebrows perched high on his forehead.

Clarus, presumably used to his son and some of the many odd faces he’s artfully mastered through the years, chooses to ignore it. Though his movements are minute, each action is calculated, never an absent gesture. Eyes travel from Gladio to you, from Gladio’s stanch silence, to your squared shoulders. He is summing you up, finding you a place in his mind. A temporary residence, where you can easily fall if you failed his trust.

“I expect to see you during the Prince’s Coronation Ceremony when he is finally the 114th King of Lucis,” he finally says, allowing himself the slightest quirk of lips. Then, his choice of word sharpens with the slant of his frown. “Whatever it is that you are trying to do, you best avoid your father’s eyes. You and I both know how shrewd he can be at times. Sometimes the best course of action in war is to retreat and reorganize your strategy.”

Of course he would know, wouldn’t he?

Clarus Amicitia must’ve sat at the table over a dozen of times stomaching father’s arguments and refuting them in councils. Father assaults him verbally, and Clarus deflects them as the steely Shield of King Regis. Judging from the way he speaks of father, he doesn’t seem to regard him highly, though he refrains from voicing out such thoughts in concrete. Fortunately though, Clarus seems like a sound man who doesn’t pass his judgment from father to you in the very same way. And you’re thankful for small mercies like this, thankful that he doesn’t reject you for your father’s mistakes.

“Thank you, sir,” you incline your head in a respectful bow, one he accepts with a nod of his own. “Your advice is well-heeded.”

Clarus doesn’t smile at you. He doesn’t need to smile when his words carried his sincerity. After all, a smile can be easily faked; one that father had taught you over and over and over again. He bids his farewell, turning away. “I wish you the best of luck in your endeavors, young Andronicus. We will cross paths again, soon enough.” Gladio follows him to the door, but Clarus only lifts a hand to stop him. “No need to see me out, son. Who do you think owned this training room before you?”

To his credit, Gladio only crosses his arms as his father left with little flourish, seeing himself to the exit without waiting for a farewell. As the doors clicked shut, you can’t say you’re surprised when Gladio attacks your hair with his hand—one that left you batting his arm in desperation as he musses up your already scruffy hair, limp from sweat.

“Look at you, being all adult with my old man around,” he grunts, though there’s no malice in his teasing. “Good job for not pissing your pants talking to him.”

Clarus is intimidating, yes, but the random encounter isn’t all too bad. At least he genuinely offered you some advice instead of putting you down. You chalked it off to being lucky, since Gladio’s a nice man and his dad, however terrifying he may be, should be a reasonably nice man as well. “Your dad’s cool—but kinda scary,” you admit, bringing his barking laugh rounding your statement. “Just…don’t tell him that, okay? It’d totally ruin all the front I put up just now.”

“Depends on your next answer,” is all Gladio answers, amber eyes winking in mirth. “Think you can drop down and give me five reps of push-ups?”

Try as you might, you definitely did a poor job of hiding your grimace. Gladio definitely saw that, arms crossed over his chest with a huff, awaiting your reply. The short little break you took barely did anything for your muscles, but if Gladio wants it done, you suppose you could try—even if you fail halfway. With a sigh, you head to the training mat. “I guess…I can try. Just—don’t chew me out if I can’t finish it, please?”

Gladio only pats your back good-naturedly, following you as you drop down on the mat and shifting into position. “That’s more like it, at least you’re givin’ it a shot.”

You only barely resist the urge to roll your eyes at him. “Sometimes, I wish I don't.”

twenty and married, a fate worse than death. father trampled over your dreams once again, never caring if you had anything to say about it. a maid had shown up on your doorstep, one who refuses to meet your eyes as she mutedly dropped flimsy files on your desk, curtsying before she left. your treacherous fingers flipped through one of the dossiers, taking in the sight of a formal report with a passport photo stapled in the right hand corner. each file contained different pictures, different names, different information, yet they all bear the same trait: a man.

the knowledge sees your hand trembling, whether out of grief or rage, you aren’t certain.

this is father’s final slap to you: a choice you have to make, that is to select your own husband.

you make quick work of these dossiers, glancing through the eligible bachelors father had undoubtedly handpicked. they fall nothing short of a standard arranged marriage’s prerequisites: groomed handsomely, unparalleled intelligence, of acceptable height and weight and build, shortlisting their many talents and hobbies, detailing their age, current workplace, and their slew of achievements like trophies on a shelf. some wear their dark hair slicked back; others opted for a loosely trimmed touch, falling over their foreheads. some wore glasses, sharpening their overall appearance; others had eyes the sparkling colour of sea foams.

aether, flavian, icarus, scientia, xander.

proud men from distinguished families whom father saw fit to tame you.

you stomp out the urge to introduce these files to your fireplace, throwing them aside to be perused no longer. instead, you remove yourself from your desk, making your way to the television and switching it on. anything to get your mind off those things, off the thought of marriage, off the sight of men who’d hold you down and snatch the name of the andronicus for themselves. furiously flipping through the channels, past gossip talk shows, past cliché soap operas of poor girl meets young ceo and falls hopelessly in love, past music videos and blaring rock music, finally settling on crown broadcasting channel.

the newscaster, a peppy blonde in subdued makeup, prattles off three words per second as she’s already well underway a story. “—tigious day as prince noctis lucis caelum celebrates his sixteenth birthday in style at the caelum via. attending his birthday celebration is his majesty king regis—“

the scene transitions from the newsroom into a panning shot of a rooftop ceremony, all crisp glass and smooth silks hanging off the banisters, all bearing the royal crest of the lucis. it cuts into a voiceless shot of prince noctis interacting with guests, an aristocratic teenager clad in a bespoke suit of fine lines, receiving each and every hand with a smart shake or two. his bangs haven’t quite grown out yet, tapering in stunted spikes over his alabaster skin, and his deep blue eyes are too narrowed, too tensed to be enjoying this birthday celebration, but the imperfect image imprints itself in your mind all the same.

he isn’t ugly, no. he’s easily the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen, even if you are only going by the unfairly monochromatic pictures in the newspaper. yet, there’s something about his profile that strikes a chord in your heart.

he looks tired. he looks like he’s been run haggard for his own birthday. he looks like he’d rather be anywhere else than here. and he looks sad. but why is he sad, when he’s the prince and princes have everything they want in the world, and then some?

at sixteen, he looks like he’s suffering.

at sixteen, you are suffering.

sixteen and suffering. how awful. novels always made a big deal of being sixteen and how it marks the start of boyfriends and casual romances and a little fumbling in the sheets, but prince noctis doesn’t even look like he has the time to comb his hair. snatching the remote to switch off the TV with a click, you hold your face in your hands as you try to breathe. legs to your chest, toes curling into the cushion.

breathe in. breathe out.

here is the man you’ve been shaping your life after, but he doesn’t even know you exist.

how will he know, when you’ll be married at twenty?

NIGHT HAS LONG FALLEN OVER the city, shading skyscrapers in shadows. In your little chamber, you make yourself a thick mug of hot chocolate, sipping on the artificial sweetness to replenish your brain juice. After each training session, Gladio would always bring you back to your room, making sure you’re safely tucked inside your little box and messing up your after-shower hair. And, following his standard end-of-the-day statement, he’d always recite, “Same time tomorrow, lil’ lady,” before he retreats with a wave. It’s rather comforting to know he’s got your back if anything happens, though you don’t really know what to do with that knowledge for now.

Glossing over the documents in your Moogle Drive, you take another sip of your drink. A great many of the documents never made full sense to you, often containing jargons too complicated for you to understand lest you’re a scientist of Niflheim. Some seemed to be subject test reports on their monsters tubed in Fodina Caestino. Others aren’t any better, just full of codes and never a legible word. Unless you contracted external henchmen, say an underworldly character to decode this gibberish, you’re never going to get anywhere far. But the risks are high with these shady fellows, for their loyalty lies in those with deeper pockets.

It’s either that or those who have them on knifepoint all the time, you think to yourself, eyeing the scattered documents in your Drive.

With no new information coming from Byron, you’re still stuck trudging your way through these nightmarish creatures. Of course, he is never to be blamed for the shortage of information coming your way. This two-man show of yours suffered a great many shortcomings. Money is never an issue to you, thankfully, since father never trespassed into your bank accounts to see how you spent your allowances. While having enough money to silence a cop is undeniably handy, it isn’t the best currency to scout for the best talents in gathering information for something as dodgy as Niflheim.

Because, really, who wants to get involved with the Andronicus and Niflheim?

Even the hardiest of assassins would run ten kilometers northwards if they heard that.

The reputation surrounding the House of Andronicus is something much like a hardened stalagmite; built upon blood dripping over its foundation, culminating in a sharp peak in the end, sharp enough to rend flesh. These men weren’t written into history as paragons of Lucis. You know what they do: Exact justice all in the faith of keeping the kingdom safe, even if it sullied their hands. There are no grey areas in here: Everything is either white or black. White, for upholding the commandment and maintaining public safety; black, just to hide the bloodstains that inevitably come along with it. Kill whenever required, extort whenever needed, reconstruct the law whenever they saw fit. Your father is a man of sins from the very beginning, and there is no denying that you have left reddened footprints of your own too.

The sooner you unravel what the empire is building, the easier it’ll be for the prince in the long run.

And you know exactly what you have to do.

With a yawn, you chance a glance at your desktop clock. 10.26 p.m., already past the bedtime Gladio designated for your optimum rest. Sensing a well-rested night’s sleep already beyond salvation, you resign yourself to the usual standard of falling asleep on your worktable, dragging yourself to your cupboard, where your stacks of pillows await. You randomly select the one at the top, sinking in your chair once more, propping the pillow on your thighs. Hugging it like this as you sloughed your work is so comforting, especially with your nose pressed into the cotton and—

—oh.

You sit up abruptly, staring at your pillow.

It’s a different scent from the usual. Not worn cotton drained from sunshine, no. Something more of fancy soaps and chamberlain-laundered clothes, and a little bit of something else. You gingerly nosed your pillow again, marveling in the different smell. It’s something you’re familiar with, but it’s just different Familiar but different. How confusing. You smelled this before, not on your body, not on your bed, not on your clothes, but on someone. Someone whose clothes smelled exactly like this, coming into contact with your pillow. Someone lying on your comforters, someone sharing your sleep.

Noctis.

It’s his scent.

The nausea associated with his name comes back in full force; warmth washing over your cheeks, churning your tummy. He’d always smelled nice, you know that, but you never expected the scent from his clothes would transfer on your pillow. It’s a nice scent, clean with underlying notes of—you don’t know, himself, maybe? Whatever it is, and as creepy as it sounds like, the knowledge only serves to make you tighten your hold on the pillow, burying your face in it.

You’re okay to me, he said.

He saw you as an okay person, even when you stammered out your thoughts, tongue tripping, breath hitching in the night. How desperately you want to wield a whip. It's okay to him. How desperately you don’t want to be like your father. It's okay to him. How desperately you want to atone for your sins. It’s okay to him. How desperately you want and it’s still okay to him.

Teeth already littering bites on your lower lip, chin on the pillow, you hold it closer to your heart. Close, closer until each curve yields around your frame, holding you tight in return. If you think hard enough, you could recall how the flame danced from the tips of his fingers all the way to his palm. How scarlet melts into his skin and a clumsy smile on his lips, thoughtful enough to notice you’re cold all over. He listens, he stays, he encourages, he is everything you don’t deserve because you're a liar and a murderer and you’re sitting on a throne of bones with their skeletons shackling your ankles.

What if he leaves you when he knows how dirty you’ve become?

You should tell him what you are.

No. You shouldn’t tell him.

If he leaves now, he’ll destroy you. You’ve gone too far with wanting this time, farther than wanting mother and her musical memories. All the years you built around him, carefully constructing a castle around your prince, it’ll all crumble once he’s gone. All the months you spent with him, all for naught. No more trading texts in King’s Knight co-ops, no more sleepy afternoons slumbering together. He is the very foundation of your core, and you know that well enough not to let him leave. Because once he leaves, he’ll never come back for you.

Curling in on yourself, you hug the pillow tighter, inhaling deeply.

For now, it’s okay like this. It’s okay. It’ll be okay.

That’s what you’ve been telling yourself all this while, haven’t you?

You’ll be okay as long as he’s with you, as long as he stays.

He can’t leave. He won’t leave. He will never ever get the chance to leave.

A solitary beep shakes your phone awake, the screen lit by a notification. Your shoulders twitch at the sound, casting a discreet glance at the King’s Knight message box adorning the front. On any other normal day it’d be a promotional message from the developers, trying to entice players with limited-time events and bundle sets. This time around, things had been different these past few months. A text that’s not from the developers only meant one thing.

Slowly shaking yourself out of your stupor, you log into the game with a frown.

TO: THE ARCHITECT FROM: NOCTGAR SUBJECT: [none] MESSAGE: quick favour: what’s your number?

You blink owlishly, slowly digesting his message. That’s odd. Your number? What does he need it for? Silently praying it isn’t for anything urgent, you press in your reply.

TO: NOCTGAR FROM: THE ARCHITECT SUBJECT: Sorry. MESSAGE: Of course, here is my number.

After double-checking the digits, you hit send.

Some paranoid part of your mind yells at you to stay up for his next message—what if it’s something urgent after all? If he got caught up in some unsavoury part of the town and needed rescuing? No—that’s silly, firstly the prince is more than capable to fend for himself, and secondly, Ignis would be on his speed dial for emergencies. Which begs the question once more: What’d he need your number for? You rock back and forth nervously in your chair, staring at the message with your heart racing and debating whether or not to send another message to Noctis—only to have your screen blurring out into a call. With your phone hooked up to your computer, you could very well see that it’s not an ordinary call with your phone to your ear; it’s a video call linked through Moogle Ring.

Before you manage to listen to some rational part of your head counseling you to reject the call, your itchy fingers scramble for the bright green button. Your desktop pixels out into a dimmer, blurrier image with an all-too familiar voice echoing, “Hey.”

Somewhere in the background, a little bit off to the right, a spot of yellow chirps. “Woah—hey! Hey hey hey!”

It takes a moment for the connection to stabilize and iron out all pixilation, but once it does, you’re treated to a lovely sight: Noctis and Prompto, two heads at two different ends, the prince to your left, and the blond to your right. They’re both hunched over a table, books spread haphazard, looking equally exhausted with faint dark accents under their eyes. You try to ignore how your heart lurches a little when Noctis meets your eyes, but you can’t deny a corner of your lips quirking upwards. It makes you hide your face in the pillow, breathing softly.

It smells like him here, right where you are.

Ah. You shouldn’t like it this much, but you do.

“Hey guys,” you finally work up the courage to summon a little wave, though you still hide part of your face behind the pillow. “Uh.” This is something new, something you haven’t done before. What should you say during video calls? They’re not physically here, but the prince is here, staring right at you. Best to get down to business, just so you don’t have to hide your face behind this pillow. “I—well—why’d you guys call? Did something happen?”

“Nah, figured you’d be busy,” Noctis waves you off, the pen in his hand drawing abstract patterns in the air, “’cause you’re always busy.”

“Yeah, when are you not busy anyway?” Prompto chuckles good-naturedly, leaning forward. His voice echoes through what seems to be a living room, though you’re not sure where they are. Noctis’ apartment, maybe? “We both kinda have to stay up for tonight to get rid of this pesky assignment due tomorrow,” he stops to heave a theatrical sigh, “so do you wanna stay up too? Y’know, just the three of us, the Midnight Trio?”

Noctis makes an amused noise in the back of his throat, throwing the blond a half-grin. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She doesn’t sleep—and you and me, buddy, we both aren’t gonna get any sleep tonight.” Prompto shrugs, snatching a canned drink off-camera, taking a swig out of it. “Makes sense, yeah?”

Hearing their typical banter between each other stirs a bit of laughter in you, and the sound has them turning to you with questioning eyes. Noctis still wears that half-grin as he studies you, though you don’t know if it’s still for Prompto, or. Well. For you. Thinking about it has your nausea bubbling like a pot on the stove, so you duck your head and try not to mind the warmth seizing your cheeks, your neck.

Surely you could stay up a little and keep them company as they battle their avalanche of assignments. Give them a bit of a pointer here and there, a silly banter to keep the mood light, easy, less sleepy. And you could certainly use the opportunity to look through the documents you put off earlier as they suffer through their paper, making good use of your time. Already knowing what’s your answer when you’ve started making excuses for yourself, you lick your dry lips and muster a nod at the expectant duo.

“Makes a whole load of sense to me,” you agree, making Prompto hoot and fist-pump the air. “Gimme a sec, okay? I’ll just go and make myself some coffee real quick.”

“Be sure to make a whole jug of ‘em,” Prompto’s voice follows you as you deposit the pillow on your chair, ushering yourself to your kitchenette. “’cuz we’re partying all night tonight, woohoo!”

You hear Noctis snorting Prompto’s way, the sound of a pen clattering on the table echoing loudly through your room. “Party tonight, funeral tomorrow if we don’t finish this up, yeah?”

“Talk about a mood killer, Noct, sheesh. Okay, okay, let’s focus on getting this stupid intro out of the way first. Where’d you stop?”

“At the index.”

“…dude, you didn’t even start yet?”

You know you’re laughing again because the sulk is dead obvious in Prompto’s voice, reaching for a canister of coffee Byron tucked somewhere in the cupboard overhead. Standing here like this, boiling some water and preparing coffee—a whole jug of it, as per Prompto’s helpful advice, you can’t help but to smile as you liberally doused the dark concoction in creamers and sugars.

Friends are beautiful: They make you forgo your sleep, just to keep them company.

XIX flowering: the heart of a king

YOU LOVE HIM.

He knows you do.

He flicks a gaze where you stand in a blue wave of sylleblossoms, your hand outstretched, balancing a dragonfly on your fingertips. Your expression is soft, glassy, your hair floating almost ethereally in the breeze. The mesmeric melancholy on your face draws him in, closer and closer until three stalks separate you and him. In this field, you are a free soul, bounding through crests of blossoms with the paper petals kissing your calves. Watching you wade through this sea of flowers, clutching a fistful of stalks with limpid heads of sylles, a smile on your face.

He reaches for you, fingers chasing after your shadows.

Only, the breeze whips around you, around him, scattering petals to the skies, thwarting him.

Between the snatches of blues, you cradle the blossoms to your breasts, eyes cut to sultry halves. There’s something hypnotic in the way the corners of your lips lift; you know he’s there, he knows you’re making a show out of it. Hands bring the sylleblossoms to veil your face, wispy blues hiding the pale pink of your lips. Eyes lidded low, coy. The sight is just enough to whisk warm flares in his belly and he is acutely aware of his intense need to cradle your cheek in his palm, thumbing your eyelids, just to taste the flower on your lips.

The first step he takes has him crushing a sylle under his foot. The earth is cool and moist beneath him, and the broken blossom dies between his toes. He doesn’t stop; he crushes a second one. Leaving behind a swathe of devastation, injuring the sylleblossoms with his every step, but he stops at nothing until he paves a road of death to you.

Here you stand before him, cradling the sylles when it should be him in your arms. He doesn’t want that.

His hand curls into your wrist tight enough to break your hold on the blossoms, scattering them in the little space between you and him. No, there shouldn’t be any space separating you two anymore. He doesn’t want that either. He wants you under him, so he tucks an arm around your midriff and pushes you to the ground, breaking your fall. He’s draped over you, falling in all the right nooks and crannies of your body as if you’re made for him, fitting him in all the ways he wants you to. On this bed of blossoms, hair fanning your face, you twist your head aside, teeth catching on your bottom lip.

Noctis. So good to me.

Hearing his name colours his vision in red.

All at once, your palm rests in his, with his tongue running over your little digits. These are the hands that feed him. These are the hands that love him. These are the hands that make him live. Each swipe of his tongue is reverent, worshipping your existence. He’s mesmerized with the way you tip your head back, the way you’re whimpering Noctis Noctis Noctis in fragments from your lips, the red in his eyes running over the reds on your cheeks. Your quiet little sounds are hungry with want, and he makes sure to return your show with his own as he licks a wet stripe from the heel of your palm to the tip of your index, nipping oh-so gently at the end.

Noctis, I want.

He knows you want. He wants too.

He sucks on your ring finger, getting a reaction more vocal than before, relishing in how hot you’ve become under him. Like a fevered flush leaving you delirious, all eager, all needy, all for him. You’re his. All his. And all that is his should be marked. His teeth circle the base of your finger and sink deep into your flesh, hard enough to leave imprints. You whine—Gods, a high-pitched noise that goes straight to the burning pit low in his belly, but you don’t resist because you love it, you love the pain, you love whatever it is he does to you. He releases you with a wet pop, licking his lips, leaning back just to admire the art he made.

A ring of teeth marks, just for you.

Noctis, I.

He loves you. You know he does.

Noctis knows, even when he disentangles himself from his sheets, that his throat is tight and he feels sick, but he too knows he’s just a man left on his knees, waiting for your hands to crown his hair.

MOST OF THE TIME, the prince is too busy to show up to practice sessions with Gladio. You kind of get that, since the final semester always hits the hardest. His little video call days ago proved how much him and Prompto were suffering, cramming as many words as they can in a single Word document before rolling the pencil to decide who’s proofreading the entire mumbo-jumbo. It’s a little bit sad too, you realized with a sip of your coffee at 3.48 a.m., that Noctis might be dying from caffeine overdose when he cracks open yet another can of energy drink to prep himself since he lost the roll.

As their senior—well, kind of senior, albeit clearly majoring differently from their course—you kindly shouldered the burden of proofreading instead. You’ve never heard Prompto bawling in relief and hailing you as their newfound savior, though it’s a little bit exaggerated and embarrassing to be regarded in such saintly light. Noctis only slurs a quiet thanks before he drops on his textbooks, sleep-heavy eyes just waiting to be laid to rest.

Quickly rectifying whatever jargon they misused, formatting the assignment for improved readability, and redoing their appalling citations from a scratch, it was only past five that you could resend the document for them to print and staple alongside other assortments. The call ended anticlimactically with a Prompto passing out on the couch and a sluggish Noctis yawning out another thanks, hand absently scratching his neck.

Poor boys. Suffering is part and parcel of university life, and nobody graduates without losing some part of their sanity. Or a huge chunk of hair, whichever comes first.

“Come on, milady, pull yourself together.”

Right now though, there are more pressing matters in hand. You squint at the whip, willing it to go away. “Uh. Trying.” It doesn’t budge an inch. “Trying.”

Byron is as unimpressed as ever. “Well then, try harder.” His gloved hands gesture at the entirety of the languid weapon all curled up on the hardwood, its segmented handle braided in leather, and the notched tail of blades resembling the jagged edges of a human spine. “Surely if the rest of the Crownsguard and Kingsglaive could do it, you can’t afford to disappoint them.”

You could only frown at the whip. That’s easy for him to say since he’s not the one trying to work the prince’s magic. “Trying harder.” The accursed whip still doesn’t budge, stubborn bastard. “Yeah—still trying, in case you haven't noticed.”

“Unless you’re trying to scare the whip with your glaring, whatever it is you’re trying, it’s not working at all.” At this point, even Byron looks like he’d rather do it himself had Noctis blessed him with magic—much like how he grows exasperated every time you do something either too slow or too imperfect for his liking. “Come now milady, remember what Nyx told you? Electricity. Magic is like electricity. Even Gladio demonstrated how he kept that trunk of a sword—surely that electric magic had something to do with the disappearance, like shorting the metal into molecules or something.” His expression falls for a split second. “Well. What was it that he said again?”

He’s not doing a very good job at lecturing you if he can’t even remember what Gladio said in the first place, and you’re pretty sure that’s not how physics and chemistry work at the same time. You sigh, rolling your shoulders in an attempt to work out a grand strategy in your ticking head. “He said to visualize a room, like you’re trying to put something in it. And taking it out is like removing the stuff,” you condense the whole speech, finding that it makes lesser sense the more you think about it. “I dunno, Byron. His Highness said it’s kind of like a room too. A weapon room, I guess?”

“I believe the word you’re looking for is armoury,” he supplies, murky eyes settling uncomfortably on you. It’s one of those expressions that says he’s disappointed in you, but he’s willing to see this out until the very bitter end. “Let’s try again from the top: Put your hand on the handle and reach out to the magic. Let it beckon you.”

Byron, coaching you on magic? When he knows nothing of it? Unbelievable. Yet his face is clean from laughter, not a twitch of an eyebrow whatsoever, and if you didn’t know any better, he could actually pass as some legit magic instructor from Harry Potter. On days Gladio can’t train you personally, he enlists Byron’s help in watching over you—codename for babysitting, really, though you don’t appreciate getting hawked like this. You’d rather have Gladio punishing you with ten push-ups for your ineptitude than getting served by Byron’s tongue.

Biting the inside of your mouth, you almost wrap your hand around the handle—until your phone beeps inside your pocket, and then you find yourself wrapping your hand around the device instead.

Byron only raises a slim eyebrow in disproval. He doesn’t say anything about your newfound addiction. He knows a vain effort when he sees one.

Ever since Noctis asked for your number, exchanging text messages on King’s Knight moved to an appropriate channel, one that actually sees you using your phone for proper communication. Texting is the only way for you to reach him, not to mention it’s the easiest method too. You trade texts with him on a daily basis now, reminding him to wake up earlier on Mondays and Wednesdays, keeping him company through lectures that are drier than Leiden landscapes, and snorting through late night video calls with caffeine-fuelled Prompto while they battle through three stacks of project papers.

This time, things aren’t any different as you give a cursory glance through the message.

busy?

Judging from the eyebrow permanently raised on Byron’s forehead, you toss him an apologetic smile, thumbs automatically keying in a reply.

Trying to make my whip disappear. Not working. Send help.

Another beep brings another message from the prince. It has Byron’s other eyebrow joining its friend up there, forming a bridge. You wince, hastily getting your job done, readying to banish your phone far far far away where you can’t reach it.

lol good luck

Meanie. Gonna head back to practice now, Byron’s grilling me with his eyes.

wait.

You take a moment to mouth Byron’s way, prince said wait, and the look he gives you aptly sums up whatever he thinks of Noctis in these three months. Still, he doesn’t stop you other than to mimic an unapologetically texting schoolgirl, sassing you by flipping his braid from his shoulder, one that has you rolling your eyes and turning back to Noctis’ message.

wait. you busy this weekend?

You look up from nosing your phone, resting your elbows on your knees, wearing the deepest frown that Niflheim surely couldn’t even pull from you. “Am I busy this weekend, Byron?”

“Please don’t tell me he’s asking you out,” he deadpans. You shrug, clearly having no idea what this is about, and he makes the most distressed sound ever in the back of his throat, the kind that sounds like it belongs on the wildlife channel. “Six help me. He’s going to ask you out.”

Is he? Somehow, that particular thought has you wetting your lips contemplatively, thinking of a reply witty enough to best Byron. Nothing comes. All you’re left with is Byron’s judgmental staring, complete with his arms squared across his chest, and the prince’s message on your phone. Neither of that solves your question, so you readily assume your weekend is free from disturbances, free enough for you to enjoy your time together with Noctis if he does ask you out.

Should be. Why?

specs’s birthday is coming up and i wanna get him something. come with me.

Ignis’ birthday is coming up?

You perk up, offering your phone to your babysitter, who’s already well underway dissecting every single sentence Noctis sent to you. “He said Ignis’ birthday is coming up. We need to get him something special.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that he’s still asking you out,” says Byron, already lifting your phone and examining the messages in different angles of light as though it’d unveil some sort of secret subtext inked in lemon juice. “But yes, I must confess, I’m rather fond of my alter-ego. Go ahead and ask the prince if he’s throwing a birthday party for the man. I imagine he’d rather like the thought, since it doesn’t look like the Prince appreciates him much.”

Ignis is Byron’s alter-ego? What a disturbing notion. Still, you don’t get the chance to pursue the conversation with your phone handed back to you, so your steady thumbs press in Byron’s demands.

Sure. By the way, are you throwing a party for Ignis?

nah, but prom wants that party tho lol

Relaying the message to Byron has him wearing the ghastliest disproval on his face, eyes blown wide and mouth twisting in obvious displeasure. “What? No birthday party for the poor man?” he spits out, clearly baffled with what Noctis is planning. “Hand me that phone, milady, I must correct this problem right away. And no,” he cuts you off the moment you’re fighting to keep your phone from him and failing, “you won’t stop me from throwing a party for him.”

Unsure of what to expect from this dramatic turn of conversation, you hang by the sidelines as Byron presses your phone to his ear. His fingers tap a methodical melody on the hardwood, impatiently waiting for the prince to pick up. Once your butler gets into this mode, not a single soul succeeds in telling him otherwise—Gods know you tried and died. And you’re not about to sacrifice yourself again like some martyr because you’ve seen the things Byron is capable of.

The moment Noctis picks up—or so you assumed, Byron opens his mouth, only to shut it with a click.

You nervously wet your throat with a gulp. Oh boy.

Seconds later, Byron’s eyebrows are hiking his forehead with an air of utter disgust. “Don’t use that deep sexy tone on me, young man, it’s obviously not going to sweep me off my feet,” he starts, clicking his tongue in disdain. You somewhat wonder what qualifies as a ‘deep sexy tone’ coming from Noctis, though the question remains unanswered when Byron tuts. “No. I’m not sorry for disappointing you, I’m not her. Now, enough with this pointless prattle, I’ve come to make my demands.”

More chatter coming from Noctis has you pitching your ears for any stray sounds.

Verdict: None.

“I hear you’re not throwing Ignis a birthday party,” he says, examining his fingernails, running a thumb over them. “As a manservant who clearly understands what it feels like to be unappreciated,” he eyeballs you, to which you launch a well-timed kick on his knee, one he counters with a warning smack to your ankle, “I’d like to remind you that Ignis Scientia is a fine man who probably does it all for you while you sit around and stuff yourself silly. Therefore, he more than deserves a party for his birthday.”

Another hum of silence, and Byron narrows his eyes at your phone.

Your stomach roils at the sudden stress.

“As far as I’m concerned, there is no royal decree preventing me from having his number,” he sighs, long and weary. “If it bothers you so much – oh, this is getting silly, we only exchange recipes and cleaning tips. Dull manservant stuffs a prince like you shouldn’t be concerned with. Nobody likes a jealous boyfriend, Noctis, you best keep that in mind for your next relationship.”

This is a disaster.

You know you can’t do anything but to internally cheer the prince to weather it through.

“Mhmm. Mhmm. Yes, thank you for getting back on track,” Byron lazily drawls. To you, he nods Noctis’ way and mouths kids these days as you submit a mental email to the Astrals to ask what you’ve done to deserve this nightmare. Probably a whole bunch of things starting with murder, that’s for sure. “Ah, all right, 7th February? Lovely date for a lovely man like him. 3.00 p.m.? Your apartment? And where exactly is your – huh, all right, settle down please, don’t shout. Do text milady the address later on.”

At this point, you wonder if you can attune the entire floor to Noctis’ armoury just so it’d suck you away from this place.

Byron, fortunately, doesn’t seem to notice your dead-eyed resignation to your fate. “See? That wasn’t so bad, you and I manage to have a civil conversation after all—oh,” he stops, lowering your phone to examine your blackened screen, amused. “He hung up on me. The nerve.”

You bury your face in your hands, rubbing your throbbing temples while you’re at it. It could’ve gone much worse, so you’re thankful for small mercies. At least Byron didn’t go completely off-tangent like a grandma next door. “Uh…on the bright side, I guess we now know Ignis’ birthday’s on 7th,” you murmur dryly. “Now we can get to work planning a party for him. Good job, Byron.”

“We? Did I hear that right?” he echoes, dusting his hands on his thighs, getting up from the floor. You crane your head to scrutinise the odd curve settling in the corner of his lips, and he returns it with excessive flair to the sweep of his bow, rising partway to shoot you a salute. “No, not we, milady, only me. You, on the other hand, have a whip to attune. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some shopping to be done.”

And he’s off, strutting towards the exit in a sashay that belongs on a catwalk runway.

You can’t help but to slump against the wall, defeated. “That’s so unfair,” you whine, causing your butler to throw his head back with a laugh that echoes through the training hall, a hand on the doorknob. “How come you get to go shopping and I don’t?”

“Oh, milady,” he turns on his heels, wearing a smile both deceptive and insincere in nature, “you have a date to prepare this Saturday, am I right? I can’t simply commit the sin of letting you wear last season’s fashion statements. I’ll be sure to find something suitable for your little outing. Floral patterns are all the rage these days.”

You’re definitely not buying that snide smile of his. “That’s just some fancy excuse ‘cause you just wanna go shopping, don’t you?”

Byron’s only answer is another heavy laugh, full with mirth. “I’ll text Nyx to replace me in light of this unexpected circumstance.” With a little cheery wave, scarlet eyes glittering beneath his bangs, he heaves the doors shut. “Goodbye, milady!”

Wood meets wood with a bang, silence goes sssssss from the air-conditioning, and you’re all alone with this whip. So much for a butler, goodbye indeed.

PALE SUNLIGHT FILTERS THROUGH cotton curtain, mellow rays diffusing in his dim room. Phone tossed aside, on the edge of his bed. His sheets smell like dried sweat, the air stagnant. It’s probably past eleven and he should be up for a replacement class slotted during lunch break, but all he does is to cover his face with his hand, eyes scrunched shut. At the backs of his eyelids you stand, hugging sylleblossoms the same way you hug a pillow.

The longer he looks at the love slackening your habitual indifference, the more he wants to brush his knuckles over your lips. The smaller the smiles gracing your face, the more he wants to kiss you to make it widen. The harder you fight back with whines too wanton and heart too giddy, the more he wants to pin you in place how one pins a butterfly to a corkboard.

It’s sick.

He’s sick.

A million and one questions harried his thoughts; how did it start, when did this happen, what should he do, but all he does is to kick off the sheets tangling his ankles, palm digging in the depression of his eyeball.

His cock had been straining heavy and full against his abdomen and it’s an ache he can rid in seconds with a few rapid strokes—Gods, that’s how fucked up he’s gone, but the thought of delving his hands in his pants, to desecrate his image of you—it’s something he can’t do. It’s disgusting. He’s disgusting. Prince Noctis pining over a girl in his disgusting desperation, venting out his frustration only in his dreams. Tabloids would salivate over the scandalous headlines, plastering it in bold all across Insomnia.

He wants to claw it all out, everything, starting from his careless curiosity of The Ghost in the Citadel, all the way to the weak curl of your spine as you mouth thank youfor the scant few words he uttered under the stars. Restart fresh from a scratch, forgoing all the hellos and goodnights and fencing you from a distance, keeping this on a professional level Ignis would approve. He’ll ascend as the 114th King of Lucis, reforming his father’s council into one of his own, one with his best friends and comrades—Ignis, Prompto, and Gladio—installed in their rightful positions.

And you, whatever it is you want to do, he’ll set you free.

No longer bound to the Andronicus and their antediluvian rules, you’re free to roam the lands after throwing a dart to the globe. Quintus will never set his hands on you, he’ll make sure of that, he’ll promise. It’s the least he can do, out of the many things you did for him.

Still, why does the thought raise an urge to retch? Jealousy, that is an ugly emotion he hasn’t felt in the years following his dad’s retreat. A primal urge to keep you with him, never with anyone else. Nobody separates you and him, nobody takes you away from him, nobody leaves him alone anymore. He hates it, hates how weak he feels when he sets his thoughts straight—but what can he do when it’s what he wants? You gave him whatever he needed no matter how meagre you had; you acknowledge his strengths and never once ridiculed him, you embraced his weaknesses and offered your shoulder instead.

He wants it all.

Wants all the time you spent on him, wants all the laughs you gave him, wants all the smiles you left him, wants your eyes fixed on him forever.

He craves you, that’s what it is.

Tossing on his mattress with a groan, Noctis rubs a hand over his clothed cock in an attempt to will it away. He’s so fucking hard since he woke up, it’s starting to hurt real bad. A damp spot’s already on the front of his sweatpants and he’s sticky all over. He needs to rub one out, that’s the best remedy to cure any stubborn erection, coming like it’ll purge him of his sins on any other day. On his bed or on the shower walls, whichever’s the closest release he can get.

Or maybe on your lips as you smile your glassy-eyed smile, his hand around your neck, painting your tongue in streaks of white.

Fuck, his cock twitches at the thought of debauching you in your whole. He’s venturing into the dangerous territory where reality blurs behind his fantasies, burning down all the bridges he’s crossed just to get to your side. His toes curl in the sheets when a hand subconsciously grabs his cock, already rutting into the callused roughness of his palm. It hurts, still dry for him to ride it out like this, but he’s too far gone to even give a shit where he’s heading even if it’s headlong into destruction.

His cockhead’s beading at the slit, angry red and peeking from the hem of his elastic, and the waft of cool air brushing over his over-sensitized skin has him biting his lip to keep it down. Fuck, he hasn’t even locked the door in case Ignis walks in, but fuck, you like littering bites on your bottom lip, don’t you? He’s learnt how you seem to chew on your lip when you’re thinking—it only makes him want to yank your mouth to his just so he’d introduce you to his teeth.

The slight slick from his precum makes things easier but not necessarily less brutal with the wild pace he’s set, thumbing at the head and smearing it all over his cock for makeshift lube. He grunts into his pillow, bangs in his eyes, that familiar coil taut and ready to burst in his belly. He’s fucked up in the head from your smile, he’s fucked up in the head for your mouth, he’s fucked up for you. There’s no turning back from being friends when he’s already shoving his cock down your throat in his foggy mind, hand holding the back of your head and letting you choke around his mouthful of cock and cum.

Oh, fuck, his hand is a poor substitute for your throat convulsing weakly around his leaking length, but he’s got nothing else than the you living in his head, making sweet little sounds like you worship his cock the same way you worship his existence. Noctis bites into his pillow with a groan when he pulls out of your messy mouth, rubbing his saliva-slick cock on your hot and wet tongue, savouring the way you wait on your knees for him to come all over you. He grits his teeth when the indulgent thought is one that shamefully tips him over the edge, snapping the tight coil in his belly and spurting warmth over his torso.

He’s done it now.

Fuck.

No turning back.

Coming down from the euphoric high of release has him panting harshly through his mouth, gulping in oxygen fast enough to replace the vacancy in his lungs. Cum cooling on his sweaty skin, fatigue settling in his muscles. The unmistakable scent intermingling with his stale bedroom air. Vision blurring, head heavy. Once he salvages the lasts of his thoughts before his illusions took over, the aftermath of his actions has Noctis reeling backwards in three parts shame and one part anger. Shame on him for succumbing to primal reactions when he defiles you into a slave of his, angry with himself for thinking about you in that way. His fingers are sticky when he stretches them to the ceiling, examining them with hooded eyes.

He knows.

He knows he’s officially gone off the rails when he first saw you sleeping without a care in the world, vulnerable, pure, weak on your white sheets.

He’s just prolonging the inevitable, isn’t he?

Swallowing the pathetic sounds he nearly makes, Noctis swipes his dirty hand clean on the sheets and twists to his side, curling up. Ridding the evidence rids him none of his guilt. The heat of his skin abates, but the throb of his heart doesn’t. Class is starting soon and he needs to pack up all his textbooks to sit through Modern Managerial for two hours and a half on an empty stomach unless he whips up some oatmeal to replace Ignis’ hearty breakfasts but all he wants to do is to call in sick and pass it off for some over-exhaustion from burning himself through a whole damn month just to cover up the fact that he jerked off to some lewd thoughts of his friend.

Scratch that. You’re not his friend. He doesn’t deserve to call himself your friend.

What kind of friend is he anyway? The shittiest, lowest kind. The kind that’d fuck your mouth with your head to the wall, that’s what. The kind that’d press his fingers over your ribs like a pianist over his keys, memorising the erotic way you shudder under him. The kind that wants to substitute your pillows just so you’d hold him instead. Exactly the shittiest, most fucked up kind of friend.

Swallowing his dry throat, Noctis tips his head on his flattened pillow and stares at the ceiling.

He needs to get his shit together, and fast.

Fast enough before he does something he can’t undo.

WEEKEND COMES WITHOUT MUCH FANFARE, putting Byron in a mood too good to be true. He hums, he bobs his head to some catchy pop tunes he Moogled on your computer, he even does a little backwards walk on the mopped marble. You find it cute that he’s jittery like he’s the one with a full weekend when you’re the one who stepped out of the shower smelling like crushed sugar, towelling your damp hair absently, ready to go out for the week.

As you plug in the hairdryer and blasted hot dry air, raking fingers through your locks to detangle knots, Byron sneaks into your room to stare at your reflection in the vanity. “You do realise this is a date, right?” he crosses his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing. “As in, not the friendly sort of date. A date date.”

“I wouldn’t call it a date,” you retort mulishly, angling the hairdryer from the drying tips and steadily working it up the length of your hair. “We’re both going out to get Ignis his birthday present.” At Byron’s pensive staring, you find it appropriate to bolster your argument with more defense. “You’re really overthinking things, Byron. Stop that. It doesn’t matter anyway, not with the way things are.”

Given the time, Byron’s persistence rivals a cockroach; it’s no wonder the two won’t get along before Byron winds up cutting the critter into two. He all but rummages through your closet, withdrawing purchases from days earlier that are still packaged in paper bags. “But you’re alone with him. It’s a date.” He makes it a point to stare in your eyes, nodding solemnly. “Your very first date, mind you.”

Technically, it’s not your first date, is it? If you follow his judgment on the matter, this makes it your third date. With your hair sufficiently dried, you switch off the device and set it aside, dropping on the vanity’s velvet stool. “He might bring Prompto along,” you offer, carefully putting your thoughts together. “Because, y’know, the more the merrier. Prompto probably didn’t have the time to put together a present for Ignis too, since they were all chasing deadlines these past few days.”

Emotionally-challenged Byron casually cocks a brow. “Then it’s a threesome.”

You give Byron a look. “Am I going to get one of those birds and bees lecture from you again? I’m not sure I wanna relive that trauma right now.”

“Milady, you need to realise that you’re at that age where men will find you incredibly ravishing.” He sighs, introducing his palm to his forehead. You make a face at the word because who even uses ravishing at this day and age anyway? “I saw that, don’t make that face at me, young lady,” he warns, clicking his tongue. “I was once twenty, all right? I know what boys think when they see a pretty lady walking down the streets.”

“Then make me unpretty.” You shrug, sorting through your comb and clips stowed in the drawer, deciding between a bejewelled claw and a fuss-free ribbon. “That solves all issues, doesn’t it?”

Byron sighs for what seems to be the umpteenth time in ten minutes, resting his head against the cupboard like he gave up on life. Or on you. Both sounds tempting. “It’s hard to devalue a work of art like you, milady. Even if I wrap you in last season’s Dior, you are still Mona Lisa hanging in the Royal Lucis Museum.”

“And what’s wrong with last season’s Dior again?” you roll your eyes at his dramatization, combing sections through your hair and scrutinizing your reflection, wondering what’s the best way to go about looking casual but not too casual—somewhere in between? Like you’re trying to look presentable, but not trying too hard. “It’s not a date, trust me.”

“You’d be very surprised at how fast this entire thing is turning into a cliché,” he points out, shuffling through flimsy chiffons in Hermes and pairing it up with some stiff pleated skirt from LV. He recoils at his disastrous matchmaking, sets down the two items, and picks through a bagful of Comme des Garçons instead. “Girl says it’s not a date, boy thinks it’s a date, they both go out together, and somewhere along the way,” he wrinkles his nose, “girl falls for boy, they kiss by the sunset, and go home to make out. Awful cliché, don’t let your romance suffer through the same predictable path. I’d rate your movie 1.5 out of 10 if that’s the case.”

You try your very best to remember why he’s your butler again. Right, some sort of contracted family deal from ages back, probably dating all the way to Solheim. “Just—can we drop this topic? I’m just hanging out with him, we both like the same things, and I’m expected to serve under his council somewhere in the future. Don’t set us up.”

Byron examines a floral YSL piece printed in pastels, holding it up to the sunlight. “Milady, he looks at you like a constipated man finding an empty stall in the public washroom. You’re the love of his life, the one he needs, in case you don’t understand my analogy.”

You do—just that it’s probably not the best one he’s come up with. “Uh. Doesn’t sound like a compliment, but I totally appreciate the sentiment all the same. Very Byronesque, as expected.”

Byron finds it appropriate to ignore you. “Noctis does seem like an awkward young prince who has little to no experience in love, given his sheltered circumstances. He’s like you—except, he’s the prince. So it’s understandable why he latches on to you the moment you show signs of accepting him for who he is. You and him are two halves of a moon, completing one another.” He holds up a plain sundress scalloped in sheer lace, thin straps crisscrossing down the back, and nods at the satisfactory shift of your expression. Then he kneels to sift through Manolo, trying to pop some colour on his overall co-ord for the day. “He’s a classic textbook fool on falling in love—trust me, I’m a man, I know what I’m talking about.”

You open your mouth to retort—only, your mouth is dry.

His ruddy eyes dart from the strappy wedges to your brooding face in a split second, turning back to his task once more. The corners of his lips are upturned, smug. It’s an answer enough. “What about you, milady? What do you think of him?”

Your nails cut crimson crescents in your palm.

Ignis’ birthday is next week. It’ll mark a full four-month friendship with Noctis, toeing the start of a fifth month in the making.

Four months passed since he showed up demanding your name, eating through your cereal and playing through King’s Knight with a Revenant weapon. He introduced you to the personification of a chocobo who photographs loads of things as he worked through part-times in hopes of saving enough for a Lokton. His Shield, on the other hand, puts you through the wringer by adding punishing reps to your regimen, gruff voice calling you lil’ lady. And his Advisor is a piece of work amiable enough to carry a conversation, yet distant enough to remain an enigma skirting your life.

What was it like without the prince?

Listening through mother’s tracks on your computer, Debussy making itself a home in your heart. Talking to the walls, talking to the books, talking to Byron, talking to yourself in front of the mirror. Mother’s hands never left your neck, her glossy fingernails raking your skin in welts. Insomnia is your pretty glass globe and Niflheim wants to shake it in its hands, stirring snowstorms in its wake. It was cold. It was lonely. You were cold and lonely.

Then Noctis came along and you forgot what it felt like to sleep alone.

You know what it is. You always do.

“I like him.”

And Byron’s smile turns bitter. “I know.”

You like him, you know you do. How can you not like the person who defended your rights against father, who wanted you like you wanted him? You purse your lips, turning away. “But you know how we are—you know how I am. He doesn’t know anything about me, about us, about mother, about father. I can’t possibly tell him—“

“Milady, does he need to know?” he interjects, sitting on his haunches. At your wordless silence, eyes uncertain, Byron clears his throat and tries again. “What I’m trying to say is, I’m certain King Regis remains unaware of what exactly the Andronici do. We may be nobles, but we are tied deeply to the underworld. The police, the mobs, the gangs, the yakuza—they are all under the Andronicus’ thumb. If His Majesty knows what your father, your grandfather, your great-grandfather, and the rest of your ancestors had done to keep Insomnia safe, I’m sure he’ll have a hard time trying to convict Quintus of anything without crippling everything.”

He words it as though he’s putting a finger on your lips just so you won’t tell anyone who ate the last cookie.

But Byron never minces his meaning.

Taking a deep breath, you mutter, “So…you’re saying I should continue keeping this whole thing a secret until my death.”

It isn’t a question. It’s a statement met with Byron’s approving nod. He brings the dress and the sandals together with him, dropping them in a hapless heap by your feet. Always reverent, always your dog, he kneels with his hands resting on your knees, tipping his chin to admire you like he always does.

“Ignorance is bliss, or so they say,” he chuckles low, warm breath fanning over your cheeks. Just like this, his fingers card through your hair, tucking stray locks behind your ear, thumbing your cheekbone. Sunlight brings out the blood in his pale irises, thick lashes curtained partway. “Milady, I do want to see you happy. I truly do. But these past few months have taught me that I can’t make you happy the way he does. If your happiness lies with Noctis, so be it, I’ll continue fighting to keep the smile you learnt from him.”

Happiness is subjective.

Happiness is when you hold a brand new video game in your hands, waiting to be played. Happiness is when King’s Knight gets patched with a new update, and you’d roll over in bed as you scuffled through the stages. Happiness is when Byron drops by with a new book, babbling about his latest reading recommendation and how you should read it too. Happiness is when mother sits at the piano, her elegant fingers pressing the ivory keys to produce a hymn only the Astrals could’ve bestowed, her eyes closed, eyelashes fluttering. Happiness is when King Regis’ letter finally came, freeing you from the shackles within.

And happiness is when you are here with him.

With Noctis.

Byron’s sincerity brings tears to your eyes, but they don’t fall down your cheeks—they never do anymore, ever since you eviscerated your innards to rid your feelings. Yet, his reverence tightens your throat, seizes your voice. You choke up.

He only runs his fingers over your wet eyelashes, grazing against your unshed tears. You draw his head to your chest, scrunching your eyes shut at the feel of his cheek resting on your collarbones. Hunching over like this, all balled up with Byron by your side again, you are aware of how insignificant you are without him. On your own, you would’ve slit your wrists in the tub, letting clear waters run red, letting the Andronicus end with you.

Byron gathers you in his arms, rubbing loose circles between your shoulder blades. His words are a soothing thrum against your neck, breathing in the lush scent of soap on your skin. “In the end, we are no better than your father. We are liars. We lie to keep those around us safe. That is what the Andronici do: We lie. We kill. And we lie again.”

You know. Aren’t you always lying? Aren’t you always killing people to get what you want? Human lives are the currency in your game, and you make it a point to have as much as you can before time runs out.

This is how it goes: You will amass a mountain of bodies by the time Noctis appoints you as his military strategist, and he will never know the things he does not need to know. Insomnia thrives under his reign, while you are every death sentence signed in blood. As he goes to bed each night, you will do a routine maintenance to sweep unnecessary dusts from stirring unneeded curiosity. For every dispute raised in the council, you will have already threaded your orders through the ranks, starting from the police, to the gangsters, to the yakuza, to the mob and the men. Those crossing your path will be carefully scissored out of the picture by way of Byron or their suddencooperation out of the plea of a beloved, whichever method most convenient at the moment of need. Decoys are magnificent, what more framing those complicit to the cause; suspect a foul play, and an execution is the remedy to all.

And this is how you will maintain your ecosystem, keeping a manicured garden free from weeds and pests.

Resting your cheek against Byron’s hair, idle fingers curling his ponytail between each digit, you clear your throat, fighting to keep your voice from cracking.

“You know, when I was young, I really liked reading all those fairytale books mother bought for me,” you confess, stewing in the indulgent thoughts of mother and her boozy smile, gifting you books to make up for the world father denied. Byron makes a quiet noise at your throat, and you give a small laugh at your foolishness fifteen years ago, holding him tight. “Thought I’d be one of those princesses when I grow up, wearing dresses and tiaras for my whole life. I was so wrong. Look at me now. What kind of fairytale princess am I?”

You don’t blame Byron for huffing under his breath, probably amused at your childishness.

Then his hand rubbing your back stills, lips burning words on your skin.

“Oh milady…you’re never a fairytale princess to begin with. You’ve always been the monster.”

[tbc.]

NOTES:

Hi, are there people still reading this fic and waiting for updates?

LPC updates long overdue? DON’T WORRY I GOT YOUR BACK! WITH TWO CHAPTERS BACK TO BACK! TLDR of my current life can be read here if you’re wondering, but all woeful life shenanigans aside, woah plot. And keeping secrets are no good but we’re only starting! Slow burn! Friends to lovers! Angst! And the next chapter is a plot-filled interlude of fun dates, car rides, and a certain creepy old man!

With this, we’re finally coming to an end with the FLOWERING arc, thanks for sticking around this far! Everyone’s support and heart-warming words on Tumblr didn’t fail to keep the passion going for writing LPC, and I really appreciate everyone’s enthusiasm and consistent check-ups on the next update! Again, I’m truly sorry for the one-year break, but I hope everyone enjoyed both chapters!

We’ve made it through BLOOMING, and we also made it through FLOWERING. Now, let’s welcome the next instalment, DECAYING. And you all know what that means… ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

PREVIEW: [20] Nonchalantly picking out a petal streaked in rich pinks fading in whites, Noctis drops it into your outstretched hands. You crane your neck to reward his gift with a smile, and it’s all that he needs, really. He’s good at pretending, isn’t he? He’s been pretending he’s got his life together all these years, so he’s sure he can pretend to be your friend just a little while longer.

[21] Byron’s eyes are the colour of rust-eaten iron flaking gold over the years, corroded by the light. There is a disturbing twist to his lips. Caressing your cheek, he’s whispering go back to sleep too loudly and all you can tell him is wait byron i’m scared please stay voicelessly when your limbs don’t move and you can’t move and it’s dark, it’s too dark, but why can you see the line of his smile shifting into a smirk and—

[22] “…is it okay if you stay for the night?” you ask, the curl of your fingers tightening as if it’s a manacle chaining him where he should be.

[23] Sure, Noctis could disentangle your limbs from his and keep this memory all to himself, but he’s done lying to himself, he’s done pretending this is going nowhere when he wants it to go somewhere—anywhere, as long as it’s with you.

[24] Home. A word he lost when mom left and dad ran. A word he found in you once more when he realises his home exists in a person, not a place. Byron throws his gaze to the slice of sky above, counting the days when he’ll see you again. Home.

[25] Noctis feels his jaw grow tight at the aloofness of the answer. No, Ignis doesn’t understand at all. Ignis won’t ever understand this. How could he understand when he hasn’t suffered through a crippling loneliness only Noctis had felt? Through gritted teeth, he grinds out, “You don’t get it. I don’t want her to go too.”

[26] Noctis knows that much when Regis furrows his brows, understanding dawning in his eyes. “So we finally meet,” says Regis, exhaling the words like a laborious process, “young daughter of the Andronicus.”

[27] “And you, Highness? Will you still rally under her banner even if you know she slit her mother’s throat at sixteen?”

[28] Tossing a look over his shoulder, his eyes are alight with mischief. “Well, what’re you waiting for? For me to bathe you too? Aren’t you too old for that?"

Lord have mercy on me, because each chapter’s close to 10k words. RIP in pieces myself for having to edit through almost 80k of words. There’s a mixture of drama and so much fluff it’s so fluffy I could die from the fluff. (The fluff is just there as a distraction to hide the fact that this is DECAYING we’re talking about and there’s bound to be angst everywhere.)

Hope you guys enjoyed the updates on LPC, My Friend, Mr Noctgar, and My Little Sister ☆ Can’t Be This Cute! Looking forward to hear from everyone again; thoughts and comments are always lovely to hear!

#noctis x reader #noctis/reader #Noctis Lucis Caelum #final fantasy xv fanfic #final fantasy xv #ffxv #lazy people #fanfic #whew this chapter is so long because everything's crammed into one chapter #hope yall enjoyed the double release