Angsty request here! So the chocobros are fighting against some imperial soldiers and as they go to land the final blow on the last enemy standing, that enemy uses their s/o as human shield. It’s too late to stop mid-attack, and their s/o is injured badly (almost fatally, but not quite). How would the chocobros react a) when it happened b) with the other chocobros while their s/o recovered and c) after their s/o had healed? I know, I’m horrible, but the idea won’t get out of my head!

Noctis:

They lock eyes once, and he’s moving too fast to stop.

“No!”

At the last moment their eyes close and their face relaxes, accepting what was about to happen. But then a scream leaves them and their expression turns to one of pain. The strike goes clean through them, their blood running down it’s blade in slow rivulets. Their had reaches out and grabs a hand full of his shirt. They opens their eyes and offer a shaky smile, trying to reassure their love that they’ll be fine. But then they start to sink to the ground. 

For a moment, he’s too horrified to process what he’d done. But then he snapped out of it and hurriedly grabbed them and guided them to the ground before they could fall. He made sure they were on their side, so the blade wouldn’t shift and hurt them more. Gun shot sound over his head, Prompto finishing their enemy with two guns in hand, overheating them both. Not that it mattered since that was the last MT. They were safe from further attack for now, but…

“Ignis!” He yelled, a touch of panic in his voice. This wasn’t something that he could do alone. Pulling out the blade would hurt them, and he wasn’t sure he could do so without them bleeding out without immediate healing. They were already losing too much blood. 

In the dirt beside him Ignis lands on his knees after running over, eyes quickly looking over the injury. There wasn’t any other choice but to pull it out. And so he places a hand on their side to hold them steady and looked to Noctis, “On three. Ready?”

Noctis nods and grabs the hilt with both hands, waiting for Ignis’ count.

“One, two, three!”

He pulls with all his strength while Ignis, careful not to cut himself, guides the blade in a straight path. Once the blade is free, Noctis drops it to the ground and rushed back to their side, taking their hand in his. It’s ice cold, and they didn’t so much as move when the blade was pulled. Not a good sign. But it’d be fine soon.

Ignis broke the elixir over their wound after shifting them to their back, and they waited for the wound to seal. For a heart stopping moment, nothing happened. He worried they were too late. They didn’t have another phoenix down on them, the last had been used earlier in the fight. But then they breath. The wound closes, and they are whole.

And though they are asleep, Noctis pulls them close and buries his face in their hair. 

Too close. 

That had been too close.  

~

It was his fault and he can’t let it go. 

They had set up camp at a nearby haven, waiting for them to wake and rejoin them. But the blood loss had been extensive, and no one was sure when they’d wake. So they’d settled in, and were now biding their time with training before night fall. Something Gladio had suggested and that Noctis, to everyone’s surprise, had agreed to. 

He should be able to pull out of a warp strike he thinks to himself as he moves. Though he knows that it’s not possible without endangering himself. Stasis is the last thing from his mind as he warps from Gladio, phases through his attack and strikes, warps to Prompto to knock him off balance, then to Ignis. But right as he prepares to attack Ignis, his magic runs out and he ends up full on crashing into Ignis as dead weight. 

The momentum sends him rolling off Ignis, off the haven, and to the ground below. It knocks the wind out of him, but he’s otherwise unharmed. 

“Noct!” “Noctis!” 

His friends call from above him. He opens his eyes and finds the three of them peering down at him in concern. 

“I’m alright.” He raises his hand to them to wave them off of coming down after him and rises.

Though he doesn’t miss the shared glance between Gladio and Ignis. Probably just put together that he was distraught. He’d been trying to hide how upset he was with himself. They were worried about them too. They shouldn’t have to worry about him as well, especially since… 

A sigh escapes him before he finishes that thought, and he begins to walk around the haven to the path that would allow him back up. 

“I should of been keeping an eye on how much warping I was doing earlier.” He says in explanation as soon as he reached the trio. 

“I’ll say.” Ignis pushed his glasses back up and frowns. “If that ever happens in combat,be sure to use an ether right away.” 

“I know specs.” Noctis smiled slightly, but saw Ignis about to launch into a lecture and the smile fell. Before he could start speaking though, he needed to know. “You alright though? I was going pretty fast.”

“Aw he’s fine.” Gladio said slapping Noctis on the back. “He was just about to start dinner, right?” 

A rare display from Gladio, taking it easy on someone. Ignis, when faced with that knowledge, let it go. “Yes, I was actually. I’ll get back to that.”

They all departed for their own areas of the Haven. Ignis to his kitchen, Gladio by the fire, and Noctis with his legs dangling over the edge. Prompto would normally be on the other side of the fire doing maintenance on his guns, but instead went to join Noctis. 

Prompto snickered as he sat and said, “Dude. I got the best picture of Ignis because of you.”

“What?” Noctis raised his eyebrow. 

“Take a look!” Prompto held out his camera for Noctis to see.

On the screen was them from earlier. The light around Noct wasn’t it’s usual blue, but the dark purple of stasis. It was immediately after he’d crashed, as his face was planted into Ignis’ chest, and his arms were trapped between them. That didn’t look comfortable for either of them, and Ignis would at least have a bruise from it. 

Speaking of Ignis, his eyes were widened in an expression of confused terror in the picture. His feet had tangled with each other when he’d tried to step away from the prince, causing him to fall backwards, and the spear that had been in his hand was just out of reach and hovering in midair. He’d clearly let go of it in surprise. Along with everything else, his arms were extended straight out from the force of the impact. His mouth was pressed together in a tight line. He looked almost owlish and all together cartoonish. 

A laugh escaped from Noctis before he could stop it, and Prompto joined in. “See? I told you!” 

“Oh man, we need to get that printed.” He said, a smirk still on his face.

“Oh totally. Blackmail material.” Prompto grinned at him and then they lost themselves to pointless chatter. 

If Prompto could help it, he wouldn’t let his friend dwell on the sleeping person in the tent. They all wouldn’t. It was all too clear that he was blaming himself. If they could all distract his thoughts until they woke up and dissolved his guilt themself, then they’d have done enough.

~

It took them three days to wake. 

It was quiet. No one had noticed that they had shown signs of stirring. And so they were alone when they woke. Which they didn’t mind. It gave them time to get their bearings and recall just what had happened. Once they did remember, a sigh left them and they sat up slowly. A wince crossed their face as they did so, and they had to take a moment to let the pain subside before doing anything else. 

They pushed their hair out of their face and grimaced at how greasy it felt. It’d been a while then. Before anything else, they crawled over to their bag of things and changed out of the dirty ones. After that, grateful for the tent’s height, they stood up. A dizzy spell hit them, but they remained standing. Time to face the day. 

They left the tent quietly, bare feet making no sound as they moved. The boys were all around the camp, Prompto and Noctis sitting at the edge, Ignis was washing dishes, and Gladio was sitting by the fire. It was peaceful, and they were loath to break the peace. But…Noctis. They remembered his face clearly when they’d been hurt. It wouldn’t be fair to make him wait for them any longer.

“Hey guys.” They said softly. They smiled slightly at how startled they all were. But then Noctis’ head whipped around and the sheer look of relief on his face was worth waking up for. 

“You’re awake.” 

He rose from his spot and crossed the distance between them and him, wrapping them into an almost bone crushing hug. They held him gently in return. 

“I’m so sorry.” He muttered into their hair, and they shook their head.

“Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault.” 

They didn’t know how long they stood together. Noctis’ embrace spoke volumes about how scared he was. As if he was pressing his fear of losing them into their hug. 

They closed their eyes and pressed their forehead into his shoulder. “I’m here. I’m here.”

Prompto:

“No, no, no!” He was frantic in trying to stop the bleeding. He no longer had any potions on him, and the others were still fighting the daemon he missed. Because he had missed. He knew better than to shoot if someone was near his target. Precisely because this might happen.

He’d been aiming for the joint on the Iron Giant’s arm, one of the few weak points that he could take advantage of. With a piercer bullet, it would have been enough to down it. But, due to bad luck and horrible timing, at the same time as he pulled the trigger the giant had grabbed them. Which put them right in the bullet’s path. 

The cry that tore out of them would probably haunt him for the rest of his life. 

After that things were a blur. The others must have intervened at some point, but he’d only really become aware of his surroundings again when he was by their side, hand pressing down on their chest. 

“Hey, hey, look at me.” He said shakily. 

It was scary seeing how they struggled to focus on him. But they managed it. He thanked the astrals one at a time for that. 

“P-prom?” 

“Shh, you’ll be alright soon, okay?” He glanced up from them when he heard the others begin to run over to them. He kept praying that one of them had, at the very least, a potion. His heart was beating frantically when they passed out, and panic soon followed.

“What happened?” Ignis asked, looking them over and then at Prompto.

“They- I- The giant!” He gestured to them, “Shot in the shoulder.”

Ignis quickly pulled Prompto’s hand away, thankful he still had a potion on hand. However, it was their last one. So whatever this didn’t heal would have to heal naturally. 

He shattered the potion above the wound and watched as the skin knitted back together. Prompto’s hands were shaking as their breathing evened out. Their blood was staining his hands and he felt sick at the sight. He’d caused this. He had shot them and now they had passed out, and thank the six for Ignis having a potion.

“Prompto, we’re near the Longwythe rest area. We’ll get a hotel there until they recover, alright?” Ignis said, standing up and patting his shoulder before going over to the others to explain the situation.

“Right,” he says a half beat too late to be heard, “Okay.”

~

He sighed heavily, looking at their face as they slept. The chair he was sitting on was one of those hard wooden ones, the only one he could pull up to their bed close enough. They were pale and it was startling to see someone who was usually so energetic so still. 

The others thought the same of him honestly. They all in turn were watching him. They’d all taken a bad hit, and all have had to recover for a time. But Prompto was taking this harder than any other time. 

They all were used to the boundless energy that the pair bounced off one another, magnifying it beyond control sometimes. (Often involving Noctis as well.) To see both so quiet was unnerving. To the point where they were all silent. 

Eventually, Ignis caught Noctis’s eye and gesture with his head to the door. He followed the adviser, and stepped out behind him and shut the door.

“Yeah Specs?” 

“I really think we should get Prompto out of the room for now.” 

Noctis glanced at the closed door and then back at Ignis, “Specs, I honestly don’t think anyone would be able to pull him away right now.”

“You have to try.” Ignis replied, “It’s not good for him to dwell on this. When they wake and can help him forgive himself maybe, but right now he’s spiraling. Get him some fresh air. They should wake in a few hours.”

With a resigned sigh, Noctis nodded, and then headed back into the room. He could never stand to be the one waiting for someone to wake up. He’d been on the otherside of this situation, making everyone wait for him when he was a child. So he didn’t know how to handle the feeling of helplessness, even as the sleeping person was healing.

“Hey Prompto? Come here for a sec.” He started, staying by the door.

Prompto glanced away from the person in the bed to Noctis, and then nodded. He got up slowly and crossed the room. Upon reaching Noctis’s side, Noctis threw his arm around Prompto’s shoulders. Quickly he began guiding them out of the room and hurriedly put together a lie to get the blond to stay outside for a bit.

“Sania just called,” he began, “She was wondering if we could help her find a…rare frog around here.” 

His face twisted up at his own lie, but he stuck with it. “Since we’re here we might as well take a look right.” 

“Uh…Noct?” Prompto sounded about as disbelieving as Noctis felt about what he made up.

“Yeah Prom?” 

“We’re in a desert dude.” Prompto deadpanned.

“…did I mention it was rare?”

Prompto stopped in his tracks and Noctis stopped with him. A sigh left him as he looked on the ground. But then, he looked back up at Noctis, the beginnings of a smile on his face. 

“I hate to say it buddy, but your lying skills suck.”

“Hey!” Noctis frowned and looked away from him. “I’m trying here.”

“I know.” Prompto huffed in amusement. He threw his own around around Noctis’s shoulders as well and started leading them to the crowsnest instead. “I know you’re just trying to help, but how about we don’t get all dirty in the desert and just snack on some fries instead?” 

“Sounds good to me.” Noctis smiled, and went along with him.

As long as it helped Prompto, he’d be willing to just chill in the diner for a few hours.

~

When they woke, it was in pain. Not terrible pain, but the pain of stiff muscles and of joints needing to pop. With a groan they sat up and stretched, taking a deep breath. Their chest hurt, but it was mild compared to their memory.

“Ah, you’re awake.” Ignis was nearby, sitting in a chair. It looked like he had been cleaning his daggers. 

“…Where’s Prompto?” They asked, once they found their voice.

“With Noctis I assume. Would you like me to call him?” Ignis had already taken his phone out before they even nodded.

He handed them the phone and they waited for Prompto to pick up.

“Heyas Iggs. What’s up?”

“Prom?” They only said his name and silence fell. 

Suddenly there was clattering, receding foot steps, and a confused prince calling after Prompto. It took only about ten seconds before the room door burst open and a winded Prompto came flying through. He was at their side before Ignis was even on his feet. The surprise on Ignis’s face would have been hilarious, if Prompto wasn’t near tears and holding them tightly against himself.

“I’m so so sorry!” He started. Before long, he’d worked himself into a fit of guilt. But they were working just as hard to calm him down.

“Prom, It’s not your fault.”

Three Brothers – Imagine

Imagine for a moment that, though Noctis is the child the crystal chose, he is not Regis’s only child. 

Rather there was a young Galadian girl, with eyes that were the envy of Leviathan and hair the color of raven’s wings, the strands even changed in the sunlight light much like the feathers of the creatures. A hunter and fighter, fluid as the sea and no less forgiving. 

He’d come back for her as he’d swore to do, but he was too many years too late. She had burned in the fires of war with a girl that looked too much like her, and much to young. He’d only been able to save her son, one who’s hair didn’t change color with the light, but was a dusty black. 

Regis could recognize it from the mirror. 

(But those eyes were not lost to him no. Her eyes still stared back at him from behind a Kingsglaive mask, and every time he saw them, he’d offer a silent prayer to the woman for forgiveness, for turning her son into his weapon.)

The second great love of his life was a retainer of his. Her wit was sharper than anyone in the room with her, and her composure was second to none. Fair of hair and with eyes as green as the Duscaen forests. He was married, but his wife had been friends with him and only friend before this, and both had their romances on the side. 

But then she had to end it and married a lord, another retainer of his, and stepped down as a retainer. The timing of their first child was off. “Premature by a month” they’d claimed. Part of him always wondered if the hurried wedding had anything to do with the fact that his hair, though fair like hers, was dusty like his.

(And as the child grew, with her sharp wit, sharper even, but with the face he’d had when he was young, he knew. For the first six years of the child’s life, he watched over him, and decided that this one, this one at the very least, would be kept as close to himself as he dared.)

The third came when the friend, seeing age and stress killing her king, offered her heart to him. She was the one who could stay. Who he wouldn’t have to leave behind. He accepted, loving her until her last breath when illness took her away. And the loving their child enough for the both of them, a child with his hair, and the blue of the crystal in his eyes once he was chosen as the crystal’s heir, but her face in his cheekbones, and an innocence that held onto him even into adulthood. 

(How he’d cried when the crystal chose him for another fate. Was he cursed? Couldn’t he keep at least one of them safe? Couldn’t he hold at least one of the close?)

When death came to him, he welcomed it, sending a young girl with his first son, praying that they’d live. 

When death came for the first son, he didn’t regret it. He’d always had a connection with the king’s magic, and knew in the back of his mind that’d he be worthy of the ring, for only long enough to get it and Luna to safety. But he never knew why he was worthy until he was dead, and the kings had to deal with a stubborn ghost of a man, hell bent on cursing them in the after life for destroying the men that could have been his family. 

Death couldn’t take the second son. No. Ignis couldn’t see the spirit of Nyx holding his left wrist, keeping the kings from taking his younger brother’s life, holding the burning at bay. He could at least save one of them, now that he knew. But it still took it’s price, leaving the second in the darkness forever, even when the light would return. He had his guesses why it didn’t take him, from having seen a picture of the former king when he was younger. And it made the vision from the messenger almost too much to bear. 

How he’d wished Noctis had agreed to stop their adventure, to refuse to go to his fate. 

When it was time for Noctis to enter the crystal, Bahamut told him all. The god did not offer him pity, but rather begged for understanding. The gods made a mistake with Ardyn, one that he’d pay for. They were too weak to help him, they hadn’t meant for him to fall. And Noctis, with the compassion of his mother aiding him, forgave Bahamut and the gods. He forgave his wayward uncle.

He was family too. 

Can I ask for a scenario with any of the boys in a Queer-platonic relationship with an ace s/o?

Anon dear, I’ll do my best. It’s my usual weird mix of headcanon and scenario instead I’m afraid. Please tell me if this turns out alright. I’ve sort of tried to capture what this kind of relationship would be like by experimenting…By which I mean I ended up writing for more than one person. I hope this is alright. I mostly assumed that they get their physical needs taken care of in other ways. But I didn’t want to elaborate on that too much. (For all i know maybe they’re all ace.)

Noctis:

He’d sit beside them on the couch, resting against one another in a calm silence, and holding each other’s hand. The TV was on, playing a radio station rather than a channel. It served to drowned out both their thoughts. It had been a bad day. And on those days, they needed each other. 

This was their ritual. Something they never spoke about with each other, but just sort of occurred. They trusted each other wholly with their mental wounds. Their need for a quiet solitude with another. They knew that they weren’t listening to the music playing, but rather one another’s breathing. They needed the other’s grounding presence.

If someone walked in on the sight, it could have been mistake for a romantic moment between two lovers. But romance had no place among them. No. It was just the feeling of the other nearby. A trust. Not attraction, but a feeling that if it wasn’t precisely this person there with them, it wouldn’t feel right. 

A shelter for the dark. Nothing more, nothing less.

Prompto:

With Prompto, things would be a lot more easy to mistake for romance. And a lot more tactile. He’d help fix their hair just to feel close to them, and they would play with the strands of his through out the day. They might lay their head on his chest to hear his heart beat, while he would nuzzle into their hair and sleep. They’d play with each other’s hand when they’re distracted, brush against each other’s thighs when they want their attention for something, link arms when walking together, and just genuinely lack a need for personal space between the two of them.

People often ask them why they aren’t dating already, but they always, each other them, have the same answer. “It’s not like that.”

Because it isn’t. This isn’t love. Not in the way one would expect. This was more of a need fulfilled. They cherished this person, no one else understood their needs. It wasn’t romance. It wasn’t friendship. It was some unknown between the two. 

It was comfort and closeness. And it was enough.

Gladio:

Helping the other relax after a long day is normal for them. Massaging tense muscles when they don’t really allow people to touch them. If one of them was sore it wouldn’t be odd for them to help the other undress if they couldn’t manage it themselves. Sleeping in the same bed, couch, or using each other as a pillow was likewise normal. Seeing each other at their most vulnerable, being able to face each other unblinkingly during the moments they couldn’t stand someone else’s stare, watching over each other’s shoulders were all normal to them.

But nothing beyond that. Closeness was what they valued in one another. Someone who’d always have their back through everything and anything. 

Sometimes, they’d be afraid that they’d get too old for anyone to understand this. “Call it what it is, you’re in love.” 

But they’re not. This was something else. A choice. This person was their person. They didn’t have the word for it, but they didn’t desire one another how other people did. It was just the sense of a missing piece finally coming home. 

Ignis:

This is a relationship of space and intimacy. They don’t need to be near each other, but rather look after one another in other ways. They sleep in separate beds to allow the other their privacy. He’ll make sure they have lunch, they make sure he has clean clothes. Things they were perfectly capable of dealing with on their own, but chose to do for one another. They cook together and are much more free with their emotions around one another. (They’re one of the very rare people who have heard Ignis laugh to tears.) They ensure the other’s appearance is perfect for special events. They walk together at work, and leave notes for the other asking if they’ve eaten. (There are very rare times of course, when one of them cries. And the other doesn’t judge them. They only hold them through the whole thing until they settle again.) They just take care of each other. Even though they don’t have to. 

People comment on how chilly they are together. They won’t last if they ever get together. They just share a knowing glance and continue on with their day. They know themselves better than anyone else, and know that their care is shown through their actions.

They could live without one another, but why would they?

Ravus: 

He sends letters through out the relationship, venting mostly, and sometimes commenting on how he saw them the other day, but didn’t have time to go to talk to them. They in turn write back what they’ve learned and how their own training is going. They’ll make general yet. When they have time, they train together. Fighting one on one until one of them submits. (Neither ever does. It’s time spent together and they want it to last.) At the end of the session they sit back to back for as long as they can get away with, without someone finding out. 

They’re not ashamed of one another, but it’s safer if no one knows. They know this is not love, but they also know they would miss the other into eternity if they were gone. This was safer to let no one know.

They depart and go back to letters. For most people this isn’t enough. They need contact and the person to be there with them. But neither of them need those things. They just need the other’s understanding. The knowledge that someone is there, listening. 

It’s enough, and more than they could ever have asked for. 

Could I ask for an angsty scenario where the reader has had a longtime crush on Prompto and they watch as he confesses to Cindy? Maybe one of the other chocobros knows about the readers feelings? You can totally decide if things end happy or sad! Thank you~

You would watch from a distance with the other boys as Prompto and Cindy spoke. From your place, you could read Prompto’s lips.

“I..I just really like you.”

You’d wish he’d say those words to you, but know that such feelings couldn’t be changed so easily. A heavy sigh would leave you as you’d turn away from the scene. Cindy hadn’t shown any interest in Prompto at all. And as much as you wished he liked you instead, you hoped that she would return his affections. 

He deserved to be happy.

You’d step away, smiling brightly to go sit at the other side of the haven you were all currently standing on while waiting for Prompto. Ignis would excuse himself from the others effortlessly, both Noctis and Gladio not thinking anything of it. Then he’d follow after you.

“Are you alright?” Ignis would ask. He’d know. With those sharp eyes of his, he’d know. He’d have seen your affectionate glances at Prompto when he wasn’t looking. From the lighthearted banter to the small acts of kindness you showed to Prompto alone, he’d know.

Another, more watery, sigh would leave you, and your head would hang as your eyes rested on the rocks on the ground. “No.” 

It’d be hard, but you’d managed to keep most of your hurt-heart from your voice. And with a strong resolve you’d lift your head and steel yourself, “But I will be.”

Heartbreak always hurt. But it wasn’t the end of the world. It hurt sure. But that would go away. Plus…in the back of your mind you knew that Cindy might not return Prompto’s feelings. He’d needs someone too in that case. He’d be hurt, like you. But you’d want him to be happy, and console him. 

Ignis would then pat your shoulder and nod, leaving you to collect yourself. And once you did, you’d return to the others, and pretend that you were okay. 

Prompto would return, but to your surprise, he was only a little dejected. She hadn’t said no, but it hadn’t been a yes either. It was a maybe. It was a someday. It’s wasn’t a promise but a possibility. Which was a lot more than what you would be given if he ever found out. 

So you’d push your feelings away. And hope for the best. 

Could I have a scenario where the chocobros’ s/o is an artist and they ask him to model for them? *suggestive eyebrow wiggle* It can be SFW or NSFW

Once again in the magical timeline of no war in Eos….

Noctis:

When they ask to model for them for their college class, he has to try and keep the blush from rising to his face. Why would anyone want to draw him? 

They point out that he’s actually one of the most popular subjects to draw since he is a prince, he’s handsome (In some peoples opinions beautiful), and that most people idolize him to a point.

But then they’d smile and say if he didn’t want to, they could always find another model…Maybe one of his friends would help? 

He’d make it a point to deadpan ask where they wanted him, because even if he doesn’t want to model for them, he doesn’t want anyone ELSE to either. 

So he’d agree in the end. And it’d probably be just him in a regular setting honestly. Because the poor guy is barely keeping it together for just a few sketches while his S/O is staring at him so intently. Can you imagine his reaction if they said they needed him to take off his shirt for a few? 

Prompto:

He be down for it. Like, they’d barely get it out of their mouths and he’d be like, LETS GO.

They’d end up in the park, and he’d find the most ridiculous places to pose in, along with the silliest poses.

And of course, there’s a sketch of him taking their photo. 

All in all, an enjoyable experience. 

(But when they get home they tease him about needing a nude model next week and he goes bright red. And they laugh and state they weren’t serious.)

Gladiolus:

Honestly, they probably wouldn’t even need to ask. They’d already be drawing him when he notices them sitting at the edge of the training grounds.

He’d catch them, and they’d say they just needed some figure studies. And since he was so active… They’d hoped he wouldn’t mind.

He doesn’t of course. And he’d only state that he’d be more then willing to be their model for this classes if they needed him to. 

Ignis:

They ask and he’d say yes. It wouldn’t be a very large surprise. However, they never tell him when they’d need him to be their model and it’s soon forgotten about.

That is, until he finds that they’ve fallen asleep at the kitchen table. Their head is on top their sketchpad and he can’t help but see the many drawings of…him.

Him in the kitchen, reading a book, when he dozed off on the couch…It’s sort of endearing to see the little details they have of him. 

He’d wake them and ask if they had enough for the class, or if they still needed a sketch or two. 

Scenario Time with Noctis and his s/o who loves to stick their head under his shirt when the woke up after a nightmare ~

Odd/unusual request!…. but I love Scenarios. I’ll give it a go! 😀

The first time it happens, Noctis doesn’t expect it. They’re laying next to each other, and he’d been awake, his own fear of nightmares keeping him for falling asleep. It was peaceful, and their steady breathing next to him was a giant comfort. It was almost enough to lull him to sleep himself…So, when his S/O suddenly bolts upright silently with wide eyes, he’d nearly warps out of bed and across the room. He hadn’t been that startled in a while. He’d look at them for a bit, and become increasingly worried when they stare unblinkingly ahead of themself. 

He’d sit up next them then, and place a reassuring hand on their back. This would cause them to flinch, but snap them out of that unnerving stare. They suddenly turn to him, and fist both their hands in his shirt and bury their face in his chest. They’d take a heaving breath, but wouldn’t be able to get out what they had dreamed about. He’d sit there and hold them, trying to still their shaking and get them to breath with him. It wouldn’t work, and his sleepy brain would only come up with one solution. 

Stuff them under his shirt.

Now, his logic behind this was that they’d be able to hear him breathing better, and listen to his heartbeat. He’d be grateful not only for the dark, but the fact that if they were under his shirt they wouldn’t be able to see his face. Slowly but surely he was getting red, because his did just stuff someone under his shirt. But he couldn’t focus on that now. He instead focused on reassuring them again, and breathing slowly and purposely to get them to calm down. 

It works.

They breath with him, and calm down enough to call his name. He’d let them out of his shirt and look them over. They’d shake their head, not wanting to talk about it. So instead he’d pull them into his arms and lay back down with them. They also hold him, and they’d just talk. Talking helped usually. They wouldn’t stick ot any particular topic, but rather go where their mind wanted to. 

And they fall asleep in each others arms, feeling safe and secure.

then the second time it happens, he does the shirt thing right away. It calms them quicker than last time. He whispers sweet nothings in their ears, and hope that their nightmares would vanish.

By the third time, it’s habit. One they’re both comfortable with.

The fourth time, they’re with the others, but they don’t question it. Not with the devastated and fearful look that had been on Noctis’ S/O’s face after waking. They assume it’s Noctis’ way of giving them privacy. 

The fifth, time, they actually fall asleep in his shirt. He doesn’t care. It’s comforting to feel someone against his chest, so steadily breathing. 

And everytime after that, it’s nothing new. The nightmares can’t reach them when they hear his heart beat.

The 10 years he was gone would be their own personal hell. 

Hi there! I’d like to request reaction scenarios (or headcanons, if easier for you) for the bros who couldn’t reach their s/o after the fall of Insomnia only to be told by Iris (or another member of the Crownsguard) that they were severely injured while trying to escape and still recovering in Lestallum? Love me some angst. ;) Thank you for your time.

D: ….here you go. xD I love angst but don’t know if I do it justice. 

Noctis:

Someone very dear to him had been left in Insomnia. And he was headed for Altissia. It wasn’t a good thing or a bad one. It just was. They both knew, when they had first started their relationship, that one day they’d have to depart from one another. Because he was a prince and they…he didn’t want to say they were common but that’s how everyone else saw them. No matter how much they cared, their bloodline, or rather their lack of one, would part them. And he did care. He cared almost too much. And the words Ignis had spoken crushed him. 

“There was an attack. The imperial army has taken the crown city.”

He felt sick at first. The king, his father, was confirmed dead. That alone was enough to upset him nearly to the point of tears. But then a moment later he recalled the person who he had left behind, and sheer panic flooded his system. When he had a moment alone, he dialed their number on their phone. But there was no answer. 

He was distraught to say the least. He’d lost his father. Had he lost them as well? He knew the answer. Considering that they had been a member of the Kingsglaive, and the king was dead…he knew the answer. That would be when they’d go to observe the city at a distance, and they’d see the devastation first hand. Prompto on his behalf would be calling their phone very 5 minutes during the car ride there, in the hope that they’d answer and prove they were alright. 

But upon arriving there’d still be no response. 

He’d want to fall to his knees and scream at the world upon seeing the crown city in the distance. At the devastation that befell it. Of the dead he could not reach. Lunafreya’s name was added to the list then, and even his own name. How could life take so much away from him in such a short time?

That would be when they all start calling anyone in the city they know, trying to find out who was alive and who was dead. Cor would pick up and Noctis would demand answers. He’d tell them where to meet him, and confirm the king’s death. Noctis would ask about his ‘friend’ and Cor would only say he’d explain more upon seeing Noctis in person. 

It’d give him hope. Maybe, just maybe, depending on what Cor said, they’d have made it out alright. Maybe there was one less name on the list of the dead. Finding Cor had been a challenge on it’s own, considering he had already moved on from Hammerhead by the time they reached there. Cindy would make sure they’re all right and give them directions on where to go. 

That’s when she’d mention that Cor had a companion with him. One that wasn’t doing too well.

They hurried onward after that, hope beating in Noctis’ chest. Please please please let it be them. And upon reaching the outpost, they’d point him in the direction Cor was. Upon meeting with him, he’d explain things. About the blades he’d have to find, about the king’s motivations, and that the entire Glaive had fallen for their king. 

But the the topic would then turn to the one he had managed to save. Most had died of their wounds, but this one? They had fought tooth and nail for their duty, even after being mortally wounded. It hadn’t been enough of course. Nothing would have been enough to stop the destruction of the city and death of the king. But they had held on for so long, long after their fellow glaives had succumbed to their wounds, that he couldn’t just leave them to die. So he brought them with. Did the best he could even after they went unconscious. And had hunters escort them to Lestallum to be taken care of by a friend of his. 

He wouldn’t be able to see them for a long time. Cor didn’t even know their name. But the potential for it to be them was what gave him strength to keep moving forward. And even if it wasn’t them…He felt he owed a thanks to this member of the Kingsglaive for fighting for his father until the end. 

And when he does get to Lestallum…It’s them. They’re in a wheelchair from how weakened they were, war torn, and despondent. But it’s them. And they’re expected to make a full physical recovery. They have a new scar along their forehead and along their neck from blades. He’s told they also have a few scars along their torso from bullets. It had been a very close call. 

But then, it’d be revealed that they don’t remember much of anything. The trauma to their head took their memories away from them, and he’d apologize to them. They’d state he had nothing to apologize for. And on top of that, they’d stand up from their wheelchair, with great difficulty, and kneel before him. They’d state the only thing they do remember is the oath they took to serve the king. And since the previous king had passed, they’d like to stay at his side to serve as soon as they were well enough. 

“A Kingsglaive has no purpose without a king to serve.” 

It’d hurt. But he wouldn’t want to leave them again. So he’d allow it, and pull them to their feet. 

“You stand as my equal now.” He’d mutter. You were always my equal.

How silly they’d been to allow something like bloodlines to part them. And it’d be uncertain if they’d ever be able to be together again with their missing memories. But they would stay by his side. Ifrit’s fire or Shiva’s wind, he wouldn’t let them leave his side ever again. 

The others, of course, wouldn’t object. An experienced member of the kingsglaive fighting beside them would be welcome. (Plus, who could bear parting Noctis from the one person he’d managed to recover from the fallen city?) And so, they’d fight beside him, and grow furious with him if he’d try to protect them. Which he would. A lot. He’d fear for them more than he did for himself. 

~

Bonus:

At the back of their mind, they’d felt like there was something important, something they knew they had lost, just within their reach… But they’d never strive to recover it. They pain they had felt every time they tried would keep them from it. And the pain they could see on Noctis’ face would cause them to keep him at arms length. 

They’d never recover their memories willingly.

Prompto:

No one but him knew of the person he left behind. He, surprisingly, is very shy about his lovers, past and present. He’d have dozens of photos of his S/O, but those photos would only be for him. Which wasn’t weird…right? He’s not ashamed of them or anything, but he’d be uncomfortable letting his friends know about them for fear of being fun of. And they wouldn’t mind. No, they were patient and kind and loved him unreservedly. And they were willing to wait until he was absolutely sure in their relationship to reveal it.

He came to regret his silly reason for hiding their relationship. 

When Insomnia falls, he’s pretty much alone in dealing with the fact they might be gone. The other don’t even KNOW about them after all. And Prompto is horrifyingly good at hiding what he’s feeling.

The other’s would have no clue about the turmoil he’d go through.

He’d still be the perfect best friend, letting Noctis lean on him and pretending he hadn’t lost anything. Which in truth, compared to the others he really had lost the least. And he let them assume that he hadn’t lost anyone important. Gods above it hurt to pretend as if his S/O didn’t exist, but he’d do it. For Noct’s sake.

They’d see the devastation for themselves, and upon seeing the others take out their phone to call those they cared about in the city. He’d subtly send a text to them, and hope for a response. 

‘Darling, please, please answer if you’re alright. Please.’

When days had passed and there was no sign that they had even seen the message, he’d finally break. Mentally and emotionally. The others would worry about him when suddenly, the bubbly gunner would just fall quiet. And stay that way. He’d still be as supportive as ever, but his humor would be almost nonexistent. And though they enjoyed the precision and how ruthless he had become in battle, they’d miss the playful way he used to fight, and the balance he had brought with his actions.

Eventually, they’d corner him and it wouldn’t take much for it to come bursting out. Because he loved them damn it, and they weren’t responding. He was scared, and he didn’t want them to know. He was being selfish by even telling them he’d say. He never wanted to bother any of them with this. And they’d understand. They’d scold him lightly for not telling them sooner, but they’d understand.

They’d let him rest and recover for a while, camping while he worked through his loss. But no matter what they did, he just wouldn’t be the same. Noctis had been supportive and welcoming, and though it would help it wouldn’t heal. Ignis would make an effort to talk more with the youngest of their group, but responses that were sharp, cutting, and to the point would be all he’d get in return. Gladio would try to, literally, smack some sense into him…if only he could get a grip on him. Prompto was a slippery uncatchable little shit when he wanted to be. 

Nothing would work and they’d eventually be forced to continue onward with Prompto in his current state. And that’s when suddenly there would be a phone call from their number, and he’d scramble to answer. 

“Hello?!” 

The voice on the other line was not theirs but he’d fall to his knees all the same. They were alive. Barely though. A coma had them in it’s grips. They had just been removed from the city by some of the few crownsguard left alive doing rescue work and were currently being housed at Lestallum in the hopes that they’d wake up. Apparently they had been caught in the crossfire of a battle. They weren’t sure if it was the MT’s or the city, but someone had set off blast charges. Which caused a building they had been near to implode, and the rubble to knock them into unconsciousness. 

From there, they had been taken to a small makeshift hospital where they had been recovering for the past weeks. It was only when they were moved outside the city and were near a power source that their phone reactivated and got their attention when a text notification had pinged. They had hoped there would be someone to contact about them, and Prompto’s number was the first number they tried. 

So after being fully updated, with his bros listening in so they knew what was going on, they’d agree to go to Lestallum for Prompto’s sake. To see if there was any hope for his S/O waking soon.

Unfortunately, there was no miraculous wake up. No, they were truly checked out of this world. Which made it easier for Prompto to leave their side to continue on with Noctis. Every time they were in Lestallum though, they’d make it a point to visit them. They were alive. And someday might wake up. That was enough for Prompto.

Bonus:

Their eyes would flutter open, and from their throat, a raspy voice would ask for Prompto. Luckily for them a nurse would be in their room and hurry and call their boyfriend for them. Hearing their voice would cause him to cry. And he’d FORCE everyone to return to Lestallum immediately. Because they’d woken up. And upon arriving he’d dive onto the bed with them and refuse to leave for a few days.

“You scared me, you scared me, I love you.” He’d whisper over and over to them, and they’d just hold onto him in response. 

Gladiolus:

Gladio would hold onto hope that they made it out. Even when the king is confirmed dead and they see the burning city with their own eyes, he hopes. Because it’s all he has for now. Iris had told him that she had gotten out of the city largely because of his S/O. They stayed behind to hold back the enemy while her, Talcott, and Jeremy escaped. They wouldn’t have made it out with out their sacrifice.

Don’t call it a sacrifice, they could still yet live.

They had been so close to safety, and yet chose to protect his family instead. Damn their bleeding heart to Ifrit’s flames and back. He loved and hated them for their choice. They knew that his family meant the world to him, but didn’t they realize they meant just as much? 

But after a few hours, knowing his father had died doing his duty put things into perspective. People died, and that was that. He’d kill his hope with his own hands and close his eyes. He moved on. With pain and a heaviness in his chest, he moved on. He would whisper prayers to the city, and say goodbye to all he knew. He would then turn his back on them, striding to Noctis’ side to fulfill his destiny. As his father did. 

Weeks would pass and the thought of them would still sting. But only barely. His grief is quiet, but he manages to keep going, keep smiling, and eventually he does find himself enjoying life again. He really does manage to move on after a month. But then…His phone rings with an unknown number.

“Did you miss me?” they’d ask, sounding breathless and almost manic. 

He’d absolutely demand to know where they’re at and want to see them. 

“Another time. Just know I love you-” they’d get cut off and he’d realize, holy shit they’re still in the city and fighting.

He’d be proud of them. Even though they’d hung up, he’d ask that they’d raise hell on his behalf. That would be when Iris would call days later. She let him know that they’re alive, but being escorted out of the city by hunters. They were hurt in their last fight, badly so. But Iris has arranged for them to recover under her care. He’d thank his baby sister for that and ask to make a detour in Lestallum. 

Of course, since they’re hurt they’re expected not to move around to much.

As if they cared.

Upon seeing him they’d literally fling themself out the second story window of the hotel and he’d be forced to catch them. They’d wince at the contact, but hang onto him all the same. He’d have to carry them back up to their room, and make them promise not to jump out of the window again. They would, and then they’d describe what happened.

The city, for the most part, is safe. The people there have started resuming their lives, going to work and what not. But others…others were prepared to fight and rage against the imperials until death. They were one of them. They weren’t letting anyone leave the city, even if you were just visiting, which made their fighting dangerous. But they had learned to pass the word on by word of mouth where civilians should stay away from. 

In one of the fights, their back had been lit on fire, and they’d have burn scars for the rest of their life. “But I think it just makes me look badass.” They’d joke. But Gladio would notice the slight tremor in their hands. Coming so close to dying had scared them. And he’d wordlessly pull them into a hug and they’d relax. He could see through them and that’s why they loved him.

“I’m useless like this. And you have a duty to do. Gladio, just promise me you’ll come back alive.”

He’d promise, though he wouldn’t know if he’d be able to keep it or not. 

Ignis:

He’d be so careful to betray nothing of his fears to the others. Especially not Noctis. Losing the one he left behind was nothing compared to losing everything the prince did. But it’d still hurt him. When he had woken up and first saw the news, he had immediately called them. And they had answered.

“Now’s not a good time Ig. Please….You have to know I love you.” 

But then there was a commotion in the background, people clamoring and sounding afraid. He ask what was going on and they’d just say goodbye. He’d do a little more research, and find out anyone in the city was had served the king was a target. As a retainer for the royal family, hat included them. 

He’d worry and try calling them again later, but there’d be no response this time. He’d go about his day after that, consoling Noctis and the others, and trying to think rationally. Seeing the city first hand was hard, but he’d still hold it together. 

It would be that night that it’d hit him. He might never see never see them again he’d realize. And while putting things away, he’d shed a tear or two. But that’s all he’d allow himself. And nothing would change in his relations with the others.

But then, oddly enough, he’d get a phone call from Iris. He’d ask if she meant to speak to Gladio, but she’d respond no. She’s volunteering at a local hospital in Lestallum and was sorting through some of the belongings of the residents and recognized the name of one of them. And found a note in their belonging adressed to them.

“I think it was to be sent to you if they died.” 

He’d make an excuse to go to Lesallum and see for himself, hope coursing through his veins. He’d request that Iris keep this to herself, and she would. And upon arriving he’d have no trouble in locating them. They’d be asleep, recovering from blood loss and some interior damage from a high impact collision. But when he’d take their hand, they’d wake up, and smile the brightest smile he’d ever seen on them.

They’d talk softly and he’d listen. They apologize for worrying him, but he wouldn’t allow them to finish. “You’re safe, and alive. That’s all I ask.”

They’d still have to stay in the hospital till they recovered, but after that they’d join Iris, Jeremy, and Talcott at the hotel, and stay with them until they could go home. It would be indefinite when they’d get to return, but they wouldn’t mind. And Iris would sort of adopt them as another sibling. It wouldn’t be until later they say just what happened. 

They’d been afraid when the imperials caught up to them, and brought their ship down in flames. They were one of the only survivors to escape the wreckage. The only reason they survived was that they had been found by hunters and taken to help right away. 

He’d be worried about how close they’d come to death, but all in all just thankful to the six they lived.