Tag: writings

Chirp Chpt 3: Reveal

Link to AO3: Chirp

Chapter Summary: 

Prompto’s wings are examined and it’s decided that he’ll be staying in the citadel now.

Notes: This took a long time, and I half way almost lost where I was going. So this chapter is a little bleh. But hey, I now have a plot for it! So this should be the last aimless chapter. 

It took a bit to reach Noctis’s room. Prompto had run a lot farther and faster than people had expected after all, but eventually they arrived. Cor knocked as his way of announcing himself, and then opened the door. Wordlessly, he gave a slight bow before entering the room. All eyes had turned toward the door by that point. The king and Clarus were among them, and of course, all Noctis’s circle. Prompto managed to stay behind Cor, mostly, at least until his uncle betrayed him and left him in plain view of everyone.

Without anywhere else to hide, he gave them all a sheepish smile and waved, “Hi guys?”

Noctis nearly flew at him from across the room and shook him by the shoulders once he was within arm’s reach. “Why’d you run? Half the citadel was looking for you!”

The concern on Noctis’s face would have been funny, in any other situation. But Prompto could only grimace in response. “I’m sorry, I panicked.”

“Panicked huh?” Gladio’s voice came from behind him, having snuck up while he’d been distracted. How someone as large as him could move so silently, Prompto couldn’t guess. And before he could dart away from what he knew was coming, he was already in a head lock and being noogied.

Prompto yelped, struggling for a good few moments before he managed to wiggle away. “I didn’t mean to bite you!”

“Oh, you didn’t mean to? Tell that to the teeth marks!”

“Come now, I’m positive he really didn’t mean to Gladio.” Ignis started, reaching up to slightly smooth down where Prompto’s hair had gotten messed up, though he knew by now that the cowlicks were a lost cause. “We all know he tends to act before thinking.”

Gladio opened his mouth to reply, but before they could get into any further teasing or argument, Clarus cleared his throat to cut in. “I believe we’re here for a reason?”

The four boys froze and then looked over at the adults, having forgotten they were there. Ignis dropped his hand and behind him his wings twitched once before becoming still again. Gladio cleared his own throat and turned to look out the window to hide the slight blush, his owns wings subtly pulling closer to his back. Noctis only stared back, too hyper aware that his father was in the same room as him to forget his presence, and Prompto looked like he’d jump out the window if given a chance.

New circles often forgot about everyone else in the world. It was just a side effect of finding your chosen family for the first few years. As such, most young winged people were easily lost in their own world, and even more easily startled by anyone else until they fully settle into their circles. And that only came with age. (Clarus and Regis recalled many times when their own circle had been startled by something when they were still settling.)

“Y-yeah.” Prompto sighed, breaking out of being startled first, and then allowed Noctis to fuss over him while being guided to the bathroom.

“You need to take that off Prompto. They just need to see.” Noctis said, and then lowered his voice, “Your wings…they aren’t hurt or anything from this right?”

“Not as far as I know.” Prompto replied in just as low a voice. “I’ll be right out Noct.”

“Okay.” Noctis then lightly pushed him inside and shut the door.

At first, he really did debate on going out the window, even though he’d already agreed to show them. But then he sighed and resigned himself to doing what they wanted. He didn’t want to disappoint Cor after all. (Not to mention Cor would probably literally swoop out the other window and grab him before he got too far.)

He made quick work of taking off his jacket, school top, and his under shirt. The binder itself however, always took a few minutes. The straps around his waist held most of his feathers against his back, while the top straps were more like a harness, pinning his wings flat against his shoulders. The waist straps were easy, feathers didn’t really feel anything unless you pulled them. But the shoulders?

The second his wings were free of his shoulders, he hissed as he moved them, allowing his wings to return to their naturally resting state. It was a huge relief, but also, for the first few minutes always ached. Blood circulating better he’d read. He was lucky that there hadn’t been any damage yet. However, he knew that eventually there would have been. Perhaps this was a good thing this happened when it did.

He put his shirt back on and pushed his wings through the wing holes that had never been used. It felt odd at first. He stretched his arms above his head, trying to let he back adjust to the freedom of movement, and the slight shift in balance he felt. Behind him, he extended his wings, examining them in the mirror.

While most the pattern had grown in, he still had the downy fluff of a child on the inside of his wings. But otherwise, the pattern was clear and there was no mistaking it. He worried his lip as he brought his wings back in, but miscalculated an accidently knocked off the soap dispenser from the bathroom counter. It landed with a clatter on the bathroom floor and before he could lean down to pick it up, there was a soft knock at the door.

“Prompto? You alright?” Noctis called, the worry in his voice setting off all the protective instincts a circle member could have.

So, he picked up the soap and placed back where it should be then walked to the door. With a deep breath, and a smile in place, he pulled it open.

“I’m alright Noct.”

It was then than the prince stepped out of the way, allowing for Prompto to cautiously make his way out of the bathroom. At the moment, any loud sound would probably spook him back into the bathroom. So, no one said anything until he was a bit further away from the bathroom door. His eyes darted around the room and he waited for them to say something, which they took as a sign that it was okay to speak now. But none knew how to start.

In the end, it was Gladio who spoke first.

“How the hell are you so small.” He said, a frown on his face. Prompto’s face immediately dropped into an offended frown.

“Gladio!” His father snapped, disapproval clear in his tone.

Gladio winced, but continued, “What? It’s true! He’s like, half the size he was when he went into the bathroom.”

“It’s because his wings were making his shoulders look bigger is all,” an accented voice cut in from the door way.

Prompto turned to look at the woman who stood there, her hand had been raised to knock but clearly, she couldn’t stop herself from explaining. Typical of owls. Her face was a mask now but being around Ignis made him able to see the slight embarrassment in her eyes. It made him give her a small smile, even though the doctor’s coat she had on was a little intimidating. But what truly settled her as a person he liked, was her last name.

“Ah, Dr. Kennt,” king Regis began, offering her a smile, “Good to see you again.”

Ignis spoke fondly of his flying teacher. Barn owl patterns were rare, and often needed a specific teacher to be found for young owls to learn how to fly. And she was his. That explained why Ignis looked slightly pleased. Seeing his circle and part of his pattern family in the same place clearly put him a good mood. (Good enough for pizza tonight? Maybe.)

“Your majesty,” She bowed her head toward him before continuing, “It’s good to see you as well.”

Her eyes looked Regis up and down before meeting his gaze and stating, “You haven’t been doing your stretches again.”

That made the Regis’s face slightly turn pink, and Noctis shoot a smug look at Gladio. A cough left Regis, “Well, more on that later. We need a wing check on Noctis’s young friend here.”

“Yes, your Grace.” Sunna then turned to Prompto, looking at his wings first, then his face. “Right, Scientia explained on the way. This won’t take long. Do you want everyone here for this, or would rather some privacy?”

“I…” He glanced at his friend and then the adults and then back at her, “I think I would prefer my friends here?”

“Right.” She nodded and turned toward the group, “I’ll be starting now.”

She gestured to a stool that she spotted to Prompto. “Can you sit there? That’ll let me examine your wings while you’re a bit more comfortable.”

He did so and tried not to squeak when he felt her feeling along the bones of his wings. She did so in silence for a bit, and he could think of nothing to say.

“Can you extend and hold them out please?” She then said.

“Oh. Sure.” He said quietly, before extending his wings out to his sides. She started feeling the bones again, starting from the outside this time. As the minutes passed though, it was getting increasingly difficult to hold them were they were. That was when she reached the base of his wings and started feeling his shoulders. It was then that she happened to push on a sore spot that Prompto didn’t know he had.

“Owch!” His wings pulled in quickly, accidently hitting Sunna on her shoulders, part of her wings, and face.

She shook her head slightly to reorient herself while Prompto turned around and stood in a panic.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that!” He started. But before he could work himself back into a frenzy, she cut in.

“No, no, it’s quite all right. Happens all the time.” She said, fixing some of the strands of hair out of her face, and then carefully pushed on Prompto’s shoulders to sit him back down, aware of what Ignis had described as a flighty nature. “I’m finished with the exam anyways. Just have a few questions now.”

“Really?” He was wringing his hands, as if he did something more horrible than bump her with his wings.

“Yes. Simple right?” She nodded to herself once she felt like she was presentable. Though, there was a feather out of place on her wings that Ignis stepped forward and straightened for her.

“Ah, thank you Ignis.” She smiled at him and then turned back to Prompto, “Now, what age did you start wearing this wing binder?”

“Uh…” Prompto thought back and tried to recall. “Nine I think.”

“So…right around when the down on your wings started changing into a pattern?” Sunna brought out a note pad and started writing her observations and his answer down.

“Yeah, that sounds right.”  He started to chew on his bottom lip, “But…I really was hurt for a while, that’s what made the binder necessary when I was nine.”

“Can you tell me about it?” Sunna looked up at him, doing her best to hide her worry. If he was hurt and healed, but continued wearing the binder, then there might be complications.

“Well, it wasn’t anything too big? I mean…I followed a chickadee, the bird kind I mean, into a tree and sort of fell? It sprained one of my wings. It was…just luck really that it was around the time my pattern came in.” He turned slightly red.

She nodded, a little relived. A sprain wouldn’t have been too bad, and the binder would have helped the bone stay still and ensured the sprain wouldn’t develop into a break, nearly impossible to overcome if complications had set in. Of course, he wasn’t supposed to be wearing it for so long.

“Did you choose to wear it, even past healing?” An uncomfortable question, but necessary. If his parents made him, it might be a case of child neglect. If he chose to, then it might mean he was trying to hurt his wings. Some of the younger winged people did hurt their own wings when distressed. Mostly plucking, but the odd binding cases did appear every so often.

“I did.” He answered quickly and looked faint. Possibly a lie, but she’d take it for now until trust was built.

“Hm.” She nodded her head and wrote her thoughts down as well, “And one last question, your birthday?”

He answered her, and she frowned. “Ah…well.”

“Is something wrong?” Noctis called, finally unable to resist going over to his friend.

“No, not…Well, it could be worse.” She said, straightening up and then turning to address the king to report. “He’s fine. Wing are normal and healthy, other than some muscle weakness from lack of use, and late stage development.”

“And that means…?” Cor asked before the king could say anything.

“It means he’s still growing.” She turned to Prompto and then looked at the prince standing beside him. “Prompto, if you wouldn’t mind standing?”

“Huh? Oh, sure.” He stood up and then glanced around, unsure what everyone was seeing.

“He’s the same age as his highness, but…”

It was then that he realized what she was talking about. Noctis had at least four inches on him and was a lot broader than him.

“If I didn’t know his age, I would have placed him at Eleven or Twelve. Not 15.” She said, and that made him flush bright pink. “He even still has some of his juvenile feathers.”

She gently turned him around and gestured to the bits of down still at the base of his wings, but then let him go. “You can sit down with your friends now.”

He nodded but didn’t really get much of a say really. Noctis practically dragged him over to where he and the others were sitting and didn’t give him much space either. Once he was settled, Sunna continued.

“Prompto here will be perfectly fine, and his wings are healthy, like I said,” She wrote something else down and then put her note book away. “But his body will start trying to catch up to where it’s supposed to be. Wings especially. And…”

She glanced over at Ignis, then back at the king, “Judging by the muscle tenderness and his feathers, he won’t be able to fly yet.”

“I see.” Regis nodded, and seemed thoughtful. “Thank you Doctor. You can go now.”

She bowed again, and then said, “Thank you, your majesty.”

They were silent until she was gone, and then the four once again burst into chatter.

“Told you he was small.”

“Oh stuff it, aren’t kestrels tiny anyways? Maybe this is normal?”

“Your highness, she just said he was still growing. Besides, Crowe isn’t as small.”

“She thought I was eleven! Are you kidding me?”

This time Regis was the one to clear his throat. “Prompto. You do realize what this means right?”

The four sobered at that, and Prompto said quietly. “That I’ll be staying in the citadel, right?”

He didn’t want to. But he doubted they would let him go. Maybe if he cried? They said he looked like a child, so maybe he’d make them feel bad enough to release him. Or not. He doubted he had the energy for tears.

“Yes. But you needn’t worry. Everything will be taken care of.” Regis rose to his feet then, Clarus helping him stand.

He was going to leave, so Prompto decided to ask before he was gone. “Your Majesty? What about my parents? Or my things? I know you said things will be taken care of. But…”

“Your parents will be located and the situation explained. As for your things, we could send someone to get them tonight, or it could wait until tomorrow. I was informed, while looking for you, by Noctis that you’d planned on staying the night?”

He nodded. “I guess…getting anything else can wait until tomorrow. I have enough for the night.”

“Very well. Tomorrow we will have someone go with you to pack your things. Perhaps even Lady Crowe? She seemed keen on spending time with you. …Noctis, if you stare like that for too long your face will get stuck that way.”

Prompto turned around and saw the wide-eyed face Noctis was making for a brief moment before he ducked his head and a flush overtook his face, “Yes father.”

It made Prompto snicker, and he nodded. “Okay.”

“But we’re going too.” Muttered Noctis behind him, jealousy on full display, and Prompto struggled not to laugh.  

“With that, I bid you all good night. And please, don’t harass the glaive and use your friends as an alibi this time Noctis?” Regis said, a smile on his face as he left. Clarus shot a look at Gladio, who pointedly was looking at the ceiling. He suspected the young shield had helped the prince, but had no proof. Only Noctis had gotten caught last time. Cor, who’d been mostly silent, stayed behind for a moment.

“I’ll be the one to tell your mom kid. I also have a few questions.” He said, walking over and rustling his hair.

Prompto sighed and then looked up at him, “You’re…not going to be mad at them, are you?”

Rather than lie, Cor said, “We’ll see. Alright? Even if we do we’re siblings. I doubt Adoria would let me be upset with her for long.”

“I guess.” Prompto let out a small laugh, “Just…I don’t want them to worry. Or to be in trouble.”

“They won’t be. Alright? I got to go now. I’ll be seeing you.”

“See you Cor.” He said and offered him a small wave. Cor shut the door behind him, and he immediately felt relaxed now that it was just his friends.

Once they were alone though, Noctis grabbed the nearest pillow and whacked Prompto over the head with it.

“You should have told me!”

Prompto knew exactly what he was talking about, and picked up where they left off, “Oh, what was I supposed to say! Hey, I’m a kestrel, don’t tell anyone?”

“Yes!”

“That’s ridiculous!”

They bickered back and forth for a while, but there were no teeth in their argument. (Just a few more whacks with a pillow from Noctis to drive how flustered Noctis was about the how ordeal home.)

They settle into gaming and Ignis really was in a good enough mood to order pizza rather than cook. Gladio didn’t hold it against him for biting him thankfully, although he did seem to hold a grudge against him for beating him in moogle cart. With how normal the night was turning out, it made Prompto think things might be okay.

Hibiscus

LeviathanxReader

Notes: PFFT This is a pairing I never thought I’d be writing, but I saw this odd/hilarious/cool post about how to woo Leviathan. (And I hate that I had to read the word Hydrussy BUT HEY ITS A COOL IDEA.)  Like, this small idea took off in my head and the only way to get it out was to write it. (This is all @joioliviapolaroid‘s fault pfft, hope you don’t mind I wrote this.)

Summary: You’ve spent your life in love with the sea, and she just happened to like you enough not to kill you on sight the first time you met. 2969 words. 

It started when you were young.

At the time, you were a child playing in the ocean. The waves pushed at your shins as you danced in the tide. The water was a soundless song, the tempo dictated by the moon’s cycle. Part of you wondered why the water followed it so closely, but the rest of you didn’t want to think, enjoying the water in the way only a child could. You saw beauty and peace where adults would look at the waves with fear.

Maybe that’s why you saw her.

Playing in the water had caused you to lose track of time. The sun was almost all the way down, and moon just beginning to rise. A rare twilight, where both moonlight and sunlight met on the beach. What pulled you out of your revelry was the sight of a woman in the water as you were. Only she wasn’t dancing. She stood still and looked to the horizon.

She was gorgeous, in a way you couldn’t quite name. Her skin was dark, the color of sharp rocks near the cliff, darkened by the water that was constantly sharpening their points. A rich black that could only come from the combination of earth and sea. Across her body were bright blue tattoos. So reflective was the ink, it was as if the waves depicted on her were taken right from the sea in the middle of a bright sunny day. Her face was warm and strong, and her eyes were hard. But not cold. Rather, they were deep. Dark and soothing. There was no other way to describe them. And her dress blended seamlessly with the sea foam at her ankles, flowing around her legs as if there was a gentle breeze.

And while she was so gorgeous, you were a child. So the only thing you fixated on was the bright red flower tucked behind her ear, held in place by her many braids. It didn’t take long for you to walk up to her, and while normally, the sight of another person to play with would have brought you running, something inside you told you to walk. To be on your best behavior. And upon reaching her, she turned to look at you, a subtle look of surprise on her face. With her eyebrows slightly raised, she knelt in the water to be on your level.

“Hi.” You said softly, shyly, which was out of character for you. “Why do you have that flower in your hair?”

She tilted her head slightly, and seemed to regard you with rarely used curiosity. When she spoke, it was the same song of the tides that met your ears.

“It was made for me, and so it is my favorite.”

And with that, she rose back to her feet, seemingly having sated her curiosity.

“Child, run back the way you came.” Without touching your shoulders, she guided you to turn around. “Go, and do not look back.”

With words so grave, you felt compelled to listen, and did as she wished. It wasn’t until you were back on the grass further up from the beach, your family’s home in sight, that you felt safe enough to turn around. You watched as she stepped out of the water, and walked along the beach. But then, while you were watching, she slowly faded out of sight. Where her hand had hovered above your shoulder, a mark of two lines appeared. Like her own tattoos, they depicted waves. Only, it looked like a birthmark rather than the blue of her own, and for years to come would be unnoticed by you.

That night, your mother told you to story of Leviathan, a feared beast, the anger of the ocean. Mother of the tides and spirit of the deep. Your mother also told you of how people used to worship her, pray to her, and she never listened. Taking loved ones and drowning them. The vicious waves and currents that could steal someone from the beach if they dared turn their back on her. Cruelly ending lives before they’d begun. People vanishing on the water never to be seen again. She was to be feared, reviled, but respected.

But that day, the woman had given you a gift. Now, when you looked at the tides, the song that was once silence had turned into symphonies of creation and destruction in equal measure.

~

When you were a teenager, you’d gone back to the beach many times, nearly daily, hoping to get a glimpse of the woman again. The threat of daemons rising from the sands nearby, and the long trek home in the dark, did not daunt you. You’d learned from the hunters how to evade, and were aided by the sand refusing to give under your feet when you ran. Of course danger was ever present, but there was no where you felt safer than the beach.

Now that you were older, you were sure that the woman you had seen that day had been the goddess of the sea herself. Only, you’d never seen her again after that night. But you held faith in your heart, and had nothing but kind thoughts for the goddess. In the water, before the sunset and after the moon rose, you would leave flowers on the edge of the waves. Red ones. Always red. The next morning when you’d come back, some of them would be returned to you, sitting on the sand as if the water had rejected them.

But the red hibiscus flowers were always gone.

Eventually, you’d stopped bringing all others, and even made a ritual out of talking to the waves about your day when you’d sent them. As long as you knew that someone was there, listening silently, it helped you when you were hurt, and made you happy when you weren’t. Occasionally, on certain days, you’d whisper old prayers that you’d learned from an old woman in town. Ones that still remembered the goddess before her rage, and offered her the respect and reverence that had been stripped from her when all that man spoke of was her anger.

They spoke of protection, and of a long-forgotten title.

Sometimes, you’d read from your journal that you kept of writing and drawings. Poems you’d written for her, made from the memory of a child who didn’t know she was supposed to be feared. And as you aged, you spoke of her beauty, never mentioning the danger she was known for. You wrote of the sea as a person, capable of anger and love. Some of them were ever written to the melody of the waves, becoming instead songs of the sea. Drawings of the memory of her tattoos, colored to match their brilliance. But you’d never been able to capture their exact color. Portraits of her eyes. The hem of her dress as it had blended into the foam. There were also drawings of ships and sailors preparing to leave the shores. Or the hibiscus flowers you grew and would pick just for the ocean.

And for the first time that day, you’d finished a journal.

As you thumbed through its contents while sitting on the sand, you realized you didn’t know what to do with it. Poems no one else had read, drawings never seen by anyone but you.

It felt right, when you cast it into the waves with the flower.

“It’s for you.” Was all you said that day, and then you turned and left to go back home.

~

As an adult, people were beginning to whisper about you. You’d grown unparalleled in beauty, unrivaled in kindness, and known for having a strange connection to the sea. There were many suitors that you’d rejected in your small seaside town, and all would meet unlucky fates at the hands of the waves. As if the sea itself was warning them away from trying again. And for the few that insisted on trying to force you into a relationship you didn’t want, it was rare they came back from their next trip on the sea.

Some began calling you Leviathan’s kindness. Her priestess. The woman who was given gifts from the waves. Whereas people knew that the goddess was anything but kind and would only hurt those who dared to try crossing her waters, you could heal with what she would use to hurt.

Women would come to you for multiple reasons. Some for love spells, to give a man’s heart a nudge, or to grant him the courage needed take the next step. Those spells were easy, but would take time. Others to escape. For a way out of their situation. To heal their bruises and their souls. Those were longer, but took effect almost instantly.

“Take this seashell, and when you see him next, crush it over your heart. And then you shall be free from the love you feel for him.” You told one woman, who’s eye you had helped heal with sea water when it had been swollen shut. You ensured that she wouldn’t be blind in that eye, and the rest of her bruises, after being massaged with a paste of hibiscus petals and sea foam, were gone by the next day.

You placed the seashell in a sachet of linen, easily hidden in the front pocket of the woman’s shirt, and handed it to her. “Then you must take a boat away from here, but have no destination in mind. Cast away your oars and lay down in the boat and sleep. She will take care of you if you trust her. When you arrive at safety, throw a bottle with words you feel are right back into the water.”

“Thank you,” The woman said, “Thank you so much.”

Others began to call you a sea witch.

“Where is she?!” The man raged, days after the woman’s visit, throwing the things in your home into disarray. Papers strew about in rage, books thrown carelessly on the floor, bottles of water upended, and seashells, the gifts the sea left for you, smashed to pieces. Outside, you could feel a storm building in your bones.

With the sea behind you outside the window, with its song ever present, you were brave.

“Gone. You’ll never hurt her again.”

Your eyes were as cold as the sea in winter, and he continued raging. The man wanted to get his way. He threw a piece of broken bottle at you, it’s jagged end catching your cheek. You allowed the blood to drip down your face and fall to the floor, where it mixed with the sea water he’d spilled. The cut was deep, but you didn’t care.

But she did.

The sound of a bellowing scream came from the sea, and the man paled.

“Witch!” He spat, before fleeing your home to run back to the town.

You’d never heard that sound from the sea before, and went outside to see what could have made it. But also, to show that you were unharmed. And the only thing you saw was the crashing of the waves on the sand.

~

That night, the song changed. Creation had never sounded so soft, nor destruction so soothing. Barefooted, you left your home and walked down to the beach, and then into the water to stand where you were when you were a child. This time it was fully night, but the moon was already setting. Yet, even with the difference, you could feel her there. You took a few steps further out into the sea, and waited. And when you felt that it was time, you turned around.

There she stood, ankle deep in the ocean, looking exactly as she did all those years ago. It was as if she had never left that spot. But this time she beckoned to you. The movement was like a siren’s call, and you couldn’t do anything else but follow.

Slow measured steps, following her at a respectable distance. You never took your eyes off her, a feeling warning you away from doing so. Not that you wanted to. The woman, goddess, you’d been talking to and offering prayers for years was in front of you. The same deity that granted you gifts and your connection to the sea. Why would you look away?

Upon stepping on the sand, it felt different, but you didn’t dare look down. It was as soft as powder, yet you knew if she willed it, it could shred your feet in seconds. It was the feeling of the sand, cool yet warm under your feet, that let you know this wasn’t the beach you had just been on. No, this was a place between the water and the sea sand of your home. A place only she could come.

And she’d brought you.

You followed her on this endless beach, the water behaving strangely to the right of you. Your connection to the water, to her, allowed you the knowledge of knowing not to touch the water again now that you’d left it. The song was wrong.

When the sun started rising, you could see a small cottage. The wood was weathered, like it had seen many sea storms and was rubbed smooth by the sand around it. She entered first, and given that she hadn’t told you to stop following, you went inside too.

Your eyes, even though you just came in from outside, didn’t need to adjust to the change in lighting. A strange sort of ease settled over you the moment you came through the door. It was like coming home. And all around the cottage, you could see the flowers you’d sent her. Eternally kept alive, some gathered in bushels, some strung up on the walls. But the best ones had their stems held in the pages of the journals she had collected over the years.

When you went to walk further into the cottage, strong arms wrapped around you from behind. Her skin was cool and thrummed with energy unending. You wanted nothing more than to turn around to see her face. But you held still. One of her hands drifted up to your face, turning your injured side toward her. You closed your eyes the moment she pressed a kiss to the cut, and suppressed a hiss of pain as it healed. The healing she did always felt like rubbing salt in the wound until it was finished.

After she finished, it was then that she reached down and held your hands in hers, trapping you in her embraces and your own. You leaned back, pressing your head against her shoulder, and finally allowed yourself to look up at her. She met your stare with her own, and you found something like love there. You knew that gods could not love like mortals do, but what was in her eyes rant as deep as the deepest part of her domain.

It was then that she interrupted your thoughts. Her hand resting against your cheek again, she leaned down and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, teasing. But then she pressed her lips to your and let you turn around in her arms. Her hand then slid back to fist in your hair, pulling your head back to kiss at your neck, lingering on your pulse. It felt like the tide had swept you away and soon you lost yourself to her.

~

It was after, when you lay in a tangle of blankets at her side, with her eyes watching your every move, that you spoke.

“Why me?” You asked, your voice as small as the day you met. You were human, insignificant compared to the eternity of her life. And while you loved her, you knew it was not returned. A god couldn’t feel love as a human does after all.

She was silent for a moment, appearing to gather her thoughts while tracing your collar bones with feather light touches. But then her hand trailed over to your shoulder and slowly, she began to hold you so tightly, her nails began to leave indents in your skin.

“I think you were made for me, and so you are my favorite.” Was her answer, and a part of you felt uneasy at the thought of being a belonging of the goddess. But another part of you recalled her fondness of the Hibiscus flower, and how it has spanned centuries. Since the first moment, according to the story, that Titan created it and gifted it to her, in memory of a woman she had failed to protect, coloring the petals with the woman’s blood.

And so you smiled, and leaned forward to press another, this time chaste, kiss to her mouth which she gladly returned.

~

All the town’s people found on the beach, the night after you went missing, was your footsteps going into the tide. Some side that Leviathan had finally killed the last of her compassion, and now only her anger was left. But the women whispered of Leviathan calling you home. Of you having gone to her side as your reward for being so faithful to the sea.

Sometimes, people would see the image of you walking on the beach, hand in hand with a woman who’s features no one could quite make out. And it is said, to this very day, that if you were in trouble and needed to find safety, that you could walk the beach and a woman might appear before you, offering advice and magic to aid you. People, every year on the day you vanished, would set red hibiscus flowers onto the sea. Both for Leviathan, and the woman who remembered that the goddess, though thought of as cruel, was kind.

Hi!! I was wondering if you would mind fulfilling a request? Ignis and reader aren’t together, but he starts getting jealous of the boys flirting with them! (Little does he know they do it on purpose to make him confess to her huhuhu)

He knows he’s staring, and he doesn’t mean to. 

Ignis Scientia prides himself on being a man with a great deal of patience and self-control. He knows for a fact that he’s better at it than the majority of people. But unfortunately for him, he was running out of both.

It all started after Insomnia fell. They’d seen the city from the distance, and from that day on spent the day in a numb haze. Going to the Marshal, collecting the blades, and then finally allowing themselves rest at a haven. Everyone was in a somber mood, but he’d found himself glancing at you every so often. 

He thanked the Astrals that he hadn’t lost any of his brothers nor the one he loved. Which in turn made him realize he did love you, and while he wanted to tell you as soon as he realized it, he held off. So soon after loss wasn’t the time for declarations of love. 

Then, more things came up. It just…Wasn’t the time. Between travelling, the covenants, hunting, and looking for tombs, he kept pushing it back. Not the time.

Now he was watching you training with Gladio, back pressed to his torso as he guided your hands to to proper placement for your weapon. His hands covering yours. And while he knew Gladio was nothing but professional when it came to training, he couldn’t quell the surge of jealousy he felt in his chest. 

And it only got worse when Gladio suddenly wrapped one arm around your waist and lifted you off your feet with a grin. You started laughing of course, kicking your feet and trying to get away. (Only half-heartedly it looked like, to Ignis’s jealous eyes.)

“Uh…Iggy?” Prompto called, bringing his attention away from you and Gladio. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” He said sharply, indicating that something was indeed wrong. And with unusually observational eyes for once, Prompto evaluates him, seemingly calculates, and then raises his hands in surrender. He knows when to back off, and leaves Ignis to his thoughts. 

If the food was a little burned that night, no one mentioned it.

~

The second time it happened, Prompto and you were playing with the Chocobo chicks. The both of you were sitting cross legged on the ground, facing each other. Multiple chicks were hoping around you, clamoring for your attention, or to claim some of the space in your lap to enjoy your warmth. 

You smiled, and Ignis nearly melted at the sight. Your face was relaxed, and your eyes soft, as if you’d just woken from a lovely dream. But then a sharp stabbing jealousy lanced through him, when he realized that smile and stare was directed at Prompto. So he forced himself to turn away, shaking his head as if he could shake the feelings out of it. 

“Hey specs, whats with the face?” Noctis was beside him, and looked genuinely concerned about him.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He replied, managing to wrangle the glare from his face and force a neutral mask back in place.

Noctis glanced at him, and then over at you before saying, “Riiight…”

He left it at that, not wanting to bring down his adviser’s wrath on himself. 

~

He was getting tired of these feelings and frustrated that he didn’t know what to do. 

You and Noctis sat down on the dock of the Quay, feet hanging in the water even though the prince was loath to do so. It scared away the fish. Both of you were simply basking in the sun like a pair of cats, occasionally flicking water at each other with your feet. He didn’t know what you two were talking about, but the smiles on your face made his heart clench. 

“You know, it’d be a lot easier if you just told them Iggy.” Gladio spoke behind him.

Ignis glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

Gladio in turn rolled his eyes, “You don’t fool me. How you’re acting is obvious. If you like them, say something.” 

Ignis chose not to answer him instead of replying, going back to watching both you and Noctis. But then you seemed to feel his eyes on you, turned around to wave, and gave him a bright smile. He couldn’t help the knee jerk reaction of smiling warmly back and holding up a hand in greeting. You then turned away and he was stuck hearing Gladio give a disbelieving snort.

“See?”

Ignis, with a mild bit of embarrassment, only replied, “You…may be right.” 

~

It was later, when the boys were away rough housing in the sand, you two ended up alone preparing dinner. You were chopping vegetables, while he prepared a broth to make soup. You were both silent, but it was a companionable one. At least, until you broke it.

“You know, the boys have been saying some interesting things these past couple days.” You started, a fond smile on your face.

Ignis’s hands faltered in stirring the broth, as if the thought of the past few days bothered him. “Oh, have they? Anything I could be concerned about.”

A soft laugh left you, “Nothing that should worry you. They mean well.”

“You make me wonder just what they told you.” He hid behind a smile and stared at the pot as if it might run away with the broth.

So intently was he staring, he didn’t notice that you had come up beside him, not until you leaned up and pressed against his side. He froze, his eyes widened, and the very rare event of his mind turning to static happened. You watched his face for any negative reaction, and upon seeing none gave him a nervous smile. 

“It started with Gladio,” you began, “When we were training, he saw that you were watching us more so that usual. I thought it was because you were worried, but he claimed it was because of something else, but refused to tell me.” 

A slow blush started creeping onto his face, and you took that as a sign to hold his hand, gently, softly enough that if he wanted to pull away, he could.

But he didn’t.

“Then at the chocobo ranch, Prompto mentioned how you were glaring at him, and he was scared to look over at you in case you were mad at him. But you weren’t mad…were you.”

Subtly, he shook his head, finally turning to look at you.

“Then Noctis today. He flat out told me you were jealous. I thought he was teasing me, but…It gave me enough hope and bravery to do this.” 

It was then that you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “He told me to act on how I’ve felt, and how he said you felt, for a long time.”

“He’s…not wrong.” Finally, a blush in earnest took over his face, and he covered his eyes with his hands, “I…Yes, I care for you. Deeply. I’ve been meaning to tell you, but…”

“It was just never the time.” You finished and smiled even brighter. “They were doing it on purpose you know. Making you jealous. They wanted you to confess.”

You didn’t need to say anymore, because he uncovered his face and leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “They’re going to be insufferable when they find out it worked.” 

“But it was a for a good cause.” You laughed.

The rest of the night, you spent talking about nothing, simply enjoying the other’s voice, and holding hands when neither of you were busy. The boys, contrary to what you both thought, were perfectly behaved….

For that night at least. 

A Dark Game chpt 2: Waiting

Link to AO3: A Dark Game 

Chapter two is finally up! 😀 Sorry for the wait. OMG.

Chpt 2 Summary: 

It’s been months since Noctis had been by Prompto. Things between Prompto and his father are more strained than ever with his controlled return to Niflheim’s high society. Noctis has been working in the shadows, and a high stakes plan is put into motion. Prompto’s wait is over.

Months passed Prompto by, and what passed for spring around his home settled in. The weather was fair enough for a light sweater if one wished it, thought the chill never really went away. But his people were used to the cold. In fact, they considered this a heat wave almost. People were milling around the streets in outer Gralea, enjoying the sun. If he strained his eyes, he could see some of them in the distance, and tried to get glimpses of their lives. Whatever they were doing was much more interesting than the royal conduct textbook he was currently reading. Or supposed to be. It was very dry.

Tonight, he was supposed to dine with his father, for the first time since he had been reprimanded and forced into this mockery of life. So, as partly a reminder and partly a slap in the face, his tutors had been instructed to have him go over the material before tonight’s party. To ensure that he wouldn’t act as he did during that fateful dinner years ago. For tonight there were diplomats from overseas coming, generals, high ranking lords and ladies of the Niflm court, and since Prompto was no longer a teen, the emperor had decided he could no longer hide him from diplomatic niceties.

A deep sigh left him, and he leaned back in his chair. He was nervous, that much was obvious. But lately an unsettled feeling had been plaguing him. He felt like right around the corner something horrible was about to happen, and he had no way to stop it. But he was consoled by the thought of Noctis coming back for him. He knew it was rather stupid of him to hope that the would-be assassin would return, but still. He’d take whatever small comfort he could get.

A knock interrupted his thoughts and a voice called through the door, “Your highness?”

“Yes?” He called back, quickly turning a few pages to make it seem like he had been reading.

The door swung open and one of the newer retainers, Virtus, a young man around Prompto’s age, training to be his future guard and advisor supposedly, walked in. He still had an air of being unsure about him, but hid it better than most. His only tell was that he’d bite his lips when he was doubting himself. Like now.

“It’s time to get ready?” He said, but it ended up sounding more like a question.

As much as Prompto wanted to let slip that he was like him, unsure in most things like everyone their age, he couldn’t. Such a slip up could lead to his father thinking he wasn’t broken. So, he kept his face a mask of indifference, and nodded.

“Alright.”

He rose from his chair with the grace years of being watched as the prince had taught him. Virtus openly stared at him, like his mind was boggled by how unflappable he seemed. But his caretaker, the man his father had assigned to watch him all these years, was used to it. He was the one who taught him after all.

“Virtus, don’t just stand there, come here.” He snapped, and the young man rushed to the caretaker’s side.

“Yes sir!”

Prompto glided over to his closet and held his arms out to his sides as the man began pulling off his over clothes. He found the extra layers frivolous, but to the rest of the court they were a symbol of his status. Being royal, every movement was supposed to carry weight. The clothes were symbolic of that. A slow sigh left him as they stripped him down to his last layer, a grey undershirt and leggings, and then began to dress him in evening wear.

The first layer ended up being almost formfitting, a simple black pair of pants and a white tank top. He enjoyed being able to freely move while he could, because after that they layered on a ridiculous amount of fabric. Another white shirt, the sleeves almost sheer loose on the arm and fitted below his elbow. A pair of black gloves that only held onto his hand by a single loop around his index finger. Metal bracers that went from his wrist to elbow. A vest with gold and red embellishments that closed at the side. A tan jacket that went down to his thighs and belted closed at the waist and a hood. The hood they put over his head, to hold it until they put the rest of the layers on. Because of course there were more.

He was already overheating.

With his face somewhat obscured while they finished, his eyebrows pinched together, a small visible sign of annoyance that he allowed himself. Any other time, he’d never have dared. But honestly, he felt that this was ridiculous. Recalling his days among the people, also a dangerous thing to do, he remembered the cold, and how even in all his layers he felt it seep into his bone. Meanwhile, his people had to make do with less, or even worse, nothing.

He was suddenly pulled back out of his thoughts when Virtus peeked under his hood. His eyebrows raised, and eyes widened before he could stop them. But just as quickly, he schooled his face back into a neutral expression. He kept his breathing steady, and tried not to think about how that slip of an expression might get him in trouble. And considering that this young man was training to be his retainer, he would most likely report it.

But to Prompto’s pleasant surprise, he didn’t.

Instead he asked, “Your highness, please raise your arms out to your sides?”

“Don’t ask him you fool boy, simply tell him.” The caretaker snapped, annoyance in his voice.

“Oh! Right. Sorry.” The boy winced as if the words had struck him.

They continued and finally took off his hood. By the time they’d finished, he felt heavy and in the mirror, was twice as bulky as before. The black robe he wore under the final white and red coat was reminiscent of his father’s own robes, aside from another belt fitting it closer to his body. The white coat had the royal coat of arms on his back and red strips of leather also going down his front, again, like his fathers.

There was a pang in his chest at how similar they’d look tonight, and all the while they’d be paying the part of a happy family. Sometimes, Prompto deeply wished the act to be the truth. But somewhere along the years, his father had changed. He was, believe it or not, once loved by his people not feared. And back then he’d also treated Prompto as actual family. Unlike now.

“We’re finished your highness.” He caretaker said in his same droll tone once they’d stopped tugging things into their precise places, and Prompto had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes.

‘Would it kill you to show some emotion,’ he thought bitterly.

Taking in the final effect of his outfit, he took notice of one thing specifically. Unlike his father’s, his clothes only came to his mid-thigh, leaving his legs mostly unhindered. Any other dinner would require him to be in full robes. A brief frown on his face, he knew would be permitted a question because of this change.

“Has father ordered that I wear our summer clothes?” He turned and looked at the caretaker, his face carefully neutral.

“Apologies for this your highness.” His caretaker started, and Prompto very nearly jumped in surprise. He NEVER apologized. Ever.

“While showing Virtus how to press your clothes and prepared them for use, a breeze knocked over a vase in the laundry room and ruined the formal set.” He briefly bowed his head, and Prompto’s eyes flickered over to Virtus and then back.
He wondered just how much trouble they’d both gotten into over that, if the caretaker was apologizing to him.

“I see…Was father informed?” He asked, pushing his luck. But he felt that this would be an understandable question, considering he was only supposed to do what was allowed.

“Yes, your highness.” Virtus answered, his face unsure. “At once when it occurred.”

Prompto nodded and said no more, allowing the caretaker and himself to slip back into their usual routine. He went to open the door and held it for Prompto go through first. He made his way to the dining hall, preparing himself mentally.

Behind him, the caretaker was talking to Virtus.

“We always follow behind, Virtus. Though we are escorting his highness, we are never to walk in front of him.” He said, his voice taking on the tone of a teacher. Something Prompto hadn’t heard in a while.

He tuned them out as he caught a glimpse of the entrance up ahead, his father waiting there for him. Very subtly, he picked up his pace.

“Ah, Prompto.” His father said once he noticed them. He looked at him from head to toe, judging his appearance. “Punctual. That’s a change.”

He bowed to his father and said lamely, “Being on time is important.”

He knew his father wasn’t expecting him to give a lively answer. Not since before his seclusion had he been upbeat. Something, judging by the approval in his father’s eyes, he’d wanted. Without another word, and without a glance, his father waved his hand at Virtus and the caretaker.

“You’re dismissed.”

“Your Majesty. Your highness.” The caretaker said in farewell, bowing alongside Virtus, and then quickly leaving.

“Shoulders back Prompto.” His father said as he took his place beside him, and that was that.

He held his head up high, and kept his face indifferent, cold almost, as he strode into the ballroom one step behind his father.

“His Radiance, Imperial Majesty Iedolas Aldercapt, and Imperial Highness Prince Prompto Aldercapt.” Someone announced.

Everyone turned to them and bowed, acknowledging them, and then returned to their conversations. Prompto grounded himself, eyes looking around the room to mentally list who was present and who was not. A few of the lords and ladies he didn’t know, and he figured they must have only recently been elevated to their position. The lower houses always frequently changed under his father’s rule.

It was the higher houses he had to be wary of. They were charming and laughed easily, but every single one of them was cold and cunning behind their beaming smiles. More than one of them had tried to arrange for either an accident for him, or to set up a marriage to their children for him. Some had even done both in the same week he’d heard. But that wasn’t spoken of in polite company. Everyone knew who had made a move and when. The game was not to let it show on your face.

Sometimes he wished masks would come back in fashion. The game would be so much easier then.

“Ah, Prince Prompto, it’s good to see you’ve joined us this evening.”

Prompto mentally stood a little straighter at the voice from behind him. He turned slowly and smiled what could be considered an easy-going smile at Verstael Besithia.

“Good evening Minister, enjoying yourself so far?” He asked, his body language at ease.

Truthfully his stomach was tying itself in knots and he felt rather faint. The Minister was something of an enigma to Prompto. He was feared for his experiments and the evil acts he’d committed in them, but toward Prompto was nothing but kind. It was widely known that he had a soft spot for the prince. But no one knew why. Not even the prince himself.

“That I am. Tell me, Prince, how goes your studies? Have you reached the end of the math curriculum again?”

At this change in topic Prompto brightened a little. He had. He was something of a mathematical and scientific genius. However, his father didn’t value such things. But at least with the Minister, he could discuss it. It had the plus side of no one being able to follow their talk of theories and equations, so no one would approach. And, so long as it stuck to theories and such, he’d found the conversation enjoyable. However, he couldn’t keep it up all night.

“Ah, well. I shouldn’t keep you any longer your highness.” Besithia bowed briefly and then smiled a smile that sent Prompto’s skin crawling, with a changed look in his eyes that was the cold and cunning visage he was used to, “I need to update your father on the recent progress on my current experiment, but look forward to seeing you more now that you’re attending these events again.”

“Right.” Prompto gave him a small nod, and reflected a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “Same to you, Minister. Enjoy your evening.”

Once Besithia turned away, Prompto released a breath he’d been holding. He’d been at ease when discussing math. But seeing the changing in demeanor in the minister always unsettled him. He could see why people feared him, and thanked the astrals that he, for some inexplicable reason, liked him.

But he didn’t have long to rest, considering an arm was suddenly slung around his neck and pulling him backwards onto one of the ballroom balconies, and out of sight of the court and his father.

He squawked in surprise, which lead to bright laughter from behind him.

“And here I was beginning to think you’d never show up at one of these again!”

His eyes widened and he fought his way free of the arm, which had only been holding him half-heartedly, and turned.

“Loqi!” Prompto smiled brightly, and practically crushed his one-time best friend in a hug. Or did his best to anyways. It was hard to with the armor he was wearing.

He hadn’t seen his friend since he was 16, and had known him since they were 7 and 10 respectively. He’d used to risk everything to come and see Prompto when he’d first been locked away into seclusion for that first year. And when he’d been caught, because one couldn’t avoid the emperor’s eyes forever, he’d sworn that he’d still be friends with him. Thankfully, the fact that he was a Tummelt protected him. Indeed, the emperor saw it as auspicious that the youngest Tummelt took to the prince so easily, considering that house Tummelt was considered the most loyal house above all others. Loqi’s own father thought so as well, but couldn’t look past that Loqi disobeyed. And Prompto hadn’t seen, or heard of what had become of him since.

“Oh hey, easy! You’ll hurt yourself.” Loqi snickered as he patted Prompto on the back.

Prompto pulled away and tried to hide his watery eyes, rubbing at them furiously to dry them out, “It’s been so long. I thought by now you’d have been sent to basic training by your father!”

“I was.” Loqi said with a smirk. “I finished early.”

It was only then that Prompto fully looked at his armor. It made Loqi look a lot larger than Prompto was, which was saying something considering they were both on the beanpole side of the scale. Plus, it made him taller. The metal was unyielding, and if he had to guess, he’d say it was meant for combat. But what drew his eye was the royal red favor hanging from his right shoulder, with Prompto’s family crest in gold adorning it. Beneath that was the Tummelt family crest. It both marked where his loyalty was placed, to the Aldercapt family, while simultaneously declaring his house name.

“You,” His eyes snapped up to Loqi’s face, which still bore the smirk and now also held pride in his eyes, “You’re a general!”

“Yup!” Loqi reached a hand up and traced the edge of the fabric. “As it turns out, I have a natural aptitude for the mechs, and great strength in strategic planning. So much so, that I rose through the ranks quickly.”

Prompto wanted to jump up and down for his friend, because this was a monumental accomplishment. Becoming a general at age 23 was unheard of! But he couldn’t. Though they were out of sight of the ball room, it wasn’t very far. If he was too loud, they would be heard. But then Prompto realized something.

“That means you’ll have a seat on my father’s council.” He stepped closer to Loqi and grasped his hands in his, just holding them like when they had been children. “Loqi, that’s a life appointment.”

“I know.” Loqi’s smirk softened into a true smile, something that only Prompto had ever been able to bring out. “So, one day I’ll be on your council Prom.”

Loqi’s voice dropped to a whisper, and he continued, “The changes you wished for. We can still bring them about.”

Prompto’s chest tightened with warmth, and as dangerous as speaking those words was so near the court, a wistful smile crossed his face upon replying. “There’s nothing I’d like more than that.”

They both stood in silence then, simply enjoying the others company. It’d been so long since either had seen a friendly face. Both were recalling when they’d been younger, and though both were only just reaching their 20s, each felt older than the last time they’d seen each other. And if he was being honest with himself, the fact the Loqi remembered their conversations from years ago, and the changes he’d wanted once he was emperor, touched him.

But then Prompto sighed and released his hands.

“As much as I want to remain here and talk with you, we both have to been seen at this party.”

Loqi rolled his eyes, an annoyed huff leaving him. “Don’t I know it.”

“I’ll…be seeing you Loqi.” Prompto offered a small and unsure smile to him, to which Loqi huffed once more and pulled him into a hug.

“Count on it. We’re friends, right? Not even the emperor can keep me away forever.”

Prompto laughed into his shoulder, despite how Loqi’s armor dug into him, and squeezed just as tightly as before. He’d like to think, that one day, he’d have more than just stolen moments with his friend.

Once he let go, Loqi made sure he wasn’t too ruffled, and let him return to the ballroom, alone. Though, he was never very far away for the rest of the night, and every once in a while, he would catch Loqi’s face twisting up with barely concealed panic that he’d somehow offended some lady or lord. It’d been a while since he’d been in this kind of situation after all.

Prompto, thanks to his tutoring and his father’s expectations, made no such mistakes.

The rest of the night passed in relative peace. Sure, Prompto has a few people try to pry into just where he’s been, and a few people, the newer lower houses, make snide comments about his wardrobe. He fully expected his father would take away their lord or ladyship as soon as the night was over for that. But it was nothing out of the ordinary.

Soon enough, hours into the party, he found himself being dismissed by his father back to his room. Some excuse made for him about travelling to a different keep in the early morning, to oversee some important thing or the other. He hadn’t paid attention because he knew it was a lie. He’d be in his rooms, as always. Once he was in the hallway, alone, he allowed himself a moment to drop the smile he’d had on for most of the evening, and sighed heavily. He rolled his shoulders and reached up to massage his neck, trying to work the stiffness out of it. Holding his head as high as his father wanted was a surprising amount of work, when it had to be sustained for so long.

But then the moment ended when the young man, Virtus, could be heard around the corner. He straightened and waited for him.

“Ah, your highness.” Virtus said rather brightly for this time of night. He bowed and then gestured down the hall. “I’m to escort you to your room for the night…If that’s okay?”

Prompto had to stifle a laugh, but couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the young man’s slip. “You’re not supposed to ask, remember?”

He couldn’t resist teasing him. Perhaps seeing his old friend tonight had given him hope that he could make another friend out of this young man.

Virtus’s eyes widened and he bowed, “Uh…oops? Sorry your highness!”

“It’s fine.” Prompto responded easily, and began to walk, “I just don’t want you to get into trouble again.”

“Ah…” Virtus fell into step behind Prompto, walking behind him as he was taught this time. “It’ll happen plenty, don’t worry your highness. I mean…Ugh…that is to say that I am trying, I don’t mean to get into trouble, but I tend to. Er…That’s probably not the most reassuring thing to hear from your future attendant. But…”

Virtus continued babbling, and it set Prompto at ease. Clearly, he was a lowborn citizen. That didn’t make him lesser in Prompto’s eyes, but it meant he wasn’t used to all the pomp and circumstance.
Eventually though, they came to the hall before the maze of the royal quarters, and both paused where they were. All the lights, every single one, was out. A small gasp left Virtus, and quickly, before Prompto could react he was grabbing his hand and running into one of the halls.

“V-virtus?” Prompto called, keeping up with him easily thanks to his return to training, and the fact that his legs weren’t tangling in his robes. Thank the gods for his summer clothes.

“I’m sorry your highness, I really thought I had more time!” He whispered back, hurrying down another hall with Prompto in hand.

“What’s going on?”

Virtus came to a stop in one of the smaller halls, and quickly pulled the prince into an alcove with him.

“I’m sorry. Prince, I’m Lucian.” Virtus looked at Prompto with large eyes, “I was sent by Prince Noctis to watch over you, and got wind of an assassination attempt, but haven’t found out the night yet.”

“Wait…what?” Prompto shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Noctis had been watching over him through his attendant.

Virtus, lowered his voice even further. “It’s tonight. Damn the six, it’s tonight. Forgive me highness.”

He suddenly grabbed Prompto and hid one of his hands inside his robes, summoning something small and then dismissing it in a bright blue light.

“I hope that was enough to hide the light,” He muttered, while releasing Prompto. At least all the layers are good for something Prompto thought.

“What…I mean…What?” He was all sorts of confused. Because assassins were watching over him, but there was an assassination attempt? But that would mean… His face grew somber. “My father.”

Virtus made a pained expression, but then looked back outside the alcove. “Yes, your highness.”

He’d thought it odd that he’d have Loqi serve under him rather than wait for Prompto to ascend to the throne to name him as one of his generals. Looking back, he could make the connection. He named Loqi to the council because Prompto was never going to ascend. But what had he done wrong? He looked back and tried to figure out why his father would want him gone after all the work he’d put into breaking him. The isolation. The strict schedules. Hell, the scripts of what he was and was not allowed to say.

Where had he slipped up?

“Prince!” Virtus suddenly grabbed him and yanked him forward, and when he’d been a dagger was sticking out of the wall.

The two young men glanced at each other and took off down the hall running. Not for the first time in his life did Prompto hate that the Royal halls were meant to be maze like. It was supposed to be easy to escape from a killer, but in this case, only seemed to make it harder.

His attention then turned to his attendant. Prompto hated that this made sense too. Virtus was young, inexperienced. Lowborn. Expendable to his father. Him being the one escorting him rather than his usual, trained in combat, attendant, would be seen as a tragic coincidence. Especially since the assassin would probably make sure to kill them both. Easy to blame the prince’s death on the lucians since there would be no witnesses. Security was low everywhere but the ballroom. There would be no help to reach.

Someone running around the corner in front of them pulled him out of his thoughts. The person rushed toward Prompto, knife drawn and ready, and Prompto couldn’t stop in time. Instead of managing to stab him, Virtus tackled the man before he could reach him. They were soon fighting for the knife, and it was nothing like the fight when he and Noctis met. This man meant to kill them.

“Run Prompto!” Virtus shouted.

And he could do nothing else but comply.

Chirp – Chapter 1 – ChocobosTrinket (Neverforget94) – Final Fantasy XV [Archive of Our Own]

Chapters: 2/?
Fandom: Final Fantasy XV
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Undecided
Characters: Noctis Lucis Caelum, Prompto Argentum, Ignis Scientia, Gladiolus Amicitia, Regis Lucis Caelum CXIII, Clarus Amicitia, Crowe Altius, Nyx Ulric, Libertus Ostium, will update as they appear, Cor Leonis
Additional Tags: Wing AU, Wings, world building, Friendship, Will be updated as I think of the tags
Series: Part 1 of *Bird Noises*
Summary:

Wings are normal in this world, with different patterns that come with different meanings and abilities. Prompto just so happens to have a rare pattern that’s he’s been hiding since he was a child. But he couldn’t hide forever.

Chirp – Chapter 1 – ChocobosTrinket (Neverforget94) – Final Fantasy XV [Archive of Our Own]

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. 

Comfort after Panic

A/N: This was a piece I wrote for myself after I had a really bad panic attack. It helped me to calm down, so I figured I’d post it. Maybe it will help someone else.

Summary: Cindy/Reader. Cindy finds the reader on their floor in their apartment in Lestallum, and helps to calm them down from a panic attack. 1,620 words

Sometimes, it was too much for you. The darkness that is. Both the literal one outside Lestallum’s gates, and the mental illness that was now left unchecked due to the shortage of medicine. The first month off them was always the hardest. Panic tended to build up inside you, even as you forced it down. It left you open for an attack at any moment. You were lucky this time. You were safe in the city. But it was a small comfort in the face of your attack.

Your chest hurt, your heart was racing too fast. It was too hard to breathe, too hard to think. Your muscles were twitching uncontrollably, making you unable to move. You closed your eyes a long time ago. Or was it a short while? When panic set in, it was always hard to tell. Time turned endless, and it always felt like this feeling would never come to its end.

You barely registered the door to your apartment opening, having forgotten that you were expecting company. The cold air that followed your guest in only made you curl further into your knees. Vaguely, you could make out them calling your name. Then suddenly, they were at your side on the floor, guiding your face up to look at them. You opened your eyes to see who it was.

“Darling? What wrong sugar?” Cindy placed her hand on your cheek, trying to get your attention, to pull you out of your mind. “Come on, come on back sweetheart.”

You leaned into her hand, feeling it’s warmth. She was always so warm, even when you felt as if Shiva herself had settled into your soul. But even her warmth wasn’t enough to pull you back you felt, so you started to close your eyes again, prepared to let the panic have you.

“No no no babe. Don’t you close your eyes,” she said.

With her other hand, she seized one of yours and laid it flat on her collar, low enough on her chest for you to feel the beat of her heart and the rise and fall of her breath.

“Alright, just look at me hun. Focus on my breathing.” She said softly, but firm enough for you to keep your eyes open. And though you couldn’t hear her, not through the panic, you managed to match her breathing as she wanted.

And then sound started to return.

“That’s right, keep on coming back now.” She whispered, leaning forward to rest her forehead on yours. You still felt the rise and fall of her chest, and when she was this close the only thing you could focus on were her eyes. As green as the world once was, making you think of nature. Birds. Leaves. Sunlight…

“I’m right here babe. Right here. You just keep breathing.” She said even softer than before.

Wasn’t it lucky that the gods saw fit to place the earth in her eyes?

You finally manage to pull yourself together enough to whisper her name. Her eyes were locked on yours, and a small smile creeped onto her face as she saw your awareness returning.

She gave a small relieved sigh, and let her hand on your cheek trail back to the nape of your neck to hold you. “I’m right here Pumpkin.”

A shuddering breath left you then, and she carefully pulled away, resting on her calves where she had been kneeling to help you. You inhaled and held your breath for a short time before exhaling. She guided your hand down to her lap, and then took your other hand after releasing your neck and placed it there as well. She then lightly squeezed your hands, which you returned, a grounding presence while you came down.

“Alright sugar, do you think you can stand?” She asked, still holding your hands. You watched her, still focusing on her eyes, and nodded. “Good, alright, come on now.”

She got up first, standing to her full height to help you to your feet. Your muscles were weak from your trembling, and she knew they would be. But she was deceptively strong, and easily helped you to stand. After which, she guided you to your small couch and sat you back down, making you lay down for the moment.

“I’ll be right back sugar, okay? I’m not leaving you.” She said, squeezing your hands again, tighter this time, before letting go altogether.

Once she was out of your sight you closed your eyes and just focused on your breathing. You tried to keep your mind clear, to avoid the problems that caused your attack in the first place. There were a lot. Your own mind was like a minefield these days. Sometimes, when the anxiety was really bad, you wished you had perished with the drug supply in the city.

“Hun?” Cindy said softly, so not to scare you, “Can you sit up for a moment?”

“Yeah.” You said quietly, finally able to bring yourself to speak.

“Good. Now come on.” She helped you sit back up, keeping a hand on your back, and brought a cup to your lips. “It’s water darling. Just take a couple of sips and you can lay back down.”

Rather than answer, you listened to what she said and slowly drank from the cup. You gave a slight nod when you didn’t think you could handle anything more, and she pulled the cup away, setting it on the floor next to her. She then settled on the end of the couch and had you lay back down, so your head rested on her lap.

As gentle as a feather, she pushed loose strands of hair behind your ear, and ran her fingers over the strands. She kept stroking over your hair in a repetitive motion that you could focus on. Once she saw you had settled, she said, “Now sugar, what happened?”

Your eyes open and flicker up to meet hers. “It…it’s silly.”

“Now hun, finding you on the floor hyperventilating isn’t silly. And I’m sure whatever caused that isn’t silly either.” She says firmly. She believed in her words.

You only hum in acknowledgement.

“I’m serious sugar! It was…it was scary finding you like this. If there’s something wrong, it’s not silly.” She placed her hand on your cheek again, gentle forcing you to look at her. “It’s not silly.”

You released a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, and buried your face into her lap. “Cindy, there’s…There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

She didn’t know. She didn’t know that you were sick. It was always terrifying telling someone this. People have walked away from this before. It made your heart sick thinking of being left behind by her. But then, you turned your head and looked at her. Really looked at her.

Her eyes looked sad, the corners of her mouth turned slightly down. Not in a frown, no. But rather in concern. It was the eyes that told you so. Her eyebrows were pulled together, and if you looked closely, you could see the beginning of a wrinkle between them. (You hoped you weren’t the one that put it there.)

“You can tell me anything. Just please. Let me in.” She whispered and went back to stroking your hair.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. And then you focused on the wall across from you. You didn’t want to see the moment Cindy realized you were mentally ill. It usually looked like love leaving their eyes. You couldn’t bear to see that on Cindy.

“Back in the city… I had to take medicine for this…” You spoke quietly, explaining. You told her of your symptoms, the medicine, holding nothing to yourself. You couldn’t lie to Cindy.

“…And…It’s okay if you don’t want to deal with that. It’s okay to leave. Most people can’t handle it.” You finished. Slowly, tears started to leave your eyes in slow trails down your face, and into her lap.

But then, she suddenly had you sit up and then turned your face toward her for a kiss. It was slowly, gentle, searing. Chaste as well, but no less passionate than the other kisses you had shared. It was as if she was breathing warmth into you through your lips. And if she had set her heart on exploring your mouth during this kiss, you were sure it would have tasted like summertime.

Once you were breathless, she pulled back. But your noses were still touching.

“Now you listen here,” She said, just as breathless as you. “When I said I love you, I love all of you.”

Her eyes burned into yours as she spoke, but you didn’t care. It was chasing the cold grip of panic from your heart. The worry that had been choking you about this as well. “Don’t you ever think that I’d leave you for something like this…Something you can’t help. I love you.”

She pushed forward into another kiss and pulled back, muttering her love against your lips before taking a third, fourth, and fifth kiss. 

“I’m here. Through thick and thin Darling. If you ever feel like this, don’t you dare hide this from me. I’m here.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” You ask, whispering to yourself. But she answered anyways.

“You smiled.” She breathed a laugh against your mouth, then leaned forward to rest her head on your shoulder. “And I was a goner before I even knew your name.”

You sat with your arms wrapped around each other on the couch for a few moments longer, and you both were willing to forget the world outside your windows. You both knew peace then.

Normal for the Spider|Chaos for the fly

So I saw a cute AU by @prompto-cam and it inspired me to sit down and write something after so long. It’s probably a little deviant from their idea, but I tried my best. I just really thought this following scene was too irresistible not to write out, and honestly, I have a HUGE soft spot for Aranea. 

It wasn’t unusual for creatures to come to her in desperation. Here in the darkness of her caverns, spiders had brought her knowledge for as long as she could remember. Whispered to her in words only she, an arachne, could understand. The spiders had taken care of her in this way, telling her what she could do with the information. They’d taught her that knowledge could be used. Selling it, trading it, giving it, all of that had originally served to protect her from harm when she was younger.

But now she was old enough not to need that protection. No. Instead she’d turned it into a weapon, a device for her to leverage what she needed from those who dared come to her. The knowledge was enough of a siren’s call that she never wanted for much, even with her reputation for ending those who dared disrespect her in her own home. 

It became monotonous. They’d come, they’d ask, they’d die or leave.

So the day a centaur came into her cavern, she was braced for the same song and dance. However, there was something in his eye that caused her pause. She’d usually set the person requesting knowledge on a dangerous path, requesting things that she wouldn’t be able to get otherwise. The horn of one of Leviathan’s narwhals, good for protection for the horn never dulls. Things of that caliber.

But him? She liked him. He stood tall and did not cower. His eyes burned for the knowledge, and it was plain for all to see just how much he was willing to pay for what he asked of her. If she didn’t have a reputation to upkeep, she’d have simply given him when he’d wanted, Paid for by the passion in his heart. However, she couldn’t do that. So she requested something easy. Simple. 

“Cakes.”

“Cakes?” 

He’d questioned her price, and she promptly gave a stinging reminder that she could just was easily asked for something like werewolf blood, or pixie wings, or even a vampire’s fang. He let it go after that, which was good. She’d have hated to up the price on him.

It was only half a day later that there was another coming into her cave. She sighed and rolled her neck. She crawled silently along the cavern’s ceiling, watching and observing the small being that was carefully making his way into her home with six boxes in his arms. 

Oh this would be fun.

She dropped down, landing with a soft thump, and said, “And just what are you doing here, Shortcake?” 

“CAKES!” He shouted, panic laced in his voice as he held them out to her. “Gladio said you like cakes and I got you cakes because we need help and cakes are good so if you could eat these cakes and not me and maybe just tell me where we find this magical thing and I can be on my merry way and not die please oh god don’t eat me!”

If she’d know what he was carrying, she would have called him a different name. The panic on his face was clear, but still she could see the resolve in his eyes to help his friends. Even through his fear. Oh, what a gift the day was, meeting two people that she rather liked.

“Hmm…maybe I should add you to the price for what the centaur asked.” She teased. She’d never keep a live creature. She preferred her solitude, but he didn’t know that. 

He was shaking like a leaf in the wind as she brushed by him, purposely trailing one of her legs across his back. She put the cakes off to the side and then went back to him. She sat on the floor, and ran her hands through his hair as she spoke. She told him where they could find someone to heal their friends, the paths to take, and the distance to go. And as she spoke she laced spiders webs through the strands. 

It was late in the day and she’d assumed that as soon as she told him what he wanted to know that he’d run off. The webs would mark him as under her protection, at least until he reached the centaur. No creature of the night would dare touch him.

And as she’d guessed, as soon as she finished speaking, he thanked her and charged off. A laugh left her, and she found herself hoping that maybe they’d returned with another request. 

79 for GladioxReader pls?

LATE NEW YEARS POST WOOOOO BOY. I know it’s not new years anymore, but still. Have a thing! 😀

Drabble Challenge: #79 – “My name isn’t Leslie…who’s Leslie?”

Speaking over the music was a challenge. It thrummed through the air, shaking you to your bones. Gladio, thanks to his size, had managed to get to you on the dance floor and pull you into a booth near by. Both of you were dizzy with happiness, and giddy from the drinks. 

It was New Years night, and this club in particular had been closed to the public for those close to the crown. Nobles and retainers alike were celebrating together, free from having to worry about press and security leaks. The prince, ordinarily in Gladio’s charge for such a night, had elected to stay in his apartment, bringing in the year with his best friend, and Ignis. 

Being the person ‘courting’ Gladio had it’s perks. This was probably the best new years party you’d been to. However, the music was starting to become ridiculously loud, and the air too stuffy for you to handle. 

“Let’s leave!” You shouted about the music, your face flushed and feeling giggly. 

“Leslie? My name isn’t Leslie…Who’s Leslie?” Gladio was snickering behind his hand. It looked like you weren’t the only one who might need fresh air.

“I said, Let’s leave!” You ended up laughing as Gladio nodded and began tugging you along through the crowd. It didn’t take long to reach the front doors. You went out without your coats, figuring you’d be coming right back in. The cool night air was doing wonders for you both. The the shouts and cheers from inside the club caught your attention.

10…9…8…

When had it gotten so late? 

“Gladio!” You shouted when he suddenly swept you up into his arms. Normally not a big feat for him, but with the alcohol in his system, he staggered backwards until his was leaning against the wall with you still in his arms.

5…4…3…

Both of you laughed as you adjusted your weight in his arms, lost together in the giddiness of the night. He soon regained his feet just in time to press a soft kiss to your mouth. 

2…1…

It started with a gentle pressing of his lips to yours. It was cautious, almost reminiscent of your first kiss. As if scared he’d hurt you, or scare you away… Then his movements became more heated. A soft bite to your bottom lip to gain admittance, tongue slowly exploring the inside of your mouth. He took his time, wanting you dazed, wanting you to feel just how much you meant to him. Eventually, the need to breath would become too much to bear, and you’d have to pull away.

But not yet. Not yet.

“Happy new year.” He whispered against your lips, before continuing his kiss.