#LEAVE PROMPTO ALONE

[aleeeeeeeeeeeeeeee]

Oh my god I completely forgot Tumblr existed. Hi.

If u follow me on Twitter you probably already know I'm drawing some stuff. If not hi I'm back, yes I do have a final fantasy oc. Yes I do have oc x canon ships. I'm working on this white haired gayass but the only thing I have to show here is this

[mariogirl369]

Look, as soon as I saw that man, I knew he was going to be nothing but trouble for everyone. (Especially after he started making my son uncomfortable during a certain point, and then straight up HURT MY SON LATER ON!)

I always warn people to not trust him, and he won't stop invading my dreams, please help he's been doing this for the past few months now-

I read that some players on Reddit initially thought he was being genuinely helpful and totally not harbouring any malicious intent whatsoever up until Altissia. That's fking insane to me.

Like...my guy...look at his face.

Bro was wearing the trademark Final Fantasy villain Kubrick stare the entire time and you didn't notice

[drxcorelibre]

Overcoming Distance in Love P.A.

: ̗̀➛ Freeing oneself from long-held desires x

⚠ Genre/warnings: situationship to lovers idk i just love prom and he deserves this sm, slight nsfw (heated makeout), pinning, atp cindy4life lol, this is so damnn

✎ Reading time: approx. 16min

₊˚ʚ It was as if the months apart had never happened, the chemistry between you still as strong as ever.

₊˚ʚ Prompto pushed himself away from the garage wall and began slowly making his way towards you. Each step he took was measured, his eyes never leaving yours.

₊˚ʚ Suddenly, it was as if a dam burst. All the pent-up emotions, the months of silence, the questions left unasked, came rushing out at once.

The night was quiet, and the stars above were the only witnesses to your departure. The journey to Hammerhead was cold and lonely, the silence only broken by the crunch of gravel under your shoes.

You made your way along the path, the lights of Hammerhead growing closer with each step. The thought of leaving the group behind weighed heavily on your heart, but you had made your decision.

As you finally reached the base of Hammerhead, Cindy, who was working late into the night, noticed your arrival. She looked up from her project, her eyes widening in surprise at the sight of you alone.

"Well, now, ain't that a sight," she remarked in her soft drawl, taking in your state. "What're you doin' here this late and by yourself, darlin'?"

"i left the guys."

Cindy's curious expression quickly turned to surprise. "Left the boys, huh? Ain't that somethin'. What happened there, if you don't mind me askin'?"

"just- realised i never belonged."

Cindy's brow furrowed at your words, a hint of concern in her eyes. "Never belonged? What makes you say that?"

"At the end of the day, we girls can't afford to stay with the boys." you chuckled.

Cindy raised an eyebrow at your chuckle, a puzzled look on her face. "Why's that, darlin'? Nothin' wrong with a girl hangin' with the fellas."

"i caught feelings." you said, gripping onto your belongings.

Understanding dawned in Cindy's eyes as you confessed. She looked at you with empathy, seeing the pain behind your words. She took a seat on a nearby crate and patted the spot next to her, gesturing for you to sit. "Come on, sit down. Let's talk."

You hesitantly joined her, sitting on the crate and placing your belongings beside you. The night air was still and quiet, the only noise coming from the faint sounds of machinery and distant crickets.

Cindy looked at you, her voice soft in the moonlight. "So, you been likin' one of the boys, huh? Can't blame ya, they're handsome fellas. Which one was it, if ya don't mind me askin'?"

"Prompto" The thought of him sent tingles down your spine as you spoke his name out loud.

"Ah, Prompto. He's a good kid. Real peppy, always crackin' jokes. Can't really blame ya for falling for him."

She paused, her eyes studying your face, "But somethin' tells me it ain't as simple as just likin' him, is it?"

You played with your bracelets as you spoke nervously, a bit worried for Cindy's judgement of the situation you put yourself in.

"I felt like my feelings could potentially ruin the group dynamic so i left, realising I don't belong."

Cindy chuckled with empathy, "Sounds like a bit of a mess, darlin'."

"But it ain't your feelings that's ruining things. You have a right to feel the way you feel.

Cindy shifted slightly, turning to face you directly. "You ain't ruined nothin' by likin' Prompto. That's just how the heart works, can't always control who you fall for."

"it's fine! I'll get over it..."

Cindy could sense the resignation in your voice, and it tugged at her heartstrings. "It's not gonna be that easy, darlin'. Feelings like that don't just go away, especially not overnight."

You held your head up, looking at her sheepishly. "That's why I came here to ask you... If i could stay here, work, get my mind off of them?"

Cindy's face brightened at your request. "You wanna work here, huh? Well, we could always use an extra pair of hands. Plus, keepin' busy is a good way to keep your mind occupied."

She patted your back with a warm smile. "Sure, darlin'. You can stay and work. I'll teach you the ropes, and before you know it, you'll be a regular mechanic here at Hammerhead."

"thanks"

Cindy gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "No need to thank me, darlin'. We all need a fresh start sometimes, and that's what Hammerhead's all about. New beginnings."

╴╴╴╴˚ೃ ╴╴

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. You found solace in the rhythm of the garage, the familiar hum of machines and the hum of the desert night lulling you into a sense of peace. Your days were filled with the scent of oil and the occasional banter with Cindy and Cid, the gruff yet affectionate owner of the garage.

The work was challenging at times, but you found comfort in the routine. The distance from Prompto and the guys allowed you time to process your feelings and come to terms with your new life. Despite the occasional pang of friendsickness, you found a sense of belonging in your new role at Hammerhead.

Over time, you adapted to the garage life, your hands becoming calloused and greasy, your laughter and skills familiar to the regular visitors of Hammerhead, who welcomed you as one of their own.

But every now and then, thoughts of Prompto and the group would creep into your mind, like a faint whisper in the wind. You pushed them aside, reminding yourself of the reasons you had left in the first place. Still, the ache in your chest was undeniable, the memories and what-ifs lingering like a bittersweet perfume. It was a constant struggle, balancing the tranquility of your new life with the lingering pull of the past.

As the familiar sound of the Regalia's engine echoed through the air, you looked up from your work on a nearby car, your heart skipping a beat. It was the chocobros, here for some vehicle upgrades.

Noctis led the charge, followed closely by Ignis, Gladiolus, and... Prompto. Seeing them all again, so casually together, sent a pang of nostalgia and longing through you.

Hiding your feelings behind a neutral expression, you quickly tried to push down the emotions welling up within you. You feigned distraction, continuing to tinker with the car in front of you, hoping they wouldn't notice your internal struggle.

Cindy, however, had a keen eye for reading people. She noticed the flicker of emotion in your eyes as the group approached. She sidled up beside you, a knowing look in her eyes.

"You all right, darlin'?" she whispered, her voice low and understanding. "They can't see it, but I can."

"I'll be alright." You said, wiping oil grease from your cheek, giving her a reassuring smirk.

Cindy gave you a supportive smile, patting your back gently. "You've got guts, holdin' it together like this. 'Course you'll be alright. Just remember, I'm here if you need to vent, scream, or just a shoulder to lean on."

The rest of the group had been engrossed in their conversation, oblivious to your momentary struggle. Prompto's laughter echoed in the background, causing your heart to clench slightly as you tried to focus on your work.

The urge to run towards them and hug them all while spilling so many sorry's went through your mind for a split second, but you knew that won't do.

The guys approached the garage, peeking in at your figure working on some badass vehicles.

Everyone had noticed the transformation. With your new outfit, your voice resembling Cindy's Southern drawl, and your mannerisms changing to match hers, you had become a bit of a chameleon, blending into the environment of the garage.

Noctis, Ignis, and Gladiolus glanced your way, their eyes widening slightly as they took in your appearance and demeanour. But it was Prompto's reaction that caught your attention.

He stood there, stunned for a moment, his eyes wide as he stared at you. The gears in his head were clearly turning as he tried to reconcile the 'new you' with the person he once knew.

He seemed to be at a loss for words, the familiar banter and jokes that usually flowed effortlessly from him were nowhere to be found.

As the group settled in and started discussing the upgrades they wanted for the Regalia, Cindy smoothly took charge. She launched into a friendly negotiation with Noctis, Ignis, and Gladiolus, while Prompto lingered in the background, his eyes still resting on you occasionally.

You, however, tried to keep your focus on your work, pretending not to notice his glances. The sounds of the garage faded into the background as you tried to keep your hands steady and your mind clear.

Every so often, you'd catch a glimpse of Prompto in your peripheral vision, his eyes meeting yours before quickly averting them, looking a bit flustered. The air between you both was heavy with unspoken emotions, an invisible thread of tension stretching tight.

Cindy, ever observant, noticed the silent communication between you and Prompto. She suppressed a slight grin, her eyes flickering between the two of you as she continued her negotiations with the guys.

As they finalized the details with Cindy, the conversation wrapped up, and they began to prepare to leave. Prompto lingered a moment longer, his eyes still on you, his expression a mix of longing and hesitation.

The group sauntered out of the garage, heading toward the nearby restaurant, their voices carrying on the warm evening air. Cindy watched them go, then turned to you with a knowing smile.

"You sure you don't wanna join them, darlin'?" she asked, her tone gentle but laced with encouragement.

"it's better this way."

Cindy nodded understandingly, her smile turning slightly bittersweet. "I get it, darlin'. Sometimes, what you want and what you need are two different things."

As you continued to work on the car, your thoughts were a tangle of emotions. Seeing Prompto and the guys again had stirred up feelings you had been trying to suppress, and their departure left you with a mix of relief and a strange pang of emptiness.

Your heart ached with an unspoken longing, a silent plea for just one more moment, one more look into his eyes. The familiar banter, the laughter, the bond you used to share - it all seemed like a lifetime ago.

The hum of the car under your hands was a temporary distraction, but it couldn't drown out the persistent pull in your chest, the deep-seated desire to see Prompto again, to hear his voice, to feel his presence.

The hours ticked by, the sun slowly descending towards the horizon. The guys finished their meal and emerged from the restaurant, their voices echoing through the still night air as they discussed their plans for the night.

Your eyes found Prompto amongst the group, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the sunset. His gaze roamed over the garage and, for a moment, seemed to linger on you.

Your heart skipped a beat as you saw Prompto's gaze fall on you for a moment. Reflexively, you ducked your head, using your long bangs and ponytail as a makeshift shield, hoping he hadn't noticed you watching him.

The sound of the guys' footsteps approaching sent a jolt through you, your senses hyper-alert to every sound and movement. You could hear them saying their goodbyes to Cindy.

Noctis sauntered over to you, an intrigued look in his eyes. He leaned against the hood of the car you were working on, observing you quietly for a moment before finally speaking.

"You've changed a lot, haven't you?" he noted, his voice nonchalant but his eyes studying you with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "Still sharp, even in a new shell," he commented, his tone holding a hint of pride. "You're good at adapting."

You couldn't really speak up, although you felt like there was so much to say. You nodded in confirmation, getting back to work.

Noctis watched you silently for a moment, his expression a mix of confusion and a hint of frustration. It was clear he had more to say, but you had already shut him down. He gave a slight shrug, realizing that pushing further would be futile.

"Take care."

The guys climbed into the car, the Regalia's engine roaring to life as they pulled away from the garage, disappearing into the night.

The silence that settled over Hammerhead after they left felt deafening. The hum of the garage, the occasional rustle of the desert wind, and the beating of your own heart were the only sounds left in the stillness of the night.

The thought of them driving off into the night, continuing their adventures without you, stung more than you cared to admit. But you shook the thought away quickly, reminding yourself of the reasons you had left in the first place.

You turned your attention back to the car you were working on, determined to bury yourself in the familiar rhythm of the garage work. The sooner you lost yourself in the work, the sooner you could forget about the ache in your chest.

╴╴╴╴˚ೃ ╴╴

The days were filled with the hustle and bustle of the garage, and the nights were spent catching up over the dinner table with Cindy and Cid, listening to their stories and sharing a few laughs.

Time had flown by in a blur of car repair and tire changes. The days had been long but filled with the fulfilling sense of accomplishment and routine. 11 months had passed since you had left the group, the pain of separation slowly fading into a dull ache you had learned to live with.

The nights were the hardest, when the silence of the garage seemed deafening, and the memory of Prompto's face would surface in your mind, unbidden.

The sound of the Regalia's engine roaring into the garage was a welcome yet unwelcome intrusion one day. You looked up from the car you were working on to see Noctis, Ignis, Gladiolus, and Prompto stepping out of the car, looking a bit weary but no worse for the wear.

They looked more seasoned, their faces sporting a few more scars, but their eyes were still filled with the familiar determination and bond they had shared since the beginning of their journey.

Noctis, Ignis, and Gladiolus greeted Cindy and Cid with some casual banter, their voices familiar and almost comforting. Prompto lingered a bit behind the rest, his eyes scanning the garage until they landed on you, as if time was repeating.

Your gazes met, and that familiar rush of emotions washed over you both. The weight of the past six months hung heavy in the air, a silent conversation passing between you both through the brief exchange of looks.

A mix of surprise, relief, and something else you couldn't quite put your finger on flickered in Prompto's eyes, but it was gone in an instant as Gladiolus said something, drawing his attention away from you.

You returned your focus to the car, pretending to be busy with tuning, but your heart was racing in your chest. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Prompto stealing furtive glances in your direction.

Every glance sent a jolt of electricity through you, reminding you of the chemistry you had shared before you left. The silence between you both felt heavy, filled with unspoken words, emotions, and a thousand questions.

You returned to your work, but the ache in your chest grew more insistent.

The evening descended upon Hammerhead, bringing a gentle coolness to the air. The stars above glittered like diamonds against the inky black canvas of the night sky.

The sound of footsteps in the garage startled you, breaking the peaceful silence of the night. You looked up to see the unmistakable silhouette of Prompto, framed by the dim light spilling in from the outside.

Prompto stood at the entrance of the garage, his lean frame casually rested against the door frame. His eyes were fixed on you, studying you intently. He didn't say anything for a moment, just watched you silently.

The air between you was thick with unspoken words, a thousand emotions swirling in the silence. Prompto's eyes were unreadable, his expression a mixture of curiosity.

You couldn't breathe, you couldn't speak.

Your heart stuttered in your chest as you met Prompto's gaze, and suddenly, you found yourself at a loss for words. Your mouth felt dry, your thoughts a tangled mess. It was as if his presence had sucked all the oxygen from the air, leaving you in a state of breathlessness.

You tried to say something, anything, but no words came out. You stared back at him, your eyes wide, your heart thudding loudly in your ears. The silence between you was deafening.

Prompto's gaze had changed. His eyes shone with a new, more masculine air, his once boyish features now sharpened and matured, giving him a more rugged and handsome look.

His blue eyes were like twin pools of shimmering water, seemingly drawing you into him. You noticed the freckles that sprinkle his tan skin like stars on a night sky. His hair was messy yet attractive, falling effortlessly in shaggy layers around his face.

You noticed this change as he looked at you. His gaze was no longer the playful and innocent gaze you had grown to know.

His gaze held a confidence that hadn’t been there before, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

Prompto seemed to sense your inner turmoil, the way your breath hitched and your eyes widened. His gaze softened slightly, a flicker of concern crossing his face.

Prompto pushed away from the door frame and began slowly making his way towards you. Each step he took was measured, his eyes never leaving yours. With every step, the distance between you seemed to shrink, the tension building silently.

As he closed the gap between you, you could see the myriad of emotions playing out in his eyes. He came to a stop just a few steps away from you, his hands shoved in his pockets.

"h-hello again..."

Prompto's expression softened further, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Hey."

His voice was soft, almost hesitant, as if he was trying to gauge your response to his presence. He looked at you quietly for a moment more, his eyes searching your face.

The air was filled with a mix of uncertainty and anticipation, both of you teetering on the edge of something unspoken.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You just stood there, watching each other. Prompto's eyes held an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine, and there was a vulnerability in his expression that you had never seen before.

Suddenly, it was as if a dam burst. All the pent-up emotions, the months of silence, the questions left unasked, they all came rushing out at once.

Without a word, Prompto closed the remaining distance between you, his hands reaching out to grasp your arms. He pulled you towards him, his grip firm but gentle, his eyes never leaving yours.

You stumbled slightly as he tugged you closer, your body colliding against his. His breath was warm against your face, and you could feel the rapid beat of his heart mirrored in your own chest.

He stood there, holding you tightly, his eyes roaming over your face, tracing the contours, studying your expression. His fingers started to rub small soothing circles on your skin, sending small frissons of electricity down your spine.

The kiss was sudden and intense, his lips claiming yours with a desperate hunger. It was as if months of pent-up frustration, longing, and unspoken words were poured into that single gesture.

Your mind went blank for a moment, surprised by the sudden contact. But then, a wave of desire washed over you, and your body responded on instinct. Your arms reached up to grip his shirt, pulling him closer, as you returned the kiss with equal fervor.

His hands moved from your arms and settled on the sides of your face, holding you as he deepened the kiss. It was as if the months apart had never happened, the chemistry between you still as strong as ever.

The sound of the boys calling out for Prompto shattered the moment, reminding you that the outside world existed.

Reluctantly, you both pulled away from each other, your breaths ragged and your eyes slightly dazed.

You looked into each other's eyes, both of you trying to regain your composure, the passion of the kiss still lingering on your lips. Prompto looked torn, his gaze reluctantly moving towards the sound of the guys' voices.

You could see the struggle on his face, the desire to stay with you and the pressure to return to the group. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze before letting go, taking a step back, putting some distance between you again.

Prompto gave you a small, almost rueful smile, his eyes locking with yours. "Yeah, I'll make sure I do more damage to the Regalia during our trips..." He said, indicating they were all here because of his little mischief.

He glanced back over his shoulder at the direction the guys' voices were coming from. "Duty calls," he said reluctantly, a hint of disappointment in his tone.

Taken by surprise, Prompto stumbled back towards you, his mouth forming a small 'o' as you pulled him in for another kiss. The unexpected gesture caught him off guard, but after a moment, he melted into the kiss, his arms encircling your waist as he held you tightly.

When you pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath still a bit ragged. "Wait for me?" he asked, his voice a soft whisper.

"like i always do."

Prompto's breath hitched at your words, and for a moment, he just held you tighter, his eyes searching yours. A mixture of emotions flickered across his face - surprise, hope, and a touch of disbelief.

He closed his eyes and let out a slow exhale. "Damn it," he muttered as if he was both frustrated and relieved. "I can't leave now knowing you need me, can I?"

Prompto pushed you against the garage wall, his body pressing against yours as he captured your lips in another fervent kiss. The cool night air was a contrast against the heat between you. His hands explored the curves of your body, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

The world around you seemed to fall away, the only thing that existed being the two of you, your bodies pressed together, your breaths mingling in the dark. His lips left kisses against your neck, tasting and teasing, igniting a fire that you thought had died months ago.

The moment was interrupted by the sound of footsteps followed by a collective gasp. You looked up to see Noctis, Ignis, and Gladiolus staring at you two, their mouths hanging open.

They stood there, completely taken aback by the sight of you and Prompto locked together against the garage wall. You both froze, your eyes widening in surprise and slight embarrassment at being caught.

Noctis was the first to break the silence, a shocked and almost comical expression on his face as he looked between the two of you. "What the hell?" he blurted out.

Ignis and Gladiolus were both speechless, their eyes wide as they tried to process what they were witnessing. Gladiolus whistled low, breaking the silence with a low, appreciative "damn."

Prompto pulled away from you, his hands still holding onto your waist as he turned to face the others. He looked sheepish and a bit guilty, a flush creeping up his cheeks. "Uh, Hey guys..."

Noctis pinched his nose and you pushed Prompto lightly towards them. "You gotta go."

Prompto gave you an almost pleading look, as if he didn't want to leave, but seeing your insistence, he reluctantly let go of you, a hint of disappointment in his eyes.

Noctis, still looking utterly bewildered, just shook his head slightly, mumbling something along the lines of "I can't believe this." Ignis, chuckled at the prince's comment.

Ignis and Gladiolus had similarly surprised expressions on their faces, though Gladiolus just looked amused and somewhat impressed. He clapped a hand on Prompto's shoulder as they started walking back to the Regalia, Prompto throwing one last glance back at you before disappearing into the night.

The ache in your chest was replaced by a feeling of affection as you anticipated your next encounter with Prompto, envisioning another good memory to cherish.

@drxcorelibre - do not steal, plagiarise or repost my posts on any other social media. This is my only account.

[goddessofroyalty]

So, Cloud gives birth by himself a lot of the time. But does that also mean Sephiroth doesn't show up and act extremely creepy about it?

Like in that separate oneshot AU fic you wrote a while ago about them having a daughter and Cloud having to ban him from the room due to him looming and making weird, but also kinda hot, obsessive comments.

I feel like the only "help" Sephiroth would actually provide are some rather insensitive encouragements that sound more like commands than anything.

Like, he sees Cloud faltering for just a second, and he says something along the lines of, "You're stronger than this. This shouldn't be hard for you."

Not even holding his hand or anything just, standing and watching. And I know you said Cloud can very much handle birth himself, but like, godamn Seph 😭 😭

It's because of Sephiroth behaving like that that Cloud prefers to give birth alone than have Sephiroth around making it harder by being an absolute creep about it.

If Sephirothdoes happen to be around when Cloud goes into labor Cloud basically orders to him Leave Immediately. Not even getting him to get like Tifa to look after the younger kids while he is distracted with giving birth to the latest. No. He'll get Prompto to do that - he just wants Sephiroth gone.

Of course Sephiroth is very much a person who does as he pleases. So whether or not he actually leaves or just makes Cloud annoyed as hell really depends on whether he wants to or not.

[angelic-guardienne]

College Party

Nyehehehe i am back and currently on a prompto obsessed binge. wrote this at 3am -- my first 3am idea bug in years! I'm very excited to share with everyone, my first bit of writing in a w h i l e. I hope you enjoy!

Scenario, 2,114 words, Prompto/Reader

content tags: alcohol (both reads and prompto are over 21), prompto with glasses, college, kissing, a little ooc but i just imagine prompto as like 23/24 here so he's a bit more confident in himself, use of the nickname “beach goddess,” otherwise it’s gn reader

Taglist: @crazykruemel @ponkita @kerrtrash @tales-of-a-fallen-star @valkyrieofardyn @joeyisaprincess @kawaiinekorose @insomniacapples @neo-queen-alinity @tea-and-ebony-for-my-chocobros @honey-your-bee-puns-sting (though you've already read it lol) @tiniestofqueens @bestchocobois @jaysfandomcorner @holyjiminpark @himawari-haebalagi (i think that's everyone?)

it’s a college party at a beach house. you think the host is a friend of a friend of a friend; someone you know distantly and have really only seen in passing. but everyone in your year got an invitation to this, and your friends begged you to go, so here you are

the place is immensely huge and immensely crowded, but the party is surprisingly lowkey -- no deafeningly loud music, and the lights are low instead of pulsing strobe like a nightclub. people play games at the pool table, swim in the ocean, or just hang out and laugh with their friends

there’s booze of course -- wouldn’t be a college party without some 

you’ve been taking your sweet time with your drinks, not wanting to deal with a hangover in the morning. your friends, much more popular than you, eventually drifted off to socialize with other groups, leaving you alone to venture around 

except you and your two and a half drinks have left you needing the bathroom -- bad. and you know the cardinal rule of partying and drinking is never to leave your drink unattended, but you can’t fathom throwing it out (it’s tasty as hell) and you refuse to chug the rest. 

if it had a lid, you could just put it in your bag. you're cursing the open top

You’re debating if you’re willing to accept the gross idea of taking it into the bathroom with you when you catch sight of him, right out of the corner of your eye

glasses perched on his nose, a simple t-shirt and swim trunks that somehow look like high fashion on him, blond hair in such a pretty little swoop, and -- as you get closer, unthinkingly drawn to him -- freckles spattered all over his skin. 

he's leaned against the wall, phone in one hand and beer in the other, alone but somehow not out of place or awkward at all

you remember seeing him around here and there, sharing a handful of classes over the years. You can't remember his name, but you wouldn't ever forget a pretty face like that

even if you've never spoken to him, you've seen the way he interacts with others, how everyone always smiles at him, and how studious he is, always leading study groups in the library. he seems so sweet, and so…. wouldn't roofie your drink

“sorry to bother you, but you’re the most trustworthy-looking person around,” you say over the thrum of the crowd. “can you watch my drink so I can use the bathroom?”

he gives you the sweetest smile, enough to rot out your teeth and make your heart melt, and gladly accepts your drink. he grabs a napkin and lays it over the top of your drink, then pops his hand on top so nothing can fall in

you don’t waste any more time, finding the nearest bathroom and obtaining sweet, sweet relief

looking at yourself in the mirror while you’re drying your hands off, you can’t believe you just left your drink with an almost total stranger, good-looking or not

when you return to your savior, though, he’s still just how you left him -- with his hand over the top of your drink, watching everyone around him like a hawk to make sure no one even bumps into it. and you just feel warm, knowing you made the right decision

“thank you!” you say, accepting your drink back. you introduce yourself, smiling over the rim of your cup as you take a quick sip. “i remember seeing you around campus here and there, but I'm so awful with names.” 

as if you'd ever forget his name if you ever learned it 

“My name's Prompto,” he responds with a smile so easygoing it's almost lazy, his pretty blue eyes giving you a quick once-over.

it’s practically instant the way he has you wrapped around his finger. you have got to know everything about him, have got to spend more time with him, have got to keep staring into those deep blue eyes, have got to see that smile again. 

so you talk with him. you talk about anything and everything. prompto is an amazing conversationalist. hours feel like minutes as everything flows so naturally between you two, and you never want it to end

along the way you end up sitting on one of the many loveseats littered around the house. prompto’s right there with you, sweet as candy. you’re trying not to stare at him, the alcohol in your veins leaving you more than tipsy but not quite drunk, some weird combination of bashful and bold.

you’ve got your legs in his lap and he’s leaned in close, nodding along to what you’re saying with this look on his face like he could listen to you talk forever. and he’s genuinely listening, responding to you in ways that show he really cares about what you’re saying

you want to cross what little personal space is left between you, but you’re not that daring, not yet anyway

until, of course, prompto lays a hand on your thigh. you’re distracted by the feeling of his thumb drawing little circles, and when he jokingly calls your attention back to his face, you sputter that you were looking at his nail polish

not 100% a lie, not really truthful either

but he just laughs, and your heart flutters in your chest

prompto presses his head back against the couch and you watch the way his adam’s apple bobs in his throat just a little too intently. “you’re incredible. cute, smart, funny, and so easy to talk to,” he says, turning to look at you. looking right into his eyes, this close, you can see he means it. “honestly, it’s unfair, doin’ this to me.”

you cock your head to the side, raising a brow. “what do you mean? we just met a few hours ago!”

he leans a little closer -- not close enough to kiss, only for your breath to mingle a bit. you're sorely tempted to close the gap. “makin’ me fall for you.” 

you blush and lightly push him away, hiding your elated smile behind your drink. “not my fault I’m so lovable,” you quip.

you tap his nose just to make him blink, and you both dissolve into little giggles. you scoot a bit closer to him, not quite on his lap but one move from him could easily put you there. “it’s your fault for bein’ so cute, prompto.” you mutter, cradling your drink in one hand and laying the other over his, where it still rests on your thigh.

this close, prompto can’t hide the blush that spreads over his cheeks, red engulfing his freckles. he’s staring at you, those blue eyes flicking down to your lips and lingering for just a second too long before he draws his gaze back up to yours. “yeah, my fault,” he breathes, swallowing like his mouth is dry

there’s so much tension between you, both waiting for the other to make their move. you lean back to take a sip of your drink, but as soon as the cup comes down, prompto’s arm comes around your back, pulling you close to him again

“Can I kiss you?” he asks with surprising clarity, his voice steady. 

“Thought you’d never ask.” you respond, finally closing that last gap between you

it’s quick, but it’s fucking heavenly, and it makes you wanna kiss him over and over and over again

after the fifth kiss you decide to show some restraint and pull away, and it’s a herculean task to resist the way he chases after you. you tap his nose again, dissipating some of the heat between you. he chuckles, and you smile right back, happy as can be

you two continue chatting into the night, finishing your drinks and making your way outside. prompto’s glasses fog up from the temperature change, making you both laugh. the salty sea breeze sobers you up a little bit, and a mischievous little idea pops into your head

you drop your stuff in the sand nearby and step into some ankle deep water and prompto just follows like he’s in a trance

mid-sentence, you whip around to kick water on him

competition sparks in his eyes. “oh, you did not.”

“who, me?” you chirp, squealing and dodging his attempt to tackle you into the water

you run like hell, laughing all the way, splashing water on each other. but you definitely underestimated how damn difficult it is to run on sand, and you quickly exhaust yourself, flopping onto the beach with a heaving chest

prompto drops down next to you, grinning. you dry off your hands and face with your towel and pass it to prompto, who does the same.

You hold out your hand. “let me see your phone.”

when prompto passes it to you, the contact screen is already pulled up. under the name, he’s put “beach goddess.” it makes your heart flutter again as you add a heart emoji and put in your phone number. you send yourself a text so you have his number and pass the phone back to him, wishing you had your drink back so you could hide just how giddy you’re feeling

but prompto relishes in the attention, drifting into your personal space after putting his phone away. “i don’t want the night to end,” he says, wrapping his arm around you, pulling you close to him. you gladly scoot over, practically in his lap again by the time you get settled. 

“maybe… it doesn’t have to?” you hedge, studying his face for his reaction. “I don’t live too far from here, maybe we could just…. chill, watch a movie…” you avert your gaze to draw little shapes in the sand, losing some of your bravado. “maybe kiss a little more?”

one shift and prompto has you in his lap once more, hands on your waist, breath mingling with yours. “sounds great,” and then he’s kissing you again. 

you’re so lost in kissing him that you don’t hear the approaching tidal wave until it crashes over your back and his legs, startling you both out of your little slice of heaven. 

“did the ocean just tell us to get a room?” prompto asks incredulously, and you burst out laughing, 

you two stand, dust yourselves off, and make your way over to your apartment, holding hands and chatting the whole walk there

settled on your couch, wrapped in a big blanket, popcorn in your lap and movie playing, you can’t imagine being anywhere else doing anything else with anyone else. prompto is perfect

and yes, halfway through the movie he leans over and kisses you again, and then the rest of the movie is lost on you

he’s a gentleman, letting you take the lead and only going as far as you want to. his hands stay right on your waist and his lips stay right on yours. 

you want to get to know him better before getting into his pants, so things don't go any further than that. and he's 100% okay with that

you two crash right there on the couch, cuddled up in each other's arms while you listen to his heartbeat. it's the most peaceful place in the world

when his alarm wakes both of you up in the morning, you’re sad to see him go, but you know the night had to end eventually as he heads into work

you're wondering if it was just the atmosphere and the booze or a genuine connection when your phone starts ringing -- it’s prompto. 

“was just walking and wanted to hear your voice again,” he says bashfully, the service making his beautiful voice a bit crackly

you talk until he reaches his apartment, and then again after he gets out of the shower, until he reaches his job. and even throughout the day, he still sends quick little texts when he can. he’s got you giggling and kicking your feet, waiting by the phone for his every word. 

later that night, he asks when he can see you again. and as much as you wanna say anytime, you reel yourself in and plan a date

you can’t wait for the day to come, extremely ready to see him again. you might be getting ahead of yourself -- like, you’re already seeing a future with him -- but you connect with him on a level you just haven’t gotten with anyone else. you’re smitten, and he is too.

when he shows up to your date with a bouquet of flowers and a shy smile, you just know that he's the one

[joeyisaprincess]

Hi! Your blog has to be one of my top five headcanon blogs, if not number one. (You have a perfect delivery and your interpretations are unique yet suspend disbelief. Also, you're hilarious.)

If you have time, can we get some Miqo'te!Chocobros (or whomever!) headcanons with their S/O? Ever since your Miqo'te!Noctis post, I just need more of your Miqo'te/catboy-girl content, I breathe the stuff, you understand.🐈‍⬛

Okay lets talk about catboys

Noctis

He's purred himself to sleep in this state. He'll be happily purring, then he'll just fall over. It's objectively horrifying, if you don't know that he's just like that.

Noctis already sleeps a lot. With the agility and flexibility of a catboy, you're liable to find him sleeping in the most horrifying positions, and in the most surreal places.

He bleps a lot. Just... sits there, with giant pupils, his tongue hanging out slightly. Head empty.

Noctis isn't big on touch, but he slow blinks a lot. If he's feeling fancy, he likes to headbutt people, but he gets pissed off if they try to touch his ears.

Ignis

Ignis will look you dead in the eye and swat shit off the table during a disagreement. That's the first thing that needs to be said.

It's... really fun, to have him in this way. He's basically the same, but his ears and tail give away the emotions he usually hides behind a mature, refined front. His ears go flat against his head when he's upset, and his tail flicks behind him. The fur on his new appendages fluffs up when he's frightened.

Ignis' behavior hardly changing makes you realize that he's an objectively silly man. He slaps things out of the air, gets offended at others when he does anything embarrassing, and loses interest in his expensive "toys" (air fryer, panini press) in favor of the cheaper ones (you can pry his second-hand cast iron skillet from his cold, dead hands).

Gladio

Most likely to swat at his tail, not realizing it's his own appendage. He also occasionally gets startled by his own reflection. The "cucumber behind a cat" trick works on him.

His tail is big and fluffy. He likes to tease Prompto with it. He'll flick it behind himself, then quickly move it when Prompto lunges at it. This starts fights, and usually ends with the poor blond in a headlock.

Gladio is too big to be this quiet. Do you know how scary it is to assume you're alone in a room, but then you hear him start talking from right behind you?

Prompto

... Orange Cat. Prompto bites to show affection. He doesn't bite hard, but it's definitely enough to make you mildly annoyed. He can spend hours chewing on silvervine sticks. Has absently chewed on his own charger and then accused the others of ruining his cord.

He's also not good at controlling his claws, so everyone is covered in light scratches. Especially when he gets scared and starts to flail. Gladio is his most frequent victim, and the scratches tend to occur after he was teasing him, so it might not be as much of an accident as he claims it is.

Prompto likes to groom himself in this state, and he's over the moon if one of the others accept his attempts to groom them. He gets distracted easy, though, so he just walks away, leaving chunks of their hair out of place.

[shih-coulda-had-it]

solheimian immortal prompto!AU i was cooking back in May, because I was avoiding finals and getting too obsessed with a specific dynamic between prompto and ardyn. this is technically a fill for a prompt i found on the ffxv kinkmeme, but i think i'll keep it as a wip until i figure out where i'm going with it.

the prompt:

Prompto has been alive for a long, long time, he's seen many things, lived many lifespans, and now he's secluded himself from humanity (the heartbreak of outliving his friends is too much). Even though the herd of chocobos he protects and shepherds keeps him company, Prompto is very lonely. Then, one day, he hears a rumor of an immortal being sealed on an island. Not wanting to be alone anymore, Prompto sets off to free this being.

+ Prompto can be older or younger than Ardyn

++ Ardyn and Prompto trying to understand modern technologies with mixed results

+++ Prompto helping Ardyn with the immortal thing

++++ Prompto breeding and protecting a herd of chocobos.(all with names of course) He also sends some Wiz's way.

wc: 4.5k

//

For three decades, Prompto’s been dreaming of the dark. This isn’t necessarily a new development; Prompto thinks he’s been alive for several millennia by now, and the darkness is a recurring feature of life on Eos, always narrowly stamped out by a short-lived Chosen One. 

These dreams are different, because they come with a stranger.

Hooks jammed into flesh, from his palms to his waist, chains held taut to where they’re welded to the walls. Hair hanging long and lank down his chest. He’s half-naked. Unaware of Prompto’s presence, fleeting as it is, but not so fortunate to be unconscious for his ordeal. He hallucinates other visions, at times pleading for an ending and at others just murmuring names. Gilgamesh. Aera. Somnus.

At first, Prompto only dreams of noise, of the stranger’s ragged, sobbing breaths. Then he takes a midday nap, and suddenly there is a shaft of thin light revealing a trapped man, forever undying.

It takes, shamefully, a week for Prompto to break. The consistency of the visions persuades him of their realness, but he’d cultivated his chocobos for a long time! He was attached to them! He had to offload all but one, and it absolutely broke his heart. Then he kept selling and buying chocobos for the next thirty years, because of course Prompto had to travel every mile on Eos before figuring out his undying stranger was trapped on Angelgard.

The world is pockmarked with hundreds of thousands of caves. Littered with ruins! And when one is scorned by the Astrals to the point of setting a disaster off every century, regardless of where Prompto’s holed up, well…

Prompto puts in a lot of legwork before he scores.

//

The keywords are Aera and Somnus. Having been out of polite society for more than, oh, what is it now… a century? Two? Bloodlines have been established, a ruling class instituted, and blessings from the gods distributed very showily to two distinct families. Prompto may be among the common folk, but even commoners recognize the houses of Nox Fleuret and Lucis Caelum as miracle workers.

But where, oh where, is the connection? Prompto turns up the charm and helps many rambling grannies and curmudgeonly old men in order to hear the history he missed out on.

A resurgence of the darkness. (They call it Starscourge now.) A wandering prince, known as the Healer. Too swift in his journeys to ever leave a name behind, but definitely either a Nox Fleuret or a Lucis Caelum.

They’ve stamped his name out of the texts, but not even royalty can exterminate living memory.

Prompto hears his fellow immortal’s name from the lips of a fading elder, a woman once cured of the Scourge after she made a pilgrimage to the capital, and had a lucky encounter. Prompto repairs the cracked gaps in her walls, seals them with pitch and tar to stop her from suffering a draft every night, and in return, she gives him a meal and gossip about Ardyn Lucis Caelum.

“He possessed a blessing and a curse,” she recalls in a reedy voice. “He was effective as a leech, when it came to healing the Scourge.”

“That’s specific,” Prompto observes through a mouthful of baked fish.

“I mean what I say. Oh, there was a pretty light show, and he led us to think that he was truly burning the sickness out… But what really happened was that he was taking the Scourge into himself. Like a leech.”

“And then what happened?”

“Well, young man,” she says, “what leech can hold its fill? The Scourge overwhelmed the Healer, and when his body was revealed to be tainted, King Somnus took the throne and cast his brother to the deep.”

Prompto perks up. “The deep? Is that a metaphor?”

The old woman gives him a dry look. “We are a distance from the capital. ‘Tis easier to speak vaguely than to grasp at details stoppered at the court’s lips.”

//

Angelgard finally comes to mind after Prompto has exhausted nearly every other option.

It’s gods-touched. He usually pays attention to those locations and avoids them as much as possible, which is why he hasn’t visited Lucis’s crown jewel of a capital yet. When Solheim existed, they used to collect a score of criminal offenders and drag the lot of them to Angelgard for celestial judgment.

It would be a poetic note to stash a gods-touched man there. The Six are nothing but aware of their posterity.

To avoid attention, Prompto goes the long way round and hops island after island, and he stops asking after stories of Aera and Somnus. Instead, he spends time remembering how to sail tricky waters. He relearns the art of fishing and foraging from tide pools. 

When Prompto is confident of his anonymity, he starts asking about the island.

Predictably, he’s warned away from the Umbral Isle. Not just because of the unmanageable conditions of the waves and Ramuh’s tempest. The kingdom of Lucis is invested in its untouchability, and woe to the soul who trespasses royal property. Supposedly, a fisherman confides in him, King Somnus Lucis Caelum ruled that not even royalty could walk those shores.

Prompto nods sagely when he hears this, and goes to prep his boat.

The conditions are nightmarish. Crossing the sea from the southern islands in a fishing boat results in a sunburnt Prompto who now looks forward to entering Angelgard and its miserable weather conditions. At night, he squints at the stars and consults his dismal memory, trying to remember when it’s the right time to slice past the riptides and avoid smashing his boat against the reefs.

He only just makes it. His gut instinct propels him forward, just as Ramuh’s tempest snarls awake, and Prompto spends his first hour on Angelgard swearing as he lugs the single escape route onto higher land.

“Come on!” he shouts at the sky, seeing the waves foam with fury while being pelted by icy cold drops of rain. “You couldn’t have given me a few hours?!”

Prompto crams one end of the boat under a ledge, and dumps several more rocks inside, in the hopes that he can prevent Ramuh from using one good gust to blow it away. After that, he takes a steel rod and jams it among a crop of boulders. That will hopefully draw lightning from his very flammable boat.

He throws a crude parting gesture to the wind, turns to fetch the oilskin sack in which he’s stuffed two dismantled guns, survival gear, and various sundries a half-naked immortal strung up for thirty years might like, and gets struck by lightning for his charm.

//

His muscles are still trembling with the regrowth of nerves when Prompto trips into the cell. It’s horribly embarrassing, as far as first impressions go, but the man strung up like a martyr isn’t even conscious enough to register how Prompto faceplants before his shackled feet. The sack of supplies remains thankfully closed.

Both of them wheeze in staggered, aching gasps, but only one of them manages to recover.

Prompto fumbles for the handheld gas lamp. It’s wrapped and cushioned by the spare clothes he’s brought for Ardyn. Blindly, he adjusts the water drip and snaps his thumb against the flint to ignite a small flame. First thing he sees are the tattered hems of pants. Then the heavy shackles around pale ankles.

He lifts his head to take in the whole picture. He can feel his eyes widen.

There will be no gentle way to release Ardyn; the flesh has sealed over the entry points, trapping him more thoroughly than any magical seal an Astral can conjure.

That’s where Prompto comes in, he supposes distantly. He gets to his feet and peers at his fellow immortal’s face, and he tentatively reaches up to tuck a long strand of hair behind an ear. Ardyn is unshaven, but it’s more stubble than anything substantial. He would’ve grown a tremendous beard if the Astrals hadn’t frozen him at this age.

The briefest touch causes Ardyn to stir. A whimper escapes him at the effort; he struggles to open his eyes.

“Shh,” Prompto whispers. It feels uncannily like trying to coax a feral chocobo to let him pet them. “Hey, hey. It’s alright. I’ve found you.”

“What…?” Ardyn manages. His voice is light with exhaustion, dehydration, and perhaps most prominently, confusion.

His eyes glow gold.

“I’m gonna get these out of you,” he says, just to fill the silence. Prompto attempts to inject as much joviality in his tone as possible, but he suspects Ardyn cares little for anything but the hand pressed against his face. “It’s gonna hurt. A lot. But if you’re anything like me, it’ll heal right up. Harm done, but harm gone, huh?”

Ardyn smothers his moan into Prompto’s palm, so Prompto taps into a well of apathy long-unused, and readies himself to yank each and every last chain from Ardyn’s body.

The quicker the better. 

//

It turns out, the only thing that hits harder than Ardyn’s despairing pleas are his wordless cries of pain. He collapses onto Prompto after the last hook is worked out from his palm, and Prompto curses under his breath at the sudden deadweight. Frantically, Prompto checks the puncture wounds. No blood. That’s a good indicator.

“You with me?” Prompto asks, turning his head to the stairs. He doesn’t want to be in here any longer, but it’s not as though there’s any other convenient shelter from the storm. 

There’s a breathless whine hummed into his neck. Just barely, Prompto can make out the words, “Out, out, please, out…”

“Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

Slowly, Prompto heaves Ardyn towards the entrance. He leaves behind the gas lamp. The journey is agonizingly slow, one step at a time, but they make steady progress. As a plus, Ardyn grows a little more cognizant the closer they reach open air.

Well. Cognizant is a relative term. He fades in and out, and his mutterings grow less pitiful and more angry.

“Somnus,” he hisses. “Somnus, the little wretch. I’ll tear him from that throne if it’s the last thing I do.” Out. In. “How could you kill her… oh, Aera, beloved…” Out. In. This time, Prompto tunes in to hear a weak, “Don’t touch me.”

“Good timing,” Prompto says brightly. He eases them down to sit at the first step, props Ardyn up against the wall. The weak light helps illuminate the finer details of the man’s appearance. “Hey, wait here, I’ve got a flask of water in the bag I dropped.”

He doesn’t wait for a nod. He doesn’t expect any expression of gratitude when he tromps back with his supplies (gas lamp included, can’t forget that), unscrews the cap, and helps Ardyn take his first sip before relinquishing the entire bottle and taking a seat across from him.

With that, so begins the introductions.

“Who are you,” Ardyn Lucis Caelum rasps. Prompto recognizes the signs of intimidation: narrowed eyes, bared teeth, raised voice. Prompto admits to himself that the front is impressive—pain isn’t really an opt-in, opt-out feature. He personally still yelps whenever he stubs his toe on a rock.

He blows out a breath and turns his eyes to the perpetual storm. 

And lightly, Prompto tells the truth. “I’m what you could call… a bad first draft! The Six have to figure out what makes a good Chosen One, you know. I didn’t make the cut. But they couldn’t exactly, uh, sweep me away, so… Hello, immortal, I’m immortal too!”

His fellow immortal takes a moment to process Prompto’s absolute word vomit.  

“What do you mean by bad,” the man finally says. “How can anything be worse than living like this?” And from his pores, black ichor seeps through, dripping its tainted substance down to the stone where it evaporates into miasma. It pools along the man’s eyes like tears and spills past his lips like bile.

Prompto grimaces. That’s pretty bad. He isn’t going to be the one to fight to claim pity points, because damn. That’s pretty fucking bad. 

“I go by Prompto Argentum,” he starts, trying to feel out the explanation he’d like to give. “I was born, oh… before Solheim fell. I had enough time to learn how to fix an airship and to do magitek armor maintenance.”

The man blinks, hard. It’s to be expected. Prompto doesn’t look old; he’s as tall as he ever would have gotten, and his whipcord frame never wastes away, even when he hasn’t had a bite for a week. His hair is in stasis, as is the attempt to grow a beard—Prompto can’t even take a razor to his chin. It just grows back the same almost instantly. Perhaps it’s better than having a permanent baby face, but Prompto would have liked a more dignified stage of growth.

“That’s… old,” says the man.

“Very.”

“But you paid no price? You get to remain as hale as a young man may,” the bitter, incensed rage gives the man a sense of being feral, “and I have to suffer the Scourge? Oh, that is a joke for the gods! If they’d already had their undying vessel, what did they need me for?”

Prompto presses his hands together. He’s messing this up. First time ever that Prompto gets to meet a fellow immortal, even a baby one, and he’s getting on the man’s shit-list for the rest of eternity. “If it helps,” he offers, “they try to kill me every so often.”

There’s a befuddled silence.

“I was being raised to fight the darkness. That’s what Solheim really invested in, towards the end,” Prompto recalls. “You call it the Starscourge?”

“… Yes.”

“Yeah. We just called it as it is: darkness.”

“Solheim fell because it betrayed its god-king,” Ardyn says, as though reciting a lesson. “And the Astrals would not abide a civilization that defied their will. A two-fold war, I believe. One to stop Ifrit from burning the world, and the other to stop humanity from burning their gods.”

“That’s common knowledge?”

“Inasmuch as one seeks knowledge of a doomed society,” he says a little more modestly.

Prompto laughs. “Looking for an answer we missed?”

“Fresh eyes on a disaster bring new perspectives.”

He turns his head to meet Ardyn’s eyes. They glow a little, in spite of the dim light Angelgard permits. Some of what Ardyn believes of Solheim is true, but not everything was put to record. Those secrets, Prompto suspects he may have to hold close to the chest.

“You call yourself a ‘bad first draft.’ A child raised to fight the Starscourge, and one who evidently failed by the time I was given the privilege to try again. What method did the Six try to gift you, then?”

“Not the Six,” Prompto corrects. “Ifrit. He was closest to humanity, and he saw first-hand the effects of the darkness on his worshippers, so he sought a solution on his own.” He tilts his head, smiles when Ardyn mirrors the motion. “Before we were flesh, we were clay. So the stories go.”

Ardyn snorts. “A myth proven wrong many times over.”

“There’s some truth to every legend.” He thinks about speaking freely of his origins, but Prompto holds his tongue. There are some things which could stand not to come back into the world. Civilizations after Solheim are groping their way back out of a dark age: roads are finally being paved again, which Prompto deeply appreciates.

“So Ifrit chose you, specifically? Were you of a unique bloodline? Possessed of some wondrous ancestry?”

“Ha! Not even close.” He grins. “I was one of the many humble soldiers for Solheim. A man of no consequence, as they say. I was, oh, thirty years old when Ifrit called for sacrifices. No relationships to speak of, familial or romantic. I expect that’s why the Six relies on royal bloodlines for their work now—you guys are like, built to obsess over fate, duty, loyalty…

“Ifrit dipped me into the sacred flame,” he continues. “Baked me a little too long. I came out immortal, but cracked. The Scourge never found purchase because it kept… spilling out, I guess. By the time Ifrit realized he messed up, it was too late to reforge me. He tried, and Shiva tried, and then Bahamut tried to smite me off the face of Eos. Nothing worked.

“Solheim got impatient over the darkness and scorned Ifrit. Got to a point where the Astrals worried about their, uh, superior position. They razed my home to the ground, and I was left to collect the remains.” He tries to maintain a bright smile. “No airships left, unfortunately.”

The man stares at him, mutely. The Scourge recedes, as if it too is confused. How many daemons did he take, Prompto wonders. How many can this man hold before his knees buckle beneath the weight of them all?

“Then what are you doing here?” 

“I heard that Ardyn Lucis Caelum wouldn’t die by his brother’s sword,” Prompto admits, because that is easier than the sentences: I dreamed of you. Did you dream of me? “Gossip said that your body was tainted by the Scourge you claimed to heal, and that you needed to be isolated for the good of the world. But you weren’t even a rumor in the western continent or the southern islands. So I figured you’d be here. I’m sorry I took so long.”

“You knew all that,” Ardyn croaks, “and you decided to unleash the monster?”

Prompto leans over and knocks his knuckles against the bulk of the man’s arm, adds a friendly grin. “I’m pretty confident you aren’t. Isolation isn’t going to do anything but let the Scourge pickle inside you. You deserve to at least try and figure out what’s going on.”

“‘Pickle’?” 

“Don’t sound so insulted, I’m not a fancy royal guy!”

“You never thought to rise above your origins?” 

“What’s the point of that? Courts come and go. I can’t even remember the names of Ifrit’s tributaries.” Maybe he should tell Ardyn that he hadn’t paid any sort of attention to the rise and fall of the Healer, and had in fact needed several seasons to learn the ways Eos had shifted Common’s vowel sounds around.

“Funds might help ease the pains of an immortal life,” Ardyn says flatly. 

“I get by!”

“And what, pray tell, is your current occupation?”

Prompto beams. “Before going off to find you? I raised chocobos. While I was finding you? I picked up odd jobs. Fixing fences, filling potholes, hunting the odd coeurl or two.”

“Were you never tempted to steer the future?” It takes a second for Ardyn to remember something, which makes him go paler. “You are—thousands of years old. Your memories are clearly intact of a civilization so great it frightened the gods. And now you make a living doing the petty work of man. How have you not gone mad?”

“I dunno, I think I’ve gone a little chocobo crazy,” Prompto jokes, but he sobers. This is important, he can sense it. The issue is that Prompto, even with several millennia in his pocket, does not have a good answer.

“Are you even capable of magic?”

“Nope.”

Ardyn’s mouth drops. “Then what is the point of living for you?”

His heart aches with all the silly reasons Prompto has to keep walking forward. The sun still rises. The chocobos still sing. The wind still cools the sweat on my brow. Mortals come and go, their lives practically matchsticks to his eternally burning torch. But he cares for them and their small insignificant dramas, when he comes across their settlements.

All he has is a body that won’t fall apart, no matter what the gods try, no matter how much the Scourge scrambles to find purchase in his veins.

“I find things to appreciate,” he finally says. “It’d be a miserable life if I couldn’t look forward to tomorrow, but that hasn’t happened in a while.”

Gold eyes give him a look so droll, Prompto bursts out laughing again. And if his eyes haven’t deteriorated, he thinks he sees a strange curl to Ardyn’s lips as well.

“So I have been rescued by a genius of a simpleton,” he concludes. “One who cannot even give a fellow immortal any advice on how to defy the gods.”

Lightning strikes the steel rod. Prompto can spot it. He makes another crude gesture at the sky and startles when Ardyn barks a laugh, itself sounding shocked and rusty.

“Ah,” Ardyn says in between a raspy snicker, “I suppose that lesson will suffice. What is your plan for escaping this damned rock, my precious savior?”

He’s handsome, even when he’s disheveled. Prompto tucks this thought away where he will only think about it when he’s alone, and shrugs. He admits, “We need to wait out this storm. Angelgard’s waters are passable only a few days out of the year, and I misjudged the timing.”

“We’re trapped here for yet another year?”

“I’ve got a boat,” Prompto points out. “If you have any special magic powers to get us past the riptides, we can try to outrun the Fulgarian’s wrath. Otherwise. Very human limitations here.” Aside from the fortified constitution, increased speed and dexterity, enhanced eyes—all qualities seared into the make-up of Prompto’s being. Oh, and he can’t drown, but that doesn’t mean it’s pleasant to walk Leviathan’s domain.

Ardyn tips his head back against the wall. “Perhaps you didn’t hear while tending to your chocobos, but I was rather tidily rejected by the Crystal last I approached. And seeing as the Crystal stands in for the Six, logically, I would no longer have access to my magic.”

“Did you try?”

“Did I—?” Ardyn shuts his mouth. His mouth thins into a tight line.

“Hey, we all get a little performance anxiety sometimes,” Prompto says reassuringly, and Ardyn glares.

“I am trying to determine whether you yourself have ulterior motives in freeing me,” he replies. “You act a fool, but I have seen my fair share of conmen while traveling the land to heal the Starscourge. Why should I not take your boat and take my chances on the sea alone?”

“Have you sailed before?”

“I’m a quick learner,” Ardyn snaps.

“Alright, alright,” Prompto says, and he flattens his hands on his knees, tries to give the impression that he’s non-lethal. Innocent as a chocobo chick, that’s him. “I wanted to free you because no one deserved that kind of fate. I’m not offering anything but a way out. I’d like to get you to the southern islands, at least, because heading straight for Lucis’s coastline is asking for a fight. I’ll do a few odd jobs, get you the funds for your own way forward.”

“And then we part ways?”

“If that’s how it goes,” Prompto allows himself to say flippantly. “I’m just happy to know there’s another immortal out in the world, yeah? Maybe by the end of this, we can arrange like, an annual meeting. Just to check in with each other.”

Ardyn closes his eyes and breathes. He says, “A moment to rest. I will endeavor to try using magic after.”

“We’re not in a hurry.”

Prompto judges the angle of the rain and decides that it’s safe enough to try and light a hand-warmer. From the oilskin sack he pulls out a beaten iron pan, three stubby legs protruding from the bottom. He arranges three palm-sized slats of wood in a triangle, and takes a knife to a dry block of wood, collecting the shavings for tinder.

Lighting the whole arrangement is the work of a second with the gas lamp. Soon they have a merry little fire crackling away between them, providing all the sound to fill a silence Prompto is resigned to leave alone.

He hopes Ardyn won’t hate him. That would really suck, for Prompto to finally know someone as unkillable as he is, and they end up spending eternity on Eos at each other’s throats.

“You really are without magic,” Ardyn mutters. His eyes are half-lidded, and he has a hand hovering over the flickering flames. “That was deeply painful to sit through.”

“Would you use magic for something as small as this?” Prompto teases. “I thought magic was for big stuff. Death-defying stuff, even.”

Ardyn huffs. With a flick of his wrist, he turns the hand over the flames so the palm faces up, and he wiggles his fingers to move the three lively spheres of fire in a circle. Prompto is immediately enthralled, perking up and wanting to clap his hands like a child.

“Neat!” he tells Ardyn happily. “Oh, man, that is so amazing to see! Is it a one-time ignition, or do you have to keep feeding it magic to keep it going? Wow!”

That strange curl to Ardyn’s mouth. He seems to be constantly reevaluating his notes on Prompto. ‘Genius of a simpleton’ hurts, but it’s a little too true to deny. “The initial drain is more substantial than what it costs to maintain,” he informs Prompto. “Fire such as this longs to be freed. Trapping it in my hand makes it hungry, and it needs to be constantly on the move in order to prevent extinguishment.”

“Huh. I didn’t think magic fire had feelings.”

“Not quite feelings. Just traits.”

He’s struck by a thought. “Uh, just so you know, this little fire,” Prompto gestures to the iron pan, “doesn’t need any supernatural help. If you add all that to the wood, the fuel’s gonna go poof.”

“Ah, we can’t have that.” Ardyn contemplates his handful of flames and then suddenly, viciously, heaves the spell up the stairs into his former prison. Those three little spheres blossom into a generous explosion, one which shakes their staircase.

Prompto has to bat the iron pan into staying in place, and swears when he singes his fingers against the hot metal. “Yikes!” 

Ardyn’s head jerks. “What? What’s happened?”

He shakes his hand out, and the burns fade away like nothing ever happened. A light touch of pain, and nothing more. “Ah, tiny hurt. Never did learn to not touch hot metal.”

Ardyn ogles Prompto. “You can still hurt? Even though you claim to be a broken vessel?”

“The brokenness is related to the darkness,” Prompto says. “Hey, are you feeling better already? Do you want to change clothes, get your hair re-tied? Clothes might be a little big, but that’s what the extra sashes are for.”

“You’re very generous.”

“I’ve had a long time to plan. You want ‘em?”

He heaves a sigh. “Oh, very well. If you insist. Are you also hiding a bar of soap in that bag of mystery goods? Judging by your face, I suppose not.”

“I had a long time to plan, but limited space?” Prompto tries with a winning smile. He digs into his bag and pulls out the clothes and a metal comb. “Here you go.”

“Keep the comb,” says Ardyn, accepting the folded stretches of fabric. Carefully, he rises to his feet. “I would rather risk de-tangling my hair after I have had access to a bath.” He staggers a few stairs upwards; Prompto turns his back to Ardyn, thinks ruefully that now would be the time for Ardyn to stab a suspicious character, and keeps carving curls of wood for the fire.

[weregreatatcrime]

I literally JUST posted the most recent add-on to forest Noctis au but the NEXT bit was already briefly in progress until I realized I didn't like this angle. But I liked the blurb and didn't wanna delete it. So here's 500 words of some good re-introductions after six years of Noctis missing WHOO

~~~~~

“Stand by my son, please. I do not know everything he has been through. And there is much he has yet to tell anyone. He lacks trust in the Crown. In… me. I cannot blame him. I only ask that you prove yourselves to be worthy of his trust, for he gives it sparingly. I cannot convince him to return to the city. I do not know exactly his goals or his ideals. But I do know from our letters that he cares for Lucis and its people. I do not wish him harmed, or alone. Be by his side. Walk tall.”

~~~~~~

Ignis drove the car, Gladiolus in the back. Cor sat in the passenger seat. The atmosphere was tense.

Wiz Chocobo Post was not exactly where Ignis expected to find Noctis after not seeing him for six years. But when they pulled up there he was. Standing stiffly near a picnic table with his hands hovering awkwardly at his sides like Ignis remembered he did when he didn't know what to do with them.

Gladiolus charged out of the car before it was even in park. Cor sighed heavily.

“I told him not to rush him.”

“I said so as well.” Ignis gritted out, stepping out as quickly as he could.

Gladio stopped in front of Noctis, the two of them staring at each other for a few seconds before Gladio swept the smaller man up in a bear hug.

“You ever leave me behind like that again, I will kick your ass.” Gladio threatened, voice thick.

“You can try.” Noctis didn't hug him back. But he did bury his face in Gladio's chest.

After a minute he was released and he turned to Ignis before looking down, refusing to meet his eyes.

“...your Highness.” Ignis breathed. He'd already had plenty of emotional moments back at the Citadel when he was told about Cor locating Noctis. He didn't need to be crying now.

“Don't- don't call me that.” Noctis crossed his arms, ducking his face behind the rat's nest of his hair. “I'm trying to keep a low profile?”

“Noct, then.” Ignis approached and, unsure of himself, opened his arms. Noctis leaned towards him enough that Ignis felt comfortable hugging him close. Gentler than Gladiolus did, just tight enough to convince himself that Noctis was there.

“Noct'll work.” Noctis mumbled shyly. “But everyone knows me as Megumi. So. There's that.”

“Oh. You guys are here already..? Ah. Uh- well, hi?”

Ignis released Noctis to turn and see a young blond man with a nervous smile and cheeks full of freckles.

“This is Prompto, my best friend.” Noctis threw an arm around his shoulders and leaned against him. “My boyfriend.”

Prompto turned a little red. “Hi?” He squeaked. “Gumi’s great.”

Gladiolus crossed his arms while he sized up the much smaller blond. Prompto eyed his biceps anxiously.

“Ignis Scientia.” Ignis stepped forward and held his hand out before the poor boy could be intimidated too much. “It's nice to meet you.”

“Um- Prompto Argentum?” Prompto shook his hand quickly and then let go. His left arm, in a sling, appeared to be shaking somewhat.

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

Mutare: Vampire!Ignis Scientia x Reader

A call had woken you in the night.

From dreamless, floating sleep you awoke to the ringing of your phone on the nightstand, the vibrating rattling the wood and buzzing in your head uncomfortably. You squinted in the darkness, eyes blinded slightly by the bright light of your illuminated phone next to you.

You grabbed it, annoyed at whoever it was on the other end for ruining your sleep. You relaxed, your shoulders dropping in contentment seeing it was Ignis who was calling.

He needed to stay late to greet diplomats and other high-ranking officials to prepare for some royal ball coming up. Something about some party for a different prince or something, you couldn’t really put together what Ignis was saying as he rushed out the door, stopping to give you a quick kiss goodbye like he always did.

You raised the phone to your ear, humming instead of saying hello.

But it wasn’t Ignis’ voice on the other end.

“(Y/n), you need to get here.” It was Gladiolus. In the background, you could hear Noctis and Prompto freaking out. “There’s been an accident.”

You nearly dropped your phone.

It felt like a spike had shot through you. Your chest ached, you suddenly felt cold despite being wrapped in the luxurious blankets your fiance had just bought. You were surely awake now.

“What happened? Where’s Ignis?”

Your voice wavered, if the royal shield noticed it, he didn’t mention it.

“It’s too much to give over the phone. You need to get here, he’s in a bad shape.”

The phone cut off in your ear, leaving you in the still silence of the apartment. For a moment you just sat there utterly stunned. You sat and stared into the empty void of darkness sitting in the apartment, and for a moment, you felt all alone.

You sprung out of bed, fear now controlling you like a puppet, you threw on shoes and a jacket and rushed out with keys in hand, still in your pajamas. The elevator ride down was suffocating, time seemed to drip like honey but it also felt like you were wasting it standing in the descending box.

The doors opened with the usual chime and you dashed out, nearly plowing over some people in front of you.

In the car, you struggled to breathe correctly. Each breath was shakier than the last, your eyes were prickly with tears. You sat in silence in the car, your foot slowly growing heavily on the gas pedal. You were sure you ran a stop sign or two, but at this point, you didn’t give two shits. The radio was off, you listened to the vehicle hum beneath you, afraid that any music or even breaking news over the radio would make you break down.

You saw distant flashing lights, red and white and blue lights racing towards the grand Citadel standing tall maybe just a mile away.

Your heart ached, your hands shook and clutched tighter to the steering wheel. You wondered what would break first under the pressure; Your knuckles now light or the steering wheel creaking.

You were forced to stop just a little ways away from the Citadel, police had blocked off the roads, ambulances were filed neatly in front. You saw medics running stretchers up and down the towering stairs.

You booked it, weaving through the crowds that had formed and ducked under the barricades. You managed to get to the base of the stairs when you were stopped by two officers.

“Get off of me! My fiance is in there!” you cried, attempting to somehow wiggle your way out of their grasps.

“Let them in!” you heard a voice boom. The three of you looked to the top of the stairs to see Cor hurrying down the stairs, Prompto was right behind him. “Let go, officers.”

“But Marshall-”

“But nothing! I said: Let go.”

The Marshall towered over the two officers, he had the coldest gaze that would put Shiva to shame. The two officers let go of your arms and Cor put a surprisingly comforting hand on your shoulder.

Prompto came to your other side, gentle hands stroking your shaking back.

“What happened?”

“I’ll explain, but we need to move.”

“Where’s Ignis?”

“He’s inside,” Prompto murmured.

The normally bright and cheerful man seemed to want to tuck into himself and disappear. He looked so nauseous and scared like he would vomit the moment you mentioned something gross to him.

As you three ascended, your eyes never left Cor’s face.

“It was an attack. A Nifilheim diplomat. I knew something was wrong with him the moment I laid eyes on him. I only wish I had stopped him before he entered the Citadel.”

“An assassin?”

Cor paused for a moment.

“Something else. We’re not sure of his motives. He’s in captivity under the Citadel, however.” You three reached the top of the stairs were officers, Crownsguard, and Kingsglaive all stood. Two Kingsglaive immediately pulled open the doors and stepped out of the way. “Gladiolus can explain to the rest. I need to finish here.”

As if he was called, the towering shield rounded the corner. Prompto ushered you forward, leaving Cor behind. The halls had diplomats all either scared out of their minds with makeup runny and expensive clothing ruined or dirtied, or being taken care of by medics and Citadel nurses. There was a bit of blood splattered across Gladio’s hands which were balled at his sides.

It was a little tough to keep up with Gladio’s long and powerful strides, but you somehow managed.

“Where’s Ignis?” you questioned as soon as you got into a quiet hallway. “What happened?”

“Niflheim sent a vampire,” another voice stated.

Looking down the hallway, you saw Noctis approaching. His expensive suit was torn at the arms, his hair you knew he took care of so meticulously was now a mess.

“You’re supposed to be with the King, safe and away from this,” Gladio stated plainly. “How did you get past my father?”

“He’s with Drautos in the cells.”

“A vampire?” your eyebrows raised. “Niflheim has vampires now too?” The pit in your stomach suddenly grew deeper. You looked back at Gladio with nervous eyes. “Don’t tell me-”

“Ignis was attacked.”

“Is he alright? Where is he?”

Gladio guided you down another hallway, avoiding rushing nurses and maids. Down the hall stood a large elevator, metal shining brightly.

“You need to see him,” Gladio nervously rubbed the back of his neck. Looking to Noctis and Prompto gave the shield nothing, suddenly the shield was no longer confident in himself to tell you exactly what happened. “He’s still here, we can’t let him leave on an ambulance,” was all he said as he pressed the button to summon the elevator.

The four of you piled into the regal elevator as Noctis pressed multiple buttons on the panel. The descent was quiet and cold, none of you made a noise until the doors finally opened. It was all blank and dull, the hallways painted a few shades of gray and the floor cold stone was dark.

“What is this place?” you looked up to the shield.

“They go with the cells, medical rooms,” he didn’t look back at you.

His unruly eyebrows were knit together in mixed emotions;

Somewhere between discomfort and regret.

Gladio lead the way for the three of you, twisting down a corner and following the corridor down until you finally came upon a door that had a ring of light around it.

The hallway was empty. No nurses, not even any carts in the hallway. Only a small pool of blood at the closed door before you four. Gladio pushed the door open, eyes wide with shock.

“He’s not here.”

Peeking into the room, you could confirm that it was empty. There was a mess, however. The bedding was rumpled and thrown to the foot, the IV was toppled over and fluid was all over the floor, there were blood droplets all over the bed from where the cords were yanked out.

The three entered the room to see if there were any signs of a struggle when you heard the faint sound of glass shattering echo down the hallway followed by a soft moan. Almost as if you were drawn by the noises alone, your feet carried you down the hallway until you could peek around the corner. All the way down the hallway stood a glass door now opened, shattered pane in the center with blood around the hole.

You stepped into the hallway and carefully stepped forward, trying to stay as quiet as possible as you crept up to the door. The closer you got, the more you could make out a tall and shadowy figure through the glass. You could hear glass moving, drawers opening, metal bending.

It was like you were in a trance. The closer you stepped towards the door, the harder it was to reason to yourself to stop, to shout out for them. Next to the door was a damaged card reader, no longer sparking. There was a sign for biohazards in black and yellow.

You placed your hand on the door, careful to not touch the shards of glass that remained. You could feel the presence of the person, the air around you was thick with dread, you were suffocating. You slowly pushed the door open just a bit, just enough to let a little more light into the room.

Suddenly, your back struck the wall behind you, the air was knocked out of you, your head suddenly grew fuzzy. You whimpered and gasped as slender fingers harshly wrapped around your throat to keep you pinned under fierce strength. It was only when you unscrewed your eyes from the pain did you feel your world come to a hard stop.

He stood before you.

Glasses obstructed, skin paled and clammy, hair a mess now falling before his eyes. But what were once emerald green eyes were now dark and reddened. His lips were pulled back to reveal sharp canines, capable of puncturing holes in your neck without resistance.

“Ignis?”

[wufeiw]

First Lines Game

Thanks @aglassroseneverfades for the tag!

Rules: share the first line of your 10 most recent fics and tag other people to do the same.

I don't quite have 10 works under my belt as of yet, and some of these haven't even been posted publicly. But I thought, "Why the hell not?"

The Wellspring of all (Harry Potter/Dragon Age: Inquisition crossover; Harry/Solas; Immortal Master of Death Harry; Harry gets trapped in Thedas; Wip): Harry had known that people would treat him differently once Voldemort was finally dead and gone, but he had also held onto a shred of hope they’d ignore him now that he had done his job.

2. The Boy Who Lived in Kirkwall (Harry Potter/Dragon Age 2 crossover; Harry/M!Hawke; Harry gets trapped in Thedas; Wip):

Things escalated quickly when the Death Eaters arrived. The entire vision was a setup. Sirius wasn't in danger—wasn't even there—and now all of Harry's friends were paying the price for him falling for it. 

3. You Can Take My Heart (Dragon Age: Inquisition; M!Lavellan/Solas; Two Elf Nerds Bonding Over Magic and Rebellion; Fic started as an excuse to write a mage-monk class; Wip):

The snap of a dry twig alerted Thalion that he was no longer alone in the clearing, the sound dragging his attention away from the crumbling wall and the faded images carved there. Carefully looking over the edge of the stone arch he was sitting on, wondering what had entered the clearing with him, he was surprised to see that his Keeper had found him and not one of the hunters or an animal.

4. The Viper's Shadow (Harry Potter/Dragon Age 2 crossover; Side Quest in the Boy Who Lived in Kirkwall series; Harry/Sarwen; Kinda Student/Teacher; Smut; Jealous Harry; Harry Pining Over Hawke; One-Shot):

Another bead of sweat rolled between his shoulder blades, flowing like a small river down his back as Harry waited for Sarwen outside of the Blooming Rose. 

5. To Fight the Rising Odds (Final Fantasy XV; Eventual Chocobro Polycule; Canon Divergence; No Ardyn Izunia AU; Noctis Fights to get his Kingdom Back; Wip):

The giant throne room felt stifling, even empty as it was with only his father and friends to fill it, the weight of expectation crushing him as he waited to leave. He hated the ceremony of it; why all the protocols if it was just them?

6. Insomnia's #1 Superstar! (Final Fantasy XV; AU; Crack Fic; Parody; Inspiring Pop Idol!Prompto on the Run; One-Shot):

I am, I am,  I am Insomnia's Number One Superstar!  I am, I am,  I am Insomnia's Number One Superstar! 

The radio cuts out as Gladio switches it off with more force than necessary.

7. Of Flowers and Wolf Hearts (The Witcher/The Arcana(Visual novel) AU; Julian/Leshen; Julian Devorak is a Witcher; Monster Romance; Smut; One-Shot):

Julian often wondered how he got himself into these situations, nearly tripping as another sharp rock slipped into the hole in his boot. Ah yes, the constant need for coin and traveling on foot up and down the steep hills were utter hell on his feet. But it seemed the last patch-up was no longer going to be enough to get him through another month.

8. The Green Lion (Harry Potter/Candela Obscura AU; Harry/Tom Riddle; Professor Riddle; Cursed Harry; Cosmic Horror; Not Posted Yet):

Within the dim confines of the ancient chamber, the rifle erupted once more, releasing a thunderous crack that echoed through the stone walls.

9. A Faustian Bargain (Final Fantasy XVI; Time Travel AU; Clive/Cid; Fix-It Fic; Not Posted Yet):

The remnants of his broken heart shattered once more, slicing the interiors of his ribs to ribbons as memories of the outlaw returned to the forefront of his thoughts. No matter how far down he tried to shove those feelings for the man away, they always managed to uproot themselves in the end. The tangled mess of briers burrowing in deeper, thorns digging into his flesh and bone until there was no telling where he started, and his regrets for how everything turned out ended.

[Not Technically the ‘actual’ first line, due to major spoilers for the end game, so instead this is a few lines down.]

No one to tag, so here it ends!

[savage-rhi]

"You’ve always been there for me, now, it’s my turn to be there for you"

Noctis and Ignis you pick romantic or platonic

The campfire crackled softly, casting a warm hue over the clearing. Noctis sat on a log, staring into the flames, lost in reflection. The night was quiet except for the occasional rustling of leaves and crickets chirping. A content sigh left his nose, thankful for the noise in the background. Though the cricket's cries were annoying, it beats being alone in one's thoughts at this late hour--at least, that was Noctis's justification for tolerance.

He suddenly heard footsteps approaching him from behind, knowing it was Ignis because of his steady steps.

"You're up late," Ignis remarked as he stretched while yawning, sitting beside him.

Noctis didn't look up, his eyes remaining on the flames ahead. "Couldn't sleep."

Ignis nodded, his gaze following Noctis's into the fire. "Something on your mind?"

For a moment, Noctis remained silent, unsure how to voice the heaviness weighing on his heart. The responsibilities, the expectations, the looming burden of his destiny—it all seemed too much, too overwhelming. He had done an excellent job playing into the facade of the "brat prince," someone who took things in stride and did not bother with the future. How could he anyway, when the world was falling apart at the seams? Nevertheless, Noctis knew in his heart of hearts that he couldn't keep up the act forever, especially since he cared too much for his own good. If any of his friends could understand that most, it was Iggy.

He bowed his head as his hands and fingers intertwined.

"Ignis," Noctis finally said, his voice low and troubled. "Do you ever wonder if I'm really cut out for all this? For being king?"

Ignis turned to him, the glowing embers from the fire reflecting in his glasses. "Noctis, I've known you since you were a child. If there's anyone who can bear the weight of the crown, it's you."

"But what if I can't?" Noctis breathed while he shook his head. "What if I fail everyone?"

"What's brought this upon you?"

"I..." Noctis bit the inside of his lip and shrugged. "Everything."

Ignis reached out, placing a reassuring hand on Noctis's shoulder. "You won't fail because you're not alone in this. You have us—Gladio, Prompto, and me. Whatever happens, we face it together."

Noctis looked up, meeting Ignis's eyes. Although he wasn't feeling any better, the soothing words could get him through the night. He could make it work somehow.

"You've always been there for me, Ignis." Noctis finally said, giving a small smile. "Through everything. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"And I always will be, Noct." Ignis smiled softly, a rare warmth gracing his features that was usually reserved. "Remember, this isn't just about you leaning on us. You're stronger than you realize. You've been there for all of us in ways you might not notice. Now, it's my turn to be there for you."

Noctis furrowed his brows. "But you've always had my back. Arguably, more than my father. I don't see how I'm doing much for you when you've had to play mom all this time to me."

"I never saw it like that," Ignis said sincerely, sadness in his eyes at his comment. "You've taught me much about myself, just as I have taught you about the world. We've learned a great deal from each other, you and I. I consider that worthwhile between best friends, don't you?"

The words hit Noctis with a quiet assertiveness, a reminder that their bonds were more than just duty—it was built on trust, and a deep understanding that couldn't be spoken for in earnest.

"Thanks, Ignis..." Noctis murmured, feeling a sense of calm wash over him.

Ignis gently squeezed his shoulder before letting go. "Get some rest. We have a long road ahead, and you'll need your strength."

Noctis nodded, the weight on his shoulders lifting a little now. As Ignis stood to leave, Noctis called after him.

"Ignis?"

"Yes, Noct?"

"I'm glad you're with me."

Ignis paused, a faint smile touching his lips. "As am I, Noct."

With that, he turned and walked back to his tent, leaving Noctis alone by the fire. The warmth of Ignis's words lingered, a quiet assurance that whatever lay ahead, he wouldn't face it alone. Noctis released a breath he had held back, realizing perhaps it was time to finally let go of the mask that had shielded him for so long. Maybe it was time to start acting like a king; the king his father knew was underneath the strife of a young teenager trying to find his feet. The king that Ignis believed in.

Noctis knew he could do it, as long as he had him.

If you like my work and feel generous, feel free to donate to my ko-fi account or my cash app account!

Cash App: $JayRex1463

[mitchftw]

“A new channel”

He can't sleep. There is methods to quiet a mind, but...nothing really feels like it works.

He's waited forever inside this tent. Tossing, turning, he never could just stay still. Phone next to his sleeping bag, if he wakes it up for a moment... about half an hour has past, huh?

A long sigh. At least it means the other three should be asleep. Prompto grabs his camera(being 5 inches apart from it gave him a sense of unease), crawling out of the sleeping bag, to the zipper - zzzzzzzt! - and thus the cold night air is invited in.

The faint smell of burnt wood comes from the campfire. A few embers dimly glow, showing its time for this world is not long.

As he leaves his tent, he catches himself staring at it for far too long. Eventually he slowly holds the camera up, turning it on, and viewing the embers from it.

"You did... super well. I mean... you kept on as long as you did, glowing brightly, keeping them warm, sheltering us...until they didn't need you anymore..."

Crickets chirp. Frogs croak. The young man stares another moment longer, then, click! takes a picture. His eyes stayed glued to his camera as he then walks.

"...When do you think I'll be like you? A...Am I...already...?"

His throat hurts. His eyes sting. Yet, he smiles, and chuckles.

"Hashtag lame, huh? You don't want to hear from a loser like me in your final moments."

There's a whole nature outside. Trees, plants, swirls and swirls of stars. A volcanic mountain in the distance. Still, as he slowly(and hopefully quietly) paces about camp,

"...I can't burn out like you. Noct...you know...the guy in that tent," one hand lets go of the camera to wave vaguely in a direction, "we talked, the other night. ...He... He said burning like this is its own kind of strength. He...he somehow thinks I'm...strong, for it. ...I-I don't really feel like it - strength's Gladio's whole thing..."

He trails off, continuing his walk.

"...He thinks I'm strong. That's all that matters, right? I'll just have to keep everything up. This is my strength."

He isn't convincing himself. How he managed to fool his best friend into saying such a thing, he'll never understand.

"Do you... I don't know. It feels kinda weird just leaving you alone. Do you-"

Finally does he look up from the camera screen. There's no more light from the wood. Dead. Burnt up. Only charcoal, now.

...Selfish. It feels selfish. He took up its final moments and all he did was rant.

The screen is looked at again, when the fire was still faintly burning. No, its not dead. See? It was alive then, so it's alive now. He can ask what the fire wants, in its last moments.

...what the fire wants. That's...stupid. Fire burns for others, not itself, right? The fire wants what its company wants. So...so...

His throat feels too tight. When he opens his mouth, only a broken sob comes out.

A pale freckled hand quickly moves over his mouth, glancing to the tents. Did he wake anyone?

[corcnaiism]

;-- just bc i won't be able to properly write prompto's modern verse completely and in a grammatically correct manner any time soon, ima just post a plethora of bulletins of important info. prompto's modern verse pt.1 :

prompto comes from the outskirts of insomnia where all the shady stuff happens. crime and poverty are the biggest issues of the area.

his parents were drunkards, never married, unfaithful, and only kept prompto for the extra money given to them by the system to "raise him". they used very little of the money for him and the rest for themselves. the dad worked as a construction worker and the mum was a stay-at-home "wife". the two were usually always away from home or passed out drunk, leaving poor baby prompto alone. it was a miracle he survives as he was neglected to all hell and only given the minimal effort to keep him alive.

prompto suffered from poor eyesight at an early age, but his parents never bothered to get him prescription glasses.

once prompto was old enough, the parents immediately sent him off to school as they didn't want to deal with a toddler at home. bc of how disconnected he was from his parents, prompto had learning difficulties as he could not communicate properly with others. luckily, his teachers were very helpful and caught him up, especially his homeroom teacher who remained the same throughout his kindergarden-3rd grade years. the parents never attended to any school related events, even parent-teacher conferences.

eventually, his dad would leave him a weekly allowance for him to use to buy himself food since his mum wouldn't bother cooking for both of them, and they didn't want to deal with a deceased child on their conscious. there were times his allowance would get stolen from him by his mum who desperately needed alcohol, and prompto quickly learned to hide his money and other personal belongings away. at some point, he would give up eating for a day in order for him to buy himself a pair of reading glasses. it still wasn't enough but better than not being able to see much.

due to their intoxication, his parents were abusive towards each other and prompto. they would yell, throw things, punch walls, and physically beat each other. this lead to prompto developing severe ptsd to the sound of screaming, other loud noises, and touch. he would also learn to wear long sleeves and pants to cover up bruises and cuts he'd receive from physical altercations with his parents bc he didn't want to be called "ugly" by others.

prompto favorite place throughout his youth was school, mainly bc it was the only other place he could go that didn't cost money for him to exist for a couple of hours. he may had trouble with his academics, but the drive to learn was there thanks to his homeroom teacher who encouraged him every step of the way. she was also the reason why he got into music early on, simply bc she found him eating lunch in the music room.

prompto grew a fascination with playing the piano when his homeroom teacher began teaching him. unlike his studies, he was a very quick learner when it came to playing instruments and shortly, he'd be performing in the school's talent shows. it didn't take long before he also picked up guitar and singing. due to the control he had with the sounds coming from the instruments and his voice, prompto found a means to cope with his ptsd and turn it into something soothing.

his homeroom teacher gifted prompto his very own keyboard piano for him to practice at home for his birthday, but he was hesitant to accept it due to fear of how his parents would react. his teacher insisted and said she would speak with his parents about it, so they wouldn't think otherwise, but that also was a big no from him. nonetheless, she drove him home that day and introduced herself to his dad who was the one who opened the door. he was already wasted when they got there, pissed off to all hell. his dad exclaimed they didn't need "charity" or "hand-me-downs" and yelled at her to leave. but his homeroom teacher urged to let prompto take this gift and explained how talented he was with the piano and other aspects, but the dad didn't want to hear any of it and flew off the rails by smashing the keyboard right in front of her face. this triggered red flags within the teacher and grew worried over prompto's state of being living in such an abusive household. she wanted to take prompto away but knew it would only cause more trouble, so she decided to leave and would call the authorities later. however, she had only been able to set one foot away when prompto's dad got so bothered by her presence and suspected she would call the cops on him, so he grabbed the nearest gun he had stored up and shot her point blank, killing her instantly. prompto had been there the entire time and witnessed everything, worsening his trauma. it only got worse when his dad dragged both him and his teacher's corpse to his truck and drove them to a secluded area in the middle of nowhere. his dad threw a shovel at prompto and forced him to bury his teacher which he pleaded against it but was beat in response, so he had to with tears rolling down his face. his dad threatened to kill him too if he ever said a word to anyone, so for years poor prompto kept his mouth shut in utter fear for his life. for further erasure of the crime, the dad wrecked the vehicle his teacher had drove in and dumped it in the largest body of water closet to insomnia. the cops never had a lead for years.

prompto's mum would die a year later due to alcohol poisoning. he found her laying on the bathroom floor and tried to save her by calling an ambulance, but he had been too late. his dad never cared.

due to heartbreaking tragedies taking a heavy toll on him, prompto's health declined dangerously. some days he would eat too much, some days he wouldn't eat at all. some days he would sleep all day, and some days he wouldn't be able to sleep a wink. this was where his weight issues began, being overweight. he would miss school occasionally bc it reminded him too much of his teacher, but he wouldn't miss a lot as he didn't want to be around the house when his dad was there, and he'd get a beating if the school called his dad, and he'd find out he had skipped school.

when prompto did go to school, his grades were poor, and he'd spend a lot of time in the music room where his deceased teacher used to spend the afternoons with him. his love for music had withered away since her passing, but it would eventually spark again when he wanted to play her a song on the piano in hopes that she would be able to hear it, as a means to give her a funeral of his own. he felt as though she would want him to continue with what she had praised him so much for, and he wanted to honor her wishes. with everything he played up till present time, she was always on his mind, dedicated and thanked her with each song he played.

entering middle school, prompto dealt with a lot of bullying for his overweight problem from students and his dad alike. seeing as how he was unable to run away or have the agility to dodge punches coming his way, he decided it was best to start dieting and working out in order to be able to defend himself bc he was tired of constantly taking it. it was a tedious and difficult journey as he would relapse several times whenever something triggered him, but he kept at it as he really wanted to do better, and he could feel himself getting better whenever he would follow routine. he decided to record his progress using throw-away cameras he'd buy with his saved up allowance and taking pictures of himself to see the changes he'd make. that was when his fascination with photography kicked in as he found it motivational to see the past and the present and compare them, liking the idea that he can capture a moment of time with a simple click. shortly, and when he would have extra film rolls, he would begin taking pictures of things he found interesting and began his own collection. he still has his old albums up till present time.

[corviddenart]

Headcanons: Crowe/Luche. Microglaive culture "festivals". Kink: ABO.

YEEEAAAASSSS SHIT FUCK YES

You know. You know what I want.

You get me.

I mean it's a little all over the place but I love the energy. I love what's being brought to the table right now. I had to grab my laptop for this one. Read more because this one's gonna be long.

Let's start with the Crowe/Luche headcanons. (Unfinished answer)

So their relationship doesn't start the way you'd usually expect it to, there's no question of "hey do you want to go out?" or anything. They don't even have a gradual shift into it. It's abrupt, like a car wreck. The chemistry is there and undeniable and has been for years, it's just that neither of them make a move on it. Why? Well Luche's an idiot, as most men are, and doesn't see her interest right there in front of him. He brushes off her flirtatious comments, her jokes, her touches as nothing more than Crowe being Crowe. That's just how she is with everyone, even though it's really not. And Crowe took his lack of advances as a sign that he simply didn't want to pursue his interest. He was a slut like her, but he was always the more professional one. She figured he just didn't want to mix work with pleasure, and she respected that. So she never pushed. It takes outside forces shoving them together for it to finally happen. With Tredd happily locked into a relationship with Prompto, Luche finds himself spending less time with his platonic other half, and more time with the other glaives, quickly learning they really aren't half bad once he stops being annoyed enough to give them a chance. Though Nyx's voice still grates his nerves. But one night hanging out with them the conversation shifts to him and Crowe, Libertus pointing out how he can't understand why they're not a thing yet. And when Luche asks what he means by that they just laugh. And he very quickly realizes how stupid he's been as they point out hint after hint after blatant hint she's dropped. But then comes the fear. Has he waited too long? Has she moved onto someone else? What if he tried and she realized she didn't actually like him that much getting to know him for who he really was. What then? So they push from the other side, but Crowe isn't having it. She'd accepted long ago that she'd pine from a distance. Sure it's a little manipulative, but what else were they supposed to do when clearly neither of them were going to get it through their thick skulls. So they set it up, one night when they're all together they get a few drinks in and decide to leave them alone after a nice long conversation about how serious Tredd and Prompto's relationship has gotten. Planting a seed if you will. Crowe, already flirtatious enough with him, is all the more affectionate as her mind wanders through the possibilities of what that relationship would be for them, and slips up and asks him outright if he ever thinks about them too. To which he replies he does, far more than he'd like to admit. And that night an agreement is made to try. Their relationship is awkward and rocky to start, neither of them the committed sort. But they find an ease to it quickly once they really sit and talk about things. They find when they stop forcing it, they fit together quite nicely. Woo that's a lot. But I've been doing that with everyone else's already so.

Some fun points of their relationship

Crowe wants kids, and Luche who thought he didn't very quickly falls in love with the idea after seeing her with Nyx and Luna's baby. So much so he's planning for them before they're even in a place together.

Crowe's the one who proposes first, though Luche'd had it planned. Thing is he wanted it to be perfect, on a vacation together in Altissia, in her favorite restaurant there, the balcony reserved for them so it wasn't public knowing how she felt about that. But Crowe just pops the question in the middle of a furniture store, while they're laying across a bed discussing which new bedframe they want. Luche just laughs and says yes. Because how like her is that to ruin his plan and yet it still be so perfect.

One of the hardest parts of their relationship was the adjustment to having another person around when they were both so used to living such solitary lives. The biggest thing that helped was them getting a place together where they could have their own rooms, a space entirely theirs to work or watch tv, listen to their own music. Anything they wanted, just on their own. It worked wonders.

Now for Glaive Culture.

So I'm gonna out myself and say the inspiration for this one comes directly from this song from the movie. @sonsoflucis and I have discussed many a time before that this gives us the vibes of being a nod towards their lives. Like why else would they have the only song with lyrics playing at the restaurant that serves food from their home? It's just so pointed. And when you listen to the lyrics it's obviously talking about them being refugees and feeling lost in their new "homes". So the rain is a metaphor for the drought in their hearts, but I think we can also in a way take that a bit more literally.

It's hard to pinpoint how much of it is accurate to canon, because the official movie pamphlet states Galahd lies to the northeast of Insomnia and is a small group of islands, but the newspaper article in the movie opening shows the regions west from Insomnia. That said if we go by the pamphlet and the information given from it about the river, the scenery, the type of climate they live in it's pretty obvious that rain played a large role in their lives. Which would make perfect sense and tie into the kind of southeast asian influences they have throughout.

So I'm talking about monsoon season baby. ------------------------------------ I never finished writing this and it's been sitting in my drafts lol. So have what I did write.

[chosenbythecrystal]

@hyrulea liked for a starter.

With no boats going into or out of Galdin, Noctis and his friends had had no choice to make their way to Lestallum to plan their next move. Iris was there, and whilst Gladio didn't say anything out loud, Noctis had known he was worried about her so really it was killing two birds with one stone.

Gladio was with her now. Noctis thought they needed some time alone. He wasn't the only person who had lost a father, after all, and Iris was just a kid. She needed her brother. Ignis had gone shopping to replenish their supplies and Prompto was off looking for things to photograph for his album leaving Noctis to explore by himself.

Lestallum was smaller than Insomnia, but it was busy. He supposed that was, in part, down to the number of refugees who had fled their after the attack. It had its charm though. Their were bustling markets, and everywhere he looked their was a different food vendor. He was currently munching on a spicy skewer he'd picked up from one of them, and he had to say it was amazing.

[pocketfulofgalaxies]

"i'm not leaving you alone with your thoughts!" // for Prompto

"And what the hell do you know about my thoughts? Huh! But that's just like you. Always being the best bud. The best friend, right Noct? Always wiling to lend a ear and listen to what is on my mind. I might seem like the good ol' Prom you know right now. But any moment the switch could flick, and i'll be your enemy."