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Have Your Cake (And Eat It, Too)A/N: No idea where this came from, but it was fun to write, so here you go - a bit of suggestive birthday Gladnis! Happy (seven-weeks-late) birthday, Gladio!
"Thanks for inviting us over for your birthday dinner, Gladio!" Prompto said cheerfully as he and Noctis followed the Shield toward the west wing of the Citadel, where he shared an apartment with his longtime lover and recent spouse, Ignis.
Gladio nodded in acknowledgement and smiled, feeling his heart lightening at the prospect of seeing his bespectacled beauty just as it did every night. Even now, nearly three years after the light had returned to the land of Lucis, the rebuilding effort had only just begun, and since Ignis's talents were better utilized developing and supervising the relief programs for Lucian citizens than shadowing Noctis and protecting him from bodily harm, the two regretfully spent most of their workin
Noct's Mom (FFXV)Sunlight started to peek through the trees, glinting off the river that ran by a campsite.
The sounds of sizzling and chopping filled the cool morning air.
Noctis chopped some berries and poured them into a bowl. Picking up his phone his eyes fluttered as he scrolled over the recipe. He looked down but didn’t see the next ingredient; looking through their bags he still didn’t see it. “Dang it.” He looked back at the phone. “How needed is it?”
The sizzling got louder.
“Oh no!” he ran across the camp to flip the bacon over.
“What’s going on?”
He looked startled at the accented voice.
Looking over the scene Ignis wasn’t sure if he should be concerned or humored. “Noct? What are you doing?”
He ran a hand over the back of his head as he looked down. “I’m making you breakfast… for Mother’s Day,” dropping his hand he glanced back up at him.
“Is this a joke?” he squinte
Hook, Line, and Sinker"Rise and shine, Your Royal Laziness."
Gladio's rough baritone cut through the peaceful silence of the morning and into Noctis's dreams, drawing an irritated growl from the Lucian prince. He rolled away from the direction of the sound and pillowed his head on his arms, keeping his eyes firmly closed and hoping if he just ignored his Shield long enough he'd get the message and go the hell away.
Apparently the universe hated him, though, because a second later a big hand with Gladio's annoying voice attached to it was on his shoulder, shaking him none too gently and demanding he get up yet again. Groaning, he resigned himself to yet another day of relentless fatigue, just like every other he'd had since Insomnia fell, and allowed himself to be pulled into a sitting position with as much enthusiasm as a rag doll. The perpetually sore muscles in his back protested even that much movement, and he bit down on his lip before releasing a shaky breath. What he wouldn't give for a
Fragile HopeA/N: I'm baaaack (again!) So I really have no idea where this little ficlet came from. I wrote it in about 15 minutes one day during a lunch break at work, emailed it to myself, and then proceeded to forget about it for six months before rediscovering it last week and deciding it deserved to be polished up and published. Hopefully you all agree! I have a few more half-finished fics in the works that I am hoping to post soon, so keep an eye out!
Prompto hates himself. He hates the darkness, hates living day after Astrals-forsaken day in a world without the only person who could bring the light back again, but above all he hates himself. Hate you hate you hate you hate hate hate…
Hate you hate you hate you hate hate hate…
The whole world is suffering, not just him, but tonight instead of doing anything useful to help he's crouched outside in the dirty dark and dam
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