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bad0mens · 5 years

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Fluri Week 2019 - Thrill Tuesday AND Thirsty Thursday

Title: Aperitif

Description: That’s right a c-c-c-combo prompt! And it’s NSFW! My on going Blue Plate Special AU, taking place after Soup of the Day. Flynn gets a visit from someone he didn’t expect to see again.

Warnings: NSFW, Role play, light bondage, minor orgasm denial?

It happened more frequently than he would have liked, but he tried not to hold a grudge against Yuri for it all the same. It was already occasionally a point of contention between them. At a moment's notice, a date would be cut short, or sometimes canceled completely for Yuri's work. Well, calling it his work was a little misplaced. If anything, the work Yuri did at night was a departure from the running of the cafe during the day. His night work was something entirely different. After all, with the city of Zaphias crawling with more than its fair share of super villains, Yuri as his alter ego True Knight had his work cut out for him.

They had argued about it before, so even as this particular evening was cut short, Flynn knew there was no point. Yuri was going to do what he felt that he had to do.

Alone, with evening plans canceled, he drifted from one task to another. The dishes were washed, dried and put away. A movie buzzed in the background while he kept himself busy, although as the night grew on, there was really no point. He would have been better off simply going to bed. At the same time, though, he wanted to wait up for the message that let him know that everything on Yuri's end turned out okay, and that Flynn, as a police officer, would probably be dealing with the aftermath of paperwork in the morning. But tonight's message was long coming. It felt like the hours crawled. And so he paced until he heard the telltale sound of one of the windows in the living room being opened.

Flynn walked to meet him, but found himself stunned by the silhouette that was there, a silhouette that was not quite right.

Standing there, clad in waves of black feathers, with the glisten of satin clinging to his form, Yuri seemed to dominate the fire escape, casting a long black shadow into Flynn's apartment.

“What are you doing, Yuri?”

It wasn't that he didn't recognize the costume. It would have been impossible.

“I've found you out then, White Knight.” The smirk that stretched beneath the mask that Yuri wore stopped him cold. He stepped in, as gracefully as one could through a fire escape window, and turned, pressing Flynn against the wall in a smooth motion.

“Y-Yuri?” His voice stuttered, half fear, half excitement.

Havoc's pale hand cupped his face, and the kiss that came next was biting fury, so intense that Flynn felt his knees weaken. Their lips parted, and Flynn was left panting. But Yuri's teasing was no where near done.

“I've got you all alone now. No True Knight around to protect you. What sort of fun should I have with you?” The playful twinkle in Yuri's eyes was clear. Flynn could play at this game as well.

“It doesn't matter. I'll never give into you.”

“Never?” the hum of Yuri's voice made him shiver. The cat and mouse game they played was an exciting change of pace, and he found himself falling into the rhythm easily.

“Never.”

“Well, we'll have to see about that.”

With a lithe motion, Yuri pinned his hands above his head and leaned in, hot breath lingering on Flynn's neck.

“Even when I've got you like this?”

“This is nothing.”

The brush of Yuri's knee up between his legs told them both otherwise. Flynn inhaled sharply, but the sound ended as a moan as Yuri bit down on his neck, teeth in soft flesh. This little bit of role playing and he was already a mess.

“Still nothing?” He could hear the laughter in Yuri's voice, poorly masked beneath the affected tone he took for the role of the villain. “This certainly doesn't seem like nothing.”

He couldn't hold back the growl in his throat or the groans on his lips as Yuri continued, pressing closer, his teeth marking neck and throat and collarbone and chest. The pressure of Yuri against him was unbearably hot even for the little bit of contact between their bodies. He was already shivering with anticipation. But Yuri only, maddeningly, continued, the slightest press of his hips against Flynn's firing off sparks in his brain. The build was gradual, an unusual show of restraint from Yuri, always bright passion and hurriedness. Havoc was slower, methodical, and something about that only made Flynn want to rush forward. Burning blood pooled at the base of his spine and sweat beaded on his brow, and yet beneath the mask, Yuri seemed so cool, calm but intensely aware of what he was doing to Flynn. He seemed to relish that. Now that he was the one of the receiving end of the teasing, he knew just how frustrating it was.

Yuri's name came out from between his gritted teeth, and he stopped mid motion, pulling back and away from Flynn just when he thought he couldn't handle any more. It was almost a relief, although he was still a mess all the same, incomplete, hard, and shaking. But Yuri wasn't nearly done with him, and he knew it.

With a yank, Yuri tore open his shirt, sending buttons scattering across the room. A quick twist and Flynn's hands were bound to a curtain rod above his head.

“I'll make you beg.”

Yuri's smoky voice and bright eyes teased him as he dropped to his knees. How much longer before Flynn really was going to be begging? He was on the precipice all ready, but he knew that no amount of words was going to be the stopping point for Yuri. Not until his game was done. Although his brain was clouded with the pleasure and the need for release, he was enjoying the game just as much.

Fingertips danced over the buckle of his belt, not quite touching him even as he leaned into try the feel the slightest brush. The button next. One tooth at a time, the zipper next. And all he could do was stare down into Yuri's masked face and see that insufferable smirk. Finally, Yuri freed him from the uncomfortable tightness of his clothing and the rush of chilled air made him shiver. Mercifully, Yuri didn't leave him long. The warmth of his mouth drove off the cold and brought another wave of pleasure crashing against his brain.

With tongue and teeth and small, maddening motions, Yuri pushed against him, the bob of his head slow and teasing. Flynn stretched and strained, panting as Yuri dug his fingers into his hips, pulled and pressed down, digging circles into the flesh of his inner thighs. In a clearer moment, he would have been annoyed, but the building just beneath his skin was too distracting to think, too overwhelming to bear. He wanted all of Yuri in that moment, every last inch of him, to tease and taunt him the way he was being treated right now, to draw every little moan and breath out of him until he was just a quivering mess. He wanted to hold Yuri, to run his fingers through his hair, and grab and tug and lead him even the slightest bit, but his bound hands only heightened the sense of Yuri's chaotic control. He tensed, aching for release. The moment as right there. He could almost taste it. He wanted to beg.

The suddenness which pulled Yuri away brought him a moment of starting clarity, but no relief. Flynn sagged, feeling the curtain rod above him bend.

“Don't tell me you're close already.” Yuri looked up at him, chin resting on his abdomen. His hands were so tantalizingly close, making long strokes down the front of Flynn's thighs. “I'm not nearly done with you yet.”

He head was nearly too muddled with pleasure to play along. But he tried between the hitches of breath in his throat. “You haven't gotten the best of me yet.”

“I love a challenge.” His fingers traced a feather path down the length of his cock and Flynn thought that would be the end of him. But Yuri knew just how to push his boundaries and when to stop.

With ease, Yuri loosened him from the wall, but his hands bound in the twist of fabric. Flynn didn't fight. As infuriating as the teasing was, the excitement of the moment had him just as invested. He let himself be led into the bedroom, and tossed onto the bed, putting up only the barest of a faux struggle when Yuri straddled him, and fastened the bonds to the headboard of the bed.

Yuri's teasing didn't end there. In the moment that they moved, Flynn had been able to pull back from the edge of orgasm, but he knew that wouldn't last. Not with the only thing separating them now that flimsy costume which did nothing to hide how eager Yuri's body was for the climax as well. Even if he hadn't been able to see it, he would have felt it when Yuri ground their hips together again, the friction of skin beneath smooth fabric making his eyes roll back in his head. He wanted more. So much more. And Yuri was only happy to oblige.

A swift motion send the body suit of Yuri's costume to the floor, although he kept the mask and feathered cloak, a stark contrast to the paleness of his skin. He reached over Flynn, their bodies barely touching as he dug through the nightstand drawer to produce a bottle of oil. He dribbled its contents onto his hand, and canted his hips up. Slick fingers delved into flesh, and the barest moan escaped Yuri's lips as he readied himself. If nothing else had brought Flynn to this moment, that sight of Yuri in only the feathers and the mask and the soft noises from his mouth would have been enough. Under the edge of the mask, he could almost see the faintest flush of Yuri's face.

“Do you want me?” he asked, voice thick with pleasure, still displaying himself for Flynn to see.

“Y-Yes.”

“That's what I thought.”

Every nerve ending in his body was on fire as Yuri took his cock in hand, slick fingers drawing a moan out of him. Yuri didn't tease too much longer before settling on him, letting out a long, low groan of his own. There were no more words, only heavy, moaning breaths as Yuri moved himself in a rhythmic up and down, his fingernails raking down Flynn's abdomen. It was slow at first, his motions bearing a touch of the teasing that painted the evening. It wasn't long before that dissolved and his paced quickened, hips bobbing erratically as Yuri's own interest in keep up the game was being washed away by pleasure. Flynn arched to meet him and were there bodies met, sparks burst in his brain. Finally it was too much, his senses too overwhelmed to hold back any longer, and he climaxed. Yuri followed seconds later, riding him to his last.

They slumped into the covers of the bed together, both panting, nearly shaking. Yuri fumbled to untie him, a hoarse chuckle in his throat. Flynn wasn't sure what was so funny, but smiled for it all the same for the humor in the air between them. When his hands were finally free, he found the control he had set aside for the surprise role play and pulled Yuri back to him. A dizzying flurry of kisses passed between them as they both calmed and then they were still.

“Have fun playing the villain again?” Flynn said when he managed to get his voice back. With a tug, he pulled Yuri's mask free of his face, and tossed it aside.

“The fun part was watching you squirm.”

“Havoc had me on the ropes there for a bit.”

“Does that mean you'd be up for another visit from our local super villain?” Yuri waggled his eye brows.

“Any time,” Flynn chuckled.

Both of them completely worn out, they let sleep claim them. When Flynn woke in the morning, any trace of 'Havoc's' presence was gone as he expected it would be. The villain would return, and he certainly hoped it would be sooner rather than later.

#FluriWeek2019 #tales of vesperia #blue plate special #tales of bad0mens is a terrible writer #fluri

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moonwaif · 5 years

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Snow Over Insomnia: ch. 1

Pairings: Gladnis, promptis

Theme: snowed in

Summary:

Once a year, Shiva blesses Insomnia with snowfall. This year's snow day finds four friends in transition. There's Noctis, who's trying his best to enjoy freshman year. With his best friend Prompto enrolled at a different college, it hasn't been easy. When a particularly controversial lecture puts Noctis on the spot, he says some things he regrets. Can he make amends before their friendship freezes over?

Meanwhile, there's Gladiolus, who's finding it increasingly difficult to deny his feelings for coworker and friend Ignis Scientia. The appearance of a mysterious figure from Ignis's past might just be the sign that it's time to come clean. Will Gladio make a move, or will he let the opportunity melt away?

PT. I: 10:12 hours

It was a good thing Noctis had remembered to mute his laptop before class started, because he received his first message from Prompto just twelve minutes into the lecture.

Prompto: brrrr! Freezing my a$$ off this morning

A selfie instantly followed: Prompto in a warm jacket and white beanie, grimacing up at the camera with a steaming coffee cup clutched in his gloved hand.

Noctis: heh. nice pic. whatcha drinking?

Prompto: mocha moogle latte. Yummm ;P

Noctis: all that sugar is gonna give you a headache

Prompto: hahaha yeah, probably. but i need some caffeine. i couldnt sleep all night thinking about that presentation!!!! ｡゜(｀Д´)゜｡

Prompto: so we still getting snowed in tonight?

Noct's smile widened. It wasn’t often that Shiva graced the arid landscape of Lucis with her affections, but at least once a year, snow fell on the city of Insomnia. Sometimes it was a few flakes, sometime just sleet. On rare occasions, such as the one predicted by Insomnian weather channels on this particular day, it was a blizzard.

Noctis: heck yeah! hope you're ready to binge some King’s Knight.

Prompto: ugh am i ever. so ready to chill after getting this presentation out of the way…

Noctis leaned back in his chair, brow furrowing. He cast a quick glance at projector screen down at the front of the hall: a slide about the Lucian civil war.

Noctis: y? U nervous?’

Prompto: yeah

Prompto: stomach hurts

Prompto: p sure im gonna throw up

Noctis: relax, prom

Noctis: you've been practicing a lot, right?

Noctis: you're gonna be great

Prompto: dude you have no idea what id give to hear you say that rn

Prompto: i wish we still went to the same school

Prompto: ｡゜(｀Д´)゜｡

A dull, tight ache formed in the center of Noct's chest. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the reply coming slower this time.

Noctis: me too.

Prompto: yeah...

Prompto: too bad my best friend has to go to a fancy schmancy ivy league school for geniuses (¬‿¬)

Noctis rolled his eyes.

Noctis: im not here cuz im a genius, prom

Prompto: his majesty is sooooo modest ;)

Noctis: srlsy

Noctis: im like most of the ppl here. average.

Noctis: the only genius ive met so far is specs

Prompto: lol youre just saying that to make me feel better

Noctis: nah. youre way cooler than like half of the people here

Prompto: ♥‿♥

Prompto: too bad i cant afford the tuition lol. id kill to have iggy as my teacher

Noctis glanced up from his computer. From his own seat in the center of the hall, Ignis was just a small figure behind an even smaller podium. Still, Noctis had to admit that Specs was definitely in his element at the front of a classroom. His fitted grey sweater, crisp collar and perfectly coiffed hair were every bit the image of the up-and-coming academian. The freshmen in the front row hung dreamily on every elegant gesture of his gloved hands as his voice rang out through the hall, crisp and clear as water. He said something that sent a murmur of laughter through the rows of desks. Noctis smiled.

Noctis: yeah its not bad

Prompto: duh!! hes probably way cooler than all of my professors combined

Prompto: anyway, g2g. Gonna try to run through my presentation one more time before class starts

Prompto: (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)

Noctis: dont worry prom. Youre gonna kick this presentation in the ass.

Prompto: thanks dude

Prompto: catch ya later

Noctis let his gaze linger on the final message, Iggy’s melodic tones lilting in the background. He tuned in long enough just to get the gist of the topic (ugh - still on the Lucian civil war). He turned his attention back to his laptop and clicked on an open tab, which took him directly to Prompto’s ChocoGram feed. There weren’t any new updates, but that didn’t stop him from smiling as he reviewed some of the earlier posts: Prompto getting ready to dig into a steaming, greasy pizza; a #tbt selfie featuring the baby chocobo they’d helped rescue during their summer road trip to Lestallum; a prank-selfie with a drooling, sleeping Gladio. Noctis chuckled. He’d been there when Prompto had taken that one. Even Gladio had agreed that the shot was just too good not to share.

He continued scrolling. A bunch of people Noctis didn't know, probably at a party; a filtered, black-and-white shot of a glistening, neon lit alley; a selfie with some guy Noctis had never seen before; a picture of the school’s mascot, tagged #gocactuars; Prompto wearing glasses…

Wait a second.

Noctis scrolled back to the photo of Prompto and the stranger. “Hanging with the coolest TA around,” read the caption. Tagged: #whenyourfriendhasthesamemajor, #collegelife #insomniaboys.

Friend, huh?

Noct’s eyes narrowed. He silently listed off any names he’d heard Prompto mention over the past semester as he analyzed the man’s features: platinum hair; a strong chin; sharp, intelligent eyes whose color he couldn’t quite discern through the ChocoGram filter. He let the cursor hover over the smug, obnoxious grin. A tagged username appeared: “Ghiranzenator.”

Before Noctis could really stop to self-reflect, he was scrolling through Ghiranzenator’s feed. It was the kind of content you’d expect from a twenty-something with a pompadour and generic good looks. Gym selfies tagged #fitnesslifestyle; poses in scenic, well-known locations captioned with thought-provoking yet totally irrelevant quotes (ugh, so pretentious). He wondered how Prompto even knew this guy. Was he the TA for one of Prompto’s classes? Did they have mutual friends? If so, why hadn’t Prompto mentioned him before? But now that Noctis thought about it, like really thought about it, he hadn’t really heard Prompto say a whole lot about any of the new friends he was making at school.

Wasn't that kind of weird?

A crumpled wad of paper plummeted through his thoughts, ricocheting off his forehead. Noct's head snapped in the direction it had come from. His eyes were met by a vision of Gladio, squeezed into a desk barely large enough to accommodate his lanky frame.

“Pay. Attention,” he mouthed, cocking his head in Iggy’s direction.

Noctis scowled. That was the one downside of having his bodyguard disguised as a classmate. Gladio was just all too ready to make sure Noct behaved like a good little student. The plus side was that Noct had at least one friend who could commiserate with his suffering.

Like now, for instance. A fan club member from the front row was monologuing, earning exasperated looks from his classmates. Noctis and Gladio exchanged a few muffled snickers.

“Thank you for sharing your thoughts with us, Cleetus,” Ignis cut in, his voice laced with a strain so barely audible that Noct and Gladio were probably the only ones who even picked up on it. “As you have noted for us, it is quite interesting that most rebel demands would be considered centrist by modern standards. However, we should recognize one deconstructionist philosopher whose theories remain polarizing even to this day.”

Ignis went to the next slide. A portrait of a wide-jawed man with a face only a mother garula could love brooded down from the display screen.

“Oh great,” Noctis muttered, drawing a confused look from Gladio. “Not this guy…”

"Regulus Invicta," Ignis continued, "is remembered as one of the strongest advocates for freedom of speech throughout the history of Lucis. However, what is less commonly remembered are his persistent demands for the de-establishment of the monarchy in favor of what we would now refer to as a democratic socialist republic. Even during the Lucian civil war, Invicta was a controversial figure. At first his philosophies were embraced by the deconstructionists, who sought to overthrow the Lucis Caelums in favor of a fragmented nation-states ruled by regional noblemen. They were less in favor of his leanings toward a democratic socialist republic. Despite this difference of opinion, Invicta was one of the few intellectuals of his time that insisted on the right of deconstructionists to espouse their ideals without punishment or censorship. Unfortunately, this insistence, combined with his involvement with radical circles, led to his eventual imprisonment. He would die of consumption shortly thereafter.”

A hand shot up - the same wind-bag from before.

“Yes, Cleetus?” Ignis’s smile was tight.

“Professor Scientia, as you were speaking I couldn’t help but remember an essay I came across in the Lucian History Journal the other day. The article was about the evolution of Lucian collective memory of the civil war.”

Gladio chuckled. “Oh boy. Here he goes again. This guy really can’t stop himself, can he?”

Noctis wasn’t laughing. He wanted Ignis to get back on topic and finish explaining why Invicta and the deconstructionists were wrong.

“According to the arguments propounded throughout the essay” - Gladio actually snorted at this point - “collective opinion regarding Invicta and the deconstructionists split after Lucis became a constitutional monarchy. Invicta was distanced from the deconstructionists and by means of propaganda -”

Bells went off in Noct’s head. Propaganda? What was this guy trying to get at?

“ - and state sanctioned school curriculum -”

Noctis gripped the arms of his desk, knuckles whitening.

“ - Invicta gradually became celebrated as one of the fathers of free speech. Meanwhile, his links to deconstructionists were covered up, preventing further instability to Lucian society while conveniently appropriating the parts that aligned with contemporary values.”

He paused for a breath. Ignis stepped out from behind the podium, quick to seize back control of the conversation.

“Your statements indicate a very post-modern interpretation of the historical records, Cleetus,” he remarked politely. “It’s interesting that you bring up social instability. Although not as commonly espoused today, there are ideologues who from time to time self-identify as deconstructionists. However, they are often ridiculed by both leftists and conservatives, rarely gaining any political legitimacy. In this way, the general public remains largely unexposed to contemporary deconstructionism outside of the occasional satirical representation on late night TV shows or the funnies.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

There was a rustle as heads turned in Noct's direction. Ignis adjusted his glasses.

“Is there something you would like to share, Prince Noctis?”

Shit. Gladio slid down low in his seat, muttering something that sounded a lot like, “Smooth move, Noct.”

Noctis cleared his throat. His cheeks felt like two flames. “N- not particularly.”

“Very well.” Ignis returned his attention to the slides. Noctis averted his eyes, only to be met by the expectant gazes coming his way from the next row down. His gaze happened to fall on Cleetus, he shot him a particularly snide smirk from over his shoulder.

Something in Noctis snapped.

“It’s just that, you said ‘satirical.’”

Ignis stopped mid-sentence. Scandalized whispers rippled throughout the hall. Gladio was actually facepalming. Meanwhile, Noctis’s cheeks somehow managed to get even hotter. He felt the need to continue.

“I just thought - well, it sounds like you think those depictions are kind of inaccurate, or something.”

Gods, he was sounding extremely upset and defensive right now, wasn’t he? What had happened to all that training in diplomacy and public speaking? Embarrassing.

“Satire is merely a genre, your highness," Ignis demured. "One that hyperbolizes a real-life topic or theme with intent to criticize, ridicule or expose. We may identify this genre from a neutral standpoint without either validating or condemning the arguments contained within the work itself.”

Noctis schooled his expression so it’d look like he’d understood this last bit.

“But you said the satirical representation is the only representation people see. Doesn’t that imply that there’s another representation that most people don’t get to see?”

“There normally is more than one side to every story,” Ignis said lightly, and his lips curved in such a smug, handsome grin that Noctis could have chucked his laptop at him.

“Yeah, but sometimes one side has better evidence than the other one. Shouldn’t that also be part of the discussion?”

He was pressuring Ignis to agree with him, to say that the deconstructionists were “wrong” and the monarchy was “right” and therefore Noctis was right, too. That the deconstructionists were just radical, terrorist nutjobs whose hogwash theories did more harm than good, so why even bother discussing them at all? Noctis knew it. Gladio knew it. Most of all, Ignis probably knew it.

So why were they still disagreeing?

“Indeed. However, the objective of today’s lecture is merely to review the deconstructionism as an historical movement. I will leave the evaluation of the ideas espoused by said movement to all of you in your term papers.”

A smattering of chuckles. Oh yes, how adorable, how clever. Noctis opened his mouth to let loose another retort when Gladio nudged his foot.

"Let it go," he mouthed with a slight shake of his head. Noctis grit his teeth with an audible “tch,” nails biting into the surface of his palms. He deliberately avoided Gladio’s gaze, instead fixing his attention on his laptop. The Ghiranzenator taunted him from the other side of the screen, all chiseled jawline and knowing smile.

Noctis closed the laptop with a ‘snap.’

PT. II: 13:00 hours

“I was too hard on him, wasn’t I?”

The words were out of Ignis’s mouth before Gladio had even stepped through the door. The office was tiny - more like a closet, really. Gladio tossed a small paper bag onto the desk and pulled up a seat, careful not to spill the coffee in his other hand.

“What’s this?” Ignis asked, peering owlishly from behind his computer. Gladio handed over the coffee.

“Thought you could use a pick-me up," he replied. "And nah; Noct is tough. He gets worse from me during an average training session.”

“You’re just saying that,” Ignis mumbled, raising the cup to his lips and taking a sip. “Mmm, Gladio, this is delicious. Thank you.”

Gladio crossed his legs, leaning back with a pleased smile. “Heh. Thought you’d like that. And no, I’m not just saying that. Noct is pissed off, but he’ll live. Try some of the scone.”

Ignis reached into the paper bag obediently. “I should have waited until after class,” he muttered. “Or warned him about the topic before hand.”

“Yeah, that probably would’ve helped.”

“I just don’t want to allow him more special privileges than I already have! How am I supposed to prepare him for his future responsibilities if I keep treating him differently from the other students? Can you imagine, just last night he actually asked me to check his homework!”

“Did you?”

“What do you think?” Ignis snapped. “We live together for Eos’s sake, of course I did!"

“Yikes. How’s the scone?”

Ignis scowled. “You really must stop bringing me sugar. This is why my skin is breaking out.”

“One bite won’t hurt, prince charming.”

Ignis broke a off a tiny piece and popped it into his mouth, but not before shooting Gladio a glare.

“Relax, Iggy. Just give Noct a little time to cool down, think things through. He’ll come around.”

Ignis gave him a doubtful look. He took another bite.

“At least this scone is palatable.”

Gladio flashed him a cheeky smile. “Does that mean you’ll raise my grade professor?”

“I’ll consider it. After all, for an auditing student you do have unusually consistent attendance.”

“Someone’s gotta show up and keep the crown prince in line. Who better than his protector and professional babysitter, the royal shield?”

“Pity you have to sit through my lectures. I imagine it’s dull.”

“Nah. You’re way more interesting than the profs I had during my undergrad.”

‘A lot easier on the eyes, too,’ he thought. His gaze lingered on Ignis’s full, rosy lips before silently flickering away.

“There’s no need for flattery, Gladio. It’s not like I can actually give you credit for the course.”

“Sorry. Guess your little front row fan club is wearing off on me.”

Ignis reddened. He took a hurried sip of coffee, obviously stalling. Gladio grinned, letting himself indulge in the rare sight of a flustered Ignis.

“If the students show enthusiasm,” Ignis began, once he’d finished composing himself, “it is merely due to the engaging nature of the subject.”

“Oh, right. Lucian history makes me blush and squeal, too.”

“Did you come here for the sole purpose of force feeding me scones and distracting me from my work?”

“Why, is it working? Just kidding,” he added quickly at the stern look he received. “Actually, I thought we should touch base on our lovely royal charge’s training schedule over the Solstice. Iris has been bugging me about plans. She wants to invite the entire Amicitia clan over for a get-together.”

“Let me pull up my calendar.” Ignis swiveled in his chair, facing the computer monitor. Gladio contemplated his profile, thrown into sharp relief by the glow of the LED back-light. A million potential lines ran through his head. ‘It should be illegal to be so gorgeous.’ ‘You ever seen an angel up close? Because those cheekbones are high enough to graze the heavens.’

“Got any plans for the Solstice, Iggy?”

“I’m hoping to finish drafting my thesis proposal,” Ignis answered, with a light click of the mouse. “I’d also like to try my hand at a leiden sweet potato casserole. See if I can get Prince Noctis to eat something other than meat for a change.”

Gladio snickered. “Good luck with that last one. By the way, what’s your thesis about again? Food politics - “

“ - with Duscae as a case study for increased multifunctionality in agricultural policy making, yes.” Ignis spared him a brief glance, eyes crinkled with amusement. “I’m impressed you remember.”

‘Course I do,’ Gladio thought dismally. ‘I’ve Moogle searched every article you’ve ever published.’

Fortunately, he was spared the need to reply. One more click of the mouse, and Ignis was tilting the monitor in his direction.

“There we are. So, which dates does Iris have in mind?”

“She’s really got her eyes set on the day of the Solstice, as well the day right before and after. She needs me to help cook, put out decorations…”

‘Basically all the stuff we used to do when mom was around,’ he thought.

“I see. Why don’t I just make a note on my calendar for now? We can continue meeting as planned for the next two weeks. When it comes time, we'll evaluate how Noct is doing. Perhaps it won’t even be necessary for us to meet over the week of the Solstice.”

“Thanks Iggy. I appreciate it.”

“Certainly. It’s imperative that you spend quality time with your family over the holidays, uninterrupted.”

His smile was sad. Of course; Ignis didn't really have any family around to celebrate with. Gladio jiggled his knee, hesitating.

“H-hey, Iggy,” he began cautiously. “Y’know, if you don’t have any plans for the Solstice, you’re always welcome to - “

“Ah, Ignis! Just the man I was looking for.”

Ignis stood as two people Gladiolus had never seen before entered the office. The first was an attractive, bespectacled woman with golden hair swept back in an elegantly casual updo. Gladio, always the gentleman, rose instantly to his feet, pushing in his chair and squeezing back against the bookshelf in an effort to free up some space for her in the tiny room. She was followed by a pale young man who stood shoulder to shoulder with Gladiolus, which was a rare enough occurrence. What was really odd was Ignis's reaction. He blanched as the man entered. Then he was turning away to face the woman, almost as if he'd never even noticed the other visitor at all.

“Dr. Trepe! To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Her lips curved in a perfect cupid’s bow. “Ignis, dear, how many times must I remind you? Call me Quistis. Anyway, I was just giving Prince Ravus a tour of the department.” She gestured toward the man beside her.

Oh - so that’s why he looked familiar. Gladio had often seen the royal Nox Fleuret duo on magazine covers or on TV. Ravus cut a striking figure in person, with his wintry complexion and dual colored eyes. He seemed to resent being watched, interrupting Gladio’s examination with a peculiarly frigid glare.

“Prince Ravus will be joining our department as a research scholar next semester,” Quistis explained. “Your majesty, Ignis is a grad student and TA in our department. As you may be aware, he also serves as the royal advisor to Crown Prince Noctis. He’s quite the feather in the department’s cap.”

Gladio beamed, eyeing Ignis with pride. What he saw surprised him. Iggy’s shoulders were tense, his face frozen in a mask of false politeness.

Something was wrong.

“Thank you, Dr. Trepe. As it stands, I’ve already had the good fortune of making Mr. Scientia’s acquaintance.”

Gladio’s eyes snapped in Ravus’s direction. His expression was unreadable, but his tone of voice suggested that whatever fortune had been at play was anything but “good.”

“Indeed.” Ignis mustered a weak smile. “I’m honored his highness remembers me.”

Ravus flinched, the movement so quick it was barely perceptible. Gladio glanced between them. Whatever vibe was going on here, he didn't like it one bit. He asked the question before he could stop himself.

“How do you two know each other?”

Ignis gasped. “Oh, by the six - where are my manners? Dr. Trepe - “

“Quistis.”

“Quistis” - Ignis blushed - “and Prince Ravus, please allow me to introduce Gladiolus Amicitia, Prince Noctis’s sworn shield, as well as one of my dearest friends.”

Gladio’s chest swelled until it threatened to burst. He crossed his arms, lip quirking up into a satisfied smirk.

'Dearest friend, huh?'

“I see,” Quistis murmured, tapping her chin. Her eyes ran up and down Gladio’s frame with an openly appraising look. “I apologize for interrupting your discussion, Gladiolus. I doubt we made a very good impression.”

“Meeting a colleague of Iggy’s is never an imposition,” Gladio assured her. “Especially not when that colleague is as elegant and beautiful as yourself.”

Quistis blushed, blue eyes sparkling behind her spectacles. “I never imagined the royal shield was such a charmer. You’ll have to bring him around more often, Ignis.”

There was a momentary, infinitesimal fracture in Ignis’s facade. “Yes, well, I daren’t keep his majesty any longer," he said quickly. "I’m sure you’re both quite eager to continue the tour. Prince Ravus, it truly was a pleasure seeing you again. I look forward to our collaboration in the coming semester.”

“As do I,” Ravus snapped, his words laced with such venom that even Quistis sent him a mildly startled look. “Dr. Trepe, shall we?”

“C-certainly. Gladiolus, it was a pleasure. And Ignis, we’ll be seeing you tonight at the reception, won’t we?”

“Of course. The Grand Hotel Insomnia at six o’ clock, correct?”

“Not exactly ideal weather for an event, is it?” Gladio interjected, frowning. “The roads are supposed to freeze after seven.”

Ignis dismissed him with a breezy laugh. “Yes, well, you know what they say Gladio - the show must go on! Until tonight then, Dr. Trepe...Prince Ravus.”

He bowed at the waist. Gladio rushed to follow suit, but not before glimpsing the pain that flashed across the prince’s strange, distant eyes. Then he was gone, sweeping off down the hall without a word of acknowledgement. Quistis rushed after him. Gladio waited until he no longer heard the clicking of her high heels before he spoke.

“What was that all about?”

Ignis began fussing with the papers on his desk. “Dr. Trepe was introducing the newest addition to our department.”

“Who you just happen to already know.”

“Is that so odd? You and I often cross paths with royalty in our line of work.”

“Uh-huh.” Gladio approached the desk, leaning over and splaying both hands across the surface. “So, you gonna tell me how you two actually know each other?”

“I don’t see that it’s any concern of yours,” Ignis replied, voice unusually clipped. Gladio ignored the sting.

“I’m just curious - y’know, as a dear friend and colleague. Why so defensive?”

Ignis slammed down a folder, nostrils flaring. “Fine. Spring 752. I did a semester in Tenebrae. Prince Ravus was a student at the university. We made acquaintance.”

“And?”

“And what?”

Gladio shrugged. “Dunno. Just thought I sensed some hostility between you two.”

“Enough, Gladio!”

The outburst stunned them both. Gladio took a step back. He ran a hand through his hair, trying fiercely not to look as hurt as he felt. After a long moment of silence, Ignis heaved a sigh.

“Forgive me, Gladio. It’s just a rather...unpleasant story, if I’m being honest. I wasn’t expecting to meet him like this, and...I’d rather not talk about it all just yet.”

Gladio chuckled harshly. “Why are you apologizing? I’m the one being the asshole here. Sticking my nose in your business. But if you ever do feel like talking about it, or there’s any way I can help...just let me know.”

“Thank you, Gladio,” he said softly, and the smile he turned on him was so full of warmth and relief that it hurt to look at.

Gladio hurried to change the subject.

“You sure you’re good to go to this reception thing? Ravus will probably be there, too.”

“I’ll be fine. I merely need a moment to compose myself. I do apologize I won’t be able to join you at the gym today. I was quite looking forward to showing off my new gains.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. Gladio snorted.

“Save it for next time, hot shot. But seriously, Iggy - the roads are supposed to get pretty bad tonight. Call me if you need a ride.”

“Certainly; I’m sure Dr. Trepe would just love it if you popped by.”

“Iggy.”

“Don’t worry; I promise I’ll behave myself.”

“You better. Don’t wanna go setting a bed example for Noct.”

Ignis’s smile fell. Gladio rolled his eyes, reaching for the half-eaten pastry on the desk.

“Talk to ‘im,” he said through a mouthful of scone. “Better yet, feed him and then talk. He’s always in a better mood when his stomach’s full.”

“Oh Gladio.” Ignis shook his head. “If only I could be as certain as you are.”

‘But I’m not certain,’ Gladio thought to himself. The uncertainty followed him as he took his leave, wandering through the empty halls of the department alone. Noct could be stubborn, and Ignis had a tendency to cave in. Hopefully they'd be able to come to terms without too much of a fuss.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didnt see the figure rounding the corner, hurtling straight at him. He barely managed to come to a stop before they collided.

“Whoa there!” he exclaimed, stumbling backward. “My bad, are you - ?”

The charity in his voice withered and died as he looked up into the face of the passerby.

Ravus Nox Fleuret.

“Ahem. Pardon me, your majesty.” He stepped aside, the polite gesture a reflex after so many years as a retainer. Ravus, however, stood quite still, eyes fixed on Gladio intently - almost as if he were measuring him up.

Gladio’s jaw clenched.

“There a problem, highness?”

Ravus looked away, making a soft, dismissive noise in the back of his throat. He strode past Gladio with his nose held high, sharp footsteps echoing off the walls like a hailstorm. Gladio’s eyes narrowed, gaze following him over his shoulder. The uneasy feeling was back, creeping up from the pit of his stomach like clutching vines.

Whatever history Ravus and Iggy had together, Gladio had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t the good kind.

He tore himself away with a sigh.

“Forget about it,” he muttered firmly. “Iggy can handle himself. It’s not like you have any say in the matter, anyway.”

Still, it was a good thing he kept a spare set of clothes locked up at the campus rec facility. He was gonna need an extra challenging workout today.

TBC...

#gladnis #promptis #prompto argentum #noctis lucis caelum #ffx #gladiolus amicitia #ignis stupeo scientia #fanfic

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loveinthebones · 6 years

Text

Let Them Think What They Want

Prompt: 2. Things you said through your teeth

Rating: T

Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Friends to Lovers, Alpha! Phil and Alpha! Dan

These are you WARNINGS: Slight scuffle between Dan and Phil, mentions of blood

-Let Them Think What They Want-

There are certain…expected…qualities that Phil lacked from an outsider’s perspective and it never failed to set Dan’s teeth on edge when others’ made assumptions about where the boy with the startling eyes fell without a second thought.

His quiet, thoughtful countenance let him fade into the background, if he wasn’t careful.

Dan was trying to encourage Phil to speak more. He knew from experience that his flatmate’s soothing northern twang would turn heads without him even trying but Phil merely giggled in response, lips stained from the shaved ice they had been sharing, and laid his head on his shoulder, radiating heat and unspoken adoration.

“Let them think what they want, Dan.”

Aside from being a small tree, Phil wasn’t a physically commanding presence.

Dan didn’t mean to draw attention to himself as much as he did, but he had always been a bit more impulsive, a bit freer in letting that mysterious pull drench his words. His power of persuasion was less of a suggestion and more of a demand…and it had caused problems when their business partnership had started to solidify.

He remembers the startled eyes of the Beta secretary who had frowned deeply at the compulsion to loosen her posture, despite her will to maintain her strict professionalism after he had jokingly told her, “You can relax. We don’t bite.”

“Stop that,” Phil scolded, swatting his shoulder, as he came to stand behind Dan. He offered his hand to her with a charming, apologetic smile. “I apologize. He hasn’t gotten the hang of his vocal training, just yet.”

It was lie and they both knew it.

Dan used to have trouble controlling his Alpha voice when he was overwhelmed and back then, he had been a terrified nineteen-year-old about to sit in his first official business meeting with his friend and the creator he was working to establish a brand with in the possible future.

Her eyes had drifted across his form with a surprised gaze. It wasn’t often that an Alpha struggled with vocal training but it was speculated that those who did would be the ideal candidates for leadership positions, even when pitted against other Alphas.

“My apologies.” She replied instantly and courteously as she grasped Phil’s hand. “How do you deal with it? He certainly is a strong one.”

Dan’s own hand flexed at the sudden spike of annoyance flooding his system.

Does she not realize…?

Phil only smiled back politely and answered, “Exposure, I suppose. Should we get going?”

Phil reached for his jumping fingers to give them a reassuring squeeze while the Beta hesitated for a split second.

When Dan growled at her reluctance, Phil dropped his hold to fall in place beside his friend as they started to make their way down the corridor, following the Beta who was chattering about the recording spaces, sound equipment, and green screens that would be available to them after the meeting, if they were interested.

His fingertips scraped at the small of Dan’s back as they walked and if she noticed anything- she didn’t say a word.

Dan couldn’t help but wonder if she picked up on the fact that she had folded easily to Phil’s influence.

“You worry too much, Danny.” Phil told him as he clicked away at the controller determinedly. His eyes were glued to the screen where his character was shooting rainbows and jumping hastily to escape the water hot on his heels. “Let it go.”

“I just…why do people assume?” Dan sighed, helplessly searching for the words to explain why it bothered him so much. “Seriously. It’s idiotic and irritating.“ Dan ran his fingers through his fringe, flicking the tickling strands out of his eyes peevishly. "You are just as much of an Al—”

“Shit!” Phil whined, lifting his controller up with angrily shaking hands, and a warning growl ripped from Dan’s throat before he could call it back.

Phil clamped his teeth on the unmoving plastic, an answering rumble vibrating his chest.

There’s something laying heavy and hot in his chest and it urges Dan to stand so he does, drifting to Phil unthinkingly.

His hand rests on locks dyed in the blackest black that can be bought in a bottle and the spell is broken when Phil’s breath fans across his wrist.

“Ah—” Dan squeaked, jerking his hand away as if he had been burned. “Sor—”

Phil chucked the controller at him with a laugh that flashed just a bit too much bite. “Piss off.”

“What is it like living with a Beta?” Dan read and he pressed a hand to his temple with a wry laugh. “Well, HowellattheMoon, you see Phil is—”

“Daniel.”

His name was muffled but it seemed to carry an uncanny echo that had the hairs at the back of his neck standing at attention.

Dan’s lower jaw moved subtly as Phil continued from his place behind his closed bedroom door: “Let it go.”

“You want to go, mate?” There’s a playful lilt to the vowels of his sentence but it’s distorted because Dan is speaking through the barrier of his clenched teeth and his blood is rushing through his ears violently but he remains sitting in his butt chair, leaning on his elbow with a strained smile and glowing eyes.

It isn’t the first time he has used his Alpha voice during a livestream but it’s the first time that it’s laced with something…dark.

The chat is going crazy but Dan’s senses are fixed on the gentle protest of his door’s hinges and the man who has let himself in to his room.

Phil’s fingers open and close at his side as he huffs, a single brow arched in a silent challenge.

“Bring it on.”

So much for the challenge being silent.

“I will murder you,” Dan retorted, flicking his gaze to Phil pointedly. The other shoves his shoulders back at the action, meeting his scrutiny unblinkingly.

There’s that something again—hot, distracting, undiluted but Dan manages to keep himself in check by sheer willpower. “Want to come say hi?”

It’s less of a question and more of a demand and Phil’s tricolored eyes flash as he rolls his shoulders stiffly before he saunters over to kneel beside Dan.

He grins at the chat and chirps out a happy, friendly and infuriatingly relaxed, “Hey guys!”

The air crackles between them.

There’s teeth digging relentlessly into that spot on his neck and Dan raked his blunt nails down the warm skin under his fingertips, distantly worried that he might have drawn blood.

Phil hissed against his sore neck. “You’re the one who wanted to do this, love.” He reminded Dan, flesh still trapped between painful points.

“I know,” Dan panted, digging little angry half-moons where his hands have come to rest just under Phil’s scapulas. “I just—”

“Alphas’ don’t normally have their bonding gland stimulated.” Soft lips pressed against his bruised and tender skin, followed by the slimy scrape of a playful tongue, and Dan snorted as he canted his head backwards so the column of his neck stayed exposed, despite the little voice screeching in his head that he was being reckless and in danger.

“I know,” Dan repeated his earlier statement, bumping his chin against the top of Phil’s head. “I still have that bruise on my hip.”

“I warned you,” Phil giggled, nuzzling into the juncture of his shoulder, before he raised himself up to press his forehead against Dan’s. “I am stronger than I look.”

The pads of Dan’s fingers ghosted along the pretty purple starburst on Phil’s own bonding gland, admiring the indentations he left behind.

Phil growled but it was more of a gentle, loving purr than a warning snarl.

“People have forgotten that in the olden days,” Phil’s lip is split from their tussle, cheeks rosy, and he winces as he talks.“Alphas used to take Alphas for mates.”

Dan’s chest heaved harshly as he cups his throbbing nose, grimacing. “I doubt it’s healthy to take an elbow to the face.” He commented dryly, catching the sparse droplets of blood in his palm. “I’m just saying.”

“We got carried away,” Phil shrugged nonchalantly. “It happens. Aggression hormones, adrenaline, and all that.” He wiped at his bottom lip with his sleeve, smearing crimson along the fabric carelessly as he chuckled. “Though I didn’t expect you to slap me-”

“It was an accident!” Dan protested, panting and exhausted after their brief struggle. He didn’t want to admit that Phil’s scent was pleasantly scrambling his thoughts…and that their little squabble hadn’t helped…. the now familiar heat sizzling and scorching the walls of his veins. “I really didn’t mean to. Sorry.”

“It’s all good,” Phil hummed, lips quirked in one corner in a lopsided, forgiving smile. “It happens.”

"You say that…” Dan muttered, licking his lips, as his heart thudded against his ribs. He shook his head to clear away the fog covering his mind. “…Did Alphas really take other Alphas as mates?”

“Oh, yeah.” Phil laughed with a suggestive eyeroll and Dan’s tongue suddenly decided it wanted to stay glued to the roof of his mouth.

“Why?” The single word escaped before his internal filter could catch it and Dan uncovered the lower portion of his face, eyes cautiously curious.

“Because the two partners had to be evenly matched.“ Phil answered softly, combing his fringe back into a messy quiff. "Though, I do believe that you can choose your mate, regardless of where you or they fall.” Phil stood, dusting off his trackies, before offering to his left hand to Dan. “Are we good?”

“We’re good, Philly.” Dan kept his eyes on their bland carpet as he accepted Phil’s help. “Would you?”

Phil pulled him to his feet and they were so close that Dan could see the individual flecks of gold and green in the electric blue depths of Phil’s irises.

“Would I, what?”

“Date an Alpha.” Dan whispered, still holding onto Phil.

The air buzzing along his skin dotted his arm with goosebumps as Phil squeezed his fingers gently.

“I would.”

“Mine,” Dan murmured, caressing the mark reverently. “People will know you’re mine.”

Phil dipped his head and the tip of his nose tickled Dan’s skin as he made his way down. “And you are mine.“

"Even if people assume I’m the sole Alpha?” Dan teased and his breath stuttered as Phil bit that spot again, mewling in pain.

Phil kissed away the sting before baring his teeth at Dan, showcasing the jagged ends and slight unevenness.

“Let them think what they want, but make no mistake I can take you on, Danny boy.”

#phan #phanfiction #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #kat's writing #ambrose's writing #friends to lovers #Things You Said prompts

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