#final fantasy 15 fanfiction

[firefallvaruna]

After Dark: Scream

Rating: Teen Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Category: Gen Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Language: English Genre: Thriller/Horror

They’d all read the reports of a single rogue MT lurking on the roads, ambushing drivers. But then the reports for this incident started being more specific. A man with a barcode on his wrist, dressed up like a hunter, pulling a “stranded motorist” scam to lure his victims – most often hunters thinking they were helping one of their own. But the perp had a hostage now. A kid. And it was only a matter of time before the usual party crashers arrived.

---

Eight years into the Long Night, Iris and Prompto struggle to save a child from a hostage situation and then a relentless daemon. (Slight Iris/Prompto)

After Dark: Scream

“Cindy is certainly the undisputed champion of mixed signals,” Ignis empathized over his glass of red wine.

“Prom,” Gladio began, pausing his efforts to shred his beer bottle’s label into similar-width strips. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but maybe it’s for the best.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” he heard himself agreeing though his heart wasn’t really in the words.

As of August, eight years of darkness had passed. His birthday was just under two weeks away. Summer had given way to fall, and it was getting chilly once you left the Lestallum tropical zone. 

After more or less ghosting him on the relationship front for a few months, Cindy had reached out. It wasn’t like they didn’t talk frequently. She had just doubled down on her usual obliviousness until she was coyly, flirtatiously asking him out for “some fun.” And then forgot when the time came.

Most of the time, when girls ignored, played dumb, or acted oblivious to his flirting or romantic overtures, it meant a solid ‘not interested.’ But, with Cindy, it was feeling increasingly like a game of “hot and cold” the busier she got. More than once, Prompto had even asked some of the Glaives – men and women – to ensure he wasn’t losing his mind. Nope, he passed the sanity check. Sometimes, the ladies even offered advice from a woman’s perspective to improve his own signals.

He didn’t think she was doing it on purpose. That didn’t seem like Cindy. He just was beginning to think she was wired a bit differently. Like she only had so much bandwidth, and everything that didn't apply to her current task or project was relegated to a weighted queue.

And he was often in last place.

Prompto was ready to throw in the towel and slap a big fat pause button on dating and relationships for a while. But the thought of ending his one-sided relationship left him feeling hollow. 

The thing is, it wasn’t like he didn’t get more positive messages elsewhere.

A month ago, he and Iris had marched across a field near Lestallum like a pair of well-oiled machines, mowing down anything that got in their way. Just annihilated some of the most horrifying daemons like they were obnoxious weeds.

The younger Amicitia had bloomed during the Long Night, rising into a strong woman her house could be proud of. She’d gone from strictly unarmed combat to tonfa, escrima, naginata, and, in the past year, an ancient but still-razor-sharp katana that looked suspiciously like it was intended for a woman. She’d been training with Cor for years, but now it was evident how far she’d come.

With each new step they took across that field, her lifelong training as a daughter of House Amicitia had shone. Prompto had found himself aroused watching her fight. Gone was the adorable teen girl he remembered. In her place was a powerful woman with the body of a professional mixed martial artist. She was like a force of nature. Like a goddess of war in black leather and a really pretty sword.

And apparently, the feeling was mutual, though Prompto didn’t think his performance rated as highly as hers. On returning to Lestallum, still gripped by that greatest adrenaline high ever, she’d practically led him by the crotch back to her apartment.

As they’d gotten themselves ready in the morning, Iris had made it clear: It was a fling. She didn’t want a relationship; she just wanted to have sex. Iris ‘the Slayer’ Amicitia was too busy to slow down now. Not when she had fought so hard for her agency. Gladio and Cor had finally let go of their overprotectiveness and let her prove she could walk tall.

It was fair. Even Prompto sometimes had to remind himself that she was the same age her brother had been during their road trip eight years ago. And no one questioned Gladio’s competence or capabilities.

“Once Noct comes back?” Iris had said of a potential relationship later in that bright, cheerful way only Iris could say, “Maybe! Just, not right now.”

It had just been so refreshing to have firm boundaries and clear communications. Nothing ambiguous. Everything on the table.

And Prompto had decided this evening that he didn’t like ambiguity anymore. His wellspring of optimism was getting a bit lower with each year of darkness. So he needed to be a bit more judicious about where he spent his energy.

Fortunately for him, he had Gladio and Ignis to commiserate with.

So here they were, sitting around an old table in a bar that had become inexplicably popular with the Kingsglaive and Crownsguard, drinking what passed as beer in the apocalypse. Alcoholic beverages, like anything made with plants, had become a rare luxury. So it wasn’t like they could actually afford a true bender even if the beer wasn’t watered down.

Prompto cast a rueful glance at Ignis’s glass of red wine as the blind man gently swirled the contents before taking another sip. His last hunt must have paid well to allow him to splurge on the wine. He knew next to nothing about wine, but the contents of the wine glass did not look watered down.

“This is stupid,” Prompto groused. “My head wants to make this a big deal and Cindy probably won’t even notice!”

It wasn’t like he’d never see Cindy again. So much of the work of keeping Lestallum in one piece hinged on Cid’s and Cindy’s incredible mechanical and engineering know-how. Orbits crossed, missions executed, and plans enacted based on their advice. Hammerhead was one of the base camps for forays into Insomnia’s ruins – something that happened frequently.

But he was twenty-eight now, and this thing wasn’t going anywhere. It felt so very one-sided. He was tired.

At the same time, it was a sense of loss.

Prompto put his head on the table and lightly bounced it against the chipped and scratched Formica. How could he possibly be annoying himself?

Gladio’s large, callused hand landed on his back and rubbed, “Shit happens, blondie. Trust the guy who’s been on both sides of a dump.”

“Yes,” Ignis said with that wry tone he loved so much when he was winding up for one of his jokes that took a moment to set up. “How many ‘this is the one, Ignis!’ are we on now?”

Gladio groaned faintly, leaning back in his chair. The expression on Ignis’s face could only be described as diabolical.

Prompto had always sensed Ignis wasn’t necessarily straight, but lately Ignis had started taking the time to honestly think about who he was. Not in terms of his duty to Noctis, the Prophecy of the Chosen King, the Crownsguard, the monarchy, or even as the last surviving member of House Scientia. What Ignis Scientia wanted. His identity, his sexuality. His wishes and desires.

While always classy, he’d begun experimenting with his hair and clothing, adopting styles that would have been a scandal in the Royal Court. He was currently trying out various pompadour styles, which had a long and storied history in Insomnia of being associated with punks, rebels, and hoodlums. Prompto had seen Ignis’s movie collection in his apartment to know how much he loved the aesthetic. But the old Ignis wouldn’t have dared.

This Ignis had also become even more fond of wordplay, innuendo, and double-entendres. The man was funny, and Prompto thought it was a shame he had taken so many years to loosen up.

And at this moment, Prompto knew him well enough to tell Ignis was winding up for something at Gladio’s expense and maybe his too. But the moment Ignis opened his mouth to unleash whatever his wickedly dry sense of humor had concocted, their phones erupted with the Crownsguard emergency alert tone.

— — — ⌖ — — —

“Come on, don’t do this!” Prompto yelled from behind the crumbling wall he was using for cover. Gladio and Ignis were crouched with him.

They were in the remains of a town lost to the war and whose name had long been forgotten. Another bloody meal for the history books; it had been abandoned since the early days of the war more than one hundred fifty years ago. Nothing but the clusters of foundations, crumbling brick walls, and forgotten timbers marked that anything had been here. According to the paltry records that survived Insomnia’s fall, there was a mass grave somewhere around here.

Ignis had alluded several times that members of Noct’s family could see ghosts. Prompto had absolutely no doubt Noct would have seen them here. However, he felt like they were being watched, followed closely. Like if he turned around too quickly, something would be behind him.

The place was also a hotbed of daemonic and paranormal activity, best avoided if possible. The longer it was left alone, the quieter it got. After this, no one would want to come within miles for a long time.

They’d all read the reports of a single rogue MT lurking on the roads, ambushing drivers. The initials “MT” had, frustratingly, expanded in the public's minds to include anyone from Niflheim with ties to the military programs or labs. But, unfortunately, it did absolutely nothing for Prompto’s mental health.

For a blessing, when the reports came from Hunter HQ and had been fully vetted, it usually meant the tin cans powered by daemons. Occasionally, “MT” wound up being the cyborg Magitek Soldiers – humans with magitek implants and prosthetics – but often so infected with Starscourge that it was sometimes a bit hard to tell.

But then the reports for this incident started being more specific. A man with a barcode on his wrist, dressed up like a hunter, pulling a “stranded motorist” scam to lure his victims – most often hunters thinking they were helping one of their own.

Multiple hunters had gone missing, all in the same vicinity. Several others had had close calls or had sensed something was amiss and left before anything could happen.

Naturally, the hunting community didn’t take kindly to the news. They’d tracked him here to this long-dead town in the middle-of-nowhere-Cleigne. Kingsglaive HQ had been content to let them handle it until a few hours ago when the hunters had called in for backup.

The perp had a hostage. A kid.

His anxiety over the concept that a ‘barcode tattoo equated MT’ aside, Prompto had gone in a heartbeat. If this was an escaped clone like him, he hoped he could talk his “brother” into a peaceful resolution. Maybe knowing someone like him knew what he had gone and was going through would be enough.

It did something, even if Prompto wasn’t entirely sure why. Prompto guessed the guy noted his resemblance to Besithia, but it was only an assumption. He had no more than stepped forward into the lights from their vehicles, opening his mouth to introduce himself, and the man started shooting at him.

No words were exchanged beyond that point. The guy only said that he wanted them to leave or he’d kill the child.

As if that was going to happen.

Though, even if it did mean the guy continued to actively shoot at him, his hyperfocus would eventually give the Glaives an opening. Guns didn't have unlimited ammunition without Lucian magic giving you the equivalent of an auto-reload cheat code.

In the meantime, this guy kept the little girl in front of him as a human shield. Every time Prompto thought he had a clean shot that wouldn’t endanger the girl, the guy would move the kid into his sights. If anyone tried to approach, he quickly shoved the gun into the kid’s temple or face. He was also protecting his back and sides, so no one could get a clear bead on him for a warp-kill.

Through his night-vision scope, Prompto could clearly see the hostage. A girl, maybe eight to ten years old. Scared, her freckled face wet with tears. And a barcode on one of her wrists peeking out from under a stained and filthy jean jacket. They could hear her crying and the panicked chatter, begging and pleading with the man to stop and let her go. Calling desperately for her parents.

He knew his own face, and it was like looking in a mirror. She looked so much like him when he was that age, right down to the blotchy mess he became when he was upset. Of course, the scope only let him see in black and white, but he was sure her long hair was the same yellow as his own. Prompto sucked another breath through his teeth, torn between fear and fury. He was pretty sure she, at least, was the real deal.

“This guy can’t aim worth shit,” Prompto muttered after several deep breaths to recenter himself, still keeping the man in his sights. That alone was enough to make him doubt this idiot was a clone. Prompto had good aim even when he wasn’t trying to aim.

Her assailant didn’t look like a clone to Prompto. The man’s thick, battered face and scabbed knuckles testified that at least one of his victims had fought back. No matter how much he studied his features, Prompto couldn’t find a trace of his own face. It didn’t bring on the mantle of cold over his shoulders as the girl had, like the dormant clones still in their tanks. He indeed had a code, but Prompto couldn’t be sure it was genuine. It looked kind of blurry – not sharp and crisp like his own. He could just be some asshole who got the tattoo without knowing its meaning or implications.

“If it was just him,” Gladio murmured after another shot ricocheted dangerously, “I’d say we rush him.”

“We need to force him to release the girl,” Ignis muttered, a bit of savage emotion tinting his tone. “If she could even get a few steps away, someone could point-warp.”

Prompto raised his voice, “Come on, man! We’re attracting daemons!”

“Just tell us what you want!” Libertus Ostium shouted from somewhere.

Prompto could think of a million ways to break the hold, but he’d continued to train over the years to fill out more of his Crownsguard training. Nothing a kid would know and nothing they could teach a kid from a distance, in the dark.

He and Gladio would be sure to rectify that for her.

“Got clear pictures of the tats, Prom,” Edric, a Glaive directly reporting to Cor, said over his earpiece.

“Thanks, man,” He hadn’t had a chance to do that and was afraid things would go sideways before he could. It was only a matter of time before the usual party crashers arrived.

“Prompto,” Cor’s voice said crisply over the radio. “When we free the girl, take her and go.”

“Copy,” Prompto acknowledged. This meant the Kingsglaive was about to make a move. He just had to keep the guy focused on him so the Glaives could move in for the takedown.

You didn’t gather in big groups, shooting and yelling, and did not eventually attract daemonic attention. And this dead town was infamous for being somewhere you didn’t want to be in the dark. This was going to be ugly. He knew it, Cor knew it, everyone knew it. No one wanted a child here to complicate things any longer than necessary.

As one of the fastest long-distance runners among both the Kingsglaive and Crownsguard, Prompto had been trained for this. (Though the intended kids were younger and smaller.) He had to be ready to grab and run.

Even from a distance, Prompto felt a breath of colder air. Like rising, slowly creeping mist. There was movement in his peripheral vision, like an eddy of snowflakes or a heat mirage. A Glaive camouflage technique. At least one Kingsglaive operative was moving in.

Magic prickled the back of his neck as the operatives moved closer, an odd feeling he wouldn’t have known how to interpret eight years ago. This wasn’t something Noct could do; his old injury apparently robbed him of the fine control necessary. It would have made infiltrating the imperial bases and strongholds so much easier if he had.

The little girl had fallen silent. Her eyes were wide with fear, focused on the ground as dark tendrils of vapor began to rise.

For a moment, voids in the shape of boots moved in the rising wisps of smoke-like miasma. The Glaives moved quickly out of the way of the about-to-rise daemon.

“This is bad,” Gladio murmured breathlessly beside him as the area covered by the miasma grew. His sword appeared in his hand and his shield on his arm. Ignis silently summoned his daggers.

It could only be an Iron or Red Giant. The area of effect was too big for anything else. Short of a Deathgaze, there wasn’t much else bigger. Not even a Valefor or the daemonized octopus some hunters called ‘Void Monks’ were that big, and treants typically unfurled from considerably smaller circles than their finished diameter.

Prompto turned his head to look for the Glaive in his peripheral vision but couldn’t see movement. The miasma was condensing rapidly, forming the pool the daemon would emerge from.

“We have incoming,” Dave Auburnbrie said over his earpiece while Gladio muttered “Incoming” beside him.

A massive, red metal hand erupted from the pool and found purchase on the ground. And then a second. Prompto felt his breath hitch in fear as the flaming sword emerged. He could feel the blistering heat radiating off the blade.

And then a Red Giant stepped up onto the solid ground before them. For the span of several heartbeats, it paused. It burbled metallically and turned as if surveying its choices of victims.

Gladio rushed forward, bellowing taunts to get the thing’s attention.

The guy just stood there, watching it with a gaping mouth. Undistilled fear crossed his face. The kid fell from his grasp.

Children born in this ruined, darkened world instinctively knew to stay quiet and avoid drawing attention to themselves. Like a fawn deer, staying perfectly still and quiet was their best option for survival. She hadn’t even gasped as she’d fallen. She froze, holding perfectly still where she had met ground.

Horribly, the sound of her quiet fall was enough.

The giant turned.

The massive, flaming sword rose in what would be a devastating two-handed blow, even for Gladio, with his shield and powerful defensive enchantments woven into his fatigues.

Despite this, Gladio roared bestially in another attempt to draw the attack. He swung his sword in the wide, savage cleave of Impulse. It struck true, but the giant was undeterred.

Driven and desperate, Prompto leaped from his cover, chanting “no” the whole time. He summoned both handguns, rapidly firing at the colossus as he sprinted.

More daemons coalesced around them.

All Prompto could see was that scared kid. He’d seen what the Giants had done. He’d seen what happened to defenseless refugees. He couldn’t let that happen again.

Blue magic exploded in staccato around him. The girl vanished. Multiple sets of warps with barely a break between. Sudden shocks and roars of bitter cold laced with slowing enchantments filled the air with snowflakes and frost.

The sword connected and continued down to the ground. The hostage-taker crumpled. Flesh and bone parting with horrible, wet crunches and pops. Blood scattering. Sizzles as his devastated flesh broiled beneath the searing blade. The stench of burnt meat filled the air.

The buzz of magic. Focusing sharply at him like a laser focus. Prompto inhaled sharply. Froze.

A woman exploded into existence just in front of him. She tumbled to a stop, nearly taking Prompto off his feet. A small form in a badly stained denim jacket clutched to her chest. The Glaive was back on her feet instantly, pressing the stunned child into his arms.

Prompto had no time for a proper grip. So instead, he clutched her diagonally across his chest and ran. 

He ignored the sounds of gagging and dry heaves from the little girl. The clash of weapons and the shouts. Tuned out the screams of imps and the baleful roars of the giants. Dodged and spun to avoid ahrimans and flans. Leaped through gaps between belches of fire and the feral shrieks of things with far too many teeth and claws.

Ignis was suddenly there to clear the way for him in an explosion of sputtering lightning, “Go! Now!” 

He didn’t stop until the battle was far behind him, and it was only to adjust his grip on the girl before he pushed himself to resume running. His lungs burned. A viciously sharp cramp developed just below his ribs on his side. He’d been training with weighted backpacks, but it wasn’t close to the weight of a school-aged child held awkwardly.

That feeling of being followed persisted.

They weren’t near the established roads, but Prompto knew of a semi-safe place. For once, a cave. Far enough outside the limits of the dead town but close enough for someone to pick them up when the dust settled.

He pushed himself onward. He would smell the cave long before he found it: The stench of feces and ammonia was unmistakable.

At last, the welcome stink and then the dark, craggy hole in the hillside.

He paused before the mouth of the cave, setting the sobbing girl down on her feet and sucking in greedy breaths. He pressed a hand to the ferocious stitch in his side. Sweat soaked his hair and dampened his armpits, chest, and back until the material clung.

The smell would suck, and without PPE and respirators, he couldn’t take her to the cave's deepest and safest (though noxious) parts, but the entrance alone would work in a pinch. There were also smaller mouths they could use as an escape route if the main entrance were blocked.

Still catching his breath, Prompto knelt low and patted a shoulder to signal her to climb on. His arms really wouldn’t handle carrying her as he had any further. He was cooked. With what she had just experienced, he wouldn’t have been shocked if she had refused. But, to his relief, she obediently climbed onto his back. He hooked his arms around her legs, stood somewhat stooped, so most of her weight was squarely on his back, and entered the cave.

The cave was every bit as nauseating as he remembered, not only for the reek of ammonia and feces. He tried his best to only step where he could see there was visibly rock, unwilling to wade through guano today. As soon the ground leveled out, his boots crunched through a thick, writhing, continuously moving carpet of various chitinous insects. Cockroaches, flesh-eating beetles, giant crickets, and insect-sized gorgers were on every conceivable surface, tumbled over rises, and feasted on and within piles of bat guano. Some of the larger ones wetly popped or splattered explosively beneath his feet. Here and there, the brittle bones of small, unfortunate animals added even more crunch to his steps. 

His heart quickened with each step. Even though his boots had been since enchanted to repel the insects, the memories of their bites and feeling them move in his shoes, pants, and even underwear was something he never wanted to experience again.

“Don’t look up,” he cautioned, and once again, she obediently laid her head down on his back. He didn’t want her screaming when she saw the bats. They needed them. Hair spilled over his shoulder as she went as far as to press her face into his jacket with a whimper. He felt her tears soaking through his jacket.

“Don’t worry, they’re not daemons – just bats,” Prompto told her, shocking himself with how much the words coming from his mouth sounded like Cor. “They won’t hurt us.”

He was truly surprised by how calm he sounded. Somehow, in a child's presence, he could control his voice. He did not automatically express how creeped out and disgusted he actually was. Not long ago, he was sure his own panicked shrieks could be heard clearly on the other side of the planet.

Lucian Cat-Faced Bats were ugly and freakish looking – literally a bat with a cat-like face and head – and absolutely enormous for bats. And, of course, Dr. Sania Yeagre wanted samples. In fact, she asked him to come down here multiple times to catch bats or collect various samples from the cave. That included the flesh-eating insects he was crushing underfoot and guano.

This bat species seemed to be resistant or immune to many diseases. They could be carriers but didn’t seem to become terribly sick from them. Preliminary research even appeared to suggest the bats could survive and recover from rabies and Starscourge. And that was intriguing to the scientific community. Frankly, once Prompto learned about that – he was intrigued. Intrigued enough to accept additional hunts.

After the third time, he’d realized the beasts couldn’t care less that he was down here. The bats ignored him unless he startled them or actively tried to catch them.

After the fourth, well, he started thinking the ugly creatures were kind of cute – in a weird, gross, creepy sort of way. They really did kind of look and sound like house cats with wings. He’d even gotten the chance to pet a sedated bat in Sania’s lab and found their fur to be super soft.

And after the fifth, where he’d been forced to wait out a particularly nasty storm, he realized they were actually pretty cool.

While ignoring humans, the bats were territorial regarding other animals. And they didn’t like daemons. At all. Long before any daemon could solidify enough to be a threat, the bats would sense them and start vocalizing. Loudly.

For weaker daemons, the bats might even attack and kill the invaders. Almost the entire colony had descended upon the imps that had dared to enter the cave that night.

And that was what he was banking on tonight.

He found the ledge he’d slept on that night, still devoid of guano and insects. A nook where the wall and ceiling bowed into a shallow, damp bowl. The flowstone was too slick for the bats to perch on and too smooth and steep for the insects to climb. And there was always a nice breeze, which kept the smell down and ventilated the more noxious fumes away.

Prompto boosted the girl up first, careful to keep her feet from the carpet of insects below, and then took a couple of running steps to make it up himself. He crouched, gun manifesting in his hands, his eyes focused on the direction they came. Nothing stirred in the darkness. The sensation of being followed had stopped as well.

He released a deep breath and returned his gun to the Armiger in a flicker of electric blue.

“Hi, I’m Prompto Argentum,” he told the girl softly once he sat beside her on the ledge. “I’m a Crownsguard.”

The poor kid looked utterly terrified, plus she was keeping her wrist protected and hidden. She was smaller than she’d looked in his scope. Thinner. Like it’d been a while since she had a decent meal. Her hair really was the same yellow as his own, although he still couldn’t quite decide on her eyes.

With most of the world’s surviving population living in Lestallum, every child knew about Lucian magic. He hoped it would convince her that he was one of the good guys.

He held his hand low and summoned one of their spare clip lights. Letting her watch the shimmering, crystalline blue of Noct’s magic as it formed on his palm. He turned it on and offered it.

Sniffling and hiccuping, the child accepted it apprehensively.

“What’s your name?” Prompto asked, fishing his wristband from his sleeve and removing it. He swallowed a thrill of fear down as he sent it to the Armiger for safekeeping. He sternly squashed the emotion; his fear was nothing compared to the trauma she’d just experienced. She’d experienced what he’d been deathly afraid of all his life. He could live with the emotional discomfort if it helped the kid.

“Callie Algetty,” the little girl responded haltingly in a timid, half-sobbed stutter that was almost too soft to hear. She pulled her sleeve down until only her fingers were visible, looking at him with terrorized mistrust.

Prompto pushed his sleeve back and showed her his barcode. His voice caught in his throat, “You don’t need to be afraid. I have one too.”

Shaking visibly, Callie pulled the sleeve of her jacket back, exposing her code.

“Is it cool if I took a closer look, Callie?” He asked as gently as he could. He didn’t want to push too hard. Poor kid was pale, trembling, and looking so small in such a big, ugly world.

When she didn’t respond but kept her arm raised, Prompto gently grasped her arm in his hands and focused his light on the tattoo. He gently ran his thumb over the barcode; the “skin” of her wrist felt just like his. That weird leathery patch of genetically engineered flesh that kept the tattoo permanently crisp, clear, and resistant to damage. The numbers in her code were short, much shorter than his: CA11-i3.

Prompto felt sick. “Callie” wasn’t her name; it was just her number. Maybe not an MT clone, but the third iteration of some experiment.

Poor kid’s face scrunched up, red, mouth opening in a quiet, shuddering cry.

“Thanks,” he said thickly, pulling the sleeve back down for her as the sobs gained volume. He wrapped an arm around her in a hug. Callie’s opposite hand came up to hold the spots his hands had gripped her arm and where he’d tugged the sleeve down.

Dismayed, he watched her hold her arm for a moment. He’d been gentle. His gut was telling him the creep had hurt her. “Does your arm hurt? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Callie nodded through her tears.

“Can I take a look?” He fought a failing battle to keep his emotions out of his voice. “I bet I can make it better.”

Another tearful, red-faced nod.

“Okay, let’s get your jacket off.”

Callie got it unzipped but needed help to get her arms out of her sleeves, and Prompto could immediately see why. Her arms were a patchwork of incisions; some closed with a few haphazard stitches. Some looked like they could be infected. One incision bothered him the most: very reddened, moist, and angry.

Prompto gently turned her hands over. The cuts didn’t look like defensive wounds; they looked like they were done on purpose.

A different kind of monster made those wounds.

“Did he do this?” Prompto asked carefully and softly, receiving a choked sob and nod in return. She was crying so hard that whatever explanation she tried to give was mostly unintelligible. But, nevertheless, he understood the gist that the man was looking for something inside her arms.

Sickened, internally livid, and fighting to keep from showing it, he checked her temperature with the back of his hand. Granted, she was traumatized and understandably very upset, but she felt way too warm to him.

Shaken, Prompto summoned a potion from the Armiger, twisted the cap off, and offered it to her, “Drink this; it’ll make you feel better.” 

The potion would buy him time to get her to Lestallum, but she needed to get to a hospital. Probably nothing but adrenaline was keeping the poor kid going. He wrapped her arms gently in the softest rolled gauze they had in their first aid kit.

“Prompto, do you copy?” Gladio’s voice asked over his earpiece as he finished helping her back into her jacket. He sounded exhausted and out of breath.

Prompto tapped the button on the side of the device hooked over his ear, “Hey, man. I copy.” His tone was far darker than he intended, though Gladio was probably used to that by now.

“What’s your position?”

Prompto knew he should answer straight, but he couldn’t resist a halfhearted joke, “Oh, just chilling in the bat cave, waiting for Batman to come kick my butt.”

The weak joke made the Shield laugh tiredly, “Stay put; something followed you. How’s the kid?”

“Traumatized. Asshole cut her arms up – might be infected,” Prompto reported but kept glancing down at Callie as she rapidly went from sipping to guzzling the flat soft drink. Poor kid. Probably dehydrated too. He worried his lip for a moment as he debated the merits of providing necessary details versus the risk of scaring her further. Even small children knew what ‘gangrene’ and ‘sepsis’ were these days. Not that he even had a choice, “Maybe even septic.”

Prompto already knew the use of the word “septic” was going to make things happen. Wounds festered and went septic with ease in this world without sunlight; they’d lost good people to injuries that wouldn’t have been an issue just eight years ago. No one would want to take chances with a kid.

The radio was silent for several long, nerve-wracking moments.

Cor’s voice broke the silence, “Hold your position. Iris is en route.”

Before Prompto could confirm he understood his orders, the radio exploded into chatter as a fresh wave of daemons moved in. He could hear Ignis shouting strategic instructions and the repeated sounds of warp-strikes.

Then, ominously, Libertus’s voice announced loudly, “We have bodies over here! Fresh ones!”

Prompto scrubbed his hands over his face, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves. His friends needed him, but so did the little girl beside him, and his current orders were to keep her safe and away from the fighting.

“A friend of mine named Iris is coming to pick us up,” Prompto relayed in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. “Don’t worry.”

Callie shifted sideways and huddled against his side. Quiet tears traced paths down her freckled cheeks. Though unsure where to rest his arm and hand with her wounds, Prompto curled a protective arm around her. He felt powerless and impotent, helpless for the nightmare unfolding right in front of him.

‘Algetty’ was the last name of a husband-and-wife team of hunters who had gone missing – likely victims of the stranded hunter scam. Had Callie been with them? 

“Were you with your mom and dad when –?” Prompto began awkwardly, unsure of how to ask. She nodded and huddled closer before he finished, so he simply allowed his voice to trail off.

Though it made him grit his teeth, it wasn’t unheard of either. He didn’t have to like it. He had some very strong opinions about the “grand” Lucian tradition toward child soldiers – even if the insanity of this stupid world all but demanded it.

Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio had already been training for years by the time they were eight. As a joke, when Prompto asked about her new katana, Iris quoted Mask of Zorro by saying she’d had “the proper instruction since she was four.” (And Prompto had absolutely zero doubts that it was true.)

As a member of a family closely associated with the Amicitias, Talcott had started martial arts young. At seven, he’d begun training in earnest. At twelve, he had started going out to explore ruins with Ignis and the Kingsglaive.

Starting gun safety and firearms training young in a family of Hunters was logical, regardless of his personal feelings. And if Callie was indeed linked to the MT program somehow, she probably had the same genetic engineering he did, plus the instinctively good aim.

Needing to do something before he lost his mind, Prompto pulled out his phone from his jacket and called HQ to get the investigations underway.

What HQ returned a short time later for her background confused him even more. 

Her name was indeed Callie Algetty, born in the backseat of a Kingsglaive vehicle as it arrived in Lestallum in those chaotic opening weeks of endless night. Her parents were indeed the missing hunters. Her mom was a Niflheim refugee, and her dad was a hunter who had fallen for the single mother-to-be during the long escort from Gralea.

Beyond that, attendance records showed she attended an elementary school with a mix of in-person and distance learning like most Lestallum children. She hadn’t been reported missing. The family’s apartment was undisturbed, looking like they had just stepped out.

With a sigh, Prompto wished for the old days when he could play King’s Knight and distract himself for at least a few minutes. Since he left on that road trip, nothing had made sense, and there had been just one gut punch after the other. (Though at least before Noct vanished, he could occasionally pretend that everything was okay and was going to be okay.)

How could she have the barcode? Her birth sounded like it had been relatively public. Someone would have seen something. Besides that, Besithia had been pretty candid about his cloning programs and the upgraded security after Prompto was taken. Implanting a clone embryo into someone’s uterus sounded like it was just asking for a security breach.

Taking another deep breath, Prompto attempted to calm down and relax. If not for his sake, then for the crying, miserable eight-year-old huddled against him.

He didn’t have long before the hair on the back of his neck prickled to attention.

Whatever was following them was back. Prompto was suddenly very sure of it.

He patted Callie and motioned her behind him. His rifle with his night-vision scope appeared in his hands in a flicker of crystals.

The bats then confirmed his instincts.

The animals closest to the mouth of the cave were just beginning to become agitated but had yet to sound the alarm. He couldn’t see anything through his scope save for the bats high above.

“Prompto! I’m almost there!” Iris’s voice over the radio startled him out of his intense focus.

Prompto lifted his hand to press the talk button just long enough to mutter a quiet, “Copy.”

A rippling wave of murmuration rolled swiftly over the cavern. Hisses overlapped into a mass sound that escalated into piercing, feral, cat-like screams. The bats dropped into the air, coordinating their movements, appearing as one black, swirling, undulating mass.

They weren’t fighting. They were fleeing.

“Time to go!” Prompto declared urgently, pushing off the ledge. He held his arms out to the girl. Callie hesitated. “Now!”

Callie made the jump into his arms. Prompto didn’t have time to feel bad about her whimper of pain. Instead, he adjusted his grip and made his way to the nearest crack that would allow them to escape.

A wailing scream. Shrill and rapidly rising in force and intensity. A stab of pain hit him behind his eyes, through his ears, and radiated over his head and down his spine. Callie shrieked in pain in his ear.

“Fuck,” Prompto snarled his way through the sigh when it ended. “A Banshee.”

The bats that took the brunt of the attack fell from the air; stunned or dead, he didn’t know. A feast for the insects below, certainly, if they didn't recover fast enough.

Prompto boosted Callie through the crack first and then squeezed and scrambled through himself.

“Iris!” He nearly shouted through the mic as they slid and scrabbled down the side of the steep hill. “We’ve got a Banshee!”

“Shit,” Iris belted out savagely.

Banshees were usually female-presenting daemons and usually retained their human appearance for some time before they finally mutated – years potentially. They were known for a whole bunch of especially nasty attacks, their distinctive and destructive wail being the most notable. Once mutated, they became jellyfish-like and gained a few nastier tricks. Both kinds attracted an ‘entourage’ of semi-related daemons, like succubi, nymphs, gorgons, and sirens.

No hunter in their right mind took them on alone. However, out of all the daemons, they were also the hardest to get away from.

“You know how to use a gun, right?” Prompto asked Callie hurriedly, and she nodded in a wild-eyed response. There were trickles of blood out of both her ears. Prompto had no doubt he was the same.

Fortunately, it seemed Besithia had engineered them for the possibility of being used for human infantry as well. As a result, their ears would heal – even the most delicate parts that would result in permanent damage in a normal person.

He fished the belt and holster for his pocket pistol out from under the waistband of his pants. He never kept it in the Armiger, just in case something blocked Noct’s magic again. He frantically checked the ten-shot magazine. Then, satisfied it was full, he handed the belt, holster, and gun to Callie. He didn’t need to tell her what to do. The little girl put the belt over her head across her torso.

He hastily tightened the belt on her as much as possible and knelt so she could climb on his back.

Something projectile vomited behind him, scattering steaming dark liquid over the side of the hill. It didn’t quite have the range to reach them, though it was uncomfortably close.

Prompto pushed himself into a run. Behind them, whatever members of the Banshee’s daemonic entourage screamed savagely and lashed out at the rocks preventing them from reaching their prey.

He prayed the entourage wasn’t made up of daemons smart enough to realize they should go around. Or that they weren’t strong and determined enough to break through the crack. Or that they wouldn’t head them off the next time the ancient lava tube broke the surface.

An engine and a car horn roar somewhere close in the distance.

“I’m honking! Can you hear it!?” Iris frantically exclaimed in his ear.

He let go of Callie’s leg for only long enough to press the push-to-talk button, “I can hear it!”

Behind him, the roars from the daemonic entourage quieted. Then another set of higher-pitched, animal-like screams.

“Shit,” Prompto cursed hysterically like a mantra.

“Prompto! I see you!” Iris shouted over the radio.

He knew that sound. Gorgons. Like a colossal eel and snake had a hideous, slick, slimy, jet-black mutant daemon baby. Like an especially ugly naga ejected their snake-hair into individual daemons. Some people called it a “gorgon” due to its potent petrification spell.

He wouldn’t be able to outrun them; they were too fast.

Ignis was usually the one who handled gorgons. Several of their most dangerous attacks were based on vision, and his blindness provided complete protection. He usually speared them from above. Quick, efficient headshots to minimize the chances they’d have time to use attacks he wasn’t immune to.

A headshot was a headshot.

Prompto stopped running and set Callie on her feet. “Close your eyes and don’t open them until I tell you,” he told her sternly, bringing out his rifle and a few gold needles. He pressed the needles into her hand. “If they turn me to stone, poke me with one of those.”

He focused on the magical armory, imagining the magic changing out his regular ammo for armor-piercing rounds. They easily penetrated solid wood targets two or three feet thick.

His rifle twinkled faintly blue, and a satisfying series of clicks as the new bullets appeared. He forced himself to take deep breaths. To ignore the trembling child clinging to the back of his jacket.

Prompto aimed where the first gorgon’s head would be, so it would run into the bullet.

Prompto squeezed the trigger. The daemon’s head snapped back. Ichor bloomed and miasma blossomed. Then, before the daemon disintegrated, he quickly lined up the next shot.

As with the first, the bullet tore a massive hole in the gorgon’s head. But now that they were close enough for Prompto to see details, they were close enough to counterattack.

Dazzling white headlights behind him. A roaring engine.

Iris. And she wasn’t slowing down.

Prompto dropped his rifle and summoned one of the few flasks he had left from Noct. Blizzard with a ‘stopcast’ modifier.

He lobbed it without really looking. Trusting his aim. He spun and grabbed Callie. Scrambled. Jumped out of the way.

Screeching tires, a solid crunch, and a deafening thud as the third gorgon met its demise on the front bumper of Iris’s jeep.

Iris was out a moment later, dropping into a pose that looked like she was borrowing a move from Cor’s book. Poised. Her hands were on the katana’s grip and saya, awaiting the fourth.

Prompto hurried to his feet, his rifle reappearing in his hands. “Get in!” he bellowed to the kid.

As the door opened and slammed shut, relief flooded Prompto. He could cut loose now. He didn’t have to be as constantly aware – though battered and worn by countless battles, the jeep was intended for military use. It could take some punishment.

Iris swept forward in what almost definitely was her own version of Lion’s Roar, sweeping her katana across the slick belly of the Gorgon. She swiftly pivoted to deliver another slice to the creature’s back.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” Prompto shouted to her, putting in a headshot for good measure. Iris was definitely easy on the eyes in her high-necked leather jacket and leather leggings with little mesh cutouts at the hips.

“Any idea what we’re dealing with?” Iris asked as she stepped to his side as the Gorgon died in a dark cloud.

“Banshee,” Prompto replied unhelpfully. “Gorgons. Something with a snake-head.”

A gnarled root of a rotted, tree-like daemon violently burst from the ground in a flurry of dirt. Distinct shapes like bulges and burls opened wide to reveal baleful red eyes. In the middle of the trunk was a complexly twisted burl in a profile of a naked woman. It, too, opened bottomless black and empty eyes. The woman-shape’s mouth and an enormous, scalloped mouth opened simultaneously in a bassy groan.

“And a nymph! It’s our lucky day,” Prompto observed in exhausted sarcasm as Iris belted out, “You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

From the number of weapons embedded and stuck in the trunk, this daemon had been a problem for a while.

“I hope Noct left you a fire-based flask,” Iris stated, stepping out into a low stance. Nymphs had a profound weakness to fire. If they were lucky, there would be enough nymph left in the daemonic tree that fire would be utterly devastating.

“Nope,” Prompto replied in mock flippancy, summoning a round glass liquor bottle that housed one of his homemade incendiary bombs. “But it’s cool. I made my own.”

Iris’s wolfish smile of approval warmed his heart.

Prompto summoned a slingshot and backpedaled a few steps. He paused long enough to aim and then launched the bomb toward the wandering root.

It exploded. Fire roared. And the thunderous scream told him he’d scored a direct hit.

Iris charged through the flames, unleashing a flighty series of low strikes. It was the only way she could fight. While rot had taken most of the canopy, the remaining branches would still pack a punch.

Prompto opened fire, trying to remove each of the baleful red eyes.

The nymph was smart enough to close its eyes to protect them if it noticed him. Unfortunately, the wood of the eyelid seemed hard enough to stop even his armor-piercing rounds. As a result, he wound up closer than he would have liked, but Iris’s movements provided more of a distraction when they were both close than if he had stayed at range.

“Prompto!” Iris yelled.

Already knowing what she wanted, Prompto pivoted to face her and laced his fingers together in a stirrup. He was no Gladio, but he put all his strength into launching her skyward.

That beautiful katana found purchase in one of the larger eyes. Scarlet ichor bloomed, showering both of them. Iris caught a branch and pulled herself higher.

But then Prompto had to focus on dodging and rolling as a branch-like elbow rose and smashed the earth where he had been. Then another arm rose up to swat at Iris as she climbed and traversed branches, trying to reach another eye. One limb found her, knocking her away.

Barely landed himself, Prompto threw his rifle away and called his pistols. He unloaded the clips at the female form in the trunk. Dust plumes said he was hitting his mark. He might as well have been shooting Nerf darts for all the good it was doing.

He kicked up to his feet, feeling the weight change as the magazines reloaded automatically from the Armiger as he emptied them. 

Iris tackled him as another branchlike arm came in from behind. Pain bloomed as brittle twigs and branches tore at his face and scalp.

“Another bomb?” Iris suggested quickly when it passed. “This is getting stupid.”

“Yeah,” Prompto agreed breathily. The longer they took dealing with the nymph, the closer the Banshee and the rest of the entourage got.

He summoned his slingshot and another homemade incendiary. He took his time to aim for the nymph’s real body. Put that fire right in the daemon’s face.

He fired.

He was close enough to hear the glass break and the sudden and violent chemical reaction. Feel the sudden temperature spike as the chemicals ignited. See the combined liquid splatter the dead grass, setting it ablaze too. And close enough to see the nymph’s protective casing splinter and crack from the force of the blast, exposing soft, scourged flesh beneath.

It was a tiny target. But Prompto knew he could make that shot.

Iris’s free arm wrapped around his upper arm, urging him back as the flames spread. “We gotta go!”

One shot, one kill.

“I’ve got this!” He shook Iris off. His rifle still loaded with armor-piercing rounds reappeared in his hands.

Aimed. Dead center of that tiny hole of oozing black, purple, and red with pale, diseased flesh below.

Fired.

The shot still ringing in his ears, Prompto suddenly realized Iris was done asking him to move. He had no choice but to allow her to drag him into a run. While still shorter than he was, she was physically stronger now.

Prompto dismissed his rifle as the daemonic tree was fully engulfed in flames. It writhed, the bassy scream shaking the earth. Then, as they reached the jeep, it pitched forward with a groaning crash and dissolved into murky vapor. 

The fire was spreading uncontrollably now.

Callie offered them potions from the backseat as they hurriedly got in, one of her own open and partially gone.

Iris threw the vehicle into reverse just enough to turn around and return the way she’d come. Then accelerated away.

“Oh good, you found them,” Iris told the girl cheerfully through her deep breaths, finally accepting a bottle. She quickly crushed the bottle one-handed, the healing magic absorbing into her body and closing her wounds.

Prompto glanced behind him to accept his potion and grimaced as he realized the sleeves of the kid’s jean jacket were soaked with blood. He probably reopened her deeper wounds with the way he’d grabbed her. “Crap! Sorry, Callie!”

“You didn’t mean to,” Callie replied shyly, almost protesting his apology.

In the rearview mirror, more daemons were coming. They could probably outrun the rest of the entourage, but Banshees were obnoxiously fast. And he hadn’t even clearly seen it yet.

Prompto tapped his radio, “Head’s up, guys! Iris and I might have accidentally started a wildfire. No idea where it’s going to go yet.”

“Copy,” Ignis answered. “And your Banshee situation?”

“Banshee situation is that we’re hauling ass,” Iris blurted tensely. She braced herself as they sped over a rough patch of ground that intensely shook the jeep and its passengers.

A frenzied scream rattled and vibrated the windows as if confirming Iris's words. The entire jeep groaned with the impact. Behind them, a distant female silhouette against the glowing orange of the fires and thick smoke rising to the darkened heavens.

“Bitch, please,” Prompto joked nervously as the daemon rose into the air. “Eat a Snickers already.”

Their headlights, at last, found an old dirt road. Little more than a two-track now, but still a road. Iris veered onto it, speeding up now that they had more level ground. In the distance, the glow of Lestallum. 

Iris pushed the jeep to unsafe speeds until the Banshee gradually fell further behind. They probably wouldn’t lose her, but they’d likely reach Lestallum’s lights and backup before she could catch up.

Eventually, to their left, more orange light rose like a pillar. Then it grew into a two-story farmhouse, fully engulfed in flames.

“Whoa,” Prompto uttered. “What happened here?”

“Couldn’t be our fire,” Iris slowed down, gazing at the flaming structure. There was a barn behind it, far enough away to be unaffected by the flames. Apparently, no grass was growing between the house and the barn, or the fire would have spread by now, thanks to the wind.

“That was his house,” Callie remarked from the backseat. Eerily matter-of-fact. Flat; devoid of emotion.

“The bad guy?” Prompto asked, turning around as much as his seatbelt allowed. The kid looked absolutely shaken.

“Yeah,” Callie confirmed quietly without breaking eye contact with the blaze.

“And that’s a ‘nope’ from me!” Iris said succinctly in response, speeding back up. The jeep's tires stirred up a cloud of dust swiftly carried away by the wind.

Prompto turned around and tapped his earpiece, “We have a burning house here. Kid says it belonged to the perp.” He pulled the coordinates from his phone and relayed those too.

A thunderous roar. Everything lurched sideways. 

They rolled. Glass shattered and metal groaned.

And, at last, they came to a stop. The jeep rocked precariously but stayed upright.

Prompto’s initial, horrible realization as he recovered his senses was that they’d lost the lights. Their headlights and light bar were shattered and dark.

The second was the winged snake daemon that dropped from the darkened sky. A Caduceus, from its resemblance to the symbol of medicine. Specialized in wind-based attacks.

And the third was that the Banshee had caught up to them. The rear window exploded.

Screams.

Branches, sharp as knives, speared Iris and dragged her away. Impaled, melting to crumbling dirt. Screams as men and boys with his face clawed at him through the vehicle window. Rotting, rotted, forgotten to the machine. Teeth gnashing, degloved hands pawing. Handprints of scourged ichor and pus. Laughter as Ardyn and Besithia watched his plight.

He was screaming.

Callie ejected through the windshield over and over. A small, bloody, and broken projectile. Landing in a boneless heap in the forgotten farm yard before him like a carelessly discarded doll. 

Noctis turned his back on him, even as the laughter reached a frenzied peak.

His head cleared in a rush, making the world spin in a tight loop. Something dark and metal was pinning him. He gasped, choked, and struggled to free himself from the vehicle. Every instinct said he needed to move and quickly.

“Prompto!” Iris barked in desperation as the Remedy worked, pushing at the metal debris through the window with her entire weight, “Come on! Get it together!”

Callie helplessly hovered a few feet behind Iris.

Prompto hooked his arms under the metal piece, lifted with all his might. His vision turned red, and his teeth ground at the effort. Nothing.

“Iris!” Prompto shouted as distinctly female, half-rotted legs descended. Callie scrambled for the jeep, but the doors were jammed. The Banshee couldn’t just levitate; she could outright fly. The daemonic snake uncoiled from the female daemon and settled with unnatural lightness on the ground. Not just a Banshee on the verge of fully mutating, but one could separate into two distinct entities: A Banshee and a Caduceus.

They were in trouble.

“Callie! Run!” Iris ordered, her voice urgent and hard. She drew her katana, settling into a battle stance.

Callie hesitated. Looking between Iris and Prompto. Hesitating like that would get her killed.

“Go!” Prompto screamed with all his might. He had only an instant before he was plunged back into madness.

A brown fetid scream. Callie screamed and stomped as insects crawled over her entire body, carving her skin from inside and out. Flensed. Flayed. The earth was moving, flowing like water. A brown. A fetid. Carrying him to the burning timbers. Screams as his parents writhed and died in the flames. Iris screamed triumphantly as she cleaved the giant serpent. Caduceus. Fell into blackness.

Prompto awoke with a gasp. He was upside down. He was still in his seat, held in place by his seatbelt. The edge of his seatbelt cut painfully into his neck. Something big had flipped the jeep while he was out. Though whatever had been pinning him was blessedly gone.

That much was real.

The driver’s seat was empty, and so was the backseat. The side windows were little more than pebbles on the roof and ground. They caught the fire’s light and refracted it back at him like tiny, glowing jewels.

“Iris!” Prompto called, having to pause to cough and gasp. “Callie!”

He groaned, braced himself, and unbuckled his seatbelt. He allowed himself to slide onto the pebbles of safety glass and then pulled himself out the side window.

He sat back on his knees, gazing around himself in a daze.

It was still hard to tell what was real and what wasn’t, but it was getting easier. The baleful screams and wails still echoed off the walls of his mind. He could still picture Callie’s body flying through the windshield like a projectile. But there were no holes through the spider-webbed, laminated glass. No blood. No broken bodies on the road. No bugs, sewage, or undead clones.

“Just a Confusion,” Prompto muttered to calm himself. They’d been hit with Confusion, maybe even Fear. He didn’t recall Banshees having those abilities, but that was what he experienced. None of that awful acid trip of a hallucination had been real. Probably something rare or unique to the specific morph.

What was real was the heinous amount of blood from a cut on his head and a huge tear in his pants, exposing a portion of his boxers and thigh. And through the tear, a rapidly swelling welt with odd, discolored pitting to his skin. It was hot to the touch. Already acutely and deeply painful.

Prompto cursed under his breath, recognizing the rare ‘Fester’ affliction from the Banshee. He probably had other patches of welts. It was a nasty surprise some mutated Banshees had. It would initially form welts all over the body, eventually developing into large, weeping open sores. It was painful. Always scarring. The wounds had a voracious appetite for bandages and wound dressing. There wasn’t much anyone could do: Treat the symptoms until they ran their course and pray it didn’t land somewhere delicate.

The terrible roar of the burning farmhouse beckoned. But, beyond, the barn was still standing, unaffected by the blaze. There appeared to be dim lights moving around within.

The muscles of his thigh were already growing tight. Prompto forced himself to walk through the pain, to walk normally despite the natural urge to not put his full weight on his leg. He worked himself up to a stiff jog.

The motion aggravated an injury in his side. His ribs felt bruised and tender but not broken. He pushed himself onward.

The lights moving through the barn faded, drifting downloads like the setting sun.

He wanted to call out, but the Banshee was somewhere nearby. Hunting. Toying with them like a cat with fun new prey.

Prompto, at last, reached the barn. He flattened his back against the wall, silently summoning his handgun in a flurry of crystals. Nothing moved within.

He swept inside and almost straight into Iris.

“Thank gods,” He breathed, lowering his gun. “Where’s Callie?”

No sooner than the words left his mouth than he realized his mistake. She was clean and uninjured. Her expression was all wrong: predatory and hungry.

He sidestepped as violently green, scaled claws slashed at him. Not enough. The daemon stayed with him as he dodged and wove. Claws tore and slashed at the protective enchantments of his fatigues. Found a deep purchase in his side.

The Banshee shed her disguise with a chilling, inhuman giggle. Her mouth opened, and her waist hinged to reveal a second mouth. Breasts became oversized eyes. Teeth and claws, far too many of them. An empty, gaping hole through the desiccated flesh of her shoulder blade where the Caduceus’s head had been. Now bisected by Iris’s blade.

The Banshee drew him forward. The hinged mouth and decaying human face horribly close.

Prompto swallowed against the pain and breathed through it. Then, with the slightest motion possible, he released his handgun back to the armiger and summoned the flare gun for Starshell. From long practice, he flipped the safety off one-handed.

“Say ahh!” He blurted, shoving the flare gun into the daemon’s face and pulling the trigger. 

He jerked his head away, squeezing his eyes shut against the blast of brilliant light. Sparks peppered his face with little burning kisses. Even with his eyes closed, the light was blinding and tinted vibrantly orange-red from his eyelids.

The Banshee shrieked in agony. The claws in his side released and withdrew.

Prompto lunged blindly for the stairway, catching himself as he stumbled over the first stairs. Controlled his sudden descent as he slid down the rest on his heels. The heels of his palms roughly collided and found a metal door. Closed.

His groping hand found a lever-style doorknob. He pushed through, almost falling through the doorway. He slammed the door behind him and locked it.

He slid down the door, panting, almost vomiting as his hands pressed to the wound in his side. He gingerly turned to sit with his back against the door. With difficulty, he called a hi-potion to his hand. Cracked it. Felt the magic absorb into his system and relief as the wound began to knit itself closed.

Prompto then had to lean over and let the contents of his stomach out. He chose to ignore the distinct copper taste in his vomit.

He lay there for several moments, catching his breath and allowing the medication to finish the job of restoring him. His eyesight returned, blue bokeh giving way to darkness. And then his eyes, long grown accustomed to darkness, began to pick up on his dim surroundings. A clip light had been dropped in the aisle, providing some extra illumination.

He was in a makeshift lab of some sort. Constructed of metal prefab sheets intended for pole barns and welded to make a solid structure. The entire thing smelled of mold, mildew, and formaldehyde.

At last, Prompto struggled to his feet. He recalled his handgun from the Armiger.

Counters and storage racks filled the space. The shelves contained various jars, tanks, and containers. All containing strange things that he couldn’t quite identify.

A large aquarium tank in the corner drew his morbid curiosity. He limped over to it.

The tank contained pale, slightly pink, oddly branching roots from a central trunk. Prompto sucked in a breath, belated realization breaking over him like an ocean swell. That was the human nervous system. Real, preserved in formaldehyde.

“Callie!” Prompto called weakly, feeling the cold sweat of fear drip down his back. His pulse thundered in his ears. “Iris!”

The jars were filled with biological samples and remains of things likely human. A tattered and mildewed flag of empire hung on the opposite wall. There were passageways out from the room, extending further underground.

His light painted a specimen jar containing a misshapen human fetus, an imperial barcode on the side. Mutated but still very clearly having been human. It would have been a boy.

And not just humans either. Specimen jars contained other creatures too. Native Lucian and Galahdian animals, including langurs, pigs, and various monkeys – all with the remnants of Magitek. A larger tank containing the partial remains of a mutated coeurl with bits of Magitek implants still emerging from the creature’s pelt.

A makeshift Magitek lab on Lucian soil. 

The man had been looking for something inside Callie’s arms. The answer seemed horribly apparent to him now.

“Callie,” Prompto whispered through a shudder. He had to find her, “Please!”

The metal door of a base cabinet creaked open as he passed. He spun, leveling his handgun at the gap.

A pale moon of a face gazed back at him through the opening, eyes wild and wide. He immediately lowered his gun. Fresh blood was smeared upon her cuffs and across her face, and her nostrils still dripping blood. A vicious mosaic of bruises forming across her jaw and cheek.

“Callie!” Prompto breathed in profound relief, “Are you –?”

Her feverish eyes were so very blue in his flashlight. They shifted from him to above and past him. An audible, trembling breath of fear emerged from her lips as she shrank backward.

Teeth bared, Prompto spun as the daemon dropped from the ceiling behind him and opened fire.

The Banshee’s scream lit his nerves on fire.

He dove to the side and rolled to his feet with watering eyes. He had to get out. He couldn’t fight here. He barely had room to move.

Prompto vaulted and slid across the counter. He raced down the aisle, staying low so the counters gave him some kind of protection. He needed to draw her away from Callie.

Another scream immediately followed before he could return fire.

And another.

He was pinned.

A siren began to rise from a puddle of miasma on the floor not far from him. Annoyed, Prompto rolled his eyes and fired off a quick shot. The siren let loose a sad wail he felt rather than heard before it melted back into the miasma.

The Banshee closed the distance too quickly. Those razor-sharp claws were already poised to shred the flesh from his bones.

He called forth a pair of Ignis’s spare daggers. It was the only thing he could think of to use to both attack and block. Ignis was the knife fighter, though. He’d tried teaching Prompto.

But the Banshee’s rotting, mutating body had longer reach than he did. It wasn’t encumbered by pain.

He blocked and cut, trying to keep those claws from digging in a second time. Blood welled on his forearms and across his knuckles.

Claws found his side once again. Dragged him to his feet. Mouths opened, inhaled for a scream.

“Go away!” Callie’s scream was bloodcurdling, like a miniature banshee in her own right.

The girl had emerged from her hiding spot. She had his pocket pistol drawn and leveled at the daemon. Then, with visible effort, she stilled her shaking hands and fired.

If Prompto had any doubts about Callie’s origin, they vanished as the bullet neatly found one of the Banshee’s large eyes. The rising wail cut off sharply, replaced by a screech of pain. The daemon’s attention turned to the young girl.

It released him.

Prompto dropped low and spun into a kick aimed at the daemon’s knee joint. In a human, it would have obliterated the joint. Instead, it only made the Banshee mad. The Banshee turned, mouth opening in what would be another Confusion-inflicting screech. He fired repeatedly, hearing them echoed by more shots from Callie.

Sprinting footsteps.

A flicker of steel sliced through the Banshee’s waist-level jaw.

In one quick, smooth movement, Iris changed directions. Then, with a thunderous roar of effort, her katana became a bright blur that cleaved the daemon hip to shoulder.

Prompto put a bullet between the Banshee’s large eyes for good measure.

The female daemon crumpled, releasing a final scream that turned Prompto’s world into a staggering white agony.

He didn’t pass out, somehow, but wobbled backward until he could lean on the counter. His vision was gray and narrow.

Callie was suddenly at his side, trembling arms wrapping around him in a weak, shaking hug. Prompto rested a hand on her head, pressing her lightly into his side.

Iris, covered in blood, vomit, and so much mud that it was hard to tell it was her, sheathed her katana and took a step toward him.

“Wait!” He took a quick step out from the counter and backward. “Prove to me you’re Iris,” Prompto grit out as he moved Callie protectively behind him.

The bloodied and battered woman in front of him took a deep breath, looking to the ceiling. Finally, Iris spoke in a hoarse and weary voice, “So what were you and Noct doing when you managed to cut the crap out of your ass in Caem?”

The truthful answer was nothing Prompto wanted to confirm with an eight-year-old present. It’d been bad enough with Gladio’s fifteen-year-old sister within earshot. He was too tired to be embarrassed. He’d been twenty, and stupid kids did stupid shit and periodically won stupid prizes.

“Let’s just say you weren’t the only one with a crush on Noct,” Prompto answered stiffly, and to his annoyance, his voice decided it would be a good time to crack on him. Twenty-eight, and his voice still liked to do that sometimes.

Iris’s radiant but exhausted smile spoke volumes.

“Can we go home now?” Callie asked plaintively.

#final fantasy 15 #final fantasy xv #ffxv #ff15 #final fantasy xv fanfiction #final fantasy 15 fanfiction #ffxv fanfic #ff15 fanfiction #ffxv prompto #prompto argentum #prompto x iris #horror #my-stories #my stories #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #cross posted on ao3

[mrswint3rs]

More Than He Bargained For

a/n- def gonna write like this more often. It’s sm easier to piece together 😭

NSFW WARNING:

contains- phone sex, sending nudes🙀, mutual masturbation

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Best friend! Prompto who’s been crushing on you since you first met back in high school. Never having the confidence to admit his true feelings, always fearing you’re way out of his league.

Best friend! Prompto who remained friends with you regardless of wanting to be more. Always listening to you rant about your boyfriends who never treated you right. He would. He wanted to so badly, but he was certain you didn’t see him like that.

Best friend! Prompto who’s always at your beck and call. Though he rarely had plans, he always canceled for you if he did. You were his priority even if he wasn’t yours.

Best friend! Prompto who looks forward to all of your texts, no matter what they’re about. He was just happy that you talked to him at all.

Best friend! Prompto who falls asleep on call with you, as a real boyfriend would. Watching and giggling with you as you screen share your favorites on tiktok. Agreeing on the fictional men you find attractive, wishing you’d say those things about him.

Best Friend! Prompto who is utterly shocked at the sight of your naked body via text. Was it an accident? Surely you didn’t mean to send it to him. It was the middle of the night, maybe you just weren’t paying attention.

Best friend! Prompto who sits in chat, just staring at the image before him, dumbfounded. He has no clue on what to say. Should he correct your mistake? Compliment you like he really wants to? Truthfully, he’s never received or sent nudes a day in his life. Sure, he watched porn from time to time but this was different. He knew you. Spent almost all of his free time with you.

Best friend! Prompto who panics internally, feeling so guilty for being turned on to this degree when it probably wasn’t even meant for him. He was hoping you’d realize what had happened, go through the awkward confrontation of the situation so he didn’t have to be the one to bring it up.

Best friend! Prompto who panics even further at the abrupt ringing of his phone. Your beautiful contact photo popping up. The one he took with his camera and adores.

Best friend! Prompto who turns into a stuttering mess as soon as he answers your call. Your voice taking on an unusually soft and seductive tone, one he’d never heard from you. When you ask him what he thought of the picture, time stands still. You really did send it to him purposefully. He didn’t understand where this was coming from. He was so convinced he was nothing more than a friend. Convinced you would never see him as anything other than that. He accepted that a long time ago. So why was this happening now? Out of nowhere.

He goes silent, unknowing of what to say. His cock was growing painfully hard, the image of your pretty tits burned into his brain. He wanted to feel them in his hands, squeeze them, burrow his face between them. Kiss every part of you. But he could never say that aloud. His words catch in his throat, refusing to come out as he wanted. “U-uhm what picture? I haven’t been on my phone, I was playing King’s Knight…”

Fucking idiot. Of course you already knew he saw it. And you knew his gaming console wasn’t in working condition, you talked about it earlier in the day. But that was all he knew how to say. He couldn’t get his overthinking brain to work. He couldn’t think with both heads at once.

Palming himself ‘discreetly’ on the other end, he uses your picture. Thinking he’s pro enough to be silent, but he’s not. Poor boy can’t even control his breath, seemingly forgetting the phone is right up to his face.

“What are you doing now?” you ask teasingly. You weren’t at all oblivious. Fully aware of his feelings for you. Or at least as of recently because he started slacking. Staring at you when he thought you weren’t looking, sneaking screenshots of you when you were asleep on FaceTime. Half the time you weren’t, but you found it adorable. You became more aware of how nervous and red faced he’d get every time you’d hang out. The look he had when you tried on outfits, asking him to judge which was best. He wasn’t subtle at all.

Even you don’t know what came over you. You just had the urge to send yourself to him. Wanted him to lose his mind over you. It felt good. His reaction was expected. Prompto had never even had a girlfriend, that you were aware of at least. It just felt good, being able to make someone into such a mess. His inability to answer your simple questions said enough about how he was feeling, failed attempts at playing it cool. That and his unsteady breathing into the phone.

You knew he was too shy to make a move, considering he’s hidden his feelings for 4 years straight. So you decided to push things. Turning on your camera and setting it up to give him the perfect view of everything. Sat on your bed, propped up by your elbows with your thighs spread apart. Prompto couldn’t contain himself, letting out the slightest moan at the sight before him. Still unknowing of what to say.

“Let me see you,” you request, grinning. “Unless you’re busy playing ‘king’s knight’?”

He had to man up, pull himself together. You were fully on display for him. Giving yourself to him even though he didn’t do anything to deserve it. How did he get so lucky? Was it because you were bored? Or maybe you actually liked him. He never considered that even once. But either way, he couldn’t get out of this, nor did he want to.

So he sets up his phone, positioned on his side table. Taking a deep breath before turning on the camera. He lay there in only his boxers, his bedside lamp illuminating enough so you could see the majority of him. “Is this…good?”

You respond by bringing your hand between your legs, fingers tauntingly circling your clit. “Take the rest off for me.”

He hesitates, he’s never done anything of the sort. But for you, he would do anything. Your wish is his command. He lifts himself, slipping out of his boxers and into nothing, his erection standing tall. It feels so awkward and exposing, yet so natural. The view of your fingers teasing yourself without shame makes him twitch, like a puppy wagging it’s tail.

“Do I have to give you instructions on how to do everything?” So demanding, he never expected it from a sweet girl like you. But he liked it.

He got the memo, pumping a wasteful amount of lotion into his sweaty palm. Putting his insecurities and fears aside, he slowly strokes himself, watching you on the other side. His overwhelming anxiety slipping away as your fingers slip inside your wet hole. His mouth opens agape, yet he’s holding his breath.

He can hear it. Hear the lewd gushing of your pussy as you fuck your fingers into yourself. Hear your soft moans growing louder. As if seeing you like this wasn’t erotic enough.

He tries to match your pace, fisting his cock into his hand as if it was your warm, welcoming cunt. God he wishes so badly that it was. He can’t hold back anymore, whines tumbling out of him. He’s not even embarrassed anymore, it feels too good. His whole body is on fire, legs stiff out in front of him. The more you get into it, the more he does. You were thrusting your fingers in and out so fast it seemed like the camera was lagging. Not even trying to quiet yourself. The girl of his dreams was putting on such a perfect show for him.

Whimpering pathetically, twisting and squeezing down on his cock. You made him feel so much better than any plot-holed porn video ever could. Pre cum leaking out from his swollen tip. He can’t take his eyes off of you, barely even blinking, not caring how silly he may look right now. His eyebrows furrowed, mouth dry from gasping and whining. “Mnn does that feel good? Wish you were fucking me right now, hm?”

Your dirty talking almost kills him. Hand picking up speed, almost enough to hurt. “Just imagine how tight and wet i’d be for you, Prompto.”

The way you say his name in that low, needy voice of yours. As if you needed him as badly as he needed you. His hips jerk, balls tightening as well as his core. He couldn’t hold on for much longer. As much as he tried to hold off, his wrists wouldn’t halt. He needed to cum badly, you were forcing it out of him.

It builds excruciatingly until he just can’t. Cum shooting all over his midriff in spurts. More cum than he’s ever produced in his lifetime. His hand slows, squeezing upwards as he milks the last of it out. Having to stop when he gets too sensitive, causing him to squirm and whine in almost frustration.

You were still going, hurrying to finish up. Trying to catch his breath, he relaxed, just enjoying seeing you in your horny state. One pair of fingers rubbing rapidly at your bundle of nerves, the other steadily stuffing your sopping entrance. Your face scrunching as you finally reach climax. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. The way you nervously giggle after finishing made his heart melt. “We should do this more often..” you say in a quizzical manner.

His length softens against himself, feeling satisfied and suddenly really cold. He covers himself with his blanket after cleaning the mess off of himself. Getting settled for the night. He was going to sleep better than ever. “Yeah, we really should…”

mlist

#prompto argentum x reader #ffxv x reader #ffxv fanfic #ffxv prompto #ff15 #ff15 prompto #final fantasy x reader #final fantasy 15 #final fantasy series #final fantasy xv #smut #fanfiction #short #fem reader #anon ask #prompto argentum #prompto x reader

[tonberry-yoda]

hi hello okay i’m back because i just heard that FINAL FANTASY 16 IS COMING OUT AND IM SUPER PUMPED BC LIKE AHHHHHHHH! but with that being said, can you write hcs for the chocobo boys (if not just prompto is fine💕) with a medic s/o? they are kinda witchy but love cooking and handling animals but they also are the medic for the team bc the squad can’t all rely on noct😭😭 gaaahh tysm and BIG CONGRATS ON THE MAGAZINE THATS SO FRIGGIN COOL!!!💕💕

Chocobros with a medic s/o

notes - I HAD TO GET TO THIS ONE BECAUSE IVE HAD A SECRET FFXV BRAINROT AHHHH. And omg I am also super excited for FFXVI!!!! <33333 I just love this idea too so thank you so so so so much for sending it in <333 AND OMFG THANK YOU FOR THE CONGRATS IT MEANS THE WORLD I AM SO EXCITED TO SHOW YOU GUYS!!!

Prompto

this man is so grateful to you

like you are his saving grace

we all know this little dummy will find his way to fall in a ditch and hurt his arm by accident

without you, he'd probably be dead LMFAO

he will always walk up to you and in the cutest little voice be like... "y/n, I hurt my arm again"

and you'll just jokingly sigh and fix him right up

he always asks you about how you do it and all that and finds it really cool that you are able to fix him up with herbs and stuff

and when you cook for him??? he would never tell iggy, but he loves your cooking more ;)

also the fact that you're good with animals makes chocobos love you which means they are always just around you and that makes prompto love you more <3

Ignis

BRAINROT

you two definitely were the enemies to lovers troupe

like you were competing

you both could cook and take care of the others so it was immediate competition

you were always pushing each other around in a kitchen or whatever

but then you realized it was easier for you to deal with stuff as a team

and ofc you fell in love <3

he thinks you are very talented and honestly, when he's hurt, he will come to you and always feel bad lol

like he will feel like a burdan

please remind him that he isnt <3

he will love to learn how you use your herbs and stuff <3

overall, he just loves how amazing and talented you are and is so thankful about how you help the rest of the group

Gladio

this man trusts you with his life

he is always getting beat up and needs you there by his side to help

he appreciates it a bunch

and you'll always call him a big dummy when he gets hurt and then get straight to working on him, but that always makes him blush

make him ramen

please

like homemade stuff

please stop this man from eating cup noodles

but yeah, he is always getting hurt so to watch you work on him and help him out means the world to him

Noctis

this man gets too embarrassed to tell you he's hurt, so you always have to spot it

omg what a child

you will always get on his ass about that and he'll just be blushing as you work on him

ignis gets mad because you are super nice about Noct being picky and will make him food he enjoys instead of trying to make him something he doesnt like lol

you will baby him a bit because he is the king and he needs to be protected <3

he gets blushy when you do and act like he doesnt like it, but we all know he does <3

~~~~~

final fantasy masterlist | pinned post

2023 @tonberry-yoda – do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated

~~~~~

#tonberry answers #asks #requests #writing #my writing #moots <3 #fanfic #fanfiction #<3 #final fantasy #final fantasy x reader #ffxv #ffxv x reader #final fantasy 15 #final fantasy 15 x reader #prompto #prompto x reader #ignis #ignis x reader #gladio #gladio x reader #noctis #noctis x reader

[tomolari]

Hello again! again! Sorry for the long absence! There were health reasons for that!

#final fantasy gladiolus #gladnis #ff15 fanfiction #ff15 #ffxv fanart #ff15 ignis #ffxv gladio #final fantasy 15 #prompto x noctis #final fantasy xv prompto #ff15 noctis #ffxv noctis #promptis #prince noctis #final fantasy ignis

[wishmasters-muse]

The way I want to write an AU where Noctis renounces his claim to the throne and instead all the boys become hunters. 👀

#ao3 #fanfiction #ao3 author #final fantasy #final fantasy xv #final fantasy 15 #ffxv #ffxv ignis #ffxv prompto #ffxv noctis #ffxv gladiolus #ff15 noctis #noctis #noctis lucis caelum #prompto argentum #ignis scientia #gladiolus amicitia #fic writing

[the-gamer-land]

#final fantasy 16 #final fantasy #final fantasy 15 #final fantasy fanfiction #final fantasy fanart #ps5 #ps5share #playstation #playstation 5 #final fantasy 7

[krisssssssy]

I had to bust out another chapter, the desire to write Ardyn being a douchebag was too strong. So voila!

#ardyn izunia #ardyn lucis caelum #ff15 ardyn #final fantasy 15 #ffxv #final fantasy fanfiction #ardyn x reader #ardyn izunia fanfic #ardyn izunia x reader #ff15 fanfic #ffxv fanfic #ao3 #ao3 link

[omegothic]

okay but chocobros as killjoys. i think i just opened a portal to hell

noctis as party poison because he is the main character

prompto as kobra kid because blond and cute

gladio as fun ghoul because i feel like they are the most temperamental

and ignis as jet star because mom friend yeah

and both stories end bad. love the loser kings

#chocobros #killjoys #true lives of the fabulous killjoys #danger days the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #final fantasy #final fantasy 15 #final fantasy xv #noctis lucis caelum #gladiolus amicitia #prompto argentum #ignis scientia #fun ghoul #party poison #kobra kid #jet star #i've never read a single page of this comic all my impressions of the characters are powered by delusion #mostly by fanfiction though #is the world ready for this post? not sure #this kind of wisdom visits me only when i've had 4 or less hours of sleep

[insert-vicit-omnia]

I never post.

But with the blessing of @gingerel, I present the ugly early stages of fanfiction book binding:

Been busting my backside, but they're all formatted and ready to print!

Which fics are these? Oh, only a few favorites written by the wonderful GingerEl! All Final Fantasy XV, because who could ever get enough? No one. So, I'm printing them for a trip to Yosemite.

The works include:

#ffxv #gingerel #noctis lucis caelum #ignis scientia #final fantasy xv #prompto argentum #ignis ffxv #ff15 #final fantasy 15 #fanfiction #book binding

[rosemary-morgan]

Cor Leonis x F.Reader (x Yandere!Drautos) - Traitor (Part 1)

(Pictures/GIF are not mine! Found on Pinterest/Google/tumblr - Collage made by myself.)  

Many thanks to @fangirl-ramblings 🖤 she has been beta reading for me 🌹

Warning: Yandere!Drautos, obsessive behavior, angst, mention of death

Summary: You were supposed to be his, but instead Cor Leonis had found happiness with you. Drauto's obsession with you is getting worse by the day, until finally he would walk over dead bodies to get you.

Cor Leonis x F.Reader (x Yandere!Drautos) - Traitor (Part 1)

"I would prefer not to let you go at all, darling." Y/N looked up at Cor as her fingers gently caressed his bare chest. They had made love in these sheets for hours, and now they lay exhausted next to each other, with Y/N more than happy to have Cor all to herself for once. It often happened that Cor was away on a mission for days or even weeks at a time, all because of his work as a king's guard, and so she wouldn't get to see him. She could never be sure if she would reunite with him, because what he was doing was not without risks. "I know. But I have no choice but to go." Lovingly, Cor stroked through her hair as he looked at her pretty face. "Hey... don't give me that sad look. It's only for a short time and you know I don't take risks with my life. Don't worry." It was so easy to say, but Y/N was afraid of the day when someday someone would show up at her door and give her the terrible news that Cor was dead. Y/N buried her face against his neck and Cor could clearly hear her sigh, whereupon he put his strong arms around her body and just held her. Of course, he was afraid of not being able to return to her, but he was part of the King's Guard and he led the soldiers who fought for Lucis to help protect the people of this kingdom. But sometimes Cor wished he could withdraw from this great responsibility and enjoy life together with Y/N. So far, they had not even found the time to travel together. He wanted to be able to offer the young woman so much more, but his work took a lot out of him. "And tonight there will be a small celebration at the royal palace. You've been looking forward to that for weeks, Y/N." The young woman nodded, smiled a bit, and Cor was very happy to see that. He was also looking forward to it, especially as he couldn't wait to dance with her. Oh, he was very proud to call such a wonderful woman as Y/N his girlfriend. She was smart, beautiful and had her heart in the right place. Sure, some envious glances would be drawn to her, especially since Y/N was a lot younger than he was and one or the other wondered why she hadn't chosen a man of the same age. But the answer was simple. Cor Leonis was the man she loved. He was loving, tender and treated her as she should be treated; with the greatest respect that one had to show a woman. Fifteen years separated them. But what difference did that make? Age did not matter, as is well known, and Cor really did not look his age. Apart from that he was fit and well trained. "I got myself a wonderful dress and I'm sure you'll like it as much as I do!" "Mhm~ I'm looking forward to taking it off of you again" Cor purred, gently kissing her lips. The young woman smirked in amusement, looking into his wonderful blue eyes. "I'm sure that can be arranged."

A few days later...

"Don't worry. I'll be returning home in a few days." With a clearly worried look, Y/N looked up at Cor and yet she nodded. She had absolute understanding for his situation, because in the end it was his job to take care of this kingdom. "If something happens, Drautos will be there to protect you." Titus Drautos; leader and instructor of the Kingsglaives, and an excellent fighter. Titus nodded at Cor, then glanced at the beautiful woman he had secretly desired for months like no other woman. But she was tied to someone else and she showed no interest in him. Actually, Titus had decided to accept this fact, but he found it very difficult. Every time he saw her, his lust and hunger for this woman increased immeasurably. "I miss you already, darling," she whispered and Cor could see the tears in her eyes. He shook his head gently as he smiled at her, taking her petite face in his strong yet gentle hands. "No one will stop me from returning to you," he whispered to her before kissing her soft lips. Y/N could count on Cor, but no one could really say what tomorrow would bring and somehow the feeling crept over her that something bad would happen in the near future. This feeling was so intense that it gave her a stomach ache and made her feel more than uncomfortable. "I have to go now, Y/N. I love you." "I love you too, Cor." A final farewell kiss was shared before Cor descended the steps in front of the royal estate. Before getting into his black car, he threw the young woman a warm smile, which she instantly returned. "Don't worry. Cor is a survivor." The young woman heard Drauto's words and yet she was not really persuaded by them. "I hope he will return to me this time as well." Drautos forced a smile, even though jealousy had him in a tight grip. "He will. Don't worry."

But in the days that followed, Insomnia was to meet a horrible fate. The heart of the city was attacked by Niflheim and many people lost their lives. "Y/N! Y/N!" Drautos strode through the corridors of the palace, looking for the young woman to help lead her to safety. What would happen to his king, or to his loyal companions, did not interest him. Y/N was the only one he wanted to keep safe. He rushed into one of the countless rooms and he was more than happy when he found her. "Drautos!" "What are you still doing here? You need to get out of here right now!" Even as he spoke, Drautos walked up to the dark-haired woman and gently grabbed her hand. "What's happening out there, Drautos?!" She was scared, you couldn't blame her, and you could hear it clearly in her voice. "Insomnia is under attack!" She instantly realized that King Regis was the target. And not only him, but also his followers were chosen as victims. "Regis... Oh my god! I have to get to them!" But Drautos prevented her from risking her life, for that was exactly what she would lose if she moved through the palace without an escort. "Please let me go, Drautos! I have to take care of the injured!" For that was the young woman's job. She was a nurse, a healer, who pursued her profession with great passion. "Be reasonable, Y/N! I promised Cor to protect you!" Cor! Where was he? Hopefully he was not near the capital, otherwise something might have happened to him as well, and losing him would not be something the young woman could handle. "Where is he, Drautos? Have you heard anything from him?" The captain sighed deeply. He hadn't heard from Cor, but this moment would give him a golden opportunity he didn't want to miss. He played with the idea of lying to Y/N. "Cor... Is... he fell, Y/N." His words were barely getting through to her and she didn't know what to say in response at first. She just stared at him with wide eyes and a thick lump forming in her throat. "He won't come back." "No... No, no, no! What are you saying?" The first tears wet her delicate skin as she realized what Drautos was telling her. Her Cor was supposed to be dead? No! This could not be! "Drautos! He can't be dead!" she cried out outraged, hitting the officer as hard as she could against his chest. Luckily his armor prevented the feeling of any pain but the young woman kept hitting, so Drautos finally grabbed her wrists and made her stop. She would only hurt herself. "Y/N! If we don't get out of here, you'll die too! Is that what you want?!" Y/N sobbed loudly, completely distraught and shocked that Cor was no longer alive. "Who tells such lies?! Cor doesn't just die for no reason!" So now she would never be able to lie in his arms again? Never again be able to feel his skin on hers? His kisses and his touches would only be a memory? "I just got this message a few minutes ago. The men who were on a mission with him can confirm it." "No... no, that can't be..." When the young woman made no move, Drautos grabbed her arm and pulled her into a hug. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, but you're not going to die today either!" The young woman let the officer hug her, but his words gave her no comfort. How could she handle the death of her beloved Cor? Drautos looked at the young woman after he had moved away from her a bit. His hands still rested on her arms. "I gave Cor my word to protect you! And I will!" He reached for her hand and pulled her with him. If he had to, he would throw her over his shoulder to get her out of this building, but the young woman simply let Drautos lead her, because in the end, she didn't care what would happen to her. Drautos walked down the long corridor and in his mind things were happening that should not be. Things that should not be! He had already made the big mistake of lying to Y/N about Cor. Cor was still alive, Drautos was convinced of that, and he was on his way here to bring Y/N out of the capital. But Drautos was faster than the king's guard and may the gods forgive him, but he desired someone else's wife and this obsession was unbearable for him.

♦♦♦♦

Actually, she should get herself to safety. Yes, actually she should live on, but she just couldn't bring herself to leave Insomnia and without Cor, she didn't want to go anyway. She did not believe that he was dead. Y/N felt that he was still alive! And she knew he was on his way to her. But Drautos told her that Cor would not return. Why would he lie to her? During the whole car ride, she silently looked out the window and all felt pain as all the memories of her time together with Cor flooded her mind. Drautos drove on unperturbed, but every now and then, his eyes wandered over to her and he knew what he had done with his lie. But that was exactly how he wanted her to be, so that she would build trust in him, so that he would become the center in her shattered world and then, she would finally be his. Drautos was a patient man in many things, but as far as his passion for Y/N was concerned, it was a terrible enemy to his patience. "Where are we going?" "To Lestallum. There you will be safe!" Y/N said nothing in reply, for in the end she did not care. Not only had she lost Cor, but she had been driven from her home. By a power-hungry Niflheimer who was forcefully taking the kingdom of Lucis. The farther they went from Insomnia, the quieter it became. In Lestallum, there was no trace of the terrible attack on the kingdom. But the people in that city had felt the violent tremors and they were worried about the neighboring country. At some point Drautos brought the car to a halt, but Y/N made no move. Sighing, the officer turned to the beautiful woman and looked at her anxiously. "Come on, Y/N. You should rest and try to get some sleep. Do you want me to send for a doctor?" "No," was her curt reply, but she did not turn her gaze to him. Drautos sighed again, but got out of the car and went around to the passenger side to open the door for the young woman. When he held out his hand to her, she looked up at him and her expression was full of sadness. Her eyes swollen and red from the salty tears she had shed. "Let me be there for you, Y/N," he said in a soft voice and Y/N seemed to hesitate for a moment, but finally she grabbed his hand and got out of the car.

♦♦♦♦

"Sir! Over here, sir!" Cor was shocked by the violence reflected before his eyes. So many victims lay under the rubble and the only thing he could think about right now was Y/N and his king. "Where is the king? Is he safe?!" But Cor was disappointed in this regard. "He... he's dead, sir..." "My gods, no..." Cor sighed heavily, running his hand over his face and thus wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Goddammit! Those bastards!" It was hard to believe that King Regis was no longer alive. How could this have happened? Where were his bodyguards? Where was Drautos? Cor himself had not been able to be with him, for the king had sent him on a mission, and yet, Cor blamed himself terribly for that. For 29 years now, he had been a member of the King's Guard to protect his king, but today, on this fateful day, he had failed. "Where is Y/N? Have you taken her to safety?!" His concern for the young woman was enormous, for he had been unable to reach her by phone and he could only hope that she was not among the victims. "Sir, she went with Officer Drautos earlier!" Cor had no idea what Drautos had done and what his true intentions were regarding Y/N. "Do you have any idea where Drautos might have taken Y/N? Have you had a chance to speak with him?" "No, I'm sorry sir! Have you not tried to reach him by calling him?" "I can't get through to him or Y/N!" said Cor as he held up his smartphone a bit, but the wireless network was completely down. "When did they leave?" Cor put his smartphone back in his jacket pocket while waiting for more information from the soldier. "About an hour ago, sir!" A soft sigh slipped across Cor's lips when he heard that. Lestallum was not far from here and a safe place. There was nothing left for the commander to do but search Lestallum for her, and he hoped he would find her as soon as possible. In the meantime, Cor tried to reach the two of them by phone, but Insomnia was just one more dead zone. "Damn..." But before Cor would start searching for his girlfriend, he wanted to check on his king one last time and say goodbye. So he set himself in motion. "Take care of the injured! Make sure and look for any other survivors! Go!" "Sir! Yes, sir!"

♦♦♦♦

"I don't believe Cor is dead..." "I wish he were still alive, Y/N. But..." Drautos lied shamelessly to her face and it was getting easier for him, but she seemed convinced that Cor was still alive. "Y/N, you're exhausted and you've been through a lot. Why don't you go lie down? And I'll get you something to eat?" But Y/N wouldn't hear of it. She was far too upset to retire. "No, Drautos." "Okay." He headed for the door, and before leaving the room, he turned to her once more. "I'll be in the room next door if you need anything." With that, he left the young woman alone in the hotel room. The moment Drautos left the room, she burst into tears again. Her heart was bleeding because something inside her had died. How could she go on living like this without her soul mate? Cor was her everything. He couldn't just be dead! Suddenly, the vibrating of the smartphone drew the young woman's attention. Drautos had left his phone on the table and suddenly the thought crept into her mind that this call was meant for her. Or maybe it was just the little spark of hope inside her that told her so. Finally Y/N decided to take the smartphone and when she read the name on the display, her heart almost stopped in shock. Cor Leonis. Immediately she picked up the call and she was already afraid that it was not her Love who was talking to her, but one of his men. "Drautos? Drautos, can you hear me?! Where are you?" It was his voice! It was Cor speaking on the other end of the line. Not a word left the young woman's pretty lips at first. "Drautos! Damn it, can you hear me?" "Cor..." "Y/N?!" She had sensed from the beginning that Cor was still alive! Y/N was immensely relieved and this time, it was tears of joy she shed. "You're alive! It's really you!" Cor frowned a bit in confusion, wondering where she would even get the idea that he was dead. "Y/N! Are you all right?" Cor was driving through the streets at a fast speed, probably way over the limit, but he didn't care because he wanted to be with Y/N. "Yes! I'm fine, darling!" "Where are you, Y/N? Where did Drautos take you?" It suddenly became quiet on the phone, as Y/N wondered why Drautos had told her about Cor's death. From a safe source his words had come, Drautos had claimed. She frowned as she replayed Drautos' words in her mind. What possessed him to lie to her like this? Something told her that he had done this on purpose. That bad feeling she had had from the very beginning when she had gotten into the car with Drautos had been a warning. "Y/N! Y/N, are you still there?" "Drautos told me you were dead." "What? What did he say?" Judging from his tone, he didn't like that fact at all. He pushed the stick into fifth gear a little harder than he would have liked, while pushing the gas pedal even more unrestrained. "He said one of your men informed him..." "None of my men did anything like that! I don't know why he would tell you something like that, but I don't like it at all! Where are you, Y/N?" "I'm in Lestallum. I..." The next moment the door to her room opened and Drautos stood at the door, seeing that the young woman was holding his phone. Y/N gave the officer a disregarding look as she finished the following words. "I'm waiting for you at the Hotel Leville, Cor!" Drautos gasped when he heard that name. He had blown his cover and the young woman did not seem pleased by it...

Next chapter is coming soon...

#cor leonis #cor leonis x reader #cor leonis x female reader #final fantasy #final fantasy fandom #final fantasy 15 #ffxv #titus drautos #drautos #yandere #yandere!drautos #drautos x f.reader #toxic behavior #angst #fanfiction #fanfictions #writers on tumblr #my fanfictions

[itsgeecheebitch]

Until Darkness Descends

Chapter: 42/?

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV

Rating: Explicit

Series: The Fall Part 1 of 4

Main Pair: Ardyn Izunia x Reader

Sec Pair: Gladiolus Amicitia x Reader

    A few days passed when the team finally located the regalia. Turns out  the empire had it all along just as Gladiolus had suspected. With the car back in your possession, and your plans for Cape Caem falling into place, you and the boys made your way to Lestallum. None of you had any intention of leaving Iris and the others in the city while you sailed east to Altissia. 

      Cid had informed you of a safe house he built near the lighthouse in Caem. Quiet, spacious, remote, a perfect hiding place from the empire. Iris, Talcott, and Jared would be safe there unlike in Lestallum. While Iris and the others were currently living amongst refugees from the capital, strength in numbers didn't mean much when they had a close connection to the five most wanted ‘fugitives’ Nilfheim was after. 

       Leaning your head back, the sun beamed down on your face, turning the inside of your eyelids red as you closed them. You hoped they would agree to go. While Cape Caem wasn't as exciting as a bustling city, it was safer and they would be surrounded by guards who would protect them. The deep rumbling of an engine disturbed your musings, alerting you to something huge flying overhead.

        Opening your eyes, you saw a massive platform soar through the sky. The insignia for the empire stared back at you from the platform’s edge. A dizzying bout of unease rushed through your system. It was flying in the direction of the city. Lestallum had remained a free city state for so long, but something told you it would be the empire’s next destination…and soon. So soon it made the back of your neck prickle with raised hair. You needed to get the three of them out of the city before that could happen.

       The sounds and smells of the city greeted the five of you as you arrived. The fetid stench of sulfur from the factories curled around your nose, nearly burying the savory scent from the food stalls that dotted the industrial landscape. Parking the car, you and the boys made your way to the Leville. 

         The sun was on your back, heating your skin till it glistened with sweat. Once you arrived at the hotel, you found Iris standing in the lobby alone. Her cheeks puffy and her eyes rimmed red. Dread froze your stomach solid. You knew something terrible had happened even before she said it. 

       “Oh Gladdy…”, she whimpered.

       Muscles tensed, Noctis approached her. “What's wrong?”

      “It's Jared…something happened!” Iris cried. Without another word, the boys escorted her to one of the rooms you had pre-booked, your gut in knots as she revealed everything that had happened. A few days ago Niflheim soldiers had stormed the Leville, looking for you and the boys after you had regained the regalia. Enraged that you weren’t there, they slaughtered Jared in your stead. 

       Ice spread over your chest like a tumor till all you could feel was guilt. You knew Jared for as long as you knew your boyfriend and his sister. Although he had alway maintained a certain level of decorum, as dictated by his profession, he was always warm. Kind. He didn't deserve to die when he did nothing wrong. A tear slid down your face before you realized it had fallen. 

      You wondered who it was that ordered the manhunt. Was it Ardyn? Was that why he allowed you and your friends to drive off with the regalia? A shudder rushed across your body. You knew they would retaliate for what you did to their base, but you didn’t think it would result in one of your own paying the price for it.

      The door hinges keened as it was forced open. Your heart broke in two when you saw it was Talcott standing in the doorway. Rising from his chair, Noctis knelt in front of him, opening and closing his mouth while he tried to find the words to say.  “It's not right, we should've been here.” He said.

     “I…I couldn't stop them!” Talcott cried.

      A part of you wanted to comfort the boy too. Pull him into your arms and promise that everything would be okay, but you knew it wouldn't be. At the end of the day he would still be left without his grandfather, the only family he had left. It was probably Ardyn's fault that he was orphaned a second time.

      You missed the rest of the exchange and watched as the little boy walked away. The ghost of his tears haunted you and made your chest swell with unshed tears.

      “I'm taking Talcott and we're going somewhere else.” Iris said, wiping her eyes with the backside of her hand. “Lestallum isn't safe anymore. We can't just stay here and wait for them to come back!”

      Gladiolus knelt down beside her and placed his hand over hers. “We actually came here to make arrangements for you and Talcott to go to Caem. We'll make sure you guys get there safely so you don't have to worry.”

       “Who's taking us?” She asked. 

       “Monica more than likely. she seemed on board when we last called.”

       “Okay...are we leaving together?”

       “Unfortunately, no.” You whipped your head around to Ignis who was leaning against the wall. A frown was on his face as he delivered his next words. “It'll take Monica a little over two days to reach here from where she is currently stationed. We cannot risk delaying our arrival.”

      A shadow of disappointment darkened her crestfallen face. It didn't seem fair to leave Iris and Talcott all alone after what happened. They already spent so many days alone with their grief only to be told they had to do it a second time. But it couldn't be helped. Noctis needed to get to Altissia as soon as possible. During their encounter with Gentiana, the group found out Lunafreya planned to awaken the water goddess.

      You guys had no way of knowing when she planned to do it, which was why you had to get there as soon as possible. But still, this situation didn't feel right. 

       Your boyfriend seemed to agree since he said, “don't worry I'm not going anywhere.” Then he turned to address the rest of you. “I'll hitch a ride with Monica and keep Iris company.”

      “No, I'll stay back.” You said before you could stop yourself. “Noctis needs his shield, he can't risk losing you while the empire is on our trail. In fact, if any of us is going to stay back then Iris may as well ride with you guys. there'll be room in the back and I'll just hitch a ride with Monica and Talcott.”

       Gladiolus stood up from his position on the floor and folded his arms over his chest. “Nah, it'll be too dangerous.”

       “So is leaving her with Monica as her only defense.” You reasoned. “The empire knows our faces, they may even know that Iris is an Amicitia. if the empire wants to strike someone close to the crown, then they would do it whether or not she is with you. Iris would be more protected riding with the four of you than with Monica.”

        The room fell silent with everyone contemplating your words. Ignis was the first to break the ice, rubbing his chin in that way of his that let you know he was thinking. “You make a rather compelling argument.”

      “I say we take her with us, it might be fun.” Prompto said.

       Noctis turned to you. “You sure you're okay with staying behind?”

      “Yeah.” You replied. “It's the least I could do.” It took some convincing but Gladiolus agreed eventually. When that was settled, Iris went back to her room, leaving the boys to discuss their frustrations over Jared. Prompto proposed getting revenge on the empire and Noctis remembered the flying Niflheim base they rode passed on the way here.

        It was a unanimous decision once the suggestion was made and the boys took off in search of the base, leaving you to watch over a heartbroken Iris and tearful Talcott. You tried to cheer them up as best as you could for the rest of the day, rented movies from the hotel’s cinema library, played cards, and strolled through the building.

       But at night with the kids tucked in bed, it was you who was swamped with thoughts. The room was dark with only a thin stream of silver light to illuminate the four walls of the room. Noctis and the others weren't back yet and would more than likely not return till tomorrow. It was in that moment that your mind began to play, haunting you like a tune echoing through an abandoned opera house. 

       Memories you hadn't thought about in a while floated into your head like notes of sweet perfume, making your chest twinge with bittersweet nostalgia. You remembered the first time you met Jared. It was on a cool evening. The desert wind was cruel as it whipped your face and brushed the ring of inflamed flesh that was around your neck.

      You were eleven at the time. Ardyn hadn't visited you in over three weeks and your parents were becoming crueler by the day. Thoughts of running away were what propelled your legs despite the burning in your chest. Pins and needles danced on your face, freezing the tears rushing down your cheeks. You turned a corner and bumped into something solid and warm before crashing onto the ground. 

      When you looked up you saw wisps of white hair and a face weathered by years of hard work. Panic bubbled in your throat at the first trace of recognition. You’ve seen this man a few times before. At a distance and occasionally accompanying the Amicitia family heir. He worked for them. If he worked for a powerful noble family then that meant he more than likely knew who you were. 

        The bubble in your throat popped, flooding your body with searing adrenaline. What if he asked where your parents were? What if he took you back? Your mind raced, competing with the thrashing of your beating heart. But instead of one of your nightmare scenarios coming to life he knelt down on the ground, dropping his bags of groceries as he did. 

      He asked if you were alright. When you didn’t answer you saw his eyes zero in on the angry welts wrapped around your neck. You slapped your hand over the marks and quickly healed then. Much to your surprise, he didn't ask about them and instead offered to buy you tea and a warm meal, which you accepted after a brief moment of hesitation. Since then, Jared had become something of a grandfather to you. He was aware of what most people pretended to not notice. He helped you befriend the Amicitia children so you could have a home away from home whenever you needed an escape.

        You released the balloon building in your chest and sobbed into your pillow. He was a good man. He didn't deserve to die. Never again would you be able to see his warm smile, or taste his pancakes, or even talk to him. A sharp pain cleaved a chunk of your heart. You just keep losing the people you care about left and right. You lost your circus family and now you lost Jared…and it could've been Ardyn's fault.

       The door groaned and you sat up. Wiping away your tears, you expected to see Talcott or Iris when the clawing scent of citrus hit your nose. Your eyes hardened at the towering shadow moving through the dark. A blade of silver light peeled the shadows from his face, revealing his brilliant amber eyes.

      You turned away. “What do you want?”

       “I came to check on you, my dear. I know my...affection must've troubled you.” Ardyn said. Warmth leeched down your legs at the memory his words had inspired.But you choked it down quickly before it could reveal itself on your face.

        “That kiss is the farthest thing from my mind right now” You mumbled. Your glare cut through the darkness till you found his gaze. “Did you send them? The soldiers that came here, did you order them to kill someone close to the prince?”

         The floorboards creaked the closer he came to your bed. “No, but I was aware of it nonetheless. It was Lieutenant Fleuret who orchestrated the ambush. I advised against it, but it seems he heeded none of it. I truly feel sorry for your loss, my dear.”

          You felt your animosity, as fragile as it was, crumble to dust and float away on the wind. An all encompassing despair took its place, slamming into you like violent waves against a rocky cliff. The bed dipped. His hand wrapped around the back of your head and guided you down to his chest. Your fingers curled into his coat as you sobbed.

          You breathed him in, soaking up that tropical scent that accompanied him wherever he went. It flooded your lungs, warming the melancholy that trapped your insides in a block of ice. Then you remembered yourself. “You need to go.” You pulled away but Ardyn refused to let you go. “You can’t be here.”

       “I come as a friend and nothing more, you have my word.” It was a weak argument but it was enough to shatter the last of your defenses. You didn't fight him as he guided you back into his arms. You knew this was anything but platonic. There was love in the way he rubbed your back. His lips were a feather light touch on the top of your head. Now that his affections were made clear as day, you couldn't read his touch as anything else than what it truly was. 

       Instead of turning it away, you invited it with open arms. You cried into his chest, knowing it wasn't right to find comfort in the arms of another man. You just made a promise to yourself that you would be a better girlfriend for Gladiolus, all it took to discard that promise was one little visit from the man you never truly stopped wanting. 

       You were foul in every sense of the word but at this moment you didn't care. Gladiolus was miles away and left you to face your grief on your own. You weren't strong enough to stand under the full weight of it by yourself. Nor were you strong enough to withstand the full depth of your failure. Twice had you failed the people who needed you most. You weren't there when king Regis fell to his enemies and you weren't there when Jared met his demise. 

       Glittery green light swirled around your fingers like fireflies, as if reminding you of the power that coursed through your veins. You sighed and the light faded away from your hand. What was the point of having the ability to undo death if you couldn't use it to save the people you cared about? 

       Your face lit up with an idea. You looked up at Ardyn with a face damped with tears. “What did they do to his body? to Jared's?” You said. Hope rode hard on your lungs, making your breaths come out in thin gasps. Maybe there was a way to bring Jared back. Ardyn was a prominent politician in the empire, one with enough power to bring you Jared’s remains unquestioned. 

       Sympathy flitted across his face and your hopes died on a whimper. “There is nothing left to salvage of his remains, I'm afraid.” His arms tightened around you. “Even if I could scrap up what is left, it would not be enough to revive him, I'm sorry.”

       Ardyn rocked you, silencing your anguish with gentle shushes and feather light caresses. He tucked you in once your tears finally stopped. Without a word, he rose from the bed and approached the door. Only stopping when you whimpered, “don't go…”

       The shadows masked the way his shoulders tensed and he came back to the bed. Your side warmed as he laid down beside you and pulled you back into his arms. 

      It was about an hour or so ago when you fell asleep, but Ardyn remained. The moon shone brightly against your face, illuminating every lash that laid against your cheeks. His finger whispered across your jaw, so softly, barely touching, as though you were a freshly painted portrait he didn't want to disturb. 

       Almost two weeks had passed since he began to wonder who you really were. The more he looked at you, the more that crushing agony devoured his chest. He had longed for you for so long. Longed to touch you, to kiss you, to talk to you, now that he had you he was about to lose you all over again. 

        This time by his own hand. Over the past two weeks he agonized over his options, combing through every scenario in the hopes that one would leave you alive. He considered just killing Noctis. But just like you he was under the gods’ protection. He wouldn't die until he became the chosen king and fulfilled his role.

      Ardyn considered stealing you away ahead of time. Hide you within the heart of the empire and kill Noctis when the time comes. But just as the prophecy dictated, if he allowed himself to be happy with you, to fully embrace his love for you, his powers would weaken and he would succumb to his brother’s descendent.

      No matter the scenario the end result remained the same. Unless he was willing to forsake his revenge he had no choice but to hurt you. Ardyn held you tighter against him. There was another option he considered, but only briefly. He could spend his final days with you before offering himself up to the slaughter. It was the only option that would leave you happy and live, the only one where he would be able to enjoy his wife before losing you forever. But it was an option he could not take.

       He had come too far to let it all go to waste now. No matter how much he cared about you it would never be enough to quench his need for revenge. If that was the path he chose then he did not deserve to be with you. He did not deserve to hold you in his arms and bask in the temporary peace it gave him. Peeling away from you, he rose from the bed and conjured a piece of paper from thin air. 

       Scribbling a quick note, he left his number at the bottom of the page and left the note for you on the nightstand. His heart was heavy as he reached for the door. He knew he shouldn’t have but he looked back at you one final time. You didn’t deserve what he was about to do to you. But Ardyn was no longer the selfless healer you fell in love with 2,000 years ago. He was a hardened monster that could only deliver pain and the only thing you would ever receive from him was pain. Opening the door, he walked away with his heart breaking off piece by piece.  

#fanfiction #fanfic #a03 fanfic #ardyn lucis caelum #ffxv ardyn #ardyn izunia #final fantasy xv #ardyn izunia x reader #ardyn x reader #final fantasy x reader #ff15 #ffxv fanfic #final fantasy #final fantasy 15 #prompto argentum #chocobros #gladiolus amicitia #gladiolus x reader #ffxv gladiolus #prompto #gladiolus amiticia #noctis #ffxv ignis #ignis scientia #afab reader #female reader #x reader #reader insert #character x reader #minors do not interact

[firefallvaruna]

'The Winding Road' Progress?

Nothing like working on your story and realizing it's going to be much longer than previously anticipated, also realizing that the timing for everything is off, and then realizing there are a ton of interconnected things from here on out.

In short: Yes, I outlined. No, I didn't fully anticipate all the things I was going to do in it. No scope creep: just simultaneously overthinking and underestimating my own plot. (Coupled with a surprise ear infection and Zelda--because, of course.)

In short: I'm a derp.

#ffxv fanfic #ff15 fanfiction #fanfiction #final fantasy xv fanfiction #final fantasy 15 fanfiction

[ichilemonwritruoo]

Some of My Hurt Noctis Fics 👀

Prince Like Despair: Noctis has a mini freak accident when he bangs his right side into the hotel's bathroom sink and somehow he believes it causes the start of something much worse. Or: Noctis is an idiot and hides his condition until he ends up in the hospital because bathroom sinks do not cause appendicitis

Support Pillars (2023 Revisions)- Noctis, Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto a.k.a the crown prince and his entourage run into a lot of trouble when the epileptic prince and his anxiety disorder suffering best friend both run out of their prescription medication at the same time. That usually wouldn't be a problem….but the funds are already tight. With Noctis suffering from seizures and Prompto dealing with increased stomach aches, the gravity of the situation finally begins to set in. Someone is going to have to take one for the team.

Wishy-Washy Bubble Sniping- On the way out in the road, the Chocobros get chased and attacked mid ride by one of the Empire's Imperial Dropships. Prompto, Ignis, and Gladio have to break a few driving laws to defend their Prince and get him to safety as quickly as possible and help him recover during the aftermath. Maybe things wouldn't have been as serious if Noctis didn't suffer with severe motion sickness and had to suffer through it the entire time.

#ffxv #final fantasy 15 #noctis lucis caelum #prompto argentum #gladiolus amicitia #ignis scientia #ao3 fanfic #my fanfiction #Hurt Noctis #emetophobia warning

[wishmasters-muse]

I've put both of them up... what are you going to do? 😤

#ao3 #fanfiction #ao3 author #final fantasy #final fantasy series #final fantasy 15 #final fantasy xv #ffxv ignis #ffxv noctis #ffxv gladiolus #ffxv prompto #ffxv #ff15 ignis #ff15 prompto #ff15 gladio #ff15 noctis #ff15 #prompto argentum #ignis scientia #gladiolus amicitia #noctis lucis caelum #final fantasy fanfiction #final fantasy fanfic #BOBaB

[lemonsprite]

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 || 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐦 𝐱 𝐍𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐬 𝐂𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐦

Summary: this is literally just a Cinderella AU I made three years ago and am finally deciding to post TT

Word count: 3.4K

Warnings: parental verbal and physical abuse near the end!! Minor character death as well

A/N: I love them ugh

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Prompto loved his mom dearly. Ever since he could remember they’d spend every second together, most of the time it’d be in their home’s illustrious gardens. She’d lead Prompto’s clumsy legs through a waltz underneath a giant weeping willow, bending down low to the ground just so she could be face-to-face with Prompto. The blonde giggled the whole time in delight. He was like a baby giraffe when he tried to dance, his lanky legs bruised from days spent playing outside bumping together in an unceremonious heap.

My sun drop.” She’d hum in contentment, pushing Prompto’s messy blonde bangs from his eyes. Her son would flash her a wide grin, showing off his missing canine and his mom couldn’t stop herself from smiling back.

Despite being a widow, Prompto’s mother had always wanted the best for him. She would spend most of her time playing with the little blonde boy and mingling with fancy courtiers all to secure her son a bright future. It was hard work but at the end of the day, it was all worth it.

The queen of their nation had heard wind of this playfully strong mother and had raised an eyebrow in curiosity, waving over a retainer to jot down a message.

One of Prompto’s earliest memories is the queen’s first visit to their house. Their only servants, Cid and his grand daughter Cindy were practically a mess, trying to straighten out their young master well enough to appear in front of their monarch.

Cindy being only two years older than him had looked at him as if he were a dimwitted toddler unable to do anything by himself, as she straightened his clothing and brushed his sandy blonde bangs from his eyes.

The queen did not stop visiting after her first stay, his mother and her practically becoming surrogate sisters. The pair would get together for tea at least three times a week. Most of the time they’d meet at their house, but on rare occasions Prompto got to tag along to the royal palace. That was when he wore his fanciest clothes and used his finest manners.

It’d been a day such like that when the blonde boy had gotten his first encounter with the crown prince. The queen had brought her boy with, a small toddler with fluffy raven black hair that stuck up at odd ends. Prompto’s mother had giggled in delight when she’d first met the queen’s Noctis.

Her sun drop seemed to be just as enamored with the young prince as she was. At first Noctis seemed almost shy, as if afraid to even stand near Prompto. To the two women’s delights that didn’t seem to last long and all began to change when Prompto had drawn him a crudely colored rendition of them holding hands. Something seemed to light up in the raven-haired boys face as he ran up to his mother, his smile ecstatic as he excitedly gestured to the drawing in his hand. They’d sit together and use their limited vocabulary to babble back and forth as the two parents looked on in charm.

Prompto’s mother couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Noctis at one of their get-togethers. Last she heard of him he was off studying abroad in Tenebrae, far from their sleepy kingdom of Insomnia.

She could hardly tell at this point if Prompto even remembered his princely friend now that he lived so far away and it’d been three years since their last meeting. It saddened her heart to see his only friend far far away from her little sundrop.

—

“Mom, look what I made!” Called her son, running so fast that he collided into the flowing dress of his parent with a loud ‘oomph!’

In his hands, he clutched a piece of paper, wrinkles decorating the parchment due to his attentive grip.

“What is it Prompto?” She smiled around a cup of tea, the summer sun illuminating her blonde hair like marigolds.

“I drew you!” He exclaimed, lifting his prized artistry in the air for his mother to see.

Prompto’s mom smiled fondly at the scribbles loosely resembling a person on his paper, one large circle with four random lines protruding from it indicating limbs, a crudely drawn smile in the middle.

She took the drawing in her hands, tracing the lines with her fingers tenderly. To her, this was the most beautiful rendition she’d ever seen of herself.

“My little artist.” She cooed, handing back the paper to her son, caressing his cheek with her hand.

He beamed at her, showing off his missing front tooth.

As the years went by and her son turned ten, Prompto’s mom began to worry. Anxieties would bite at her thoughts, making her question her ability as a parent. Was growing up without a father going to affect her sun drop? He seemed to not have that many friends… Should she do something?

Once she’d brought this problem up with the queen she’d reassured her that she need not worry, but if she “Really needed another person there,” She knew plenty.

That was how she’d met Verstael Besithia, a man originally from Nifleheim and already had a son, just two years younger than her blonde boy.

Seven months after their first meeting and the two were married. Prompto’s mother never cared much for Verstael, they’d gotten along decently enough and maybe with time she could actually learn to love him, what really mattered is that Prompto now had a fully functioning family.

Much to the young boys surprise, many changes came to their house when Verstael and his son Loqi moved in. Before it had been just the four of them, his mother and their two servants, but his new step father had decreed he just had to bring his house’s staff with him.

Soon their once peaceful home was bustling with life. All within the span of a week Prompto met with a stablehand, chef, and a multitude of maids who’d be helping him from that day on. It was all so new to the blonde, hiding behind his mother’s dress as he stared widely at all the new adults scurrying around their once lonely halls.

“It’s alright Prompto.” She’d smiled, running a hand through his dewy blonde curls. “They’re here to help.”

Prompto at the time had pouted, shaking his head silently in objection. His grip on her dress tightening.

His mother bit her lip in worry for her son, looking up at the people running back and forth. “How about we go meet your new brother?”

—

By the time Prompto had turned twelve, his affinity for drawing and his interest in art had only grown. The blonde had only needed to mention it once and his mother was already asking the queen for artisans she knew of that would be willing to teach her “sun drop” a thing or two.

Her highness had nodded enthusiastically, handing her a paper with the name ‘Cor Leonis’ written on it.

Cor, Prompto had found out early on, was an ex-guard. One who’d seen far too many battles for his time and just wanted to live out the rest of his life peacefully, with a paintbrush in his hand.

He’d come to their house four days out of the week, bringing with him his easel on his back and a scowl on his lips. Cor was never a happy man, but Prompto wasn’t blind to the way the corner of his lips would turn upwards in slight satisfaction of his apprentice's work.

Once Prompto had caught wind of the fact Cor used to be in the military, he’d begged the poor artisan for days to teach him archery. Practically grabbing the hem of his pants as he pouted at the tired man.

‘Only basics’ Cor had scolded, finally falling prey to the young boys sulking. He’d teach him the things he’d learned from his time early on in the royal guard, basics that wouldn’t injure him too badly if he messed up. Prompto was, after all, only a boy.

For now, they both sat in the studio a couple of servants built in Prompto’s home. It wasn’t that big of a space, just something his mom had quickly cleared out in preparation of her son’s new hobby. The bright sun filtered in through a big window, the golden hour light washing over the canvas’ of their art.

“How’s Verstael and Loqi?” Cor had asked attempting conversation as he added a few more strokes to a painting he’d already deemed finished earlier that day.

“Fine.” Mumbled Prompto, mixing pigments with a palette knife.

Cor raised a criticizing eyebrow, glancing at the blonde’s artwork.

“Then why have you been so sloppy today with your work?”

Prompto bit his lip, glancing anywhere but Cor.

“Look I won’t ask, but if those two Niflehiemians cause you any trouble you can tell me alright?” Cor frowned, placing a reassuring hand on Prompto’s back.

His teacher had never approved of Loqi and Verstael from the day he’d met Prompto and his family, purely for the fact of the nation they’d came from. Back when he’d been in the guard there was a brief time he’d gone to war with Niflehiem. Brief but scary.

It’d been over twenty-seven years ago now and the two nations were on a… moderately rocky peace.

“I will.” Promised Prompto, throwing an unsure smile at Cor.

—

“Where’s mother?” Prompto excitedly asked one of the maids, shuffling the painting he’d made just for her behind his back. It was her birthday present and he’d worked tirelessly on this portrait for months just to make sure it was perfect.

“Ah,” The lady had smiled sadly, pausing her chores for a moment. “Didn’t you hear young master? She’s in bed with a fever today.”

“Oh,” Sighed Prompto dejectedly, his shoulders slumping. “Can I see her?”

“I’m ‘fraid not…” She shrugged, giving the blonde an empathetic glance. “She needs her rest at the moment.”

“Ah…” Prompto smiled politely. “I understand… If she happens to awake, tell her I say happy birthday.”

—

The next day she wasn’t any better. The thirteen-year-old blonde, blew his messy bangs from his eyes dejectedly, his face resting in the palm of his hand as he stared at the finished portrait of his mother, her gentle smile looking back at him. He hadn’t seen her at all yesterday, not even at dinner, which had been unbearable with just him, Verstael, and Loqi. The three sat in tense awkward silence as they ate.

Why couldn’t she be better already?

—

His mother never seemed to recover since that day. Slowly she began to get sicker and sicker. Every time Prompto visited his mother in her bed-chamber it was like watching the life slowly get drained from her. His mom’s marigold hair lost its shine, being replaced by a dull grey, and her once lively blue eyes seemed to only light up a fraction of what they used to when she laid her eyes upon her sun drop.

“Mother.” Prompto had smiled sadly at her bedside, finally showing her the portrait he’d completed a month ago at that point. “Happy belated birthday.”

She’d smiled fondly just as she had all those years ago, raising a shaking porcelain hand to delicately trace the paint strokes along the surface of the canvas.

“My sun drop.” She’d smiled weakly, glancing tenderly at her son. “It’s beautiful.”

“Get some rest mother.” He smiled, hiding all the sadness in his gaze behind a thin veil of happiness. “I’ll visit you later.”

—

The day his mother died was a cold one. Wind rattled the windows to their estate, and no matter where you went the chill seemed to seep into each part of the house.

It must have been years since their home had been as quiet as it is now, reminiscent of when it had only been the four of them. Not a single one of the workers dared make a noise, throwing sympathetic glances his way as the young blonde made his way to his mother’s office, numbly looking around at all the trinkets that had once been hers.

Verstael had left a good chunk of the funeral preparations to him and their servants, claiming that “he’d known her best.” In private Prompto bit back sobs, mumbling about how he was her husband, why did he have to do something that was so obviously painful to him?

Yet Prompto did it anyways. No matter how much he didn’t want to think about it, it was up to him to make sure his mother was buried properly, despite the fact he was only fourteen.

—

“Don’t touch that!” Prompto yelled at Loqi, abrupt hatred pouring into his voice. It’d only been a week since her funeral and his blonde step-brother had already decided all that’d belonged to her somehow now belonged to him.

“Touch what?” He scoffed, throwing a scowl at the portrait of Prompto’s mother he held in his tight grip.

“Don’t.” Growled the blonde in unhidden resentment.

Loqi rolled his eyes, ignoring Prompto’s obvious warning as he haphazardly tossed the painting across the room to land in an unorganized pile of other things his step-brother was supposedly throwing out.

Prompto’s eyes narrowed with malice as he marched up to Loqi, who looked at him more with confusion than annoyance at this point. He grabbed for the other boy, letting out a yelp of anguish.

Loqi dogged his attack and lifted his arms to block as Prompto prepared to swing again, throwing his fist back.

The blonde couldn’t see anything but red as he repeatedly bashed at his stepbrother's face, causing the other to fall to the ground as Prompto straddled him, never once loosening his tempo of punches. Loqi screamed in defiance, scratching at Prompto’s arm, leaving obvious red marks. In retaliation, the young artist grabbed the other by his hair, lifting his head to be eye level with his.

“Shove off Prompto!” He howled, tearing at Promptos's grip but it wouldn’t budge, his grip only tightening as they sat in a stand still.

“Apologize.” the blonde gritted out through tears. “Apologize to her, my mother.”

Loqi refused, digging his nails into Prompto’s skin, causing his grip to loosen for only a brief period of time. His step-brother didn’t waste another second, hastily ripping his hair from the others grip and making a mad dash for the door, leaving with a soon-to-be black eye and his tail tucked between his legs.

Prompto was too bewildered to follow, staring down numbly at the hand that’d so harshly gripped at Loqi’s head only moments ago.

‘He’s probably going to tell Verstael.’ The blonde warned himself. What was to happen this time? Verstael and him had never gotten along to well before and now that his mother was gone, he might do something he’d never even consider when his late wife had been alive. The blonde man had done nothing so far to warrant such thoughts from Prompto but he knew the way he looked at him, his gaze barely hid the unmistakable joy he garnered from his stepson’s pain.

—

“Master Prompto, Lord Besithia wants to see you.” Softly called Cindy from the door to his mother's room. Just like the blonde she’d grown so much in the past few years, resembling her grandfather more and more as the years past.

Prompto sighed, looking at the painting he’d moved back to its original spot. Those few words might as well have been his final sentence, one that sent a chill up his fourteen-year-old body's spine.

He begrudgingly pulled himself up the stairs to his step-father's room, each step feeling heavier than the last.

Prompto hesitated once he was finally face to face with the towering door of his step fathers residence, lifting a fist to knock but pausing before it could actually hit the wood.

“Come in.” Called Verstael’s deep voice from within the bed-chamber. Prompto swallowed nervously, cracking open the door ever so slightly to slip into the room.

It was silent, and Prompto suddenly became extremely aware of how loudly he was breathing. The only thing that illuminated Verstael’s desk was the sliver of light coming from outside. The menacing blonde sat laid back in his chair ink and quill in hand, he seemed to be looking over some document as he lifted his head to look at his stepson.

For once Prompto was terrified of his stepfather. Before it’d only been mild discomfort, grimacing whenever Verstael patted him firmly on the shoulder. Now he was completely at the older man's mercy, there was nothing he could do to stop him.

“I heard you got in a ‘battered my son to a bloody pulp?” He asked raising a disapproving eyebrow.

Bloody pulp was a pretty big word, the most Prompto could’ve done was left some red mark on Loqi’s skin, maybe a bruise or two, nothing to warrant bleeding.

Still, Prompto didn’t want to argue, weakly nodding his head as he bit his lip in fear.

“Prompto…” The older blonde sighed, shaking his head as he leaned back in his cushioned chair. “Whatever will I do with you?”

Prompto looked at the ground, fiddling with his fingers as he nervously anticipated his punishment.

“Look,” Started Verstael. “I know we’re all grieving, but you must understand that I have a responsibility to take care of this house, to take care of you. In order to do that I’m going to need you to start following my rules.”

Prompto nodded solemnly, his hands fidgeting behind his back.

“And if you aren’t going to follow those rules I’m going to need to punish you, behavior like this can’t go unchecked, after all, we can’t have you tarnishing my reputation with outbursts like these…”

The blonde was silent.

“Ah- what am I saying… Come here Prompto.” His stepfather called, a playfully eerie smile creeping onto his lips, arms open wide in expectation.

Prompto nervously walked up to Verstael as he placed a heavy hand on his stepson’s shoulder, his rough grip patting harshly on his back in mock comfort.

“I know we all miss her…” He pouted and despite Prompto’s young age, he could clearly hear the lie in his step-fathers proclamation of grief.

“But- …I am the lord of this house now.”

The sentence sent a chill down the blonde’s spine, swiftly pulling himself from the already excruciatingly awkward stance. The younger of the two backed away from his stepfather, his eyes filled with the potential of tears. Verstael seemed so much more terrifying now like he was a predator stalking his prey as if Prompto was a moth pinned under a light to be observed.

The artist shuffled farther away, glancing around nervously in an attempt to look for a quick escape, knowing full well it was futile.

“Stay.” Growled Verstael lowly and Prompto froze like a deer in headlights, all potential thoughts of fleeing eradicated.

“You struck my son, correct?” Verstael remarked, stretching out his hand as if expecting Prompto to give him his arm.

The blonde looked nervously from his hand to his stepfather's stubble-covered face, holding his wrist as if in fear of what the other might be planning.

“I haven’t all day here boy, hand it over.” He rolled his eyes in impatience, shaking his hand up and down as if in emphasis.

Prompto, in fear of what his stepfather might do if he didn’t comply, wearily produced his wrist, the underside of his arm’s soft skin standing in dark contrast to Verstael's gruff hand as he gripped the blonde’s thin bone.

“Loqi may be just a child right now but I assure you he’ll surpass you in everything, he is after all my son.” Lectured his stepfather, looking Prompto’s wrist up and down, moving the limb up and down in observation.

“You best to remember that boy.”

Prompto glanced fearfully at the man in front of him. What was Verstael planning?

“Because this is the first time you’ve disobeyed me I’ll go easy on you, remember any other sort of riffraff and I’ll do much worse.”

Before Prompto could even utter a- ‘yes sir’ Verstael had rung a bell next to his stationary, calling for a servant impatiently.

“Start a fire,” He demanded. “And bring me a branding iron from outside.”

Prompto’s eyes widened in shock, wiggling in Verstael’s grasp as servants began filing into the room, sparing him sympathetic glances as they began stroking a fire in his step-father’s hearth.

“Hold still.” He commanded as the older blonde tightened his iron grip on Prompto’s wrist.

“They’ll bring the iron soon enough.”

#ffxv #final fantasy 15 #promptis #prompto argentum #ffxv noctis #ffxv prompto #fanficiton #fanfic #fanfiction #final fantasy #noctis lucis caelum #prince noctis #royalty au #mlm

[krisssssssy]

Summary: You anxiously wait for Ardyn to return, and then you have a…heart to heart, of sorts.

I don't know...this is self-indulgent and just the kind of toxic relationship I want LOL. Please don't tell my therapist.

#ardyn izunia #ardyn lucis caelum #ff15 ardyn #final fantasy 15 #ffxv #ffxv ardyn #ardyn x reader #ardyn izunia fanfic #ardyn izunia x reader #ffxv fanfic #ff15 fanfic #final fantasy fanfiction #ao3 link #ao3 fanfic #precarious games