#magic tablecloth son or buy you a drink daughter

[floralharjuku]

Flaws (repost from Fanfiction.net)

She likes her coffee way too black, the bitter and deep taste and stench of burnt caffeine all too unappealing. Whenever she drinks it, he makes it a point to not kiss her deeply until she's had a chance to either cleanse her palate or brush her teeth. Not out of any distaste for her—never that, he adores her far too much to ever be that way to her—but because the flavor of such strong coffee makes his head throb painfully. His father drank the stuff while he was still alive and it always wafted through the manor whenever it was brewed, giving him aggressive migraines. It's her favorite, so he tolerates it with a smile that makes his eyelid twitch. ... He might as well have diabetes, what with all of the sugar he pours into everything. She's tasted his tea once and spit it into the sink, her teeth aching long after she had expelled it. He had come back into the room, noticed the missing amount and asked her how she had liked it. She had beamed at him with pained teeth and lied right through them that she could really taste the orange. (It was earl grey.) ... She knows that he likes the temperature of their apartment lower because of the climate he was used to back in Tenebrae, which lay to the north, and his office, which might as well be the North Pole. But when she has to spend the summer bundled in sweaters, she begins to find fault in it and starts ticking up the thermostat by two or three degrees. He knows what she does when she thinks he doesn't notice the temperature change. He doesn't mind it much, just ticks it down when she's in the bathroom. ... She's sitting up in bed, scrolling through her phone with the cord extended from the port and continuously charging as she uses it. She always complains when he does business on his laptop when he's in bed, but she can flick through Moogle and not face any criticism. It's a shame too, that she seems so detached from her partner. He's actually in the mood to indulge her strange little fantasies she always tries to prod him into attempting. ... She never actually expected him to say "yes" and now she's in a hole. She's never done anything quite like this before and it makes her face burst into blush. He doesn't laugh when she admits her hesitation, but she can see amusement in his eyes. She spends the night wrapped in the blankets, still embarrassed that he actually agreed to it. ... When she gets sick, he stays home with her, stroking her hair and fetching her soup as she sniffles about how she's going to just die from this horrible disease. She has a cold. It's quite adorable actually. ... She wants to return the favor when he gets sick, but it doesn't seem to faze him in any fashion. He gets up, gets dressed and leaves before she can drag herself out of their bed and she spends the day feeling jilted. When she returns home, still in a funk of sorts, she finds him on the couch, his pale hair plastered to his skin with sweat and his body burning with fever. She spends the night with him, brushing his annoyingly stubborn hair out of his eyes and holding his head when he vomits, once on her pants. She swears that she hears him mutter how sorry he is and how embarrassing this is before he's in a fitful sleep again. She vows never to let him go to work that sick again. It's terrifying, really. ... It's late and he's pretending to work from his darkened home office when he hears her enter, closing the door quietly behind her. She doesn't say anything for a moment, probably still rehearsing the apology that caused her to pause at his door for a full ten minutes. He's been writing his out in the most anal flowchart known to man. It's one way to regain control in a situation where he rightfully had none over her. Control is something he needs to feel useful, to feel as if he has a purpose in any relationship facet no matter if it's professional or intimate. He simply can't stand in the kitchen and let someone make dinner for him; he has to micromanage or even do it himself. (Read: that surprise Valentine's Day dinner that turned into a shouting match about how to cook salmon) And it works in business. It's lauded and applauded that he is such an involved leader, and so young at that. But with her...he can't control her and he would never want to. That willful personality that demands to do things on her own even when the odds are against her and her diminutive stature. (Read: that Christmastime when the building's main elevator was out of service and she insisted that she could carry fifteen gift boxes down fifteen flights of stairs instead of taking the other elevator at the end of the hall like a normal person) That person he cared about above all else. "Noctis—" "Ravus—" They both paused when they said the other's name at the same time. Now it was that awkward pause between two people who couldn't decide who should go first. They were both standing, unconsciously leaning to their other half, willing this frigid argument afterglow to thaw. They never were the couple that was skilled in the art of perfumed words and hollow promises easily broken in the matter of clichés and just enough desperation to sound feasible. They would rather be together and let that end the divide. Still, before she could hold him again, she had to appease her own conscience. "...I'm sorry, Ravus." He steps closer, tentatively at first and when she doesn't shy away in anger, he closes the distance between them. "You don't need to be sorry." He mutters into her hair, holding her with care as if she would shatter in his arms. "It was my fault." "We're idiots." He laughs and she mutters something else into his chest. "What?" "...you're a bigger one." She chirps, reaching up to peck him on the chin. ... He's sweet and considerate, despite always hiding behind his dry tone of voice and computer. She learns this after he meticulously plans her a surprise birthday, despite his own distaste for parties. She could tell that he was strained to the limitations of pleasant annoyance when Prompto got a bit tipsy and started belting out shrieking, half babbled renditions of Yuna singles and the one Carley Rae Jensen song Noctis knew that happened to be the one that drove Ravus to contemplate suicide. But he didn't jump out of the plate glass windows and onto the street below, for which she was eternally grateful. ... She buys him a chocolate cupcake, sticks a question mark candle into the frosting, lights it on fire without torching the curtains and, cheeks red, gently singing "Happy Birthday" to him. He smiles against his own will–why did she get a question mark?–and stops her less than stellar singing voice with a kiss. She's sweet and considerate in her own way. ... When she cries, he doesn't know what to say. It so rare that it takes him aback and momentarily, his brain has to buffer. She sometimes laughs that he's robotic and that moment has to advance her idea. But still. Each tear that falls from her eyes corrodes him and he wants to stay them, but lacks the honeyed words and charming voice to do so. He sits beside her, wrapping his arms around her and brushing his hand over her hair, comforting her by being there. Ravus only cries once during their relationship when his mother passes. She's the same as him, finding it so difficult to give charisma and optimism to a person emotionally fractured. All she can do is bury her face into his shoulder as he shakes with all the grief and pain of a son who lost his beloved mother. ... He's squinting at his cell phone, trying to decipher the lines of emojis she's sent in place of words. He hovers in between 2% and whole when he reaches milk and a double underscored red one hundred, knowing that she liked lower fat for tea but being oh so confused by the message. He doesn't want to face her fat deprived wrath, but also doesn't want to hear her complain about fatty tea. He gets both despite the fact that half of it will spoil in the refrigerator. "Why did you get so much milk?" "...there was a sale." "But why?" "...next time don't send me a bunch of cartoon doodles instead of words." "Seriously? Why didn't you text me back?" "You said you were at work." "Ravus, I work on a computer all day with a bunch of slack jaw coders who throw Doritos at each other. Me using my phone is probably the least distracting thing in that office." "...I'll keep that in mind." "Are you mad? Why are you mad? It's not my fault that you can't read basic pictograms. Geez, even my dad knows this." She teases him by sending eggplants and water droplets in annoying frequency. Finally breaking down, he decided to Moogle the meaning and promptly closed the page, his ears a soft red. How did she even know something this...lewd? He buried his face in his hands when he heard her bark in laughter. ... Her father is staring down the bridge of his nose at him, pretending to sip water for the last four minutes. His glass is magically still full when he sets it down. Noctis is all too aware of the world's most awkward dinner playing out and she is an unwilling actor in it but has no way out of it. And she was also aware of the exasperated looks on her and her mother's face as the older woman pushed her salad around her plate, probably pinching Regis underneath the table with her free hand. She doesn't know why he's sizing Ravus up, since their families have known each other since perhaps the dawn of time, but he is and it's honestly tiring. She is an adult but she adores her father and he wanted them all to have dinner together as a family. One big, happy, neurotic family headed by a psychologically torturous patriarch who enjoyed lobbing overloaded questions in bomb form and demanding that Ravus carry them all in proper form. This was either going to end with Ravus dead or Regis suffering a stroke when that vein in his temple exploded. As long as he didn't— "So, how long have you been sleeping with my daughter?" Noctis's water spewed across the tablecloth, Ravus's grip on his fork tightened and Aurlea took a sharp inhale through her nose, mentally slapping her face with her palm when he clearly ignored the signals she had been sending him through pain. Finally, she turned her head in eerie fashion and muttered something to her husband before turning back to the younger couple across from them. Regis definitely took on a pale pallor but didn't break his gaze on Ravus, expecting an answer. "I...I can assure you that I treat Noctis with the utmost respect..." "That isn't what I–" "Well, that's fine! Right, Regis? That's all we need to know." Her mother was nearing the end of her patience and it showed through each syllable, which increased in shrill pitch. Both hands were under the table and Noctis could've sworn she saw Regis twitch away from her mother. And they still had three courses to go. By dessert, her father has a limp and her mother has been smiling for so long, Noctis thinks her muscles have frozen that way. Ravus has been thoroughly put through the ringer and she's considering dashing her face against the wall but they lived. ...sort of...? ... Their couch is more like a loveseat that irritates their guests because about two children can fit on it at one time. There's other seating, she always has to point out, but she refuses to buy anything to replace her favorite seat. She's on the smaller side and can curl up besides him, her toes under him and back supported by the armrest. He doesn't mind the slight squeeze, just gives her a glance and turns back to the news. For once, he's not watching television while obsessively working and she's relieved by that. She takes a sip of her less than black coffee that has an odor that doesn't offend him as much, pauses for a moment in thought and holds back a snicker. His face changes only slightly but dismisses her laugh until... "Eggplant, water droplets." He chokes on his diabetic tea. ... AN: Do, de do, da. Hi~! I decided to take a break from trying to decipher and encode the complexities of characters in my chaptered works and decided to take a break to write this. It's fluffyyyyyy! :D

#crystarmum #i hate myself for shipping so much crap but i do #ravtis #ravus x noctis #ravus/noctis #ravus nox fleuret #noctis #prince noctis #noctis lucis caelum #fem!noctis #final fantasy #ffxv #final fantasy 15 #final fantasy xv #fanfiction #romance #fluff #this is my life now #repost