[ffxv] ten sentence fics | ignoct

[gigantomachy]

more tumblr prompts! pls forgive the formatting oddness; I'm just copypasting.

i. angst 
Cold stone, cold blade, cold flesh beneath Ignis’s shaking hands as they map out the shape of Noct’s bowed head; what joke of a blessing, what balm can there possibly be in the first rays of sunlit warmth stealing in through the throne room’s shattered windows against any of them?

 

ii. au
By the time Ignis peered around the pristine white edge of his canvas and caught Noct’s intent stare as he carelessly slipped the robe from his shoulders, he’d realized that he’d gravely underestimated Noct’s determination – and that he’d be paying the price every second of the next three hours.

iii. crack
“Iris rather bullied me into it, to say the least – some time ago,” Ignis says after a long silence; Noct doesn’t hear him, utterly transfixed by the television set, all bright colors and cheerful chiptune music as a trio of animated moogles dances across the screen of dancing vegetable people to introduce Cooking With Iggy.

iv. futurefic
“That’s all of them,” Ignis murmurs and wraps his arms around Noct’s waist, leaning his chin over his shoulder as they survey Insomnia at dusk from one of the dizzyingly high balconies ringing the Citadel; nine long years and the bulk of the treasury to do it, yes, but tonight the last fallen district announces its defiance in a ripple of waking streetlights, and their beautiful, wounded city is whole once more.

v. first time 
It’s almost funny, Ignis thinks, that all his words fail him now – that in the stillness of this run-down hotel room, the expansive reach of his mind has contracted down to this single point of existence, Noct and the blessed curl of his fingers, the perfect heat and pressure of his mouth wrapped around him and all Ignis can do is weave his fingers through midnight-dark hair and pray he doesn’t shatter to pieces.

vi. fluff
It’s possible to become emotional over nothing more than a half-heard bark of soft laughter, or the way bright Cleigne sunlight can hit skin just so, casting shadows beneath full lips and soft cheeks and sweeping eyelashes, demanding a moment of contemplation for each; this is what love is, Ignis reminds himself for the third time today, and knows it won’t be the last.

vii. humor
“Hey Iggy, look at this way,” Ignis hears from behind his shoulder as he’s smoothing his hair in the reflection of the cafe window, certainly not thinking of jokes about ruffled feathers, “at least no one said it looks like a chocobo’s butt.”

viii. hurt/comfort
Ignis can feel the frantic way Noct grabs at his side, fingers scrabbling beneath his jacket in search of torn (cut) cloth and broken skin even before the lasts of the wasps have stilled on the ground; it doesn’t matter that the barest kiss of a stray blade is the best any of them could hope for in the throes of delusion and the result is barely worth the potion to heal it – no, Noct will find some way to take that blame upon his shoulders, and so all Ignis can do is hold him closer and murmur words of forgiveness in the hope that they’ll reach him soon.

ix. smut
“I swear on my ancestors, Iggy,” Noct growls as he grinds down onto Ignis’s fingers with renewed desperation – eyes lidded, lips parted, the heavy weight of his cock digging into the slick skin of his belly as Noct grips Ignis’s shoulders – “if you don’t get in me in the next ten seconds, I’m gonna scream.”

x. ust
Noct’s breath stutters in the back of his throat when Ignis catches his fingers in his own, a shiver jolting its way down his spine as he looks into those glittering green eyes and recognizes the knowing there, as Ignis brings them to his lips and makes his murmured your highness sound like a confession, a benediction, a promise.