#and ever since then like... I can't unsee it. but I can push past that when there's so much to gain by doing so!!

[festivalofthe12]

I truly do believe that if Zuko was canonically 2 years younger or Aang 2 years older Zukaang would have been a generation-defining slash ship. Like literally unavoidable anywhere you look in the fandom. The Zukaang/Zutara/Kataang ship wars would have been UNBELIEVABLE and to this day shippers would argue over whether it was deliberate queerbaiting and pointing to that holding hands panel in the comic as evidence that it's canon.

[accidental-king]

BURYING THE NOT QUITE DEAD: A DISCO ELYSIUM FANFIC

My take on the events after the game featuring a multi-fic HarryKim slowburn. I'm also just a sucker for case fics. This is just a snippet from Chapter 1 but I actually have several chapters written. I'll be posting them on AO3 eventually but I'd like to run it by some beta readers first. Feel free to DM me if you're interested!

SHIVERS - As the sun begins to lower over Jamrock, the dome of an old silk mill shines like brass in the golden light. It's not difficult to see a time in which masses of workers filed in and out of its entrances, and the motor lorries lined up along its western wing to collect their wares. Miles upon miles of lustrous textiles to be shipped across oceans and isolas to glide across the skin and furnishings of those few who can afford it. The Revacholiere will never be one of those people. 

The long and blocky building projects off of either side of the dome like a russet brick ladybird, splitting its chitinous hide and stretching its wings between half-demolished tenements and modern high rises alike. Its masonry tells tales of a time before the deathblow. A time when even the utilitarian still showed a thread of residual vanity in the form of granite steps, sharp stone arches, and molded concrete cornerstones. Original varve clay brick, brown like dried autumn leaves, sit in contrast to newer, coppery replacements, highlighting the scars of war and neglect in cracks, blotches and even an entire end of one wing. Always visible like a reality you can't unsee. 

ESPRIT DE CORPS - It has been a Police Precinct longer now than it was ever a Silk Mill but its old purpose still lingers in the bones of its columns, trusses, and long abandoned smoke stacks.

INLAND EMPIRE - It’s all that you have left.

What’s to the North?

What’s to the South?

What’s to the East?

What’s to the West?

What’s inside this building?

Shudder and blink

YOU - What’s to the North?

SHIVERS - A peninsula. A district left abandoned by its surrounding infrastructure. Bombed out ruins and mountains of shipping crates slowly turning red. The harbor has been locked up tight since shots rang out in the square. Blood and heavy fuel oil paint an old mosaic red and hang in the air like a fog that dares to challenge the sunlight. Motor lorries still sit abandoned in the circle, where you left them. A bookstore is no better now than your last visit, and a hostel is now empty of guests minus a few lucky souls who now grieve their lost brothers in the Union booth.

INLAND EMPIRE - It was your home for the past week.

CONCEPTUALIZATION - It is your birthplace. Born of a drug and drink deluge, on a floor covered in a lifetime of mistakes. 

YOU - And beyond that?

SHIVERS - An islet of crumbling concrete and steel. The wind whistles through water reeds and swathes of tiny white petals that push through the last spring snow. Ashes of a fire long gone out blow out into the sea to be swallowed like the memories of the cause that built it. Its only resident is gone now, taken away for medical treatment and for a prison sentence that will see him to his final days.

What’s to the North?

What’s to the South?

What’s to the East?

What’s to the West?

What’s inside this building?

Shudder and blink

YOU - What’s to the south?

SHIVERS - An apartment building. Mostly stone, though partially the ivy and wisteria that have done their part to claim it in an attempt to reach the heavens. They are a part of one another now; inseparable without either coming to ruin. Inside, a marriage has been strengthened thanks to an unusual discovery made by an unusual officer of the RCM. Husband and wife embrace as they look over the colorful image between them.

YOU - And beyond that?

SHIVERS - A wind whips down the long stretch of Boogie Street that barely contains the buildings and crowds on either side. Neon signs illuminate dark windows that are rattled by the music within. Lively chatter fills the air both inside and out. A young woman walks out with her lover in hand. She presses close to his side to fight against the chill of the spring air as her dark brunette curls whip about her face. The man flashes a charismatic smile and he pulls her in closer to lead her away to a shiny white lacquer motor carriage parked just off the main street. They each know something the other does not.

What’s to the North?

What’s to the south?

What’s to the East?

What’s to the West?

What’s inside this building?

Shudder and blink

YOU - What’s to the east?

SHIVERS - Seemingly endless blocks of brutalist apartment buildings that tower over the residences that survived the revolution 43 years ago. The whole district lies in a millennium old riverbed, leaving it forever in shadow of Jamrock to its west, the GRIH to its north, Grand Couron to its east. Grand Couron and the Old South district maintain their borders with two of La Delta’s canals. 

INLAND EMPIRE - A mark of constant probability. Everyone of Revachol West is just one bad couple of weeks away from moving to the Eminent Domain or the Burnt Out Quarter.

SHIVERS - Across the water, a woman in a satin robe sits with her elderly dog, surrounded by shining white marble as she peers out her 11th story window. The glass leaves the evening in an emerald tint. She would have the Eminent Domain wiped from the face of the Earth if it meant sparing her view. The canal and a financial cushion are all that separates her from the proles.

And beyond that?

SHIVERS - La rivière Espérance and Revachol East

What’s to the North?

What’s to the South?

What’s to the East?

What’s to the West?

What’s inside this building?

Shudder and blink

YOU - What’s to the West?

SHIVERS - A home you will never see again. Trees and underbrush devoured the old hospital and surrounding buildings of the Pox long before you even had a chance to remember it. Stray vagrants find their way through the bombed out ruins, shuffling past abandoned wire bed frames and rusted carts of broken tare. There is nothing left to be found here but a little bit of shelter from the wind. But the Valley of Dogs lurks nearby and most know never to stay unless they’re entirely out of options. This place will likely never be safe again.

What’s to the North?

What’s to the South?

What’s to the East?

What’s to the West?

What’s in this building?

Shudder and blink

YOU - What’s in this building?

SHIVERS - As day begins to fade and the lights begin to slowly begin to blink on across the city, multi-story factory windows will slowly transition from the concealing darkness to exposing illumination of what is no longer the East Insulindic Textiles Company. The loading docs have now become the motor pool for the 41st Precinct of the Revachol Citizens Militia. An old Coupris 40 whirs past a vehicle of a similar model and one of a decidedly newer model as it turns into the garage for the evening. Both MCs it passed do not belong to the 41st.

Inside the building proper, a stern looking man in a well tailored uniform walks toward the elevator at a brisk pace. His left breast is heavily decorated in medals and ribbons. One from the Suzerain, three from the Commune, most from the Moralist International. He bears the weight of the whole city on his shoulders but he carries it with an air of pride and authority. He’s heard tell of some strange happenings and without seeing it for himself, he’s not sure he believes it. 

Across the precinct, in the East wing, tucked into the far end of the first floor an eclectic group of men sit inside a dimly lit Lazareth. Three surround one in a way not too dissimilar from how the interviewee had been earlier in the day.

What’s to the North?

What’s to the South?

What’s to the East?

What’s to the West?

What’s in this building?

Shudder and blink

YOU - A violent shudder passes down your spine and you find yourself suddenly aware that you have been staring off into the ether for about 3 minutes. You are one with your body once more.

PRECINCT 41 - The Lazareth Office of Dr. Nix Gottlieb is small despite the size of the precinct that it maintains. Cabinets and shelves line just about every surface in some manner or capacity. And each and every surface was crammed packed with medical supplies, specimens, and piles upon piles of folders and textbooks. There isn’t much space to move, let alone work. The center of the room is dominated by a surgical table that is currently sporting a flimsy pad that serves as a cushion for your injured ass.

INLAND EMPIRE - This is the closest thing to private healthcare you’ve seen in years.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - Your bullet riddled leg has already been looked over. You’d managed to pull your stitches and partially reopen the injury during your little jaunt about Martinaise and the islet.

PAIN THRESHOLD - You wish you’d been unconscious like the first time you got sewn up. Gottlieb is quick and efficient but he’s merciless in the empathy department. In other words, you cried. And your leg still hurts like a bitch.

EMPATHY - Kim radiated pride and relief behind his subdued expression when the doctor had complimented his work.

ESPRIT DE CORPS - [legendary: failure] He’s just glad it wasn’t worse.

NIX GOTTLIEB - The doctor is a bespeckled elderly man, dressed in civilian clothes, a dark, woven turtle neck covered by a brown blazer that stopped fitting him in the shoulders about 10 years ago. His forehead and brow are permanently creased by stress and a deep look of concentration. His brow deepens when you shake yourself out of the thought. “Welcome back, Detective.”

RHETORIC - That was sarcasm. He doesn’t care.

PERCEPTION [smell] - On his breath, mingled with the scent of Tioumoutiri cigarettes, you catch a whiff of peppermint schnapps.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - If we play our cards right, maybe he’ll share a belt.

VOLITION - We’ve been clean this week. Don’t fuck this up now.

NIX GOTTLIEB - He scratches at his wispy white hair and beard as he speaks over his shoulder at two other men. “And how long would you say these episodes tend to last?”

KIM KITSURAGI - Your partner of the last seven days looks between you and the blue notebook in his hands, occasionally flipping through its pages. He still stands in his field attire; Orange nylon bomber jacket zipped up to his collar, white crew shirt hidden beneath it, brown aviation mechanic pants tucked neatly into his black boots, and his brown leather driving gloves. 

KIM KITSURAGI - He thumbs over a couple of pages before answering, “Anywhere between a few seconds to several minutes. This… is one of his longer episodes.”

CONCEPTUALIZATION - Wait! Has he been taking notes on you?

LOGIC - [medium: Failure] Of course not. We’ve already established that this is his method of working through his thoughts. This is likely a method of recall for him.

TRANT HEIDELSTAM - A lean blonde man in a tailored suit looks over you from where he stands, with fascination glittering in his hazel eyes. You saw a similar light when you spoke with him in front of the defunct Feld R&D when he spoke of their pre-revolution efforts. He was also one of the only ones in the fishing village who stood up for you against your partners onslaught of insults.

ESPRIT DE CORPS - This man is a special consultant taken onto the Major Crimes Unit in C-Wing. His well-traveled knowledge and personable demeanor has lent itself invaluably to the task force.

AUTHORITY - /Your/ task force.

INLAND EMPIRE - Not anymore. You’ll be lucky if they’ll even let you back into the field as a patrol officer, given the circumstances.

TRANT HEIDELSTAM - “And what do you experience during these… lapses, Harry?”

HALF LIGHT - Don’t. This is a trap.

[RHETORIC - challenging] Explain the skill set

+1 Kim is here -1 Butcher doctor -1 This sounds insane

[VOLITION: legendary] “The city speaks to me sometimes.”

+1 Revelation in the church +1 She loves you -1 This sounds insane

[DRAMA - godly] Convince them your thoughts are normal (lie)

-1 Kim is here -1 Butcher doctor -1 You’re already insane

“A real shit show of internal monologue that drowns out the world around me.” [continue]

Really? Anything else?

YOU - Really? Anything else?

CONCEPTUALIZATION - Nope.

[RHETORIC - challenging] Explain the skill set

RHETORIC [challenging - Failure] What spills forth is a vomited spew of half finished sentences, aborted gestures, and some words you’re pretty sure you’re misusing. You throw in some apologies and self-depreciation for good measure like a dog half-heartedly trying to bury its own shit.

NIX GOTTLIEB - “Try again. But in Vacholian this time.” His arms cross and his fingers drum impatiently on his bicep.

[RHETORIC - challenging] Explain the skill set

[VOLITION - legendary] “The city speaks to me sometimes.”

+1 Revelation in the church +1 She loves you -3 This sounds insane

[DRAMA - godly] Convince them your thoughts are normal (lie)

-1 Kim is here -1 Butcher doctor -3 You’re already insane

“A real shit show of internal monologue that drowns out the world around me.” [continue]

Really? Anything else?

YOU - “Just a real shit show of an internal monologue that drowns out the world around me.”

KIM KITSURAGI - “It’s inconvenient at times, but he often comes through with concepts and ideas I never would have considered. Unorthodox as it may be, it was invaluable to the investigation.”

DRAMA - [Medium: Success] He means it, sire.

EMPATHY - He’s concerned about your well being, but he also doesn’t want to see you misrepresented in the eyes of these men.

+1 Morale

[kiridarling]

"𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐘𝐒."

izuku midoriya | friends older brother!izuku + college student!reader + f!reader + squirting + size kink + more! minors dni! does this count? as dark content?

— 2.4k words

"It's simple: I'll stuff you full with two fingers, but they only do what simon says. Understand?"

“[Y/N?]”

“Uh, hey Izuku!” You smile, grip tightening around the strap to your bag. Izuku fills the doorway, broad shoulders kissing both sides of the frame, and you can’t help but feel minuscule in comparison. “Kota around?”

Izuku shakes his head, peering over his shoulder for a second before returning his attention to you with a click of his tongue. "Uh, no I think he's out with Eri. They should be back soon though...it's been a few hours."

"Shit," you curse under your breath. Your friend's older brother smiles in apology, biceps straining under his white tee.

"You need something?"

"Yeah," you nod, forcing your eyes back onto his, instead of the broad chest presented at eye-level. "Just my precalc book."

Izuku waits a second, thinking, before his palm claps against the doorframe and he's walking deeper into the house. "Come on in, then! I'm sure he won't mind."

You step into the house after him, and it's...weird. Weird being with your Kota's older brother without Kota there, because despite the thousands of times you've been in your best friend's house and as well as you know the greenette, you and Izuku have never been alone.

"Find it?"

You've been rummaging through Kota's room for a solid ten minutes and somehow still empty-handed, moving slowly in fear you'll see something you can't unsee. And hey, with Kota and Eri dating, anything's possible.

"No," you sigh, ready to give up rather than find a strap-on. "It's fine. I can just come to get it tomorrow or something."

"How soon do you need it?" The greenette asks, his forearms leaning against his younger brother's dresser. You take a seat on Kota's comforter instead, silently hoping you'll find your book by accidentally breaking your tailbone against the damn thing; you're a little disappointed when all your ass comes in contact with is a plush mattress.

"Like, tonight," you grieve, knowing that tomorrow morning, your math grade will suffer severely. "'S fine though. There's always another test."

Izuku snorts at that, crossing the room to take a seat next to you. The bed whines under his weight but doesn't collapse, and you feel a little bad to say you're surprised. Voice full of reminiscence, he sighs, "Ah, the college days."

You giggle, "You act like they're lightyears behind you."

"They might as well be," the greenette shrugs, before reaching behind your waist to steal a pillow. "Couldn't tell you a thing I learned."

You shrug trying to remember the last time you’ve felt prepared for a test, “Neither can I.”

Izuku chuckles and nods, though you’re convinced it’s because he has nothing to say. An awkward silence takes possession of the room by the neck, and you shift awkwardly, unsure of what to say that could give you an excuse to leave, or at least redirect his strange yet heavy gaze. As Izuku licks his lips, you notice how close you two actually are, as he's big to the point where your shoulders almost brush, but not quite.

"How um, hows your boyfriend?"

You scoff at that, but you suppose it's been a while since you and the greenette have talked one on one—and the last time you had, you weren't single.

"Oh uh, he's fine, I guess," you brush it off with a shrug and a wave, cringing at the thought of how that ended. "I don't know. We broke up a while ago, so."

"Oh sorry!" Izuku flushes and throws a hand over his mouth, and you giggle.

"You're fine. He was an asshole anyway," you chuck a laugh, but it's not really that funny. Frankly, he's left too many emotional scars to count, along with the ones healing from past exes. "I...don't have a good reputation when it comes to picking boyfriends."

“So, I’ve heard—no offense,” he says sheepishly, though you don't blame him. You've definitely had a few surprise visits caused by a nasty break-up or two, knowing this is the place you'll probably find both of your best friends hiding out. When Izuku speaks again, it’s borderline awkward as his eyes dart around the room, cheeks puffed and lips pursed in apprehension. “Found...anyone new?”

You frown, “Anyone new.”

“Yeah!” Izuku exclaims, and it’s almost encouraging. “Like a new boyfriend.”

“Oh,” you laugh, shaking your head. “Um, no. Like I said, I don’t have much luck with that type of stuff.”

Izuku snorts, rolling his eyes before he’s adjusting himself to lay on the pillow, half of his body upright. “I bet you do. You might not realize it, but you do.”

Now it’s your turn to snort and roll your eyes, leaning back on your hands with a huff. "You're just being nice, Izuku."

"No, seriously!" He props himself higher so you can see he really is serious, evergreen eyes locked and deadset, "Like—okay, and this might be a TMI or something, but how do they, y'know, and then be dicks, y'know?"

"They don't."

"They don't...what?"

"They don't...make me cum," you heave with great depression, despite the seemingly surface-level complaint. With wrists tightening around your ankles, you hate uncomfortably in the silence, and watch Izuku's mouth open and close, before it opens and closes again.

"Like...never?"

"No." You give him a weird look.

"But what about your last boyfriend? I thought he—"

"I don't know what you're looking for, Izuku," you chuckle, shaking your head. The greenette seems more pained than he is shocked, eyes wide with a big fat pout in place of a neutral face. "It's not like I haven't had an orgasm before. Just...not with someone else."

"That's not the same!" Izuku defends, slowly becoming more animated than you've ever seen him. "It's like...more passionate with another person, you know? And that makes everything a whole lot hotter."

"Thanks," you huff, mood souring more than it already has. Izuku's mouth stills once he realizes what he's essentially bragging, guilt clouding his face. As you exhale out of your nose, you can't escape feeling bad for snapping. "Look. I'm perfectly fine with being the only person to be able to make myself cum. It's not that deep."

"You sound like you expect no one to be able to," Izuku snorts with a raised eyebrow, shoulders bumping against yours. "You've just...had bad boyfriend luck. That doesn't mean no one's capable of doing it."

"Well," you click your tongue bitterly, because you've heard all of this before, and you're utterly tired of hearing it. "They've been able to make all their exes orgasm. And it's not like it even matters, relationships aren't abou—"

"I could do it."

"I—" you blink, shaking your head at the pure audacity of his request? Suggestion? Comment? Whatever the fuck. "Excuse me?"

"I—wait, listen," Izuku rushes like you're getting ready to book it the fuck out of there, sitting upright so his body is turned to yours. "You're...it's...I've been told I'm good with my fingers, right?"

And what a way to start a story.

"Izuku, in the nicest way, every guy is like this," you scoff, "He thinks he's all that just because a chick or two said you made her feel really good. I don't need to fake another orgasm."

"You won't have to," Izuku purrs cockily, leaning forwards on his hands and making you wonder where all of this is coming from. "Let's play a game of simon says, yeah?"

"Simon—" your chest collapses with a giggle of pure disbelief, "I'm not that much younger than you, you know."

"I wouldn't be offering if you were," the greenette reasons, eyes growing dark slowly, if any. "Yes or no?"

"What's the catch?" You bargain and Izuku huffs a laugh. You can feel it on your face.

"No catch, Pretty," he hums, and you can feel the vibrations in your fingers. "It's simple: I'll stuff you full with two fingers, but they only do what simon says. Understand?"

You gulp as Izuku lifts a hand—and a very large one, at that—and it's jagged and rough with scars and bulky knuckles. His free hand makes you grab his wrist and you're fingertips barely touch, but you’re pulling his hand south by your own volition.

“Gotta take your pants off first,” he chuckles, and you flush red. That would be helpful, yes.

It doesn't take long before they're off though, flung towards a corner somewhere—and this is when you realize that maybe, you shouldn't do this on Kota's bed.

"Izuku maybe we shoul—"

But before you can say anything else, he's pushing your panties to the side and shoving both fingers into you at once, eyebrows folding as he groans under his breath from the sensation.

"So wet already? Clearly, someone likes this more than they let on."

"I—what the fuck happened to simon says!" You yelp, but his fingers don't move. Izuku just beams like the deceptive asshole he is.

"Game starts now," is all he says, and you're huffing, propping yourself up on your elbows. Izuku's fingers might as well have knocked the wind out of you, lungs struggling to find room to breathe as he curls his fingers to tap directly onto your g-spot with worrying precision.

"Simon says um, move please," you grunt out. Izuku's fingers stay still, and you frown, kicking him in the thigh. "Hey, I sai—"

"You gotta be more specific than that, Pretty,” he says with a grin. You snarl. "Tell me what you want me to do to you."

"I..." you start, but it's fucking embarrassing, and you know Izuku feels you twitch around him when you say: "Can you um, fuck me with your fingers."

He doesn't move.

"Simon says fuck me with your fingers, asshole," you grunt with narrowed eyes, though they widen when he starts to pump his fingers in and out, chuckling when you shiver from the dexterity.

Except, his fingers move painfully slow, and you find yourself gritting your teeth at the speed when he doesn't make an effort to go any faster. You click your tongue—he's really going to make you request everything, isn't he?

"Simon says faster," you growl with a challenge burning in your eyes, and Izuku meets them with equal fire, fingers finally forgetting their torturous pace for a much quicker one. Finally.

"Fuck! Simo—simon says right t-there," your legs spread wider and Izuku makes more room for himself in between. He hums with dark eyes as you whimper and whine his name, writhing in his younger brother's sheets like they belong to him—like you belong to him.

"I wanna touch you all the time, you know," Izuku grunts before cursing at the sight of your wetness around his fingers. "Make you feel good, make you mine. I don't think Kota would approve, though."

"We don—" you wheeze and he places a hand next to your head, towering over you. The angle only gets better, your hands digging into the sheets as Izuku's fingers curl just right. "We don't have to tell him."

Izuku chuckles at that, chest rumbling as he leans in closer to the point where your noses nearly touch. "You dirty fucking girl."

You moan at that, hips bucking into his hand. You're so close and yet you need more, something else to push you over the edge for good. With a whimper behind a bitten lip, you say, "S-Simon says rub my clit."

Izuku's thumb falls upon your clit and you squeal from the amount of initial pressure, thighs jolting from the white-hot waves that pump through your bloodstream as his thumb moves in small, ever-quickening circles that have you gripping for Kota's comforter for dear life.

"Iz—Izuku I'm gonna—g-gonna cum," you pant, and he's ripping his hands away before you can even reach a hint of the edge. You glare at him out of pure and utter betrayal, and he beams.

"Simon didn't say, did he?"

Your mouth flies open before your brain has time to process it all, "Simon says make me cum, p-please, I need to—fuck!"

Izuku's stuffing you full with his fingers in an instant and his thumb returns to its rightful place.

"Yeah? You gonna cum for me, Pretty?" His hands somehow find the energy to speed up to the point where the clap of his palm against your pussy fills the room, slowly being replaced by a lewd squelch as you tighten around him. He chuckles when all you can do is whimper, grappling for his big shoulders as he says, "Oh, yes she is. So fucking close I can feel it."

You let out a broken moan and in a blink you're squirting, body buzzing as you make a big wet mess of Kota's sheets. It doesn't even register how screwed you two are because you're too busy wading waist-deep in the sea of Izuku's eyes, chest heaving in time with his as he gives you a look of pure awe. Not at what you've done, per se, but at you, and that's when you understand it—the passion.

"We should uh, probably clean up," Izuku flushes as he chuckles, cheeks pressing into the crescents of his face, and you find yourself smiling along with him. With a final click, he pulls his fingers out, gesturing to a circular wet spot on his now see-through shirt. "You made quite a mess."

Fuck the passion.

You shove your fists into his chest and Izuku laughs, pushing your hands away with his one dry free hand, wiping the wet one on Kota's sheets.

"Izuku!" You gasp, looking at the new and improved addition to your mess. The greenette shrugs.

"What? We're going to have to clean it anyway," he shrugs before assuming the dry spot to your right and nestling his forearms in the pillow to peck you on the forehead. Then he freezes.

"I uh...am I allowed to do that?"

You roll your eyes, grabbing him by his squirt-soaked shirt to pull him into a kiss. Izuku hums at that, suppressing the urge to smile as his big hands find their way to your waist. He's an annoyingly good kisser

"No, you're not," you say with swollen lips once you pull away. Izuku grins, teeth digging into his bottom lip as his eyes flutter to yours for a moment, before they're staring into your soul again.

"I like you," he boldly states, albeit quietly, like he's talking to your eyes and nothing else. "Like, a lot."

"I—" You start, but you're interrupted by a click of a lock and the sound of the front door opening. Shit.

"Oi! We're home, Izuku!"

[one-boring-person]

Six Bodies In An Alley.

The Lost Boys x reader

Warnings: pretty graphic descriptions of gore, death, blood imagery

Context: the reader lives in Santa Carla, and has befriended the boys, but still has no idea what they are, so is in for a surprise when they go looking for their brother one night, only to find them in the middle of business they'd rather the reader didn't see.

A/N: I reckon I'll turn this into a two-part story, seeing as it is a bit inconclusive, and the boys don't play a massive part just yet, so I'd better get down to that😂💛

Masterlist

"Three hours late. How on earth is anyone ever three hours late to anything?" I mutter irritably to myself as I push through the crowd, aiming to get off the Boardwalk as quickly as possible, my confused yet annoyed mood giving me the confidence to actively shove people out of my way, choosing to ignore any protests as I move past them. Two or three of them try to grab my arm, but I don't give them the time of day, pulling myself from their grip without even turning to them, worry starting to creep into me as I glance back down at my watch, knowing how late it now is.

A couple of days ago, my younger brother got in contact, telling me that he'll be in Santa Carla for a few days, and would like to meet up, having taken a couple of weeks off from his job in New York, where he's been holed up for months. Naturally, I'd jumped at the opportunity, glad to finally be able to show him around the little coastal town, and to be able to introduce him to the friends I've made in my time living here, seeing as he has not seen me since we both left our hometown, back when our mother passed away. We arranged to meet up on the Boardwalk around seven, but he never turned up, leaving me to wait in the bustling area with no clue as to his whereabouts. The hours dragged on, three of them passing before I finally had enough of worrying, deciding to go looking for him as my curiosity spiked, which is where I find myself now, a frown etched onto my face as I push through the writhing bodies around me.

After a good ten minutes of wrestling with the crowd, I manage to reach a main road, where the pedestrian traffic is a lot thinner, allowing me to see the surroundings with more ease. Still unable to spot either him or his recognizable car, I start to walk towards the outskirts of the town, where it is likely he may have gotten lost, pulling my jacket tighter around me as the air becomes cooler, the lack of people around me making the cold breeze more noticeable. Biting my lip, I try to suppress the urge to turn back and get somewhere warmer, continuing on into the dimly lit back roads looping around the town, an odd feeling starting to grow in the back of my mind, an inbuilt instinct telling me something is wrong, and that I'm not safe. Ignoring it, I start to observe the few cars parked here and there, struggling to see in the strangely foggy light, aware that the streetlights don't illuminate everything around me, meaning there are a lot of blindspots surrounding me.

At first, I don't recognise any of the vehicles lingering by the side of the road, my hopes briefly flaring up as I see a similar car, only to realise it is the wrong model and is, in fact, not the gaudy crimson colour I thought it was, a realisation that draws a curse from me. It takes another twenty minutes of searching before I finally find the right one, my suspicions having been confirmed when I see the scarlet car parked on the curb, the engine idling in the now-freezing night air. Relieved, I go over to it, knocking on the window of the driver's side, waiting for him to roll it down, or get out of the car. When neither happens, I bend over to look into the interior, my brow furrowing when I find it empty, the keys still in the ignition despite the fact that the driver is clearly missing. Straightening, I look over the exterior of the car, noticing that the back left tyre is flat, my eyes wandering to the back windows, though there is nothing behind them when I check, expecting to see the familiar sight of my brother sleeping on the backseats.

Frowning, I step away from the car, trying to think where he may have gone, going over all the possible places he could've walked to in the area, though I don't know this particular area as well as I'd like, my knowledge of the surrounding streets slightly limited. Chewing my lip, I go back to the car and switch off the engine, taking the keys with me as I decide to check if there are any garages anywhere nearby, knowing my brother is unlikely to leave the car running unless he is going to return to it relatively quickly. Locking the vehicle, I start back up the road, cursing myself for not checking up on him sooner, worry still biting at the back of my mind as I try to focus on finding him again.

I don't go far, expecting him to have stayed in the area, stopping and turning back when I reach another badly lit junction, at which point I finally acknowledge something off about the last half an hour: the streets are deserted, not a living soul passing me as I traipse the dark pavements. At this realisation, the instinctual feeling from before returns, the hairs at the back of my neck standing on end as goosebumps appear on my skin, an irrational fear clouding my judgement as I turn and start walking hurriedly back the way I came, intending to reach the car again so that I can at least memorize it's whereabouts and collect it in the morning. My brother must've found his way into town or something, though it is odd that he left his prized car alone, with the engine still idling, something he's never really done. I try to reassure myself of this fact as my mind becomes ever more convinced that I'm not safe, my pace inadvertently picking up at the thought of something happening to me. It's only when I pass close to an alley that I slow, halting in my step as something catches my attention.

Taking a breath, I approach the alley, my instincts telling me to run and get away from here, still fully aware that I can't see every inch of the area around me, due to the bad coverage of the streetlights. Despite this, I still manage to make out the shape that caught my eye, instantly recognising it as human, though it isn't moving, not even to breathe, which is odd. As I move closer to the person, I become aware of the other people lying a little way away, one of them separate from the rest, a putrid stench floating up from them all, making my eyes water slightly at the strength of it. Wrinkling my nose, I crouch down beside the first person, intending to ask them where I am and if they've seen my brother pass them, only to let out a half scream when her head rolls forwards, a thick liquid rushing down her front as it does.

In the dim light, her eyes stare up at me, glassy and unseeing, her face mutilated and caked with dark blood, bone and muscle visible under the torn skin. Her hair hangs in filthy strands over her shoulders, though it moves out of the way to reveal a deep hole in her chest, as if her ribs caved in over her heart, puncturing her lungs and heart, which are just visible under the slick covering of blood, all the skin that would normally cover her torso torn into shreds and peeled away to reveal the musculature beneath. Flies are already gathering around the reeking corpse, a few rats even starting to crawl up her slashed arms, eager to get hold of this new meal, the whole sight making me want to throw up, bile starting to rise in my throat, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth as I stand, tearing my gaze away from her.

A quick glance proves to me that the rest are all similarly mangled, their blood black in the dusky lighting, pools of the stuff gathering in the dips in the pavement around their corpses, the stench emanating from these vile puddles. Horror and fear, as well as panic, well up in me, my body starting to shake as I remain rigid, standing there for a good few minutes before I manage to collect my thoughts again, thinking through what could possibly have happened. Was it a freak animal attack? Are there rabid creatures waiting in the shadows to tear me apart, as they have done to these people?

As I think this through, one thought surfaces, a pang of deep fear striking me as I quickly go to each body, frantically checking their faces for a familiar one, gagging and wincing as I see the bloodied scraps that are left of their visages, their blood soon coating my hands and shirt from where I've handled their lifeless cadavers. In total, there are six bodies, and five of them are unfamiliar to me, so I approach the sixth with some hesitation, my steps slow and cautious, as if to delay the inevitable, though it isn't long until the face of the person comes into view, the unmistakable shape of his jaw and bone structure sending an icy bolt of horror through me.

It's my brother.

Gasping, I trace to his side and collapse to the floor, eyes finding the wounds littering his body, widening as they take in the gory mess that is the remains of his throat, as well as the mangled stump where his right arm used to be. A wave of nausea threatens to crash over me as I try to concentrate, unsure of whether this is really happening, my hands reaching out, gingerly, to trace a clean patch of his skin, a strangled sob leaving me at the feeling of his frigid skin beneath mine. Just in time, I turn to the side and allow the contents of my stomach to empty themselves onto the pavement, my stomach unable to hold itself together as I try not to break down completely; I continue to throw up for a good five minutes, a painful cramp setting in as I am reduced to dry-heaving.

I barely register the sounds of a group of people rounding the corner, their voices familiar to me as they joke with each other, laughter accompanying the cynical words of their leader. It's only when they stop a few metres away, voices fading into shocked silence, that I look up, terror filling me as I take in their appearance, identifying them immediately: Paul, Marko, Dwayne and David.

My eyes take their forms, horror and panic building up in me as I take in their bloodied appearances, discomposure filling me as I notice the concentration of the brackish fluid around their chins and mouth, before my eyes lift to their other features. Upon seeing them, I back away, confusion and fear evident on my face as I slowly get to my feet, continuing to edge away from them as they start to come closer - their features are distorted, their brows pulled into longer, grotesque caricatures of their usually handsome faces, blazing yellow eyes ringed with crimson following my every move, razor sharp fangs poking out from under their top lips as they go to speak, each pale tooth stained scarlet.

Without a second thought, I turn and run.

Adrenaline gives me speed, my pulse pounding in my ears as I race back onto the street I was on before, my breathing becoming harsh and ragged as I push myself into my fastest pace. Behind me, I hear a couple of deep chuckles, as well as a maniac laugh as footsteps start to follow me, a horribly familiar voice calling after me. I ignore it, focusing on staying ahead of my pursuers, doing my best to avoid the stones littering the pavement, my hand scrabbling in my pocket for the keys to my brother's car, thinking I could use it to get away, even if the tyre is flat. Finding them, I pull them out and continue sprinting down the road, a relieved gasp escaping me as I catch sight of the vehicle ahead, a new burst of energy exploding in me as I give one final push, reaching it swiftly.

Tremors wrack my hands as I attempt to get the key into the door, aware of the ever-approaching boys behind me, my breath held as I struggle to remain calm, adrenaline still pumping through me, a curse escaping me as I fight with the stuff turning mechanism. It finally opens, allowing me to climb into the car and slam the door behind me, quickly sticking the key into the ignition and turning it, only for the engine to stall. Going to try again, I growl in frustration as the same thing happens, the car refusing to let me put it into drive as I wrestle with the key. Panic starts to resurface within me, my actions becoming more and more frenzied, until I give up, punching the steering wheel in front of me in anger, wincing when my fist smarts afterwards.

A dent suddenly appears in the roof of the car, as if a heavy weight was dropped on it, a blood-curdling screeching noise following, as if someone was tearing through rusted metal, or trying to bend it out of shape. Looking out of the window, I notice a pair of hands digging into the weak spot just above the window, the metal coming away from the base as they continue to pull at it, opening me up to them, whatever they are. Petrified, I remain still for a couple of seconds, before jumping back into action, moving so that I'm forcing myself through the gap between the driver and passenger seats, crushing myself through the space into the backseats, collecting myself before I throw open the back door, stumbling briefly as I try to regain my balance, racing off towards the main road. I must look a sight - wearing a bloodied shirt and sporting similarly stained hands, tears streaking my cheeks, my breath coming out in rasping pants as I try to stay ahead of a group of who I assume to be killers. Hope fills me as I see a brighter light appear at the end of the road, clearly the beginning of the main road leading into Santa Carla, my pace remaining steady as I aim for it, careful not to get too excited, knowing I'm not quite in the clear yet.

A pair of arms suddenly appear around my waist, their owner easily lifting me off the ground and into the air, a scream of terror ripping itself from me as my attacker somehow floats upwards, holding me against a muscular chest, the smell of their black coat very familiar to me. Instantly, I start to writhe in his grip, kicking and wriggling as much as I can in his tight grasp.

"Calm down, (Y/n)! I'm not going to hurt you!" David commands, tightening his arms around me as I pay him no attention, trying to get out using any possible technique, "If you keep this up, I'll have to drop you, and we're a long way from the ground!"

At his words, I look down, freezing up as I see how far away we are from the pavement below, my eyes widening in fear, a pathetic whimper escaping me. I look up to see the other three sort of hovering around David and I, all of them looking serious for once, not just Dwayne, Marko chewing on his thumb as Paul struggles to stay still, somehow managing to fidget in mid air.

"What do you want? What are you?" I ask them, despair lacing my tone as I address them, knowing I'll probably end up like my brother, another corpse my supposed friends have left behind for others to find.

"We'll explain soon enough, but for now, we're going home. Hang on tight." The platinum blonde confirms, shifting me around so that I'm facing him, his icy blue eyes boring into mine as he repositions my arms around his neck, encouraging me to hold on tight. Gritting my teeth, I swallow and hold on, linking my legs around his waist as he starts to move, burying my face into his chest in pure fear, unsure of what will happen.

[chocobroness]

So I love Gladnis so so much. And Ignis angst is my life. So could you do some incredibly angsty blind Ignis and how Gladio's comfort him? Give him panic attacks because he can't see and all that. If you're okay with writing it of course >

Waaaaaah, this one was tough! I hope it pleases you!

—

It wasn’t something that was easily conquered. It wasn’t something that was easily ignored. Who could ignore being blind? To see eternal darkness, no matter where you go.

It was so difficult for all of them, having him be the liability in battle. It wasn’t something that wasn’t said, but it was within their thoughts, he was a liability, he was the burden, and it didn’t get better as they continued forward. Nothing but tragedy awaited them, thoughts of victory were tossed to the wind. And in the end….

He was without both sight and king.

Though the others say differently, in a world that is run by Deamons, it was those like him that hindered everyone else.

He had tried to back out early on, during the early days without Noctis, but the others simply kept him by their side. He didn’t say anything then. He allowed them to do whatever they wished.

But what was the honest reason he was there? All his training, all his knowledge was useless in this new world. He was raised to advise the king, raised for only that reason and that reason alone, and for a brief moment, it was all that mattered to him. Noctis was the one who reminded him that he was as human as everyone else. That he could make mistakes and learn from them, that being emotional was not a weakness nor a burden.

But being weak was not an option anymore. He had to be strong.

When Gladio and Prompto left him in Lestallum so they could search for survivors, he hadn’t said anything because how would they find anyone if they had to watch out for him as well?

He had to be strong.

When people murmured sympathy to him and treated him as if he were fragile. He couldn’t say anything because he still stumbled about like a small child, he should have become used to it but it just seemed to get harder and harder by the day.

He had to stay strong.

When he heard the cries of mourning when another body was found and he felt agitated by his disability. He kept his mouth shut because he had no right to complain when others are dead and he should feel grateful that he was alive and safe.

He had to stay strong.

When he felt his chest tighten and his breath pick up when he could no longer determine if he was by the hotel or in the plaza. He should be ashamed as he quietly asked someone to lead him back to the hotel, simply because the city became a bit more crowded didn’t mean he could make such small mistakes, he had to learn to adjust.

He had to stay strong.

When Gladio and Prompto visited him on the rare occasion, only coming by when they were down on supplies or bringing more survivors. He had understood that in these trying times, everyone must do their part, he shouldn’t say a word when they must be exhausted and still searching for anyone who could be saved.

He had to stay strong.

When he couldn’t even walk across his room anymore without stumbling into something. He was disappointed in himself, he couldn’t walk around a tiny space without trouble.

He had to stay strong.

When another list of people found dead was posted.

He had to stay strong.

When he felt like suffocating when he stepped out of his room and walked into the sea of people.

He had to stay strong.

When he felt the effects of not eating properly because of food shortages and he decided to give away his share to someone who needed it more anyway.

He had to stay strong.

It didn’t matter in the end, he was one face in a crowd of many.

All he could do was keep out of everyone’s way.

In a world where every day could be the last, he truly was useless when it really mattered.

There were days when he simply refused to leave the room, sometimes not even leaving the bed.

He felt sick but refused to burden the others.

Sleeping was another hurdle to leap over.

Dreams of the final moments of his sight. Of what happened.

Dreams of what could have been.

Dreams of when Noctis vanished.

The emotions he felt as he jolted awake made him feel so overwhelmed, he barely had time to stumble the bathroom before vomiting.

There were times when he would simply just sit there for the rest of the day, too tired and weak to move.

Would it be best if he simply wasted away? Someone else who desperately needs shelter could then take his room, it was the least he could do after wasting precious resources.

Today was much worse. He had been feeling worse then normal the past few days, he had assumed it was simply the lack of a proper diet but now he was unsure. he remained on the bathroom floor. Resting his head against his knees as he tried to pull his thoughts away from the fog that started to cloud his mind.

He felt dizzy, and he felt very warm.

‘Perhaps a shower would help.’

He thought as he slowly crawled towards where he thought was the bath.

He reached over and felt for the knob before remembering that he would need to stand up to reach it, he did his best to reach up but his body was growing heavier, but he did not stop, forcing himself up to reach the shower knob.

It had been a mistake.

The moment he managed stand, he was hit was powerful nausea and dizziness. He swayed and tried to steady himself only to trip on his feet and fall forward.

He felt a sharp pain on the side of his head before collapsing on the floor with a loud thud.

He felt himself drifting off, the side of his head hurting greatly. He was then hit was something incredibly cold. A brief moment of clarity helped him realize that it was coming from the shower head.

“What the-IGGY!”

He knew no more.

—

When Gladio entered Ignis’ bathroom, he had not expect to be screaming for help at the sight of the blood around his head.

He had not expected to be informed that his friend was suffering from starvation and malnutrition. That he had a fever that had worsened due to the injury he sustained when he fell and hit his head.

He had not expected to sit at his bedside for a whole week, afraid that if he turned away, Ignis would succumb to the fever.

He had not expected any of those things after being gone for so long.

It was only the night before that his fever broke, the doctor had said that he would be waking up soon and to have patience.

During the time he sat there watching him, he began to notice things that he hadn’t before.

Ignis was much thinner than he remembered, he was much paler too. He could tell that he wasn’t getting enough sleep ether.

What the hell was he supposed to tell Prompto when they meet up?

“Ah…”

He straightened up when he saw Ignis stir, unseeing eyes opening for a brief moment before shutting again.

“You’re finally awake.” Ignis turned at the sound of his voice.

“Gladio…?”

“You’ve been out for a whole week, that fever was really bad for awhile too.”

“Fever…?” Ignis seemed to pull his thoughts together at that moment.

“Ah that’s right…”

“Mind explaining to me why the doctor told me you were nearly at death’s door when I found you?” He asked calmly.

Ignis opened his mouth before closing it, shaking his head.

“It was nothing.”

Gladio frowned.

“It wasn’t just nothing, I found you in the shower fully clothed and bleeding from your head.”

“I stood up too quickly when I shouldn’t have, I’m fine now.”

“Obviously since the doctor treated you when you were out.”

Ignis flinched at that.

“Oh….he treated me..?”

“Kinda needed to if we didn’t want you to die.”

“It was unnecessary, I was fine.”

“No you were NOT, Ignis what’s going on, really?”

“As I said, it’s nothing, simply a minor inconvenience.“

“You nearly DIED Ignis!” He said in desbelief, wanting to grab his shoulders and shake him. “How is that a ‘minor inconvenience’?!”

“It’s a minor inconvenience to me Gladio, enough.” He said firmly, as if his life was of little importance.

Gladio wasn’t having that.

He gripped Ignis’ face and forced him to face him. Making it known with that action he wasn’t happy at all.

“It may be ‘minor’ to you, but to me, I nearly lost someone because they were stupid enough not to ask for help when they obviously NEEDED IT!”

“I did not need any assistance, I was perfectly fine.” Gladio growled at his response.

“Was that before or after falling unconscious and bleeding from your head?” He barked back.

“I was careless and simply sl-”

“Slipping is one thing, but starving yourself? What, were you trying to become a corpse by starvation?”

Ignis clenched his jaw and turned away, not saying a word. Had he not been touching him, he would not have felt Ignis flinch.

As he stared at the him, something cold settled in his stomach. A realization that he didn’t want to believe.

“Dear gods…you really…”

“Gladiolus Amicitia, that is enough.” Was the cold reply.

“Iggy you can’t tell me tha-”

“It doesn’t matter anymore Gladio.”

“Like hell it doesn’t matter!”

“It’s over and done with, you can forget about this.”

“HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO FORGET THE FACT THAT MY FRIEND HAS BEEN TRYING TO KILL HIMSELF!”

“BECAUSE IT DOESN’T MATTER!!”

Gladiolus was stunned by the sudden scream coming from the bedridden man, barely ever having a memory of him screaming at anyone, in any setting.

Ignis continued, not aware, or not caring of Gladio’s state at the moment.

“If I waste away here, what of it? You would mourn, then you would need to continue your days assisting others. There is no time to think about the dead, no time to deal with liabilities. So I merely decided to deal with a major liability in the best way possible so no resources were wasted.”

Gladio tried to say something but Ignis pushed forward.

“But I had not anticipated you making a visit two weeks ahead of schedule. You normally come every other month, and based on my estimation, I would have lasted another week, give or take a few days.”

Gladio was trembling as he heard the casual words coming from the man before him. As if him planning his own death was simply a tedious task that he decided to take on.

“I am not needed in this new world Gladio, nor do I need to waste the finite resources we have.”

Why was he still talking…

Stop it.

“But in the end, medicine that could have been used by someone who truly needed it, was wasted on me, so all that work was for nothing.”

Shut up.

“I must also apologize for causing such a mess in the bathroom, I’ll see about cleaning it up later.”

Shutupshutupshutup.

“If there is nothing else you need to speak to me about, I would ask that you-mmhph?!”

Ignis reached up and tried to remove the hand covering his mouth, but it wouldn’t budge no matter how hard he pulled.

“Shut up….” he turned at the sound of Gladio’s voice, which sounded rougher then normal.

“Shut up, shut up, shut. UP.” Ignis made a noise as the hand covering his mouth squeezed, causing pain.

“You fucking IDIOT.” Gladio gave Ignis a rough shake, wanting to do so much but everything was jumbled in his head.

“Not needed, waste medicine, a LIABILITY.” He removed his hand and gripped both sides of Ignis’ head, pulling him close.

“HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT!!!!!”

“Gladio wha-”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!!” He roared, furious beyond belief.

“You think you can talk like that and assume you’ll get away with it? You think you can plan your own death and assume everyone will be okay with it? You honestly think you can assume that I’m going to forget this and act LIKE ITS NOTHING?!”

He did something he didn’t expect to do but was to enraged to stop himself. He struck Ignis across the face, sending him toppling off the bed with a cry.

He stood and moved to where Ignis had fallen, clutching his face as he curled into himself. He gripped his leg and dragged Ignis toward him, sitting on his stomach without hesitation.

Ignis gave a strangled yell at the massive weight falling on his stomach and tried to push Gladio off of him but he was to weak to do so.

“Let me tell you what would happen if you EVER try to kill yourself again.” Gladio growled to him, not budging in the slightest. He leaned down and forced Ignis’ head to the side so he could speak directly into his ear.

“I will come back here, and I will beat you until you are unrecognizable, and then kill you myself.” He felt Ignis freeze at his words, as if trying to register what he said.

“And if you manage to kill yourself before I reach you.” He moved closer until his lips were barely touching Ignis.

“I’ll kill myself to follow you and Make. You. Pay.”

He pulled away and got off of Ignis, grabbing him and placing him back on the bed.

Ignis was visibly shaking, tears falling rapidly as he held himself.

Gladiolus returned to his seat and remained quiet, his anger escaping him, leaving only a blank calm in it’s place.

Time past as Ignis attempted to calm himself. Only managing to stop the visible effects of Gladio’s actions. He was still a mess within.

“Why would you risk yourself on me?” Was the first words out of Ignis’ mouth after he managed to calm himself.

“Someone needs to.”

“T-That’s not enough.”

“It’s enough for me.” Ignis turned to face him.

“Gladio…” Gladio sighed.

“Not good enough? Fine, how about this.”

“Because I can’t stand the fact that you didn’t ask for my help.”

“And that’s all.”

“That’s one of the reasons.”

“And the others?”

“Because I hate how weak you’ve become? Because I hate how you assumed that I would be okay with this? That I would just ‘mourn and go back to work’ if you died? Because I’m pissed that I was blind to how you were feeling and didn’t realize that I should have done something to help? Take your pick Iggy, I have lots.”

Ignis choked a sob back.

“What..What you said then…did you..”

“I won’t hesitate to make what you want something you wished you didn’t ask for, and I won’t hesitate to take a bullet to the head to chase after you.”

“You are a fool.”

“And you’re stuck with me so knock it off.”

They stayed silent after that, simply basking in each other’s presence.

Ignis rubbed his arms, and Gladio rested his head in his hands.

“I’m not going to tell you I understand.” He said suddenly, not looking at Ignis. “Unless I was blind myself, I won’t ever be able to understand how you must feel.

He turned to face him. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to learn to help.”

“Gladio, nothing can help with-”

“I know!” He growled, slamming a hand onto the nightstand next to him, ignoring the small flash of guilt he felt when Ignis flinched. “But damnit Ignis, you aren’t the only one who doesn’t know what his purpose is anymore!”

Ignis could only turn his face away, keeping silent.

“Noct is gone.” Gladio said quietly. “Gone and maybe never coming back.”

He reached out and took Ignis’ hands into his own.

“But I sure as hell won’t allow anyone else I care about become lost to me.”

“G-Gladio…”

“Nothing is easy in the beginning Ignis, you didn’t have time to adjust to this new handicap. You were shoved into situations that no one in your state should have gone through.” He gave Ignis’ hands a squeeze. “But you did, and you made it up to this point, doesn’t that mean anything to you?” He could see Ignis’ face twist as if in pain.

“I won’t let you fall now. Not after everything.” He gave his hand a squeeze. “Not after we’ve lost everything else.”

“Gladio…”

“The Ignis I knew is gone forever.” He saw him flinch at that but continued anyway. “He died that day when they took his sight, and the person he was becoming after that point died when he tried to kill himself.”

He stood up and moved to sit next to him on the bed. wrapping his arms around his trembling shoulders.

“But I’m alright with getting to know the new guy he’s becoming if he’s willing.” Turning Ignis’ head towards him so he could place his forehead against his.

“I’m willing to help him stand on his own two feet without anyone doubting him if he’s willing to take that chance. So that he could stop feeling like a liability and start acting like the fighter I know he is.”

He didn’t say anything else after, just remaining in place while Ignis quietly shed his tears.

To think he held all of this in him for so long. Gladio was ashamed he didn’t see it sooner, but unlike many things, he had a chance to make up for his lack of awareness to his friend’s plight.

“P…please…”

“Hmm?”

Ignis took several deep breaths, trying to gather himself, he placed a hand on Gladio’s neck, giving a squeeze as if to ground himself as he spoke again.

“Please help me..” Gladiolus huffed to himself, giving Ignis a tight hug in response.

“All you had to do was ask.”

Ignis seemed to sob in relief as he hugged him back.

They both knew that they would have to tell Prompto about what happened, they knew it would be hard in the beginning, that there would be times when Ignis would fall.

But unlike before, he will have someone to help him back up, to push him forward when he wanted to stop.

And when you think about it, that’s how it should have been since the beginning.

–