#and i wish link tried something with his hair down or unstyled

[jula483]

no photoshop needed 😅

[atropaazraelle]

Link: On AO3 Title: I Remember Rating: Teen Pairings: Gladio/Ignis Warnings: Time travel, age gap Summary: The final battle is done and the sun hangs in the sky. Gladio is badly injured and just wants to get to Ignis, but Umbra finds him first.

Or: Don't pet the time-travelling dog when you're half out of it.

As the world fell silent there was nothing left but pain. Gladio's whole body felt like a bruise. Joints ached, muscles were pulled, torn, twisted. It took gargantuan effort just to lift his hand. Breathing hurt.

The silence was broken by whimpering. A cold wet nose pressed against Gladio's cheek, and he groaned. He brought his hand up to find the source. Gladio wanted the pain to go away. He wanted to get up, to find Iggy, to make sure he was all right.

He patted Umbra's head, and the world lurched.

Stone and rubble and the scent of blood and dust was replaced with something Gladio had almost forgotten. Oak polish and ink crowded his senses, and the floor rushed up to meet him as his legs gave way.

“Gladio!” Iggy's voice carried a note of panic, and then there was a sharp intake of breath.

Gladio forced his eyes open. Above him was the plain ceiling of Ignis's tiny office back home, back in the days when Gladio had first got to know him. A shock of sandy hair, combed but unstyled came into view, and wide green eyes looked at him in confusion through thick black framed spectacles.

He'd forgotten how green Iggy's eyes were.

“Gladio?” Ignis asked. Gladio felt a hand rest at his throat, finding his pulse.

He groaned, closing his eyes again. When he opened them once more, Ignis was still there, perfectly shaped brows knit and his mouth turned down at the corners. “Got a potion?” Gladio asked.

He watched Ignis's frown deepen before he answered, “Of course.” There was another question on its way, Gladio could see it coming to the tip of Iggy's tongue even as he got to his feet. “You're--”

“Yeah,” he answered, “it's me.”

“How?”

Gladio screwed his eyes shut again and tried to shift. The floor of Iggy's old office was more comfortable than the rubble of the Citadel, but he still wouldn't want to sleep on it. “Don't pet the time travelling dog when you're half out of it,” he answered.

“Umbra did this?”

Gladio cracked his eye open again, watching Ignis's progress as he pulled a potion out of his desk drawer because of course Iggy kept curatives in his desk, why wouldn't anyone? “You know Umbra can do that?” he asked. The information had come as a surprise to Gladio.

“Well,” Ignis said, and Gladio smiled to hear him slipping into lecture mode. Iggy still did that now. Some things never changed. “The messengers aren't bound by the same constraints as humans, and time isn't linear; they can move freely within it.” Ignis slid to his knees beside Gladio and offered a potion out to him. “How old are you?” he asked.

Gladio brought his hand up to close it around the potion, wishing it didn't hurt as much to do that as it currently did. “Thirty three,” he answered, with a groan. He cracked the potion, letting the magic contained in it swirl over and through him. It was instant relief, and he sighed. “You?” he asked.

“Seventeen,” Ignis answered softly.

Fifteen years, then. Gladio sighed, and then forced himself to sit up. The movement brought him right alongside Ignis. Gladio had thought Ignis hadn't changed any as he'd got older, he still looked youthful, and strong, and proud, but he saw the differences now. Ignis now stood with his shoulders prouder, and his chin held high. His cheekbones were sharper now, his lips softer. The acne scars on Ignis then were deeper, fresher, they hadn't been worn down with time.

And his eyes back then were so bright, and green.

“Have I even asked you out yet?” Gladio asked, and then realised he probably shouldn't ask that in case the answer was no.

From the way Ignis looked down and his cheeks flushed, it wasn't a no. “Last week,” he said, quietly.

Gladio grinned. He remembered that first date. If he'd only asked Ignis last week then he hadn't actually made good on it yet; he'd just spent a lot of time hanging out at Iggy's office, hoping Iggy could snatch a couple of hours free. He hadn't really known what to do with Iggy for their first date, so he'd taken him to a movie, and then they'd walked home together in the crisp night air. Ignis had spotted machines free in Noct's favourite arcade, and the two of them had spent a good hour and a small fortune knocking Noct and Prompto off the leaderboards before they'd finally gone home.

Gladio had kissed Ignis on his doorstep, and then they'd texted back and forth for the next two hours until Gladio had fallen asleep with his phone in his hand. He'd been a lovesick teenager, and he'd probably find himself unbearable now.

“Why are you in a Glaive uniform?” Ignis asked, “And what happened? Why are you so hurt?”

How to answer that one without clueing a way too smart seventeen year old in on all the bullshit coming for him in the future? “Hey, hey,” he said, delaying the inevitable, “one question at a time.”

“What happened?” Ignis asked, firmly. Gladio looked into those bright green eyes and saw the same dogged determination to get answers as he'd come to recognise all these years later.

“A Red Giant got me,” he said, and then screwed up his nose. “I think it was the Red Giant anyway.”

He saw Ignis's mouth curl into a tight frown. “You're being evasive,” he said.

Gladio nodded. “Yep,” he agreed. The look in Ignis's eyes told him he wasn't going to get away with that. “All you need to know is that the war's over, Noct's on the throne, and we're still together,” he said.

He watched a parade of emotions cross Iggy's face. There was confusion, and disbelief, and embarrassment, all lining up to show themselves in where Ignis chose to look, and the way his mouth opened. “Is he a good King?” Ignis asked in a whisper.

Gladio's chest went tight as he looked into earnest green eyes. Back home, Noct had gone to sacrifice his life for all of them on the throne of Lucis. Of course, Iggy, at this age, wasn't getting on with Noct. Noct's rebellious phase was hitting Iggy's buttoned down self discipline hard, and the two of them hadn't found a way to get through it yet. “He's had his moments,” he admitted, “and it's a hard road for all of us to get him there, but you're gonna be so proud of him, Iggy. We both are.”

He watched Ignis swallow, his Adam's apple bounced in his throat, so much more prominent than Gladio remembered. “Then you're right,” Ignis said, with a nod, “that's all I need to know.”

Gladio gave a sigh, and a groan as he heaved himself to his feet again. The room span slightly as he stood, and he reached out, finding Ignis's shoulder under his hands. “Don't get old,” he told him, and flashed him another grin.

“I rather hope I do,” Ignis replied, but Gladio saw the tick of amusement at the corner of his mouth, drawing it up towards Iggy's cheek. “You and I are really--?” he began, and trailed off, unsure of how to finish.

Gladio smiled at him. Ignis at seventeen was a touch shorter than he was now, and skinnier. The gentle curve of toned muscle was developing in his arms and across his shoulders and chest, but it'd take Ignis another few years to put the polish on them that they'd have. “Yeah,” he said. “After all this time.”

“Oh,” Ignis said. The genuine soft surprise made Gladio frown.

“What?” he asked, “You didn't think I meant it when I asked you out?”

Ignis shook his head. “I knew the request was serious,” he said, “I just--” he stopped to push his glasses up and meet Gladio's eyes, “thought you were bored, and that you'd lose interest in me.”

Gladio's heart broke to hear the confession from Ignis's own lips. He brought his hand up to meet Iggy's cheek, his dusty glove smearing dirt over Iggy's skin as he looked at him, really looked at him. “One thing I'm gonna learn real quick about you,” he said, looking Ignis in the eyes, “is that you never realise how amazing you are.” Ignis's eyes flickered as he looked from one of Gladio's pupils to the others, his cheeks turning pink. “You still don't,” he added, “even now.”

He let his hand drop away from Ignis's cheek and rolled his shoulders. “Speaking of your future self, I should get back, or you'll kick my ass for scaring you.”

Ignis gave a snort of laughter, and the sound was music to Gladio's ears. It had been too long since he'd heard Ignis laugh like that. He'd always been shy of the way he laughed, no matter how good it was to hear. “Excuse me,” he said, going a brighter shade of pink.

Gladio shook his head. “I like your laugh,” he replied.

Ignis bowed his head again, gathering his composure. When he looked up once more it was with the sharp, calculating eyes Gladio still expected every time he looked at Iggy's face. “Do you know how to get back?” he asked.

Gladio looked around, and realised he honestly had no idea. “No,” he admitted.

Ignis smiled at him. “There are a few ways,” he said. “If you do something that causes an inconsistency in the timeline you'll be returned,” he said, “or I can get his highness to call Umbra.”

Gladio thought about the option. He didn't really want to see Noct. It'd be too hard to see Noct at fifteen, being a brat, when he'd last seen him walk up the Citadel steps with his head held high. Gladio didn't think he could see Noct, unaware of how much he'd give for the sake of them all, right now. “Inconsistency in the timeline, huh?” he asked. “I can think of one I'd like to make.”

“I don't think setting out to create a paradox is the wisest course of action,” Ignis began.

Gladio laughed. “Don't worry,” he said, “it's not a big paradox.” Ignis frowned at him, and Gladio grinned at that sharp, judgemental look. He'd got so used to that over the years whenever he made decisions Ignis thought were unwise. Even when Ignis couldn't look him in the eyes to do it, he still got the message across. “Close your eyes.”

Ignis leaned back from him. “Why?” he challenged.

“I take your first kiss on the steps up to your apartment, not here,” Gladio answered. “That should be enough of an inconsistency, right?”

Ignis coloured, and glanced away. “I--” he protested, and didn't finish.

“Or you can get Umbra,” Gladio said, realising he might have gone a little too quickly. He and Ignis kissed so easily. Kisses goodnight, and farewell, and good morning were just daily routine for them. But he and Ignis had their first kiss still to come, and maybe it was too much.

Ignis bit his lip. That was a habit he'd long since shed, and Gladio thought that was a shame. It gave him a shy thoughtfulness that was a little bit cute, and a little bit sexy. “All right,” he said.

“Close your eyes,” Gladio said again. This time Ignis did, tilting his chin up. Gladio admired the sweeping curve of his jaw, the little bump in his nose, the perfect symmetry of his eyebrows and the fullness of the lashes that rested on unmarred cheeks. Ignis was beautiful. He'd always been beautiful.

He pressed his lips against Ignis's closing his own eyes as he felt the warmth against his own mouth. Ignis's lips parted as he gasped, and then he was gone.

“Gladio!”

Gladio opened his eyes again to a clear blue sky. The Citadel glittered with reflected sunlight above him. A concrete statue lay fallen across him, and he placed his hands against it, gritted his teeth, and pushed. It moved with the grinding of stone, and Gladio snarled with the effort as he pushed harder, pushing it away.

“Gladio!” Ignis's voice held a note of fear.

Gladio pushed himself to his feet. “Iggy!” he called, staggering out from the rubble.

Running footsteps came towards him. “Gladio!” Iggy's voice was filled with relief, the fear draining away. Gladio caught him in his arms, pulling Ignis in against his chest and holding him as tightly as he dared. “When you didn't answer--”

“I'm fine,” Gladio said, tucking his nose into Iggy's hair. He could smell the dust, and the sweat, and the dirt, but it was Iggy, his Iggy.

“Are you hurt?” Ignis asked.

“I was,” Gladio answered truthfully. “I'm fine now.”

Ignis pulled back from his arms. Gladio saw it, that little knot of confusion in the knitted brows, and the turned down corners of Iggy's mouth. “You're quite sure?” he asked. His head tilted slightly as he listened to the words Gladio wasn't saying. He always did that when he thought Gladio was hiding something.

“Just had to create a small paradox to get back,” Gladio answered, with a smile.

The confusion melted from Iggy's face, his lips parting as his jaw hung open. Then he pulled Gladio forward, into his arms, against his chest and held him tightly. “I remember,” he said.

[ehyde]

What We Make (5/8)

Words: 1057 (this chapter) Characters: Yon-hi, Hiryuu, Shuten, Abi, Guen, Zeno, original characters Pairing: eventual Yon-hi/Hiryuu Rating: PG, might eventually be higher Warnings: Some might consider it age-difference shipping on account of time travel weirdness. Both characters are adults when any romance occurs. Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, ao3 link  

For Yon-hi, a young priest in training, the discovery that Hiryuu Castle contains gateways to the past leads to new friends, startling revelations, and eventually, something more.

Chapter 5: Six

From that point on, Yon-hi knows what she needs to do. She’ll work hard to understand the king, yes, but also to understand the temple and the priesthood. When she's in a position to advise the king herself, she wants to do what's best for Kouka. She won't be used by anyone.

Not even the gods? The thought takes root at the back of her mind slowly, and it began, strangely enough, with Hiryuu. Why was he so shocked at the idea of the gods shaping Kouka’s fate? Yon-hi could go back, could ask him, but as before, she keeps putting off returning to the past. She wants to grow stronger without relying on others, right? And the gods don’t ask much of Yon-hi. Occasionally, she’s compelled to pray for certain people, but that doesn’t bother her so much. Once, walking down the castle halls, she passes by a nobleman with his young daughter, a girl who can’t be more than six or seven, and stops in her tracks, frozen in shock. “T-the heavens have blessed you, my lady!” she manages to stutter before collapsing, and she has no idea why. Moments like that, she doesn’t like at all, but they are few and far between.

It’s not until she’s seventeen that Yon-hi steps into the past again. It's the last day of her apprenticeship—tomorrow, she will be a full priestess. But that means it’s her last day in the castle, too. Of course she intends to return, and of course she will return—Hiryuu’s words to her when she was twelve all but guarantee it. This won’t be goodbye.

The castle of the past is packed full of people. “Hey! Hey, that young man appeared out of thin air!” A startled shout greets Yon-hi’s arrival.

“This is the home of a dragon god, Arjun, what do you expect? But in this case, I think you're just drunk.” The couple both laugh and continue on their way. Yon-hi doesn't mind the “young man” too much. With her height, figure, and loose-fitting priest’s robes, it's become a common occurrence. The layout of the castle is different—it’s probably been completely rebuilt by her time—but the sounds of laughter and celebration quickly lead her to the great hall. Despite the crowd, her friends are easy to spot—all she has to do to find Shuten is look up. He’s sitting on one of the great wooden beams crisscrossing the hall, a young woman at one side, a young man at the other. They’re all laughing and passing a bottle back and forth. Clearly, this party has already been going on for a while. Guen, too, is easy to find, with his height and his bright white hair. He has women at his side, too—and seems to be trying to evade them.

“Guen!” Yon-hi calls across the crowd.

He turns to look at her and his eyes widen. “Miss Yon-hi!” he exclaims, pushing through the crowd to meet her. “What a night for you to show up!”

“What’s the occasion?”

“It’s the king’s wedding feast!” He takes her by the hand and leads her through the crowd, then pours her a glass of wine. “Will you be alright here tonight?”

“What? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I mean...wait. Forget I said anything.”

“This is really exciting! I haven’t met his queen yet. Will I? Oh, and I must have missed the ceremony…”

“You really...yeah. It was a great ceremony, too. Lady—I mean, Queen Hana’s gown caught fire! Which is supposed to be bad luck, but you know, if you’re marrying a fire god, maybe it’s good instead…”

“Caught...fire?” Yon-hi shakes her head. “I think you must do weddings a little bit differently in this era.” She looks around again, searching for that bright red hair. “Is His Majesty still here? I want to congratulate him.”

“I’ll take you to him,” says Guen, after a pause.

As Guen approaches the happy couple, it’s the new queen who first turns to look at Yon-hi. She’s everything Yon-hi would have expected of the wife of a legend: sleek black hair in an elaborate, decorated updo, her face all the more beautiful for its stern features. The hem of her gown is, indeed, singed, but she wears it proudly, and Yon-hi, still wearing her temple robes with her pale hair hanging loose and unstyled, suddenly feels underdressed. Then Hiryuu turns to face her. “Yon-hi,” he breathes as he looks up at her. “You’re so young.”

Wait. Looks up?

“Yon-hi, what’s wrong?”

“You—you never told me I was going to be taller than you!”

Hiryuu laughs. “So you’re the woman from the future,” says his queen.

He told his wife about me? “Yes, Your Highness. I'm Yon-hi, and I was—that is, I will be born two thousand years from now.”

“I suppose I gave up any hope of a normal life when I accepted betrothal gifts delivered by dragons,” the queen says, shaking her head. “To finally meet you, tonight of all nights...”

“I’ve never been able to choose when to come, Your Highness,” Yon-hi tries to explain. “If I could, I wouldn't have missed the ceremony. But congratulations! Please, I wish the bride and groom a long and happy life, and may the heavens bless you with many children!” They'll only have one, and, Yon-hi guesses, not for many years, but the standard wedding greeting is all that comes to mind.

The queen takes a sharp breath. “You haven’t yet—” She pauses. “And you, too,” she says. “I wish you all the happiness you may find.”

Later, Hiryuu returns to her alone, unsteady after a few more drinks. “Yon-hi, there was a child who looked just like you,” he says.

“...when you were hurt?” It wouldn't be surprising if the king didn't remember that time so well.

“No. A boy, from your era. He looked just like you,” the king repeats, a question in his voice.

“I don't have any brothers…”

“I'm sorry. I know I can't ask you this. You haven't—” Then Zeno, much steadier on his feet, comes to Hiryuu's side. Nodding an apology towards Yon-hi, he leads the king away.

Yon-hi finds herself shaking. What was Hiryuu trying to ask? And Queen Hana, she had spoken as if—

As if to her husband’s former lover.

Just what does Hiryuu—and history—expect of her?