#ignis ffxv

Ignis's report slipped from his grasp, fluttering down before landing face down on the floor. He exhaled sharply through his nose. Seriously? And crouched down, fingers brushing the edge of the paper.

As he lifted it back into his hands, he noticed one corner had bent slightly and smudged against something faintly sticky. Great. Just what this deadline-chased afternoon needed, a wrinkled report.

(Y/n) had been making her way through the halls towards the lounge, lost in her thoughts, when she spotted the report slip from Ignis's hands. However, her gaze drifted over him, taking in his crouched form..

She felt a slight flush creeping up her neck as she quickly averted her gaze. Focus, (Y/n). Don't stare at Ignis Scientia. She mentally scolded herself, trying to push away the thoughts now invading her mind.

Ignis, oblivious to (Y/n)'s sudden internal crisis, straightened up with the report now securely in hand. He adjusted his glasses with a quiet huff. He didn't notice her standing there until he turned slightly and caught movement from the corner of his eye. His posture stiffened instantly as he realized Princess (Y/n) had been watching him.

"Your Highness," he greeted smoothly, though there was an uncharacteristic tightness in his voice. "I... didn't realize you were passing by."

(Y/n) blinked, snapped out of her trance, and quickly composed herself. She cleared her throat softly, her cheeks still tinged with a slight flush.

"Ah, Scientia," she greeted back, her voice as cordial as ever. "I was just... taking a walk. And it seems I happened to... stumble upon you."

Stumble is right, (Y/n) thought, silently cursing her own eyes for wandering. She quickly tried to shift the focus of the conversation. "You seem quite occupied with that report."

Ignis glanced down at the slightly crumpled document in his hands, then back up at (Y/n). The faint flush on her cheeks didn't escape his notice, though he was too polite, and flustered himself, to comment on it.

"Yes," he said with a small nod. "It's for King Regis' review by sundown. I should... probably get back to finishing it."

He hesitated, however, not wanting to seem rude by abruptly walking away from the princess, especially after she had been so kind as to stop and speak with him.

"Do you need anything?" he asked carefully.

(Y/n) nodded to acknowledge Ignis' responsibilities, and then an idea suddenly popped into her head. It was just a small one, a tiny suggestion. Her heart pounded a little bit faster.

"Actually," she began, feigning nonchalance, "I was planning on having some tea tomorrow, and was wondering if you'd like to join me. If... if you aren't too busy, that is."

She added the last part for courtesy's sake. Her hands fidgeted nervously with the fabric of her sleeve, betraying her attempt to appear calm and collected.

Ignis blinked, momentarily stunned by the invitation.

Tea? With her? Alone?

His mind raced, was this just a polite gesture from the princess to her future husband-to-be? Or... did she actually want to spend time with him?

He swallowed quietly, adjusting his glasses again. "I..." He paused, clearing his throat. "I would be honored," he said finally, voice softer than intended. "Tomorrow afternoon is acceptable for me."

(Y/n)'s heart skipped a beat in her chest.

He said yes!

But she kept her excitement contained, merely giving Ignis a small, slightly bashful smile. "Perfect," she replied casually, her voice belying the little leap of joy she felt on the inside. "I'll have the tea prepared. Shall we say 3pm?"

This was good. This was very, very good. Tea with Ignis. Alone. Tomorrow.

Ignis nodded, committing the time to memory. He'd need to make sure his afternoon schedule was cleared, no last-minute royal briefings, no emergency reports.

"Yes," he confirmed. "Three o'clock is ideal."

He hesitated again before adding, "Shall I bring anything? Pastries, perhaps? I could... prepare something." The offer slipped out almost instinctively, cooking for others had always been a way of expressing care for Ignis. And if he was being honest with himself, he wanted tomorrow's tea with (Y/n) to be perfect.

A subtle expression of both surprise and delight flickered across (Y/n)'s face as Ignis offered to bring something. She had not expected such a thoughtful gesture from him.

"Oh, that's... incredibly kind of you, Ignis," she said, genuinely touched.

She pondered for a moment, mulling over the idea in her mind. There was something endearing about Ignis' offer.

"In that case," she began, a small smile on her lips, "If it's not too much trouble, I'd love anything you'd make."

Ignis felt an odd warmth spread through his chest at her response, anything he'd make. The trust in those words was more meaningful than she probably realized.

"It won't be any trouble," he assured her, voice steady but with a hint of quiet enthusiasm. "I'll bring something to your liking. Perhaps a lemon curd tartlet or..." He trailed off, already mentally flipping through his recipe notebook for the most refined options.

(Y/n)'s smile widened at Ignis' enthusiasm and specific suggestions. "A lemon curd tartlet sounds delightful," she affirmed, imagining the taste of the delicate pastry. "I know you have quite the talent, Scientia."

Ignis' gaze flickered to (Y/n)'s face briefly, her smile made him want to impress her even more, and then back down to hide the small pleased quirk of his lips. "I'll see you tomorrow then."

At his words, she felt a flutter in her stomach. "Yes, until then," she replied softly, giving him a small nod of respect.

Tomorrow. She couldn't wait.

Ignis gave her a small, polite nod in return, though his eyes lingered on hers for just a beat longer than necessary. There was something about the way she smiled that made his usual composed demeanor feel.. looser.

"Until tomorrow," he echoed quietly.

With one last glance at (Y/n), he adjusted the report under his arm and turned to continue down the hall toward King Regis' study. His steps were brisk but measured, his mind already shifting gears into preparing for tomorrow.

Ingredient lists, baking times, presentation details. But beneath all that planning? A quiet anticipation.

The next day.

The afternoon sun filtered through the lace curtains of (Y/n)'s private lounge, casting a warm glow over the neatly arranged tea set. The porcelain cups gleamed against a silver tray, and beside it sat an assortment of delicate pastries, freshly baked that morning by palace staff.

(Y/n) had spent extra time on her appearance today, her hair styled with meticulous care, her dress chosen to be elegant yet not overly formal. She wanted to look good for Ignis.

She checked the clock again. 2:58 PM. He would arrive soon.

Her pulse fluttered nervously in her chest as she smoothed out invisible wrinkles from her skirt and took a seat near the table.

At precisely 3:00 PM, a soft knock sounded at the lounge door. Ignis stood outside, holding a small covered tray with one hand.

He'd dressed impeccably as always, but there was an extra care to his appearance today. And in that covered tray? Flawless lemon curd tartlets, golden pastry crust dusted with powdered sugar and filled with smooth citrus custard, and a few miniature raspberry tarts for variety. Taking a deep breath, Ignis reached out and opened the door.

(Y/n)'s gaze flicked to the door as it quietly swung open. The moment Ignis entered, she felt her stomach flutter.

He looked... Damn.

He was usually put together, but today Ignis seemed to have gone the extra mile. His hair was slightly different, his attire meticulous, and the sight of him holding a covered tray made something in her chest tighten. Clearing her throat, she rose to her feet, her dress whispering softly as she moved. "You're punctual as ever, Scientia," she greeted, her voice gentle.

Ignis stepped inside, his composure momentarily wavering as he took in (Y/n)'s appearance.

She looks... breathtaking.

"Of course," he replied smoothly, though his voice was a fraction softer than usual. "Punctuality is essential." He held up the tray slightly. "I brought the tartlets as promised."

Without waiting for permission, Ignis moved to set them down on the side table near her tea set, lifting the cover to reveal his handiwork, pristine lemon curd tartlets and delicate raspberry tarts.

She studied Ignis as he carefully placed the tarts on the side table, her gaze taking in every detail of his controlled movements, the precision, the elegance. But it was the slightest hint of softness in his voice that caught her attention most.

"Shall I pour?" he offered politely after straightening back up, ever mindful of royal protocol despite their betrothal status making such formalities less strict between them.

She raised a hand to gently forestall him. "No, no. You've already prepared the pastries," she said gently. "Please, take a seat."

She guided him towards the smaller couch, an unspoken insistence in her demeanor that she would be the one serving him.

Ignis blinked, momentarily startled by (Y/n)'s insistence on serving him. He was the retainer, it was his role to assist others, not be pampered. Yet here she was, treating him like a guest of honor.

"Your Highness," he protested lightly, though without real resistance, "I shouldn’t impose. It’s my duty to—"

But she had already guided him toward the couch with gentle firmness, and Ignis found himself sitting down more out of surprise than anything else. He exhaled quietly through his nose, a small surrender, and sat stiffly at first before forcing his shoulders to relax slightly.

"...Thank you," he murmured finally as she moved away toward the tea set.

(Y/n) moved with grace as she poured them each a cup of tea, the delicate china making soft clinking noises against the saucers.

She paused briefly, her gaze softening. "You can call me by my name, you know," she said softly, casting a glance over her shoulder at him. "We're going to be married, after all." She finished pouring and turned back to him, holding out one of the cups for him to take.

Ignis froze for a fraction of a second at her words. Call her by name. It felt... intimate, too personal in a way that made his usual composed demeanor falter.

He stared at the cup she offered him, then up at (Y/n)'s face, her expression so open and warm, and something inside him shifted.

"Ah," he managed after an awkward pause. "Y/n." Her name slipped out hesitantly on his tongue, unfamiliar yet not unwelcome.

He accepted the teacup carefully with both hands and held it near but not touching his lips yet, as if needing time to adjust to this new dynamic between them, future spouses sharing tea instead of retainer and princess exchanging formalities.

(Y/n) smiled softly at the way Ignis said her name, a small sense of delight fluttering in her chest. For someone who always seemed so cool and collected, he could be endearingly flustered at times.

She sat down beside him, her shoulder almost but not quite brushing against his, before picking up her own cup with smooth grace.

Taking a delicate sip of her tea, she broke the ensuing silence with a soft question.

"May I ask you something, Ignis?"

Ignis tensed slightly at the closeness of her presence, the scent of her perfume (whatever you want it to be) drifting toward him. He took a sip of tea to ground himself before answering.

"Of course," he said quietly, setting his cup down on the small table in front of them. His gloved hands rested loosely over his knees as he turned slightly toward (Y/n).

(Y/n) observed Ignis' reaction closely, taking note of the faint tension in his figure. She set her own cup down gently, folding her hands in her lap. There was a small beat of hesitation, as if she was weighing her next words carefully.

"I was wondering," she began quietly. "About how you felt about the arrangement of our marriage."

Ignis went utterly still.

The question hit him, direct, unexpected, and impossible to dodge with polite evasion. For years, he'd compartmentalized their betrothal, duty first, personal feelings second. But now (Y/n) was asking how he felt, not just about politics or tradition, but feelings.

He swallowed hard. His usual eloquence failed him for once. "I..." He hesitated again before forcing himself to meet her eyes properly. "When we were children," he began slowly, choosing his words with care despite how raw this felt coming out in front of her.

"I resented it."

This confession took her aback, but she kept her expression composed. Resentment... She was silent, letting him continue if he so wished.

Ignis exhaled, realizing how harsh that first admission must have sounded. He quickly clarified, "Not at you," he added firmly, green eyes locking onto hers with sudden intensity. "Never at you, (Y/n). You were just a child then—we both were. I resented the arrangement itself, being promised to someone I barely knew as my future wife while having no say in it."

He shifted slightly on the couch before continuing more quietly. "But things change." His gaze flickered down briefly to his hands before rising again to meet her eyes. "Over time... getting to know you now as an adult... seeing what kind of person you've become..." Pause. "I find myself looking forward rather than dreading our marriage."

A small wave of relief washed over (Y/n) at Ignis' words. He hadn't resented her, but the arrangement itself, that was reassuring. She kept her expression steady, absorbing his every word.

He admitted he no longer dreaded their marriage but... looked forward to it, even.

Her heart fluttered in her chest at that revelation.

After clearing his throat lightly, he dared to ask, "And... you? How do you feel about our marriage?" His voice was quieter now, almost tentative, as if bracing himself for an answer that could change everything.

(Y/n) took a moment to gather her thoughts, her heart fluttering in her chest. "I," she began, her voice soft, "have been looking forward to our marriage... since we were children, actually." She admitted it.

She'd idolized Ignis from a young age, even when he was barely aware of her existence.

"I admit," she added, a small, bashful smile playing at her lips, "I have always looked up to you."

Ignis' breath caught.

Since childhood?

The realization that (Y/n) had not only accepted their betrothal but cherished it, while he'd spent years wrestling with duty and indifference, struck him like a physical blow. She'd admired him, looked up to him, when he hadn't even known she existed beyond being "the princess."

His throat tightened unexpectedly. "You... looked up to me?" he repeated quietly, as if needing the confirmation. His gloved hands flexed slightly against his knees before stilling again.

A swell of something warm and overwhelming rose in his chest, a mix of awe, guilt for past disinterest toward her feelings, and an intense fondness that made his chest ache.

(Y/n)'s eyes softened as she heard the quiet disbelief in Ignis' voice. "Yes," she said softly, holding his gaze. "I always thought you were admirable. Intelligent. Capable."

She hesitated, her heart racing. Was it time to confess? The warmth in her chest told her yes. "And for the longest time," she quietly added, "I've been in love with you."

Ignis went completely, utterly still. The words hit him like a knife to the ribs, so direct, so raw, that for several heartbeats he couldn't even process them. Not just accepting the marriage as duty or tradition... but loving him.

His green eyes widened slightly behind his glasses, staring at (Y/n) as if seeing her for the first time. The princess who'd admired him since childhood. Who now sat beside him confessing feelings that mirrored ones he hadn't fully acknowledged until recently.

A rush of emotions surged through Ignis, shock yes, but also overwhelming tenderness and something dangerously close to reciprocation.

(Y/n) continued, her voice steady but filled with vulnerability. "I've been deeply in love with you for years," she admitted, her cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. "More than anything, I've wanted to be by your side..." She stopped, looking into his eyes, hoping for a positive response.

Ignis' composure shattered.

Before he could stop himself, before propriety, logic, or years of restraint could intervene, he reached out and cupped (Y/n)'s face gently in both hands. His gloves were soft against her skin as his thumbs brushed lightly over her cheeks.

"(Y/n)," he breathed her name like a prayer, voice thick with emotion.

And then he kissed her.

(Y/n) froze for a moment, both from shock and the overwhelming flood of feelings that came with being kissed out of the blue by the man she loved. Then, almost instinctually, she melted into his embrace, returning the kiss with a fierce yet tender fervor.

Ignis kissed like a man starved for love, tender but desperate, controlled yet trembling with emotion. When they finally broke apart for air, Ignis rested his forehead against hers, breathing unevenly behind slightly parted lips.

"I... I love you too," he confessed in a raw whisper, his first time saying those words aloud to her.

(Y/n)'s heart soared. The admission fell from his lips, raw and vulnerable. Those words, so simple yet so potent. They were the culmination of years of unrequited love and suppressed feelings.

A soft, breathless laugh escaped her as tears pricked her eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close again, their lips meeting in a second kiss.

Ignis kissed her back with renewed fervor, one hand sliding into (Y/n)'s hair while the other wrapped securely around her waist. The way she held him, hugging him like he was something precious, sent a dizzying wave of emotion through his entire body.

He'd never felt anything like this before. Never wanted someone so completely. When they parted again, Ignis pressed a string of featherlight kisses along (Y/n)'s jawline and cheeks, murmuring between them.

"All these years... I didn't realize how lucky I was to be betrothed to you."

Each soft, lingering kiss he pressed against her jawline sent goosebumps rushing over her skin, her heart fluttering with each brush of his lips. (Y/n)'s cheeks tinged with an even deeper shade of pink, her heart racing at his words. She let out a soft, breathless laugh, feeling almost giddy.

"You did think I was a bit of a nuisance," she teased softly, a playful spark in her eyes. And then, in a bolder move, she stole one more kiss before drawing back slightly. "We probably shouldn't let your pastries go to waste."

Ignis huffed a quiet, amused breath against her lips at the teasing, she remembered that. Of course she did. He had thought of her as an occasional nuisance when they were younger. But now? Now he found everything about (Y/n) utterly captivating.

At the reminder of his tartlets, Ignis glanced sheepishly toward the table where they sat slightly forgotten. "Right," he murmured before pressing one last quick kiss to (Y/n)'s lips.

He reached for them carefully, his culinary pride wouldn't allow perfect pastries to be ignored, and presented one lemon curd tartlet on a small plate.

"For you."

...

Ignis Scientia x fem!reader; nightcall; friends to lovers, but he fell first and harder, she doesn't know it yet; unheard confession; Ignis is yearning because it's canon.

word count: 304

https://archiveofourown.org/works/75878631

He looked at the phone beside him and put it close to his ear to better hear her voice. She breathed so calmly and relaxed, it made him also close his own eyes. He put aside his glasses on the nightstand and leaned on his phone against his cheek. He wished he could feel her heartbeat, not his cold gadget.

She fell asleep. She called him to talk about anything, unable to calm her thoughts, and he didn't hesitate to let her. She thought that he was busy and let her just babble while he was handling his work, furthermore he put everything aside to listen to her and rest with her at the same time. He wished to see her again, to touch her soft hair.

“Are you sleeping?” He whispered, decided to ask, to ensure that she had finally dozed off. And he was right: she didn't answer him. He smiled at the corner of his lips, hugged his pillow, and continued to hear her soft sighs. She had put her phone closer to her mouth this time when she talked. He should have ended the call, but instead he hesitated. He imagined her sleeping in her bed without him, covered in a blanket, surrounded by her favourite chocobo plushies she had collected.

“Sleep well, my love.” He whispered to her, swallowed his sadness, closed his eyes, buried his face into the pillow, breathed in, imagining her hair, her neck. How he wanted to touch her, to kiss her cheeks, her lips. He imagined how soft her sleepy sighs were, so tired and beautiful. His hand rubbed his own hair unconsciously, he dreamt of her, couldn't stop it, not now. He had to end the call, but felt too selfish to do it. He craved her, her assistance to let him fall asleep, too.

Happy (late) FFXV 8th anniversary!! I felt WONDROUSLY enabled by This post to post a bunch of Old FFXV art I've never posted before (at least not that I remember) All of this stuff is several years old now, I made a lot of my FFXV art in the range between 2019-2021, but I'm genuinely still very proud of all of these. Goes to show how feelings change, cause I remember a time when I was embarrassed/ashamed of many of them, but now I just see how much effort I put into all of them :) I actually have so much that this is going to be post (1/2) HA! Happy Anniversary everybody, remember to walk tall. <3

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