When the news came out, Gladio outright burst out laughing.
“No fuckin’ way, Iggy,” he choked out, and then dissolved into another fit of laughter. “You ‘n Highwind? Really?”
“Really,” Ignis kept his voice steady, unreadable, masked. As calm and coherent outwardly as he wished he was, inwardly. There’d been no point in dancing around the subject, in hiding it. Aranea was beginning to show, and it didn’t keep her from wearing that skimpy, ridiculous armor she enjoyed strutting around in. Word had spread fast, and Ignis’s idea of damage control was to simply own it. So, before the rumours of the father's identity started spreading, he outright admitted it, acknowledged it. And really, all things considered, his friends took the news better than expected.
“Fuckin hell, I always assumed I’d be the one to accidentally knock someone up first,” Gladio admitted, and he was still laughing. Really, Ignis had half-expected that as well. Gladio’s only long-term relationship was with his duty as Noct’s shield, but he had his share of one-night stands. Sometimes, Gladio even kept girlfriends around for a little while. Ultimately though, he didn’t commit, was too focused on honor and obligation. When Noctis had an heir, he’d settle down, or at least plant his seed somewhere. But in the meantime, Ignis had a feeling that as careful as Gladio was, he wouldn’t for a moment deny a bastard child. He was too damn honorable.
“I would not call it an accident,” Ignis tried to protest, but he was waved away with another laugh, and really, on Ignis’s end, it had been a total accident. Aranea had apparently just had different plans. And, as it was with her, when she wanted something, she took it, without question, no hesitation.
---
Prompto, on the other hand, stared with wide eyes, his cheeks bright red and wild.
“Aranea?!” and really, Prompto had that marvelous ability to worship the ground every woman he met stood on. He worshipped the ground King Noctis stood on, too, but that was a little different. “Wow, Iggy, she’s terrifying. I bet she’s a freak in bed.”
Noctis shot Prompto a harsh glare, as if the mere thought of Aranea Highwind in bed was offensive to him. A jealous streak, perhaps? “You couldn’t handle her, Prom.”
“Bet I could,” Prompto chirped back, and he was far too happy to sling an arm around Noct’s shoulders, casual and affectionate and so very open about it all. Ignis was still wrapping his mind around the openness of their situation, after so many years of keeping it quiet, behind closed doors and fumbling nights in the darkness of their tent. Of course, they’d been absolutely dreadful at keeping it secret, but at least they’d tried.
“You couldn’t,” Luna added, and she laughed softly when Prompto turned to glare at her, in turn.
“Why is the whole world against me?!” Prompto groaned, before he realized why they were all here in the first place, and then he turned back to Ignis, the wide-eyed surprise back on his face. “Really Iggy, we all assumed Gladio would be the one to get a girl pregnant, first!"
Apparently they’d all shared that particular thought.
“Guess that means you’re next, Noct,” Prompto added, and this time, the look Noctis gave him was nothing short of a death stare. “Oh don’t look at me that way. I love babies!”
All things considered, Ignis decided, it could have gone so much worse.
----
“Tell her to get some fuckin’ bedrest, Iggy,” Gladio groaned as he paced back and forth through Ignis’s study. “She looks like she’s gonna go into labour any damn moment.”
He was referring, of course, to the heavily pregnant Aranea Highwind, who had recently taken it upon herself to accept a mission to destroy a goddamn herd of wild coeurls that had been terrorizing travelers near Hammerhead. They didn’t often venture that far east, but there’d been a steady stream of people heading to Insomnia, now that the city was on its way to restoration, and they’d apparently been drawn in.
Aranea, of course, had returned, streaks of blood that wasn’t her own marring her pale skin, but otherwise totally untouched.
“She’s only seven months along, Gladio,” Ignis responded, and really, if anything, she’d only grown more vicious, more ferocious, in pregnancy. The sex was absolutely wild-—and sex with Aranea was always insane to begin with--and Ignis didn’t bother to hide the bruises anymore when she bit him, when she squeezed his neck tightly enough to leave marks. Neither of them made a secret of the time she spent in his quarters anymore, and it was becoming more and more frequent. Slowly, her wardrobe had started finding its way into Ignis’s closet, into his drawers, disrupting his perfect, colour-coordinated system. He’d pointed it out to her and she absolutely snarled and turned on him like a wild, cornered beast, screamed about pregnancy hormones and ripping his still-beating heart out from his chest, and it’d ended in wild fucking right on the bedroom floor.
She’d been eating like a beast, like she was eating for an entire family of four instead of just a baby. Ignis had been mildly concerned, but the doctors assured them no, there was only one in there. And she’d been down to training nearly every day, ripping into Gladio about not working his men hard enough, about what they should be doing, about the fact that he was trying to keep her from going on missions. She’d come back so angry she’d eat entire pints of ice cream right there in the kitchen, ranting angrily about stupid dumb men between spoonfuls, in rage-induced hunger.
“Exactly. She’s seven months pregnant,” Gladio growled, turning on his heel and slamming his fist down on Ignis’s desk so hard it shook and a stack of carefully piled paperwork slid off the edge, papers fluttering everywhere. “She should be getting rest.”
“I think,” Ignis said, though his good eye twitched as he watched his dutifully organized papers scatter into disarray, “that women have been doing this for quite some time, Gladio. She likely knows what she’s doing.”
“Like hell she does,” Gladio was nearly yelling, and he realized it, made a rough, frustrated sound, and took a step back. “Sorry, Iggy,” he sighed, paced again, ran a hand through his long hair. “Aren’t you worried? That’s your kid in there. Can’t you talk to her?”
“I could,” Ignis sighed as well, standing to begin gathering the paperwork strewn across his office. He couldn’t sit still while there was mess, after all, had to work quickly to clean it up. Especially with the hell on two legs that was pregnant Aranea in his living space. She’d invaded nearly every other room of his home, and the office was still his space, to keep neat and tidy. “It’d be utterly useless. She’s a strong woman. She knows what she’s doing.”
Gladio just made a low, frustrated noise, but he didn’t protest, didn’t say anything, even if he still stalked around the room like a caged animal.
“I trust her,” Ignis added, and really, he truly did. Maybe he hadn’t even realized that he did until he spoke the words aloud, then and there.
---
“It’s a girl,” Aranea told Ignis as she pressed the newborn baby to her breast, and her voice was strange. Tired beyond all belief, more exhausted than he’d ever heard her, and with such a barely-contained affection, it made Ignis’s heart want to burst.
“Of course it is,” he replied. They hadn’t known the sex, and in his mind, it had always been a girl. Was Aranea capable of anything else?
She’d been in labour for a while. Hours. She hadn’t taken anything for the pain—the midwife had offered her some, multiple times, and she’d outright refused it. Hell, Aranea had refused to go to a hospital, she’d even refused a goddamn doctor. It’d been hell to even convince her to allow the midwife in the room. Ignis had had to work pure charm and infallible logic that they shouldn’t refuse services that were readily available just out of pride.
And here they were. Sitting in his previously impeccable bathroom. Aranea was sprawled back against the edge of the tub. The water had once been clear, but it was red and murky, tinged with blood and afterbirth and fluid. It had sloshed over the edge of the tub in the throes of contractions and pushing, had made a mess of the previously clean tile floors, had soaked Ignis’s sleeves and shirt and pants. Ignis was grateful that he’d seen it all, really, on the road with his companions. Well, perhaps he’d never seen a live birth, but there’d been enough blood and gore that this was nothing.
The baby—their little girl—was red, still streaked with fluid, and Aranea had only let her out of her arms long enough for the midwife to check her over, to cut the cord that connected her and to let Ignis wrap a soft towel around the precious little life. He held her, stared down, full of wonder, amazement, at the tiny little thing they’d created.
She cried something fierce, and Ignis pressed her back into Aranea’s arms, watched as she took to a breast to feed for the first time. Aranea was the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen, in that moment. She’d put on weight from the pregnancy, yes, breasts heavy and stomach distended from the baby that had been in there. But her eyes looked more alive than he’d ever seen.
“I lo—“ Ignis started to say, and he hadn’t even realized how badly he wanted to say it. But here, the emotions running absolutely wild in him, the exhaustion and stress and pain and goddamn happiness near overwhelming, he couldn’t hold it back.
“Don’t,” Aranea said softly. Her head was tilted down as she watched the child, and she hissed at the pain as she latched, but she stayed proud, held her there. Ignis realized, even through his blurred vision, that Aranea’s eyes were bright, and that she may very well have been crying. He pretended not to notice.
“I know,” Aranea continued. She shifted, lifted a hand, and tangled it with Ignis’s. “I’ve known for a while. I do too.”
---
Ignis Scientia had always recalled the three times in his life he’d been rendered speechless.
This time, now, there was a fourth, and it was the day Aranea Highwind gave him a daughter.
----
i'm sorry i don't know how this happened now i'm going to go take a nap. i hope this was ok even tho it wasn't at all what you asked for. ♥
FILL: Vortex (Ignis/Aranea, accidental pregnancy) (6/6 YAY!!!!)
“No fuckin’ way, Iggy,” he choked out, and then dissolved into another fit of laughter. “You ‘n Highwind? Really?”
“Really,” Ignis kept his voice steady, unreadable, masked. As calm and coherent outwardly as he wished he was, inwardly. There’d been no point in dancing around the subject, in hiding it. Aranea was beginning to show, and it didn’t keep her from wearing that skimpy, ridiculous armor she enjoyed strutting around in. Word had spread fast, and Ignis’s idea of damage control was to simply own it. So, before the rumours of the father's identity started spreading, he outright admitted it, acknowledged it. And really, all things considered, his friends took the news better than expected.
“Fuckin hell, I always assumed I’d be the one to accidentally knock someone up first,” Gladio admitted, and he was still laughing. Really, Ignis had half-expected that as well. Gladio’s only long-term relationship was with his duty as Noct’s shield, but he had his share of one-night stands. Sometimes, Gladio even kept girlfriends around for a little while. Ultimately though, he didn’t commit, was too focused on honor and obligation. When Noctis had an heir, he’d settle down, or at least plant his seed somewhere. But in the meantime, Ignis had a feeling that as careful as Gladio was, he wouldn’t for a moment deny a bastard child. He was too damn honorable.
“I would not call it an accident,” Ignis tried to protest, but he was waved away with another laugh, and really, on Ignis’s end, it had been a total accident. Aranea had apparently just had different plans. And, as it was with her, when she wanted something, she took it, without question, no hesitation.
---
Prompto, on the other hand, stared with wide eyes, his cheeks bright red and wild.
“Aranea?!” and really, Prompto had that marvelous ability to worship the ground every woman he met stood on. He worshipped the ground King Noctis stood on, too, but that was a little different. “Wow, Iggy, she’s terrifying. I bet she’s a freak in bed.”
Noctis shot Prompto a harsh glare, as if the mere thought of Aranea Highwind in bed was offensive to him. A jealous streak, perhaps? “You couldn’t handle her, Prom.”
“Bet I could,” Prompto chirped back, and he was far too happy to sling an arm around Noct’s shoulders, casual and affectionate and so very open about it all. Ignis was still wrapping his mind around the openness of their situation, after so many years of keeping it quiet, behind closed doors and fumbling nights in the darkness of their tent. Of course, they’d been absolutely dreadful at keeping it secret, but at least they’d tried.
“You couldn’t,” Luna added, and she laughed softly when Prompto turned to glare at her, in turn.
“Why is the whole world against me?!” Prompto groaned, before he realized why they were all here in the first place, and then he turned back to Ignis, the wide-eyed surprise back on his face. “Really Iggy, we all assumed Gladio would be the one to get a girl pregnant, first!"
Apparently they’d all shared that particular thought.
“Guess that means you’re next, Noct,” Prompto added, and this time, the look Noctis gave him was nothing short of a death stare. “Oh don’t look at me that way. I love babies!”
All things considered, Ignis decided, it could have gone so much worse.
----
“Tell her to get some fuckin’ bedrest, Iggy,” Gladio groaned as he paced back and forth through Ignis’s study. “She looks like she’s gonna go into labour any damn moment.”
He was referring, of course, to the heavily pregnant Aranea Highwind, who had recently taken it upon herself to accept a mission to destroy a goddamn herd of wild coeurls that had been terrorizing travelers near Hammerhead. They didn’t often venture that far east, but there’d been a steady stream of people heading to Insomnia, now that the city was on its way to restoration, and they’d apparently been drawn in.
Aranea, of course, had returned, streaks of blood that wasn’t her own marring her pale skin, but otherwise totally untouched.
“She’s only seven months along, Gladio,” Ignis responded, and really, if anything, she’d only grown more vicious, more ferocious, in pregnancy. The sex was absolutely wild-—and sex with Aranea was always insane to begin with--and Ignis didn’t bother to hide the bruises anymore when she bit him, when she squeezed his neck tightly enough to leave marks. Neither of them made a secret of the time she spent in his quarters anymore, and it was becoming more and more frequent. Slowly, her wardrobe had started finding its way into Ignis’s closet, into his drawers, disrupting his perfect, colour-coordinated system. He’d pointed it out to her and she absolutely snarled and turned on him like a wild, cornered beast, screamed about pregnancy hormones and ripping his still-beating heart out from his chest, and it’d ended in wild fucking right on the bedroom floor.
She’d been eating like a beast, like she was eating for an entire family of four instead of just a baby. Ignis had been mildly concerned, but the doctors assured them no, there was only one in there. And she’d been down to training nearly every day, ripping into Gladio about not working his men hard enough, about what they should be doing, about the fact that he was trying to keep her from going on missions. She’d come back so angry she’d eat entire pints of ice cream right there in the kitchen, ranting angrily about stupid dumb men between spoonfuls, in rage-induced hunger.
“Exactly. She’s seven months pregnant,” Gladio growled, turning on his heel and slamming his fist down on Ignis’s desk so hard it shook and a stack of carefully piled paperwork slid off the edge, papers fluttering everywhere. “She should be getting rest.”
“I think,” Ignis said, though his good eye twitched as he watched his dutifully organized papers scatter into disarray, “that women have been doing this for quite some time, Gladio. She likely knows what she’s doing.”
“Like hell she does,” Gladio was nearly yelling, and he realized it, made a rough, frustrated sound, and took a step back. “Sorry, Iggy,” he sighed, paced again, ran a hand through his long hair. “Aren’t you worried? That’s your kid in there. Can’t you talk to her?”
“I could,” Ignis sighed as well, standing to begin gathering the paperwork strewn across his office. He couldn’t sit still while there was mess, after all, had to work quickly to clean it up. Especially with the hell on two legs that was pregnant Aranea in his living space. She’d invaded nearly every other room of his home, and the office was still his space, to keep neat and tidy. “It’d be utterly useless. She’s a strong woman. She knows what she’s doing.”
Gladio just made a low, frustrated noise, but he didn’t protest, didn’t say anything, even if he still stalked around the room like a caged animal.
“I trust her,” Ignis added, and really, he truly did. Maybe he hadn’t even realized that he did until he spoke the words aloud, then and there.
---
“It’s a girl,” Aranea told Ignis as she pressed the newborn baby to her breast, and her voice was strange. Tired beyond all belief, more exhausted than he’d ever heard her, and with such a barely-contained affection, it made Ignis’s heart want to burst.
“Of course it is,” he replied. They hadn’t known the sex, and in his mind, it had always been a girl. Was Aranea capable of anything else?
She’d been in labour for a while. Hours. She hadn’t taken anything for the pain—the midwife had offered her some, multiple times, and she’d outright refused it. Hell, Aranea had refused to go to a hospital, she’d even refused a goddamn doctor. It’d been hell to even convince her to allow the midwife in the room. Ignis had had to work pure charm and infallible logic that they shouldn’t refuse services that were readily available just out of pride.
And here they were. Sitting in his previously impeccable bathroom. Aranea was sprawled back against the edge of the tub. The water had once been clear, but it was red and murky, tinged with blood and afterbirth and fluid. It had sloshed over the edge of the tub in the throes of contractions and pushing, had made a mess of the previously clean tile floors, had soaked Ignis’s sleeves and shirt and pants. Ignis was grateful that he’d seen it all, really, on the road with his companions. Well, perhaps he’d never seen a live birth, but there’d been enough blood and gore that this was nothing.
The baby—their little girl—was red, still streaked with fluid, and Aranea had only let her out of her arms long enough for the midwife to check her over, to cut the cord that connected her and to let Ignis wrap a soft towel around the precious little life. He held her, stared down, full of wonder, amazement, at the tiny little thing they’d created.
She cried something fierce, and Ignis pressed her back into Aranea’s arms, watched as she took to a breast to feed for the first time. Aranea was the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen, in that moment. She’d put on weight from the pregnancy, yes, breasts heavy and stomach distended from the baby that had been in there. But her eyes looked more alive than he’d ever seen.
“I lo—“ Ignis started to say, and he hadn’t even realized how badly he wanted to say it. But here, the emotions running absolutely wild in him, the exhaustion and stress and pain and goddamn happiness near overwhelming, he couldn’t hold it back.
“Don’t,” Aranea said softly. Her head was tilted down as she watched the child, and she hissed at the pain as she latched, but she stayed proud, held her there. Ignis realized, even through his blurred vision, that Aranea’s eyes were bright, and that she may very well have been crying. He pretended not to notice.
“I know,” Aranea continued. She shifted, lifted a hand, and tangled it with Ignis’s. “I’ve known for a while. I do too.”
---
Ignis Scientia had always recalled the three times in his life he’d been rendered speechless.
This time, now, there was a fourth, and it was the day Aranea Highwind gave him a daughter.
----
i'm sorry i don't know how this happened now i'm going to go take a nap. i hope this was ok even tho it wasn't at all what you asked for. ♥